This week, the Tenderloin Geographic Society investigates the first time a mayor who didn't really want to job ended up in office and how a Steamboat captain spent two terms presiding over the city.

By: The Tenderloin Geographic Society

San Francisco, you lack vision. This may seem like a harsh reprisal, but allow us to point out that for the last 100 years, the city’s mayors have been either Democrats or (more sparingly) Republicans. Perhaps you’ll remember the good run we had with the Greens eight years ago, when a quixotic Matt Gonzales took 47% of the vote to Gavin Newsom’s nearly 53%. Sending a message, that’s what you do, San Francisco, but whither the follow-through? You’re well-meaning enough, but for a city that sells itself as nonconformist, you’re fundamentally a lot of political fuddy-duddies hewing to the binary system.

All this reminiscing puts us in mind of the Whig Party, the benevolent alliance that was at the forefront of mid-19th century social modernization--at least until the territorial slavery issue divided the party, yielding the idealist anti-slavery Republican party.

San Francisco’s first party-affiliated mayor was a Whig, but we’re guessing few will remember him, despite his appellation on a San Francisco’s street. Rather, it’s a scant half block, found between McAllister and where 7th Street meets Market, that enchanted corridor flanked by the hybrid of the fried, John’s Burgers/Donut World and the Carl’s Jr./Green Burrito.

Serving two non-consecutive terms, Charles J. Brenham was the 2nd and 4th mayor, a steamboat captain whose sense of moral obligation put him at odds with his adopted city--and he didn’t even want to be mayor. Eerily familiar, no?

In his short time in office, Brenham legislated to tap a nearby lake, thus providing water for both the burgeoning population and the inferno-inclined architecture. Perhaps most incongruously for both the office and the era, he cleaned up financial corruption, curbing spending and stalling various political machinations that would have seen the Bay filled in and the resultant land sold off to pay California’s massive debt.

Brenham’s terms in office coincided with conflagrations that destroyed more than three quarters of the city, including the five year-old City Hall. Summarily, the Jenny Lind Theatre on Kearny was purchased by the city for $200,000 and re-purposed as the new City Hall. While the future municipal center was being built over the next 27 years (at a cost of over $6 million dollars), the city’s power structure grew up around Portsmouth Square. Here it is, conveniently adjacent to the El Dorado gambling house.

As for Brenham, The Annals of San Francisco recounts that "no one ever has performed, or ever will perform the duties of an office with more purity of purpose, and with a greater regard for the true interests of the city, than did Mr. Brenham. He retired from his office without the slightest taint or suspicion."

Happily for fans of political intrigue, the Annals was accurate. Brenham was an anomaly, and few future mayors could claim such effusive laurels. In a scant few years a combination of vigilantism and corruption would help San Francisco live up to its lawless potential. And the former mayor went back to piloting steamships.

The Tenderloin Geographic Society is San Francisco's home for colloquial cartography, citizenship services and walking tour reviews since 2006. Stay tuned for the Tenderloin Report. If you've missed any episodes, you can always catch up here.