Humor: Silicon Valley's
Urban Outpost
In the fifties, it was North Beach; in the sixties, the Haight; in the eighties, the Embarcadero. But in 2000, San Francisco's most unlikely new hot
spot—SOMA—is where it's at.
By Todd Barrett, MBA
'95
If you've stood at almost any corner south of San Francisco's Market Street (SOMA) over the last four years, you've seen it all: push, b2b, c2c, a2z, RSVP,
ASAP—all the hottest trends in this hot-test industry in what has been the hottest economy in decades go flying by. And through it all, this neighborhood, perhaps the unlikeliest of hot spots, has endured the will o' the wisp whims of the Web business to remain the center of it all.
Call it SOMA, Multimedia Gulch, Audio Alley, whatever-it's the nexus of the Net. Sure, Menlo Park has its charms; there's the rush from hitting the lights on Sand Hill Road just right. San Mateo has its
pluses—hey, there's a Starbucks there, too. And Sunnyvale has, well, I'm not sure, but there's got to be something there. But none can compare to the area bounded roughly by the Bay to the east, Potrero Avenue to the west, Bryant Street to the north and I-280 to the south.
At first glance, it doesn't appear to be
much—no hum of industriousness (that's the Financial District), no money growing on trees (that is, or, at least, was back in Menlo Park), and, until recently, not a single valet parking stand. Aha, that's just the point; this neighborhood has the elements that others don't. Look more closely and you'll see SOMA has put it all together, first to market with all the amenities vital to dot-comity.
Cheap Food. You know that post-IPO chateaubriand you were craving? Not so fast. Conserve cash and take a short stroll down the Embarcadero to Red's Java House. Mesmerizing views of the Bay will help keep you from looking at the fryer. Good thing, too, because anyone looking at the little terrors of beef sizzling there is bound to have a moment of doubt. But then you step up to the register and realize that you can get a full meal for less than $4. Hey, that's only a couple shares of Pets.com. Sure, the meal may give you some intestinal discomfort, but so does the Nasdaq, and you keep coming back to that, don't you?
For dessert, you'll be tempted by the smells from the Wonder Bakery at Potrero and 15th Street. Most startups find themselves joyfully downwind of the aroma of Twinkies baking. Or emulsifying. Or however it is that Twinkies are made.
Strong Coffee. Stop by Peet's at Potrero Center and it all becomes clear: Forget bits and bytes, routers and doo-hickeys—without the little bean of pleasure this whole Internet thing comes crashing down around us. The lines run out the door in the morning and well into the afternoon with everyone from biz dev types on cell phones to shoeless code stylists coming down from all-night frenzies. Other places such as Café Liliane on 15th dole out the dark stuff, too, doing their bit for the New Economy. Without coffee, programmers would sleep. And we simply can't have that.
Rotting Shells of the Old Economy. SOMA is chock-full of old factories and warehouses that can easily be converted into way-cool temples to the New Economy. Out with the drill presses and in with the cappuccino machines. Toss a coupla doors on sawhorses, splash some paint around, and voilà, you've got a World HQ. Hell, it's better than the frat house where most of your employees were flopping not so long ago. Listen.com recently converted a former metal-stamping factory into its new headquarters, and iSyndicate's front door at 9th and Bryant is cut out of the old garage door to the property. Most of the places brim with character that you can't find at the typical cookie-cutter cubicle barn on the Peninsula. That they also brim with pigeons is just something you must work through.
And if you're wondering about those people skipping down the block? Landlords. Not long ago they were sitting on run-down pieces of property barely able to command $10 a square foot. Today, they're sitting on run-down pieces of property commanding $50 a square foot.
Spaces to Play. Sure, there's grass in the city. But judging by the crowds in South Park, the grass there is greener and
softer—altogether better than anywhere else. People flock to this block-long slice of heaven whenever they can to take their shoes off (carefully, though, because it also doubles as another vital element of the
area—a dog run) and breathe deeply. Fresh air, sunshine, relaxation. Freaked, they all hurry back to their cubicles.
And then of course, there's the new baseball stadium, PacBell Park, which at one time may have been exciting. But with the new national
pastime—stock market speculation—replacing baseball, it's likely not to have much of a lasting impact on the area.
Juicy Gossip. You're never far away from the latest. Get up off the grass, brush yourself off, put the shoes back on, and hunker down inconspicuously at South Park Café (which means putting the cell phone, the BlackBerry, the laptop, the GPS device, and the decoder ring in the middle of the table). Listen to the buzz. If you make it out of there without hearing the words "scalable" and "extensible," you've clearly stumbled in for Mother's Day brunch. The table to the right of you is doing a gonzo distribution deal, the guy to the left just signed as chief Web officer, and the woman slinging the lattes just heard about a CEO position at a wireless application service provider. She'll tell you if you read her business plan for a new infrastructure play. On the Peninsula, says one alum who used to work in the Gulch, "You can't do business development deals just by walking around."
Parking. If you're at work by 8:00 am, you can still find parking relatively
easily—which means that if you write code, you don't have a chance. No coder worth her blink tags even has her eyes open at that hour. Then again, few code jockeys drive cars. Which is another thing to keep in mind in the neighborhood. Alternative
transportation is the order of the day—skateboards, scooters,
bicycles—so step lively, because they also believe in alternative traffic laws. Word of warning when crossing 15th Street and Potrero: Be mindful of the Safeway 500, the occasional grocery cart races that barrel down the hill. Also, ominously, a certain lawfulness has emerged. Says one alum who has worked there since 1996, "You can find illegal spaces, but now they give tickets."
Plentiful Shopping Options. Not here. But then who needs them? After all, you probably have a snootful of trade show t-shirts to keep you from ever doing laundry again. Besides, with business conditions cleaning you out, who needs laundry?
Still, every once in a while you may find yourself needing to buy
clothes—such as when the VC drops by unexpectedly. Create a diversion (try
proclaiming loudly, "I think we ought to spend more money on
TV commercials") and then dash to Potrero Center. There's an Old Navy with a selection of clean t-shirts for everyday wear and a Gap when a big board meeting requires a shirt with buttons. Ask somebody in the marketing department how buttons work.
But, never fear, most of the time, shopping will never require that you see the light of day. The main UPS sorting facility is at 17th and Utah, which means that online shopping gets to SOMA faster. Plus, the hub serves as a meter on the health of e-commerce. During peak shopping times, watch the brown trucks flow in and out and say a quiet prayer that those trucks are carrying some of your company's packages out to
the hinterlands.
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