Photograph by Matthew Suárez

The red sidewalks “are kind of a badge of honor. We don’t need a sign; you know it’s Burlingame because of the red sidewalks.”

This lowly but common part of every city’s infrastructure, as the National Association of City Transportation Officials so eloquently states on its website, plays “a vital role in city life. As conduits for pedestrian movement and access, they enhance connectivity and promote walking. As public spaces, sidewalks serve as the front steps to the city, activating streets socially and economically. Safe, accessible, and well-maintained sidewalks are a fundamental and necessary investment for cities, and have been found to enhance general public health and maximize social capital.”

Heady words and high praise; anything that maximizes “social capital,” whatever that means, deserves a little attention every now and then. And yet sidewalks are by no means a hot topic — except in those rare cases when something that happens on, or because of, a sidewalk makes news.

Photograph by Matthew Suárez

The proliferation of electric pay-as-you-go scooters on city sidewalks provided one such case, and led to a flurry of news stories about pedestrians who claimed that the intruders were getting out of hand. “Pedestrians and e-scooters are clashing in the struggle for sidewalk space,” screamed a January 2019 story in the Washington Post.

The story opened with the tragic tale of 75-year-old John Meuleman, who tripped over a Bird scooter on a sidewalk outside the entrance to a San Diego stadium and wound up shattering his knee in four places. Three years later, the San Diego City Council prohibited the use of scooters on city sidewalks. In a May 2022 San Diego Union-Tribune article, Councilmember Stephen Whitburn praised the ban, telling a reporter, “I have heard from elderly residents in my district who were afraid to go for a walk for fear they would be hit on the sidewalk by a scooter. I have heard from people who have broken bones when they have tripped over a scooter left on a sidewalk.”

Another San Diego sidewalk saga that made national headlines was when former San Diego Mayor Roger Hedgecock’s wife, Cindy, tripped and fell on a damaged stretch of sidewalk on Morrell Street in Pacific Beach back in July 2015. Claiming the fall ruptured his wife’s breast implant, the onetime leader of America’s Finest City sued his former employer and won a settlement of nearly $85,000. Besides the medical bills incurred by the ex-mayor’s wife, the suit argued that because of the fall, injury, and subsequent recovery, Hedgecock himself suffered a loss of income as well as “support, service, love, companionship, society, affection, relations, and solace from his wife.”

The latest sidewalk story to make headlines comes from growing discontent with the homeless setting up tents on public property, including sidewalks — particularly on the southeast side of downtown, which some critics have likened to skid row in Los Angeles. As the homeless population in the area has surged to more than 2000, tents have completely blocked sidewalks throughout East Village and around the old Central Library on E Street between Seventh and Eighth.

This has prompted Councilmember Whitburn to announce a proposed ordinance prohibiting tents and other temporary structures from being set up on sidewalks and other public property. San Diego Mayor Todd Gloria has said he supports the proposed new law, which calls for homeless campers to be offered shelter beds “and only cited or arrested after multiple contacts with people,” according to a Union-Tribune story. The homeless, Gloria told the paper, “cannot say no to leaving the sidewalk.”

Ocean Beach Historical Society president Eric DuVall is considered an expert on the community’s sidewalk stampers.

Photograph by Matthew Suárez

Headlines aside, it’s not exactly fair to call sidewalks a city’s unsung heroes. They’ve actually been sung about quite a bit. “Sidewalk Surfin’” by Jan and Dean. “Dancing on the Sidewalk,” from the musical Fame. “The Sidewalks of New York,” written in 1894 by vaudeville actor and singer Charles B. Lawlor and subsequently covered by everyone from Mel Torme and Duke Ellington to the Grateful Dead. And, more recently, the 2016 hit by The Weekend, simply called “Sidewalks.”

Sidewalks saved my life

They don’t ever lie

Sidewalks saved my life

They showed me all the signs

They don’t let me down

But they lead me on

And they don’t let me down

But they lead me on

And they lead me on

• * * *

According to Sidewalks: Conflict and Negotiation over Public Space, a 2009 book by Anastasia Loukaitou-Sideris and Renia Ehrenfeucht, the origin of sidewalks dates back to 2000 BC, in the Western peninsula state of Anatolia, now the Republic of Turkey. The Romans built footpaths for their advancing civilizations, but sidewalks “remained rare luxuries in most of the world until the 19th century, when big cities like London and Paris built hundreds of miles of the stuff,” according to the book — chiefly to keep pedestrians from stepping in the horse droppings that lined the streets. With the Industrial Revolution and subsequent modernization of cities, the concept of sidewalks migrated to the Americas, where they quickly became free-for-all zones, popular with strolling musicians, stumping politicians, vendors, and prostitutes.

Things got so out of hand, according to the book, that “city after city started issuing ordinances prohibiting or regulating a number of sidewalk activities, from street vending to political and commercial speech, from the display of wares on the sidewalk to loitering, panhandling, and prostitution.” In the 1920s, the city of Detroit even began painting huge yellow footsteps on its sidewalks to really drive home the point: sidewalks are for walking.

As cities grew suburbs, sidewalks migrated beyond the urban core as well, and by the 1950s, sidewalks were as much a part of post-World War II Americana as white picket fences, station wagons, corner Kool-Aid stands, and Beaver Cleaver.

Here in San Diego, there are currently more than 5000 miles of sidewalk in the city alone, according to the city’s website — a statistic confirmed by Anthony Santacroce, the city’s senior public information officer. They are located on public right-of-way, and the city is responsible for any damage caused by car accidents, water main breaks, “grade subsidence” (sinking of sidewalk squares), and trees planted on public property. The city evaluated those 5000 miles of sidewalk from 2014 to 2015, and found more than 85,000 trouble spots with significant cracks, lumps or other damages. Last November, the Reader reported that the current estimate of sidewalk repairs is $185 million, “based on 37,000 locations known to be in need of replacement.” But sidewalk maintenance and repairs associated with normal wear-and-tear are the responsibility of the property owner, under a 1935 California law that allows cities throughout the state to require property owners to maintain the sidewalks in front of their homes or businesses.

Still, even in those cases, San Diego is willing to chip in. According to the city’s website, “property owners are [solely] responsible for the repair or replacement of their sidewalk when damaged by privately owned tree roots, heavy vehicle traffic or drainage from private property. However, when sidewalks are simply old and deteriorated, the city will split the cost with the property owner as part of the Cost Sharing Program.” To qualify, the damaged portion of the sidewalk has to measure at least 75 square feet. “After a field assessment is made, qualified property owners receive a cost share proposal by mail to sign and return,” according to the city website. “A request for payment is then sent 90 days before construction is expected to commence. The waiting period for sidewalk replacement after the field assessment varies depending on backlog of requests.”

Anyone who’s lived in San Diego for any significant length of time may have entertained a number of imponderables, such as: why are some sidewalks built right up to the street while others are separated by a strip of grass or other landscaping? Why do sidewalks abruptly end along some roadways, and then pick up again a few doors, blocks, or even miles down the way? In older neighborhoods, what are those chunks of old concrete at the end of some blocks with names and dates, surrounded by newer concrete? Why do some residential areas in San Diego have no sidewalks? And what’s with the red sidewalks of Burlingame? Patience, dear reader. We’ll get to all of that.

The Burlingame community of San Diego, built in 1912, is sandwiched between North Park to the north and east and by South Park to the south. After the streets were graded by mule teams and paved with crushed granite, it was decided to add a dull red tint to the concrete for the sidewalks to give them a unique look.

Photograph by Matthew Suárez

Curb appeal

There are essentially two types of sidewalk: the “contiguous” kind we typically see in residential as well as commercial neighborhoods, in which the concrete slabs of the sidewalk come right up to the curb, and something called “noncontiguous parkways,” in which a sidewalk is separated from the curb by a strip of landscaping or grass. In each case, the walking path needs to be at least five feet wide, measured from the back of the curb, according to the city of San Diego’s latest Street Design Manual, updated in 2017.

Of course, there are exceptions. “Where fire hydrants, street furniture, or other above-ground appurtenances reduce such width, additional sidewalk should, if feasible, be constructed around the obstacles,” the manual states. “Where feasible, the location of transit stops and shelters shall be determined and the sidewalk width shall be 10 feet where shelters are proposed. Other bus stop locations shall provide 8 feet of sidewalk. The wider sidewalk widths for bus shelters shall extend for 25 feet parallel to the curb measured from the bus stop sign. This will provide adequate clearance to accommodate bus lifts for persons with disabilities.” There’s also room for leeway. “Innovative sidewalks may be considered for area enhancement and to avoid existing features such as trees,” the manual says. “They may be approved on an individual basis provided they are located within the street ROW and maintenance of the area between the sidewalk and curb is provided by special assessment district or other agreement with the city of San Diego.”

Sidewalk shuffle

Why do some streets have sections of sidewalk that stop and sometimes restart, seemingly at random? Why do you sometimes find sidewalks on one side of the street and not on the other? The short answer: just as Rome wasn’t built in a day, neither was San Diego. Laws and regulations change with time, and while developers of single homes as well as tracts are generally required by most of the county’s city governments to build sidewalks in front of their newly built homes or developments, that wasn’t always the case. For example, in Olde Carlsbad, the older hillside homes along such streets as Skyline, Sunnyhill, and Alder typically don’t have sidewalks, while newer housing tracts of varying sizes that have sprung up in the neighborhood over the last 20 or so years, do. Homes in the Villa Capri tract, for example, are all fronted by sidewalks, but where the tract ends, so do the sidewalks. Similarly, on the southernmost block of Monroe Street, only the four newer tract homes on the west side of the street have sidewalks, while the two other houses, and all six on the east side of the street, do not.

Matt Hall is the former mayor of Carlsbad; he held the post from 2010 until 2022. Before that, he spent 16 years on the Carlsbad city council and 10 years prior to that on the planning commission. He says the city in 1994 passed an ordinance requiring developers of new homes to put in all new street improvements, including storm drains, gutters and sidewalks. That’s why such newer planned residential tracts as Canterbury, Aviara, and Bressi Ranch all have sidewalks on both sides of every single street. But in Olde Carlsbad, Hall says, “abiding by citizen concerns, builders of new single-family homes could put up a bond and delay putting in the sidewalks and other improvements until the majority of the street had to comply.” Back in the 1980s, Hall says, “there was a movement to require sidewalks and other improvements in all those neighborhoods, using money that was given to us at the time by SDG&E to underground utility lines, and the thought was we would do everything all at once. But the property owners said, ‘Over our dead bodies.’ They wanted to keep the rural feel, without sidewalks, curbs and gutters.”

The most prolific sidewalk builder on the Point Loma peninsula, DuVall says, was G.R. Daley. “Sunset Cliffs, Azure Vista and Riviera Villas all went in about the same time and G.R. Daley did almost all of those sidewalks — big, beautiful two-square sidewalks.

Photograph by Matthew Suárez

Sidewalk stampers

We’ve all gone on walks in older residential neighborhoods and seen names and dates stamped in the last sidewalk square before the street. In many cases, these last squares have been replaced by sloping patches of concrete designed to comply with Americans with Disabilities Act requirements, with the original sidewalk stamps carefully cut out and embedded in the new concrete. Who are these people, and why are we walking on their names? As San Diego was being built up, the contractors charged with pouring concrete for sidewalks were fiercely competitive. They began stamping their work with their names and dates of completion, both as a marketing tool and to congratulate themselves on a job well done. “It was advertising, at your feet, really, and I think it was also a level of pride,” says Bill Lawrence, CEO of the San Diego History Center.

Some of the earliest sidewalk stampers left their mark in downtown, in the streets surrounding what is now Horton Plaza, in the 1890s. As the city grew outward from the downtown core, streets and sidewalks grew with it, and in the first half of the 1900s each community had its own group of contractors responsible for building streets and sidewalks — and marking their territories. In La Jolla, one of the most prolific sidewalk stampers was Paul Landis, a Swiss immigrant who left his mark, and his sidewalks, all over the village, beginning in 1913. Other popular contractors include S.H. Breeze, W. Edgell, and William Parker. In University Heights, “some of the oldest sidewalk stamps … bear the name Brockway & Swarstad,” according to the University Heights Historical Society. James C. Brockway Jr. was a local contractor who lived at 2074 Johnson Avenue near Vermont Street, and his partner, Ole Swarstad, lived at F and 27th Streets in Golden Hill. “These sidewalk contractor stamps are symbols of the pride that tradesmen and women displayed in building our community,” the society website says. “They also hold important clues to our community’s historical development, and can help determine the age of a building since sidewalks are usually laid immediately before or after the first building is constructed on a block.”

In Ocean Beach, Ocean Beach Historical Society president Eric DuVall is a considered an expert on the community’s sidewalk stampers. He’s put together a program on the sidewalks of Ocean Beach and Point Loma called “Watch Your Step,” and has posted photo essays on Facebook under the name “Sidewalk Sundays.” One of these essays, “The Further Adventures of Taylor & Spencer,” features 11 different sidewalk stamps from his personal favorite OB sidewalk builder. “These are beautiful sidewalks,” he says.

DuVall says the oldest sidewalks preserved on the Point Loma peninsula, to the best of his knowledge, “are some F. Taylor 1912 sidewalks on Niagara Avenue. The most prolific sidewalk builder on the peninsula, DuVall says, was G.R. Daley. “Sunset Cliffs, Azure Vista and Riviera Villas all went in about the same time and G.R. Daley did almost all of those sidewalks — big, beautiful, two-square sidewalks. Bert Noble also did some of those, and he is probably the second leading contractor in Ocean Beach and Point Loma. There are a couple of funny stamps involving R.E. Hazard, writing his name with a nail in the wet concrete, spelling it wrong, etc.”

DuVall says the oldest sidewalks preserved on the Point Loma peninsula, to the best of his knowledge, “are some F. Taylor 1912 sidewalks on Niagara Avenue.

Photograph by Matthew Suárez

DuVall says his fascination with sidewalks dates back to when he was a boy, living on Devonshire Drive on the Point Loma peninsula: “On the block where I grew up we had a 1926 sidewalk. It said ‘4-26.’ As a little kid in the early 1960s, I did not know that was a date. That idea seemed preposterous. The ‘20s seemed like the very ‘old days’ to me at the time. I’d seen photos of people from the ‘20s, in their old-fashioned clothes, and I just couldn’t picture old-fashioned kids like that playing on our same sidewalk. Everything was so modern in the 1960s. When somebody confirmed for me that the stamp really referred to 1926, I was amazed, and started looking for and finding older and older sidewalks.” He continues: “I realize that this is a thoroughly nerdy hobby. However, this is how I met my lady friend, Kitty McDaniel. She knew a sidewalk I did not, and it was a way I used to walk frequently, so that was pretty impressive.”

In 2003, the city of San Diego began requiring the preservation of these vintage sidewalk stamps, which is why there are so many cut-out chunks of old concrete embedded in newer cement work. According to the city’s Street Design Manual, “These markers are an indicator of the age of a particular neighborhood and provide a sense of continuity and history for the residents. When existing sidewalks are being repaired or replaced, care must be taken to retain in place these stamps and imprints or to place them near the new sidewalk work.” Lawrence says that’s a great law. “I think it’s part of the character of the neighborhood,” he says. “You see very different designs from walking these older neighborhoods versus those built in the 1980s, ‘90s and 2000s, when the suburbs were being developed and people were moving into areas that were more car-oriented versus pedestrian-oriented. Don’t forget, San Diego once had a very robust streetcar line serving these more urban neighborhoods.”

But DuVall says the requirement is very often not met. “The contractors are/were paid $300 for each what I call ‘sidewalk save,’ but the problem is, they do not want to do that,” DuVall says. “They’ll take the money and then deface the saved stamp. No joke – 70 percent of the saved stamps are intentionally defaced in the process. That is just what it seems like to me, as it is very hard to find a ‘clean save,’ and if you’ve ever done any flat work or even built a wall, you know stuff like that is easy to clean up — water and a sponge. It is a weird phenomenon, and I don’t get it, but the workmanship just isn’t the same today, and there doesn’t seem to be much respect for the guys who were doing the same job 100+ years ago. Believe me, I have asked why they do that, and they say they don’t do that. But I have hundreds of photos to the contrary. Little Italy used to be a great part of town for sidewalks, but no mas. There are a few blocks intact, and a couple of interesting stamps remaining, but not too many.”

The toniest address on the Point Loma peninsula is The Wooded Area, where sidewalks are conspicuously absent.

Photograph by Matthew Suárez

Can’t see the sidewalks for the trees

The toniest address on the Point Loma peninsula is The Wooded Area, which straddles the very top of the peninsula, south of Talbot and east of Catalina, and runs right into the Naval Base Point Loma. “This neighborhood, which is characterized by large lots, is exclusively developed with single-family homes of varying ages and styles,” according to the city’s Peninsula Plan. “A substantial number of large eucalyptus and evergreen trees, in conjunction with many narrow and, in some cases, unpaved roads, add a rural atmosphere to this area.” Adding to this “rural atmosphere” is the complete absence of sidewalks.

Point Loma is a relatively new residential area. For much of the first half of the 20th century, the peninsula was home to the Theosophical Society, a religious community centered around what is now Point Loma Nazarene University. Members of this society planted many of the trees in the area, and after the campus moved in 1942, developer George Wood built the first homes in the area, choosing not to mess with the vegetation to give the neighborhood a rural feel.

The Wooded Area is not the only residential neighborhood in San Diego where sidewalks are conspicuously absent. Up north in La Jolla, the hilly neighborhoods of Ludington Heights, Country Club, and The Muirlands — just below Mount Soledad — also have large tracts with no sidewalks. According to the La Jolla Historical Society, development in La Jolla began in 1887, with the flatlands near the coast, which were laid out in a traditional grid pattern, complete with sidewalks. The more remote hilly areas weren’t developed until the 1920s, and according to an excellent La Jolla Light article from 2016 by Maria Jose Duran, planners weren’t concerned about sidewalks because the steep streets were designed for horse traffic. As historian Carol Olten told The Light, “People didn’t need a sidewalk to go up there because they were riding their horses.”

The aforementioned city of San Diego sidewalk assessment that was completed in 2015 — as it happens, the first one ever conducted — found 620 miles of road within the city limits where no sidewalks exist. The city council at the time allocated $2.7 million to build new sidewalks – enough for just 3.5 miles. At the time, a spokesperson for Councilmember Mark Kersey told the Union-Tribune that the cost was so high because it includes curbs and ramps (mostly for driveways, but also at street corners). She added that not all of the 620 miles of missing sidewalks would be built, “because in some cases residents don’t want sidewalks,” according to the article. Count residents of The Wooded Area and the hilly residential enclaves in the shadow of Mount Soledad among them.

On the southernmost block of Monroe Street in Carlsbad, only the four newer tract homes on the west side of the street have sidewalks, while the two other houses, and all six on the east side of the street, do not.

Photograph by Thomas K. Arnold

Seeing Red

The Burlingame community of San Diego, built in 1912, is sandwiched between North Park to the north and east and by South Park to the south. A historic district, the 40-acre tract is known for its more than 170 “uniquely and architecturally interesting homes,” according to the city planning department, built in a range of styles that include Craftsman, Mission Revival, Spanish Colonial Revival, Prairie School, Art Deco and California Ranch. But all of this is secondary to what many consider the little community’s signature: red sidewalks. When developers and real estate speculators Joseph McFadden and George Buxton first eyed the area in the early 1900s, they named their future development the “Tract of Character.” And what better way to give their development a distinctive appearance than to focus on the streets and sidewalks? After the streets were graded by mule teams and paved with crushed granite, it was decided to add a dull red tint to the concrete for the sidewalks to give them a unique look as well. The granite streets did not survive; today, they are covered with asphalt, as are the vast majority of the city’s 2668 (as of 2017) miles of street (120 miles are concrete). But the sidewalks remain red, and continue to be a source of pride to residents.

“It’s a fantastic spot,” says Ryan Brodmann, who both lives in Burlingame and works as a local realtor. “We have a $25 voluntary HOA, and for that, you get to be part of the neighborhood association, which organizes caroling, a visit from Santa, a Fourth of July parade, neighborhood block parties, and neighborhood garage sales. Residents really take pride in being part of this community, which is easily identified by the red sidewalks. One of the huge advantages is that many of the homes are historic and pay lower property taxes. And if you don’t have red sidewalks [in front of your home] you’re outside this community, and you miss out on the taxes and the benefits of being part of this neighborhood association.” The red sidewalks, he says, “are kind of a badge of honor. We don’t need a sign; you know it’s Burlingame because of the red sidewalks. We’ve even seen if somebody redoes their front yard, more often than not, if they redo the concrete out front, they go above and beyond and have that concrete stained red, as well.”

Sidewalks of Death

Some people take their final steps on the sidewalks of San Diego — and not by choice. To end this compendium of sidewalk stories, let’s venture into the dark side and recount some of the city’s many sidewalk slayings.

In January, a fight at a homeless encampment on 17th Street just north of Imperial led to the stabbing death of a 41-year-old man. Both the victim and the suspect, 57-year-old Paul Bellow, were homeless. Also in January, 23-year-old Najee Woods was shot to death while walking on the north sidewalk on Akins Street near the Encanto trolley station. The shooter fired from a small SUV that was last seen fleeing the scene northbound on 62nd Street.

In June 2017, a 65-year-old Ocean Beach transient — known as “The Incense Man” because he sold incense at the local farmers market — was found stabbed to death shortly after midnight on the sidewalk in the 1900 block of Bacon Street. Noah Mitchell Jackson was later arrested, convicted of second-degree murder and sentenced to 15 years to life in prison.

In September 2011, a 68-year-old cab driver was found shot to death late at night on the sidewalk in the 8600 block of La Jolla Scenic Drive, across the street from the Adat Yeshurun synagogue. Witnesses said they had seen the taxi pull to the west curb and two men get out, followed by an argument, a struggle and, ultimately, gunfire.

Of course, not all sidewalk deaths are intentional. On a rainy Monday morning in March 2021, a 71-year-old driver veered onto a sidewalk in the 1500 block of B Street, on the San Diego City College underpass, killing three people and injuring six. In December 2014, a 51-year-old woman out for a beachfront jog was killed on the east sidewalk of Carlsbad Boulevard, two blocks north of Tamarack Avenue, when a 52-year-old man driving a 1998 Ford Expedition jumped the curb and struck her. And as recounted in a November 2021 Reader article, in May 2020, two young brothers, 10 and 11, along with their grandmother and her boyfriend, were out for an evening walk on San Pasqual Valley Road, near Oak Hill, in Escondido when they were struck by a car that jumped the curb. The two boys, Manny and Yovanny, were killed instantly; the grandmother and her friend died later in a hospital. The driver, 30-year-old Ashley Rene Williams was sentenced to 25 years to life in prison after pleading guilty to second-degree murder and manslaughter. Prosecutors said that just before the fatal crash, she had been puffing canned air.