SAN Francisco has an eclectic mix of ways to get around: buses and trolley buses, light rail and metro trains, vintage trams, and even driverless cars. But the city’s distinctive cable cars have – quite literally – climbed above all others to attain iconic status, and this year sees them notch up 150 years of operation.
The cable cars are used more by tourists than commuters, becoming an international symbol of the city as all good public transport should – much like London’s Tube and roundels, except Tony Bennett never crooned about the Northern Line.
In 1889, Rudyard Kipling sailed in from India through the (yet to be bridged) Golden Gate strait, and one of first observations upon disembarking was: “I proceeded till I found a mighty street… Here a tram-car, without any visible means of support, slid stealthily behind me and nearly struck me in the back. This was the famous cable car of San Francisco, which runs by gripping an endless wire rope sunk in the ground.”
I immediately need to dispute the great writer. The cable cars generate far too visceral a rattle to be considered ‘stealthy’. Their bells are as synonymous with the Bay City as its fog horns and, seemingly, just as loud. They clatter through the streets and, even when out of sight, the hum of the cable, inches below road level, is ever present.
The experience vibrated into the bones of today’s rider would be instantly recognisable to millions of passengers over decades past. You can still sit sideways to the direction of travel, on an open bench unencumbered by the comfort of a partition between you and the street flashing past. The brave can hang onto an upright pole, standing on a footboard. The top speed of 9.5mph (the rate the cable moves) sounds sedate until you are tilting up and down, as if possessed by a malevolent switchback.
At the front, the ‘gripman’ must orchestrate control seemingly from chance, throwing heavy levers back
