When I lived in the Marina my landlord was Victor Faenzi, who'd been born in a house on Lombard around 1900. He told me when he'd go duck hunting he'd put on his waders at Francisco St. As a youth he went to the Worlds Fair every night, said it was wonderful. After the fair his uncle bought building lots for $50 each and the neighbors thought he'd lost his mind. When I accidently fired my Glock 9mm in the apartment Victor came over to patch up the holes in the wall. He was about 90 and scolded me for having a 9mm instead of a Colt .45. This photo was taken from the Beaver float plane.