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Golden Gates
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A Time 100 Must-Read Book of 2020 • A New York Times Book Review Editors’ Choice • California Book Award Silver Medal in Nonfiction • Finalist for The New York Public Library Helen Bernstein Book Award for Excellence in Journalism • Named a top 30 must-read Book of 2020 by the New York Post • Named one of the 10 Best Business Books of 2020 by Fortune • Named A Must-Read Book of 2020 by Apartment Therapy • Runner-Up General Nonfiction: San Francisco Book Festival • A Planetizen Top Urban Planning Book of 2020 • Shortlisted for the Goddard Riverside Stephan Russo Book Prize for Social Justice
“Tells the story of housing in all its complexity.” —NPR
Spacious and affordable homes used to be the hallmark of American prosperity. Today, however, punishing rents and the increasingly prohibitive cost of ownership have turned housing into the foremost symbol of inequality and an economy gone wrong. Nowhere is this more visible than in the San Francisco Bay Area, where fleets of private buses ferry software engineers past the tarp-and-plywood shanties of the homeless. The adage that California is a glimpse of the nation’s future has become a cautionary tale.
With propulsive storytelling and ground-level reporting, New York Times journalist Conor Dougherty chronicles America’s housing crisis from its West Coast epicenter, peeling back the decades of history and economic forces that brought us here and taking readers inside the activist movements that have risen in tandem with housing costs.
“[I] seriously admir[ed Golden Gates]. It focuses on the acute shortage of affordable housing in the San Francisco Bay Area—a topic you might expect to read about dutifully, not for pleasure. But Dougherty has a gift for making complex policy problems both clear and compellingly readable, and for rendering his characters with unsentimental sympathy.” —Jonathan Franzen, author of Crossroads
“A tour de force. It’s a rare book that mixes careful, nuanced reporting, painless economics lessons, interesting history of California, and pitch‐perfect humor, but Dougherty has written one.” —Cato Institute
“Dougherty, Bay Area native and an economics reporter for The New York Times, is the exact right person to unpack the causes and consequences of housing cost insanity. Golden Gates is a beautifully written piece of long-form journalism, as Dougherty takes us beyond the macroeconomic and policy forces that undergird the SF area housing crisis and introduces us to the people trying to solve a likely unsolvable problem.” —Joshua Kim, Inside Higher Ed
“Dougherty investigates and interviews residents who share their own stories that prove that some gates may not ever be open for all—and that must change.” —Gina Vaynshteyn, Apartment Therapy’s Must-Read Books of 2020
“[A] striking book about the history and politics of the dire housing shortage in San Francisco. [Dougherty] nimbly, and with significant humanity, covers a lot of ground.” —Time
“Skillfully exploring everything from the yes in my backyard (YIMBY) movement, which promotes more housing development, to anti-gentrification activism, the normalization of homelessness, and the factors that have made it so prohibitively expensive to build anything new . . . [Golden Gates] look[s] squarely at the politics of trying to respond to this disaster. By examining the inertia and ineffectiveness of political leaders who largely agree on what needs to be done, [Dougherty] makes a sobering case for how and why our politics have failed. While not so much a book of specific policy prescriptions, Golden Gates helps clarify why we have a housing crisis in the first place.” —Rachel M. Cohen, The Nation
“The Bay Area’s housing crisis is about more than exorbitant prices, and its multifaceted nature is reflected in the variety of stories Dougherty tells.” —Sasha Perigo, Curbed
“Deeply reported and complete . . . The beat-by-beat developments of California’s decades-long growth of income inequality are presented with sharp detail and an even, measured tone. Like Matthew Desmond’s Evicted (also excellent, and a great pairing with this book), Golden Gates makes a broader argument by staying very tight on the story of a series of people, rather than policy.” —Kevin Nguyen, author of New Waves
“Sweeping . . . a subtle appeal against tribalism.” —The New Yorker
“For a compelling and accessible overview of [California’s] housing crisis, there is no better book than Conor Dougherty’s Golden Gates: Fighting for Housing in America. Mr. Dougherty . . . has a gift for telling the stories of people struggling to overcome California’s housing dysfunction: the teenager fighting a rent increase that would displace her family; the three brothers who share one room in a house that is already home to seven other people; the enterprising builder who assumes massive regulatory risk to experiment with modular housing; the Catholic nun who tangles with real-estate investors to buy up apartment buildings and deed-restrict them as forever affordable. Absorbed in these narratives, the reader hardly realizes he is receiving an education on the political economy of California’s housing market.” —Brandon Fuller, The Wall Street Journal
“There’s an epochal feel to Golden Gates. Oakland-based New York Times economics reporter Dougherty captures his native Bay Area—wracked by growing pains, in generational flux—at an inflection point. The crucible for much of this strife: housing . . . Like the best nonfiction, it anatomizes an esoteric subculture to illuminate larger truths. . . . Comparisons of expository journalism to Michael Lewis should be made sparingly (many are the wannabes. . .), but Golden Gates evokes the Berkeley nonfiction master tonally and thematically.” —Stephen Phillips, San Francisco Chronicle
“Golden Gates is both an empathetic portrait of all sides—legislators, developers, pro-housing and anti-gentrification activists—as well as a masterly primer on the fight for new construction in California . . . Dougherty expertly explains the confluence of microeconomic and historical forces that have created a housing shortage so severe . . . essential reading.” —Francesca Mari, New York Times Book Review
“Dougherty, like many good reporters, doesn’t traffic radical solutions or broad panaceas, but instead tells the story of housing in all its complexity. And, with it, he tells the story of people who have fought pyrrhic battles for the dignity of a roof over their heads.” —Nicholas Cannariato, NPR
“[A]n excellent new book by The New York Times writer Conor Dougherty—dispenses with ideology to offer some economic sense on a genuine crisis . . . quirky characters and genuine plot twists make the policy wonkery more effective. In an election year filled with fantastical policy promises, Dougherty’s thoughtful take on a hot-button issue seems downright radical.” —Anna Szymanski, Reuters
“[T]he housing crisis is utterly gripping in Dougherty’s hands, told as it is through the lens of individuals in San Francisco struggling with rising rents, housing scarcity, and poverty. Through zippy prose and deep reporting, Dougherty . . . explains why housing has become unaffordable and how we can solve the problem—that is, if we want to.” —Adrienne Westenfeld, Esquire
“Golden Gates is and will be the definitive account of a distinctive moment in American urban history.” —Planetizen
“Zoning policy is about as sexy as a four-hour municipal land-use hearing, so it’s no mean feat that Dougherty is able to transmute regulatory minutiae into a breezy, character-driven narrative that illustrates the central reason so many cities are so damn expensive.” —Christian Britschgi, Reason
“Compelling stories . . . Dougherty illustrates how highly polarized and divisive the debates about housing have become, even in the liberal Bay Area. . . . His balanced lens helps readers gain a sense of both the pressing need for affordable housing and the formidable political challenges to creating it.” —Ingrid Ellen, Public Books
“Dougherty’s new book provides a comprehensive account of the origins of California’s housing crisis, illuminating the many places where it hides in plain sight—in contract cities, in tax law, in shifting cultural trends, in structural economic transformations, as well as in the annals of policy and planning. Dougherty applies a similarly wide lens to the diverse activists who have emerged to challenge the housing status quo, leaving readers hopeful for the future of a broader housing movement—if perhaps also a bit overwhelmed by it . . . Golden Gates is at its best as a history, whose breadth demonstrates the impossibility of silver-bullet housing solutions.” —Benjamin Schneider, City Lab
“The housing crisis has many facets, which Dougherty admirably chooses to explore. His time spent with a nun-turned-real-estate investor attempting to stave off evictions of poor people is heartrending…The questions of what gets built where—and who lives where—are not just at the center of local politics, but at the center of our lived experiences. In his treatment of the first, Dougherty offers a work as good as the previous standard on San Francisco politics, Richard E. DeLeon’s 1992 book Left Coast City. But in Dougherty’s rendering of how a new generation of city dwellers has come to the realization that something is deeply wrong with how our housing system works and that it falls to them to fix it, his book has no equal.” —Scott Lucas, BuzzFeed
“[A] deeply human story of how our democracy has evolved—so very imperfectly—to create a massive shortfall of housing, especially in and around San Francisco, and how a varied cast of characters are seeking to address that crisis. No matter where you stand in the housing debate, Dougherty will persuade you that, looked at through someone else’s eyes—someone very sympathetic, at that—your prescriptions are the problem, rather than the solution.” —Felix Salmon, Axios
“Anyone seeking a political remedy to the housing problem would do well to read Conor Dougherty’s Golden Gates: Fighting for Housing in America, a painstakingly researched and penetrating analysis of the economic and political forces behind America’s most dysfunctional housing market: San Francisco… Dougherty does not shy away from the complexity of his subject matter, and he illuminates the many contradictions of national and local housing policies.” —Chris Serres, Star Tribune
“A stunning, well-researched look at different aspects of the Bay Area housing crisis.” —Mackenzie Dawson, The New York Post
“A clear analysis of the economic forces and policy choices that got things to where they are today, but does so through intimate personal stories that humanize the issue.” —Bloomberg
“Compelling reporting . . . Dougherty was the right reporter in the right place to capture the human stories at the heart of this dreadful irony.” —Justin Slaughter, Bookforum
“Dougherty probes the fight from multiple angles, recounting the history of housing restrictions, efforts to promote growth under Governor Pat Brown, and contemporary machinations of developers, politicians, and priced-out tenants to cope with a broken system . . . An engrossing survey of one city’s housing politics.” —Booklist
“Conor Dougherty’s lucid first book tells this important story, zeroing in on San Francisco . . . Dougherty reveals few outright villains here. Instead, what emerges is a system that has not yet accepted the reality of the people who live within it. Dougherty’s propositions for how to make housing more fair are sane and ought to influence a debate or two in years to come.” —John Freeman, Lit Hub
“Incisive, character-driven debut . . . Dougherty expertly weaves these individual stories into his overarching assessment of urban policy, and makes a convincing case for ‘mixed’ housing solutions that balance affordability, availability, and profit. Readers who assume there’s no solution to sky-high rents in America’s big cities should consult this detailed and optimistic counter-narrative.”—Publishers Weekly
“Economics reporter Dougherty’s first book identifies housing as a profound American social and economic challenge which also influences other problems, from educational gaps and racial disparity to climate change . . . well-reported and well-documented, not to mention fascinating, treatment of a topic that Dougherty convincingly argues is critical to equity and stability in America . . . Recommended for renters, owners, developers, and policymakers alike.” —Library Journal
“Illustrate[s] how the crisis plays out in people’s lives and the forces driving the housing market . . . like Matt Desmond’s Evicted did a few years ago . . . Dougherty’s purpose isn’t to draw conclusions and point to solutions, but his in-depth reporting provides the reader with a more nuanced understanding of the forces at work in today’s high cost housing markets.” —Chris Herbert, managing director of the Harvard Joint Center for Housing Studies
“Golden Gates is a careful consideration of the Bay Area’s slow-burning housing crisis and deepening socioeconomic cleft, and a finely reported exploration of some more recent accelerants: political infighting, arcane policy, the strictures and incentives of capitalism, and, of course, the rapid growth and ascendance of Silicon Valley tech corporations. With precision, insight, and flashes of humor, Conor Dougherty delivers intimate glimpses of a region in transition, and a sobering reminder that San Francisco, these days, is not so much an exception as a harbinger of the future for America’s cities.” —Anna Wiener, author of Uncanny Valley
“The cost of buying a single-family home or even renting a small apartment in a convenient, desirable location is one of the most pervasive conundrums facing Americans today. Perhaps no other phenomenon drives income inequality as starkly as housing . . . While Dougherty provides plenty of macro-level research about housing across the nation—and especially in San Francisco—the major strength of the narrative occurs at the micro level . . . poignant and thought-provoking . . . A readable, eye-opening exploration.” —Kirkus
“Golden Gates is a terrific work of explanatory journalism. If you want to understand the colliding forces that have turned the San Francisco Bay Area into a housing powder keg and threaten to engulf many more cities across the country, you need to read this book.” —John Carreyrou, New York Times bestselling author of Bad Blood
“How do we solve a problem like California, with its three-hour commutes and sky-high rents? Deeply-reported and fast-paced, Golden Gates introduces you to the people fighting for and against affordable housing in one of the world’s hottest real estate markets. In following the clashes between political leaders, tenant activists, developers, and working families, Dougherty brings a novel perspective to one of the nation’s most urgent problems.” —Matthew Desmond, author of Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City
“California has always led the nation—and right now, California’s struggles with housing affordability, homelessness, and displacement offer a sober window into the near future of every American city. With sharp writing and exhaustive reporting, Conor Dougherty gets to the heart of the matter with a comprehensive look at the Bay Area, home to both a storied legacy of progressive activism and the highest current rents in the world. How did this happen, and what will happen when it comes to your city? Dougherty weaves a hypnotic tale of both progress and decline in Golden Gates.” —Caille Millner, author of The Golden Road: Notes on my Gentrification and San Francisco Chronicle columnist
“America’s economic success is badly hampered because overly expensive housing stops Americans from moving to our new lands of opportunity like Silicon Valley. Conor Dougherty has written an insightful and engaging book explaining why housing has become unaffordable in so many places. This vivid, insightful book provides a peerless guide to the fierce political battles over new construction that will help determine the future of our society. This book is a must-read for anyone who cares about the future of America’s cities.” —Ed Glaeser, author of Survival of the City and Triumph of the City Conor Dougherty is an economics reporter at The New York Times. He previously spent a decade in New York covering housing and the economy for The Wall Street Journal. He grew up in the Bay Area and lives with his family in Oakland.
Chapter 1
Members of the Public
The political revolution known as BARF began during a seven-hour-and-fifty-two-minute planning meeting inside San Francisco City Hall. It was half a century in the making and in the space of two years would upend California politics and help to spawn a national uprising of angry, millennial-aged renters. But there on that first day you almost had to squint to see it. The meeting was in the judicial-looking chambers of the San Francisco Planning Commission, and it had been going for about three and a half hours when the commissioners turned their attention to a proposal for a new building that would have eighty-three subsidized apartments reserved for low-income households in the impoverished Tenderloin neighborhood. When it was time for public comment, a nervous young woman in a striped sweater and shorts walked from her seat to the audience microphone and addressed the semicircle of commissioners sitting on the platform in front of her.
“Hi, my name is Sonja Trauss,” she said. “I’m just a member of the public, and I’m here because there is a housing shortage in San Francisco. And, um, I look forward to as much new housing being brought to market at all levels, uhh, as possible. I mean, quickly as possible. Thanks.”
Whoever this Sonja was, she was obviously not alone. Over the next hour, she and a bearded friend kept using the public comment time to say they were in favor of every project in the pipeline, as well as more housing generally. It began with the 83 subsidized apartments in the Tenderloin, then continued with the 111 units at 650 Indiana Street and the 259 units at 1201 Tennessee. Through hastily prepared comments that she strung together with a surplus of “ums” and “sos,” Sonja proceeded to lay out a platform that would make her a housing celebrity and inspire a run for city office: how expensive new housing today would become affordable old housing tomorrow, how San Francisco was blowing its chance to harness the energy of an economic boom to mass-build housing that generations of residents could use. She wasn’t there to complain about shadows over her yard or a lack of parking on her street. She didn’t care if a proposal was for apartments or condominiums or how much money its future residents had. It was a universal platform of more. Sonja was for anything and everything, so long as it was built tall and fast and had people living in it.
“I decided to come speak in support of large housing projects when I realized that the entitlement process is biased against beneficiaries of new building,” she told the commission when the Indiana Street project was up. “So neighbors around the projects, with valuable opinions, um, you know, get notified, but the potential probably two hundred new residents have no way of giving input into whether, like, this project or any similar project gets to be built. . . . Sooooo, I’m part of the general community of renters in the Bay Area, so I’m affected by the lack of housing through high rent and lack of options, so I’m here on behalf of myself as, like, a general part of the public. So yeah, so, in general, I’m here to remind the planning commission to consider all the people that will benefit from this once it’s built. Because they don’t exist yet as, you know, as renters.”
The rhetoric wasn’t new. The term “NIMBY,” developer shorthand for “not in my backyard,” had been around for at least four decades at that point, and there were numerous books, countless news articles, and an entire sub-specialty of economics to show that the Bay Area was the national capital of NIMBYism. Had she been a man with white hair or identified herself as the employee of a real estate developer, chances are nobody would have noticed. But for a young adult with no obvious signs of intoxication to show up at a midday city meeting to say she was just generally in favor of housing because San Francisco didn’t have enough of it? That made no sense.
Nobody attended eight-hour city meetings if they didn’t have to, and while the planning commission was a place of arguments and strange behavior, it was also a place where people at least knew where each other’s lanes were. The people who showed up to speak in favor of new projects were the developers who’d proposed them, the trade organizations they paid to shill for them, the unions who worked for them, and the community organizations whose wheels they had successfully greased. The people who showed up to oppose new projects consisted of environmentalists, angry neighbors, and community organizations that felt their wheels hadn’t been greased enough. Sonja claimed to be none of these-“just a member of the public.”
After the meeting, people walked up to her in the marble hallway to try to figure out if someone had sent her. What’s your name? Sonja. What do you do? I’m a high school math teacher. What brought you here today? I’m just a member of the public. The sorts of people who were usually against things asked Sonja questions that were designed to figure out which developer she secretly worked for. The developers she secretly didn’t work for tried to figure out if the opposition had recruited her as a reverse-psychology trick. Whichever side they were on, bystanders wanted to know where she had come from and if she had a hidden angle.
Sonja was a grad school dropout who had moved to the Bay Area because she was too embarrassed to move home. She was originally from Philadelphia and ended up in California after bailing out of the economics PhD program at Washington University in St. Louis. Technically speaking, she’d left with a master’s, but school had not gone well, and because she was too proud to go back to Philadelphia after telling all her friends that she was off to become Dr. Sonja Trauss, she continued west to El Cerrito, a few miles north of Berkeley, to help her dad’s cousin Myrna while she went through chemotherapy. It seemed like a good thing to do for family while she figured out what to do with herself, although that figuring was a lot easier when you had someone you could stay with. After Myrna’s treatment, when Sonja went looking for work and an apartment, she joined the long line of people who’d discovered that the Bay Area was an easy place to get a job and an impossible place to afford rent. She and two friends got a West Oakland apartment that cost $3,000 a month, and Sonja started teaching math at a pair of across-the-bay community colleges for $20 an hour, before quitting to make $10.50 an hour at a nearby bakery that didn’t involve commuting. It made sense: once she subtracted the cost of all the buses, trains, and ferries that sat between her place and the two teaching jobs, the bakery’s take-home pay was the same. It was also depressing: working the night shift twisting pretzel dough was not what she’d expected to be doing at thirty.
She’d never really had it together in the career department. Sonja graduated from Temple with a philosophy degree, then went to law school and dropped out. Later came the economist phase that sent her to the Midwest before she left. She’d been a bike messenger, a window washer, and a legal aide. She worked at a neighborhood association and answered the phones at a mortgage hotline in the throes of the financial crisis. Sonja liked reading and school, and her mom was a nurse and her dad was a lawyer, so the professional expectation was there. She just could never throw herself into the pursuit of a real job or credential the way she could so totally throw herself into the new hobbies and activist side projects she picked up whenever some problem or perceived injustice appeared along the way.
This had started early. In seventh grade Sonja got sent to detention after she and a friend persuaded their science class to be dead silent for an entire class period to punish the teacher for telling the class to shut up. No questions, no greetings, nothing but eerie preteen stares for forty-five straight minutes. She’d been arrested for protesting a city plan to renovate a popular park so that it wouldn’t be so attractive to skateboarders, and later spent a year organizing friends and sewing spandex costumes as part of the founding of a thirty-person comedy troupe, the the Vaudevillains, that marched in the New Year’s Mummers Parade. When the owner of a printing press across the street from her house in Philly started operating at all hours, Sonja turned it into a months-long war that began with a noise complaint to the city, escalated to more complaints about the city’s lack of responsiveness, and ended after she started calling the owner of the printing press’s cell phone and leaving messages that consisted of nothing but the sound of his press in the background while she held the phone out of her bedroom window, then kept calling, over and over, until the voice mail ran out of space and the owner asked a judge for a restraining order.
In Philly, you could afford to be a marginally employed rabble-rouser because everything was cheap. Sonja had a cheap four-bedroom house that had open walls with exposed wiring, and she packed it with cheap artist and musician roommates who turned the place into a subcultural melting pot of punks, rappers, artists, zinesters, graffiti writers, Hollertronix DJs, and grad students. Years later, the people who lived and hung out there would describe it with strange vignettes, like how Spank Rock and Santigold once filmed a music video in the living room, or how there was this one period when Sonja got really into weight lifting and another when she was all about role-playing games, and how on occasion these interests would overlap and one day you’d come home and find her in a circle with a bunch of buff dudes drinking protein shakes while playing Call of Cthulhu. Bargain rent was the backdrop, the freedom that brought these scenes into existence. And it was 180 the experience of the Bay Area, where art seemed to be defined by political activism and the struggle of just being there.
This was never more true than it was during one of the region’s periodic tech booms. During the late 1990s dot-com boom, a group called the Mission Yuppie Eradication Project started encouraging residents of San Francisco’s Mission District to vandalize parked SUVs on the logic that this would prompt young professionals to move to neighborhoods where their cars were safer (and the restaurants who catered to them to go out of business). Two decades later, when Sonja arrived at the beginning of a new boom tied to smartphones and social media, the yuppies had traded their SUVs for Ubers, so activists had instead taken to spray-painting the sidewalks with phrases like “Tech Scum” in nicely stenciled lettering. Things started escalating in 2013, when a group calling itself Heart of the City descended on the annual Pride Parade with a white bus emblazoned with a banner that read “Gentrification & Eviction Technologies OUT” (GET OUT) in Google font and coloring. Later that year, on December 9, 2013, the same group created a human blockade that prevented one of Google’s employees-only shuttle buses from leaving a stop in the Mission en route to the company’s headquarters, which sat thirty-five traffic-choked miles away in the Silicon Valley city of Mountain View.
Anyone in search of a meme-ready example of the “barbell economy”-bulges of rich and poor separated by a rail of middle class-would have a hard time doing better than the Bay Area tech buses. They were hulking double-deckers with velvety seats and fast Wi-Fi and tinted windows to hide the private lives of software geeks. It wasn’t just that tech jobs paid well and came with a ride to work. They had good health care and free lunch and gyms and laundry, and the people who got them were “talent.” The spectacle of a bus full of talent being protested by several dozen people holding signs that said things like “Stop Evictions Now” and “Warning: Two Tier System” seemed to encapsulate America’s vastly more unequal direction, and within a few hours the story, which had been heavily chronicled on Twitter, was splashed on newspaper home pages around the world.
Sonja was plenty bothered by rising rents but had a different view on what the problem was. Having spent most of her life in Philadelphia, a city with blocks of empty property that had lost about half a million people from its 1950 peak, she knew what a troubled city looked like and was not going to blame anyone for moving to a region that to an outsider felt like an economic wonderland. It had been only a few years since the Great Recession. Most of America was still grappling with what the pundits called “a jobless recovery” (whatever that meant), while the Bay Area lived in a bubble of exuberance and self-satisfaction. Google had just revealed its self-driving car project, Facebook was gearing up to go public, and the venture capitalist Marc Andreessen was coining the phrase “software is eating the world.” Sonja thought it was exciting to live in a place with so much optimism and easy employment, and when she heard people complain about how San Francisco was being murdered by runaway growth, she regarded them as ingrates who didn’t know or didn’t care what places like Philly and St. Louis looked like.
So, no, the problem was not too many jobs, which is fundamentally what the tech protests were about. The problem, as Sonja saw it, was too little housing. She was two years removed from economics school. The law of supply and demand was still fresh in her mind. She’d also found it shocking just how flat Bay Area cities seemed to be given how much it cost to live there. There were some skyscrapers and a few Parisian-height neighborhoods around the core of San Francisco and Oakland, but most of the rest was single-family houses, and the region’s two major commuter rail lines, Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) and Caltrain, were surrounded by empty fields and sprawl of the sort Northern Californians supposedly scoffed at LA and Orange County for. The mythical Silicon Valley, charter of America’s future, was a land of unremarkable cul-de-sacs with unremarkable $2 million houses, surrounded by a bunch of office parks and strip malls that could be mistaken for the suburbs of Phoenix. And yet seemingly anytime someone talked about building a duplex or triplex, let alone a five- or six-story building, it was tarred for having too many shadows or being “out of character.”
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