Exploring San Francisco through the lens of city blocks, Blocker is a weekly series by Charles Hodgkins. Look for it on SFist each Wednesday, around the lunching hour.

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Blocker, No. 24: Front St. in the Financial District

As Financial District blocks go, the 200 block of Front St. is notable for the human scale on which it’s built. The tallest buildings here between Sacramento and California rise a mere five stories. There’s plenty of potted foliage to counteract those “concrete jungle” accusations often lobbed this neighborhood’s way. No less than three popular, sit-down restaurants line its sidewalks. And unlike how things get on canyon-shadowed Sansome St. two blocks to the west, sunlight enjoys more than 15 minutes of daily fame on this stretch of Front.

There’s more white-collar bustle than hustle occurring here toward the latter end of the lunch hour on an autumn Friday. Women slow their usual breakneck gait on the return to the office, while men dressed down to the eights in business-casual wear (it is a Friday, after all) appear to have dialed down their strides as well. Some women are decked out in heels and skirts, while others go less formal in flats and pants, but to their credit, it’s clear there’s no single look among them. The men? Not quite. We see the same striped shirt (always tucked in, of course) on three different men between the ages of 25-40 in under an hour.

Groups pour out of Harrington’s Bar and Grill, where the shaded patio in front was packed solid until a few minutes ago, and also from the Royal Exchange at the southeast corner of Sacramento, where Boston Red Sox banners hang in the windows amidst nearly 20 neon beer signs. It could be that just as many people eat and drink on this particular block as actually work here.

Down at the south end of the block, outside the handsome brick building that houses a Charles Schwab brokerage office on the corner of California, the edges of a long flower bed make for a nice sitting spot. A sculpture of an austere woman carrying a small child stands adjacent, five feet above the sidewalk on a riser. There’s no real context to this surprisingly placed street art, and it makes for a sharp juxtaposition in the hulking shadow of the glass-encased skyscraper at 101 California across the way. Even at a slowed-down Friday afternoon pace, few if any passers-by shoot it a glance.

It’s around this time a pair of maintenance workers clatter by, and what results is the most memorable snippet of conversation we’ve overheard since one woman said, ...And he was going on and on about the advantages of having two penises.... to another woman outside Wheeler Hall on Berkeley’s campus some years ago.

Gruff dude No. 1: You don’t do that shit, man?!

Gruff dude No. 2: Tossed salad?! HELL, no!

Meanwhile, back up the street and across from the Royal Exchange, a tall, slender man in his business casual uniform emerges from Walgreens with a fresh pack of cigarettes and a spring in his step. He removes the small carton’s outer plastic wrap, dumps it into the trash can at the corner, and, in a series of smoother-than-smooth moves that would have many medical professionals calling for a 3000-word journal article detailing his surgical procedure, is lit up and puffing away in about seven seconds flat.

Past the block’s sole panhandler seated outside Walgreens, we spot a twisted piece of what appears to be serpentine sculpture in a display window of the drug store’s building. As with the earlier statue of the woman and small child, it’s unclear who’s responsible for its random placement, but the clever contrast it strikes with the disposable sale items in the next window over is OK with us.

Nobody questions the presence of Schroeder’s Restaurant by this point. The Financial District staple has been slinging forth goulash soup, wiener schnitzel, and German beers since 1893, and judging by the look of the sign boasting its select “CSAA-approved” status, it’s been a favorite among California State Automobile Association members for nearly as long – or at least since the 1960s. The Löwenbräu shield on its front façade is a particularly rich throwback, while its hamburgers are touted as “best in area.” Most importantly, the giant brass steins that act as Schroeder’s front door handles just plain rule.

Cable cars clang by every few minutes down on California, and the sirens of fire engines and ambulances bounce off canyon walls in the area to create one hell of a racket. Other blocks in this area may capture the all-business spirit of San Francisco’s Financial District more evocatively, but...sometimes that salad needs tossing.

(All photos by the author.)