
As the last warmth of summer fades, Riis Beach—a hidden queer oasis behind a decaying hospital—faces a new reality.
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Swan Real
This is 99% invisible I'm swan real Every year around this time in New York City, when the weather starts getting colder and the world starts to slow down a bit, I think about the summer that slipped away. And I always have the same thought. God, I wish I had gone to the beach more. And not just any beach, but this one beach in particular, the People's beach at Jacob Riis park, also known simply as Riis.
Jasmine J.T. Green
My first time at Reaves was July 4, 2017.
Swan Real
This is artist, producer and dear friend Jasmine J.T. green.
Jasmine J.T. Green
I was seven months into living in Brooklyn after a move from Chicago. The ocean was never part of my landlocked life in the Midwest. But after a crew of new friends invited me to a group chat titled beach with two Sun Emojis, I knew that my Lake Michigan kissed toes would soon touch the Atlantic. When I first got to Rees, it first appeared to be a larger version of my Midwestern beach, past a cute bazaar of food, sunburnt shoulders, and that summer's generic Drake song playing from many a speaker. But as I wondered where the six of us would land for our afternoon of escapism, everyone except myself seemed to already know where to head. We were walking to the eastern edge of the beach, 20 minutes from the parking lot, past the playgrounds and food carts and public bathrooms. Eventually we landed on a patch of sand that was partially shaded by an abandoned building separate from the beach by a metal fence. For decades, this large graffiti covered structure loomed behind the sliver of Reeves Beach. It formed a kind of U shape facing the shore.
Swan Real
This abandoned building was called the Neponset Beach Hospital. The Area right in front of it is where queer folks have chosen to call their home.
Jasmine J.T. Green
This rundown old hospital became a landmark of queer sanctuary. It offered a kind of protective shadow for this queer paradise to persist.
Swan Real
Jasmine Green is going to take the story of queer Riis from here.
Jasmine J.T. Green
Ever since that first visit to Rees, I've made a trip every summer to enjoy a nutcracker while gazing at the Atlantic Ocean. But while Rhys is known for topless bathing and running into your exes, it was never intended to be a queer public space. And its identity shifted and morphed into many things before we called it our home. Last year, after decades of abandonment, the city's health department demolished Neponset Beach Hospital. And the demolition brought with it a new set of questions. How did queer wreaths come to be? What might become of it?
Dean Labowitz
Now it's so striking how going to the beach used to be. You'd see this huge building and it was this looming abandoned structure. Like it's in the background of all of the photos I have of Rhys and it's like, you know, and it's completely gone now.
Jasmine J.T. Green
This is Dean Labowitz.
Dean Labowitz
I'm Dean Labowitz. I'm an urban planner and researcher and writer and like person who like, loves and adores Rhys above all else.
Jasmine J.T. Green
Yeah, Rhys is Dean's queer haven as well. Their apartment is decorated with shells and sea glass they've collected from the beach.
Dean Labowitz
I always celebrate my birthday at Rhys cause I have a late June birthday and as I like to say, God's gayest children were born on the days around Pride.
Jasmine J.T. Green
Dean filled me in on the history of Rhys. In 1914, before it was a beach, it was a military base for the Rockaway Naval Air Station.
Roman Mars
And.
Jasmine J.T. Green
And then in 1915, the Nepont Beach Hospital, our beloved four story red brick abandoned behemoth was built. There were beautiful porches, open aired balconies and eastern and western wing openings all facing the beach. The hospital was intended to treat children with tuberculosis. Soon after World War I, the military abandoned its base and the city decided to create a public park there instead. Jacob Reeves Park. Jacob Rives was a social reformer and photojournalist who advocated for building parks, playgrounds and houses for the poor and working class with bathhouses and picnic tables. The goal of Reeves was to provide public transit accessible recreation for New York's working class. And then in the 1930s the whole thing was scrapped and redesigned by Robert Moses.
Dean Labowitz
That Robert Moses led redesign was classic Robert Moses. It was this huge 14,000 car parking lot, gigantic I think it's. Somebody said it was like one of the largest in the US at some point.
Jasmine J.T. Green
And while the property was taken up mostly by the parking lot, the beach got an expansion while the rest of the park, like the bathhouse got a facelift. There was even a golf course built. But the hospital stayed put untouched.
Dean Labowitz
I believe initially, like, you couldn't access the beachfront in front of the hospital because it was a working hospital. But even then it was like, basically as soon as it opened, it was a queer beach.
Jasmine J.T. Green
This was in 1940s, and ever since, queer people have been flocking to this part of the beach in front of the hospital.
Chris Bernson
Yeah, we are looking at. It's a little bit of a crop of a larger picture.
Jasmine J.T. Green
This is documentary artist Chris Bernson. After combing through his own photos, he showed me some archives he started collecting of queer life throughout the decades, including this one by photographer Frank Hallam.
Chris Bernson
In this series of pictures we're seeing, there's a lot of naked guys. And you can tell he's clearly just trying to take a picture of like a naked guy without asking his permission. And so he just kind of passes through, but. Okay, so now we're looking at a picture of Neponset Hospital in the early 80s. And it is just looking so glorious. Like, no broken windows, no graffiti. There still is the fence line. And you can see there's just queers all up and down the area. And in the foreground you're seeing just a lot of people. Some are naked, some are not. Just hanging out. Everyone's fashion is really on point.
Jasmine J.T. Green
Reeves beach in its entirety is fairly large. 260 acres to be exact. But it's only here, in front of this hospital that queer folks claimed as their own. The nature of this building, mostly housing tuberculosis patients, led to it being an undesired site in the neighborhood. And the building offered a physical shield that made it the perfect place for uninterrupted debauchery. Chris kept flipping through these photos until he came across one of my now favorites, by Richard Peckinpah. It was a crowd of people, maybe 100 total. It's the 60s, maybe. And in the foreground there's all sorts of people, like all sorts. Not just cisgender white men. It looked very close to the Rees I know and love.
Chris Bernson
Today you're seeing like a multiracial gathering of people. You're seeing women also. You're seeing these bathing suits that look like, so hip today, even with like these little revealing sides. It's just like to me, this is like this weird, timeless image where I'm like, reese has always been a congregation point for everybody.
Swan Real
3579.
Jasmine J.T. Green
Lesbians are mighty fun.
Avery Trufelman
The body is more accepted here.
Swan Real
And so people tend to think of.
Avery Trufelman
People who show their body as exhibitionists.
Swan Real
And it's very common on this bay.
Jasmine J.T. Green
And while this beach became a popular spot for cruising and reveling in the nude, the cops were also cruising for citations.
Chris Bernson
This was kind of the cruisy spot of the beach. And so it was a place where you could cruise, but it was also a place where men were targeted for doing so by the police. And historically, one of the things that a lot of people were very scared of, at least in the 60s, from interviews that I hear is just, you know, if you got a ticket or got in trouble in this part of the beach, it was. It kind of went out you a little bit. So if people that you weren't out to found out, they would, you know, assume you might be gay.
Jasmine J.T. Green
Once we reached the 80s, the hospital was still operating in the background, though it was no longer specifically a children's hospital. There was a metal fence that separated the hospital from the beach. But Chris told me that beachgoers in hospital patients would pass cigarettes back and forth through the fence.
Chris Bernson
There was a camaraderie and an exchange and actually, like a porous relationship with the people that were in the hospital. I mean, if you look at the history of this beach and of this hospital, there's. It's a really fascinating history to think about. This was built as a tuberculosis clinic, and TB was like, a very stigmatized illness when this was built in the 1930s. So there's this long history of us kind of being next to this space where people are kind of kept at a distance from the rest of society.
Jasmine J.T. Green
And that's how it was for the next several decades. Eventually, the building transitioned from hospital to nursing home. And then in 1998, a stormy weekend swept through the Rockaways.
Chris Bernson
It raced through central New York just.
Jasmine J.T. Green
After midnight on Labor Day morning and left a path of destruction unlike any.
Chris Bernson
Storm we've seen before or since. Thousands of trees were destroyed, changing the landscape.
Jasmine J.T. Green
Here's Dean again.
Dean Labowitz
It was, like, estimated there was, like, half a million dollars in damage done, which is, like, not nothing, right?
Jasmine J.T. Green
This was when Rudy Giuliani was the mayor and was very much the king of privatizing New York. This damage was the perfect excuse to shut down this publicly funded hospital.
Dean Labowitz
But he did it in the middle of the night, and there Were something close to like 300 nursing home patients still in the building. Several died in the process of being evacuated in the middle of the night.
Jasmine J.T. Green
Renovations to the damaged building were promised to residents, but they never came, and the residents never returned. The hospital was closed soon after and stayed vacant for years. Decay began to set in as that red brick became a dusty brown. This was the wreath I saw when I encountered it for the first time. A sandy beach adjacent to the hospital, further falling into disarray. On one side, in large text, graffiti read queer trans power. On the other side, know your power. Many a queer will make a sanctuary out of anything. Rhys was no exception. With cracked windows and rusted metal, the hospital gave off a vibe that we weren't supposed to be there. And we were drawn to it. And I've noticed this elsewhere, too. Think about Chicago's Belmont Rocks or Marshall's beach underneath the Golden Gate Bridge, or the old Chelsea Piers on the New York waterfront. Queerness is scrappiness, creating a life and culture out of society's leftovers and existing figuratively and literally in the margins.
Chris Bernson
I think that queers thrive being kind of on that, in that in between place where it's less regulated and there's more possibilities. So, like, we are more likely to be left alone.
Jasmine J.T. Green
As the Neponset beach hospital fell further apart, we kept sunbathing around it. A hospital that was continually serving marginalized groups felt to be the perfect fit for shielding the most vulnerable of New Yorkers.
Chris Bernson
It actually was kind of a visual shield from the neighborhood next to it, so they didn't really see us as much because of that. So there was a certain amount of protection in that. But I think we also just like living in these places that have less rules and have more possibility for us to be and do what we want to do.
Jasmine J.T. Green
Over the next few decades, the property was stuck in a political and legal cold war. Proposals shuffled back and forth to renovate or not, to demolish or not. In the 2000s, it was estimated that millions of dollars were spent to maintain the hospital. We're talking about things like fences, guard houses, cleaning up debris until spring of 2023, when the hospital was finally torn. When I first heard that the hospital was demolished, it took me by surprise. Here was this place that had been part of my experience for so long completely vanished. And I was scared. I didn't know what would become of this place that had made me and if these changes would no longer make me feel safe. And we all wondered what would happen to the future of queer Wreath. Now that our private oasis was no longer in shadow. Lately, arrests at Reeves for public nudity and other infractions have been rising. The Rockaway Times, the local papers of that slice of Queens, published a report featuring quotes from local residents demanding an end to quote Reeves porn. Propping children's safety as their number one concern. The organization Glitz, gays and lesbians living in a transgender society has been working on a proposal, a community land trust that leads to a healthcare facility that focuses on trans New Yorkers. Because there aren't many public and fairly queer spaces that especially don't surround alcohol and expensive tickets, Reeves feels to be one of the few left. But like the history of the Chelsea Piers queer past being erased into a playground for the rich, its legacy is at risk of being washed away. Chris would hate to see that happen to Rhys.
Chris Bernson
What I would really love to see there personally is like native plants and grasses and trees be planted there and like let's use that as a place to kind of a little bit rewild the space and give some nature back to the place.
Jasmine J.T. Green
And perhaps maybe in future images there will be more cute butts but in the background just a little bit more trees.
Chris Bernson
A little more trees. I know. I wish we had a little bit of a shade structure.
Jasmine J.T. Green
I went to RI's recently and it's so much different than what it used to be. Sure there's a brand new snack shop which is tasty, but without the hospital building, things feel so much more on display. I still felt comfortable, but more exposed. But that discomfort wasn't enough to scare me away. I was drawn to it that day, especially because it was the first time that I arrived to the beach as a trans woman. I brought my freshly prescribed hormones and when 6pm hit I would take my first dose. And I wanted to take it here at Reese. The pill bottle rattled at the bottom of my tote bag along with some snacks, a book and a beach blanket. I removed my dress to reveal a bathing suit that I recently ordered. This was the first time that I had ever worn a two piece. After a few minutes, my skin would begin a new tanning pattern that I had wished for ages. And soon I would step into the ocean for the first time as an out trans lesbian woman. And because I'm a glutton for ritual, I took out a pen and my notepad and began to write what it all meant to me. As I slowly stepped into the Atlantic, the waves lapped around my toes and then my thighs and finally up to my waist. Same level of water as my first baptism when I was a child. Only this time it was on my terms. I unfurled my paper and began to read. I'm here for another ritual, to leave another part of myself behind. I took the pill and just like my ancestors before me, I took a deep breath and ducked my head underwater, fully submerging myself into the sea.
Swan Real
After the break, we leave Ries and travel west to a different beach. And like the abandoned hospital by Rees, this beach has its own set of ruins. Stay with us.
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Swan Real
Welcome back. Here's a classic 99 PI story, remixed and rescored. It's about how abandoned places can have a certain kind of allure.
Avery Trufelman
If you've wandered at Machu Picchu or Stonehenge or the Coliseum, or even snuck into that abandoned house on the edge of town. You know, the power in a piece of decrepit architecture. Even if you haven't been to these places, they've been photographed and filmed for you. Abandoned Soviet bus stops, deserted old movie theaters, decaying residential streets. They're fascinating in this, like, Planet of the Apes kind of way. So of course, there's a German word for it.
MasterCard Representative
Ruinenlust. The long standing aesthetic obsession with decay.
Avery Trufelman
Resident Germanophile and producer Avery Trufelman.
MasterCard Representative
It might actually be one of those made up German words. It probably is, but the concept itself is totally a real thing. Ruins inspire wonder. They give the mind this task of reconciling what's there and what's not. What once was and what now is.
Avery Trufelman
People flock to remainders of ancient civilizations. Romans, the Mayans, the Egyptians. But people also flock to things that just look like they're ancient too. That combination of decomposition and romance makes a perfect cocktail of repulsion and allure. And for San Franciscans, this place is Sutro Baths.
MasterCard Representative
My friend Austin brought me there one night. So how do you get in? Does the trail just lead right to it? Yeah, yeah.
Avery Trufelman
There's steps. There's a parking lot up there, and.
Chris Bernson
Steps that go down.
MasterCard Representative
Head to the rocks at Land's End on the very northwest corner of San Francisco. Walk down the flight of stairs into a grassy slope that hugs the sea. Off to the right is the gaping maw of a cave. To your left is the crumbled foundation of a concrete structure. It looks like a giant Belgian waffle, about 7ft tall and 50ft wide on the longest side. Beside the waffle are two pools of still water with a concrete jetty between them that dares you to walk its length. Make it to the end and you're at a seawall where the Pacific Ocean crashes into the rocks. There's no fence, no guards. Only a warning sign that says Danger Cliff and surf area. Extremely dangerous. People have been swept from the rocks and drowned.
Avery Trufelman
What you can see down here are the ruins of the bathhouses.
MasterCard Representative
Have you heard any rumors as to what was what here?
Avery Trufelman
Strangely, no.
MasterCard Representative
And last time you were here, it was just like. Were people wondering about the history of it at all?
Avery Trufelman
No, it was like 300 punks in a cave.
MasterCard Representative
Austin had seen a band playing in the cave. They plugged their amps into a generator that they brought themselves. He told me things like that were happening at Sutra baths all the time.
Avery Trufelman
And it's easy to see why this Place has a draw.
MasterCard Representative
The night that I was there, a group of photographers was snapping shots of the moon. Is this like a known photo destination?
John Martini
I would say the last three years it's been more common. So I think people are finding out about it. I just know that in the 30s, it was some sort of bath for people to see and just soak. I don't know if it was hot or cold or what it was about.
Avery Trufelman
Ruins have drawn people to them for centuries. Starting in the late 1600s, a tradition emerged among European men of means to go visit sites of antiquity. Paris, Venice, Rome, and learn about the roots of Western civilization. Today, lots of people visit what's left of the Old World.
John Martini
People like ruins. It gives us a sense of time passing, maybe a sense of place. Why do people go to ancient Egypt? Why do they go to the Acropolis? A sense of time gone by, a sense of timelessness. And I think also that urge to try to explain what people are looking at. Anytime you go out to Sutro Bath, I mean, there's people crawling all over the ruins like ants.
MasterCard Representative
But the thing about these ruins at the edge of the continent, they may look ancient, but they really aren't at all.
Jasmine J.T. Green
You talk to them and they're all.
John Martini
Trying to figure the place out. What is this? Where these tunnels do? What's this thing? There's a curiosity to it. They know they're ruins. And if they know the name Sutro Bass, they know there were swimming pools. And that's about it.
MasterCard Representative
This is historian John Martini. Martini wrote a book about this place called Sutro's Glass palace, so named because this pool of water used to be underneath an enormous glass structure.
Avery Trufelman
And it was the pet project of Adolphe Sutro. The name Sutro might sound familiar to you, especially if you live in San Francisco. There's Sutro Tower, Sutro Heights. There's a Sutro Library at the San Francisco State University, all named after this one German immigrant. He struck it rich by engineering a mining tunnel during the Nevada silver strike in the 1860s. And he turned his money into San Francisco real estate. A lot of real estate. Some historians estimate that at one point, Adolphe Sutro owned one twelfth of the city.
MasterCard Representative
Adolphe Sutro was to San Francisco what John D. Rockefeller was to New York and what Henry Huntington was to La. Sutro built public gardens, presented free concerts, and built the structure that would eventually become Sutro Baths.
John Martini
Sutro's original idea was that he wanted to build a giant outdoor aquarium that would be filled by the tides, and it would empty at low tide.
Avery Trufelman
So in 1884, he created a catch basin that refilled naturally as the waves broke in. And then Sutro kept making more and more plans, adding on and on to his aquarium.
John Martini
He built the network of swimming pools connecting canals. He even built a powerhouse as a freestanding building to heat the water. Then when all that was done, then he hires an architectural firm. Assembly would be like if some crazy self improvement guy built the foundation for an elaborate house, but didn't know what the house was going to look like. He just built the foundation and he plumbed it. And then you hire an architect to come in and make a building fit on top of what was already there. That's how the baths were designed.
MasterCard Representative
From the outside, Sutro baths looked like an ornate palatial greenhouse. Underneath its majestic three tiered glass canopy were several different swimming pools. Hot water and cold, saltwater and fresh. And there were more than 500 individual changing rooms beneath the sweeping arena style bleachers. And attached to the baths was a museum full of Sutro's crazy collection of stuff from around the world. Miniature boats, model buildings, taxidermied animals, gems, mechanical figures, a real Egyptian mummy, All inside of a glass palace facing the ocean. At the edge of San Francisco, up the hill towards the road was a street called Merry Way.
Avery Trufelman
There was a Firth wheel, basically a.
MasterCard Representative
Ferris wheel, along with a roller coaster and a hall of mirrors and games of chance.
Avery Trufelman
And keep in mind, Sutro was building at the edge of nowhere, on the rocks by the sea.
Roman Mars
And public transit didn't go there.
Avery Trufelman
And this was a challenge for both construction workers and for customers.
John Martini
It lost money from the day it opened. It was a huge white elephant. It cost Adolph Sutro about a million dollars when it opened in 1894. And you put that today, that's 37, 40 million dollars. It couldn't make money from the charging people 10 cents to get in and 15 cents to go swimming.
Avery Trufelman
It would have had to be packed almost every day.
MasterCard Representative
And in an attempt to pack the house, Sutro poured even more money into electric rail lines that led out to the baths. This was a huge boon for the city's mass.
John Martini
At the same time, remember, he owned all the land surrounding it that people were going to be traveling through. And there were always advertisements for the Sutro land company where they were trying to sell land. So he's doing things for the public at the same time, trying to make some money.
MasterCard Representative
But Sutro baths just never, ever made money.
Avery Trufelman
By the time Adolphe Sutro was elected mayor in 1894. His beloved Bass were still not turning a profit. When he died four years later in 1898, his family started looking to get rid of the property.
MasterCard Representative
The Sutro family tried for years to sell Sutro Baths while also trying valiantly to make it turn a profit.
Tom Bratton
In 1934, my father was hired by Adolphe Sutro, who is the grandson of the pioneer Adolphe Sutro. Just about that time, Adolphe Sutro wanted to do something to get more people out here.
MasterCard Representative
If you go to Sutro Baths, you may run into Tom Bratton.
Tom Bratton
My name is Tom Bratton and now I volunteer for the national parks and I come out here once a week and for a few hours and talk to people and let them know just exactly what all these ruins were about.
MasterCard Representative
Tom's father was an engineer, and he helped Sutro Baths undergo its really wiggy midlife crisis.
Tom Bratton
They cut off the bottom pool, cut that off from the regular pool, drained it, scatter sand around on it, put in some tables, ping pong tables and picnic tables. And they called that the Tropic Beach.
Avery Trufelman
The Tropic beach was supposed to be a warm, sandy place indoors just to hang out, even though the real beach was right outside.
Tom Bratton
That really didn't work out too well.
Avery Trufelman
Which really is a shame because right outside the beach is freezing and usually foggy. A tropical version, isn't that crazy?
Tom Bratton
And so they said, well, how about this? We'll take that Tropic beach away and we'll put a platform there and we'll make that into an ice rink.
MasterCard Representative
And when Tom was in high school, his father got him a job working at this very ice rink.
Avery Trufelman
Yes, Tom worked at this place while it was still standing, which seems impossible given how ancient the ruins look.
Tom Bratton
People will really come up to me and say, were these really ruins from Rome? And I say, not really. Just Sutro Baths.
MasterCard Representative
By the time Tom was employed there, the name of the place had changed from Sutro Baths to just Sutro's.
Avery Trufelman
The Sutro family had finally gotten rid of this place in 1952 when entertainment tycoon George Whitney bought it.
MasterCard Representative
Whitney was the boss when Tom Bratton started as a locker attendant. And even more than the Sutro family, George Whitney was really trying to do everything he could to get people to come out.
Avery Trufelman
So he tacked on more amusements, including a ride high above the sea that shuttled between the two cliffs on either side of Sutro's. He called it the Skytraam, the Skytram.
Tom Bratton
This thing would hold about 20 people. It took about 20 minutes to get across. So they didn't make a lot of money on it.
MasterCard Representative
Whitney also thought an aviary might bring in the big money. So he ordered some exotic birds and some cages.
Tom Bratton
What happened was all the birds came in at once before the cages. So they had. Whitney called all the employees and says, okay, everybody here, take home a bird until our cages come in, and then we'll bring the birds back.
Avery Trufelman
What a mess.
MasterCard Representative
But even after the ice rink and the aviary and the sky tram, people still weren't coming to Sutro's.
John Martini
The Whitneys, after struggling for 14 years, decided, we're going to sell the property.
MasterCard Representative
Historian John Martini again.
John Martini
It was sold to a land developer who began to demolish it. And in June 66, that's when the very convenient fire broke out.
Avery Trufelman
In 1966, a mysterious fire broke out and reduced Sutro's to a pile of rubble. An arsonist was suspected, but no one was arrested.
MasterCard Representative
And then Sutro's was just never rebuilt.
John Martini
Eventually, the last owner sold the land to the national park service in 1980. So it's part of a big national park area.
Avery Trufelman
Sutro Baths is right inside Golden Gate National Recreation Area. And when the government finally bought it, it was seamlessly included into this big national park area. It's not a national park itself, and it doesn't look like it belongs within the Golden Gate National Parks Conservancy at all. It just looks like a bunch of ruins.
John Martini
Sometimes ruins are more evocative than if the site is restored, because there's more of a sense that this is the real deal. Even though these are only 45 years old, they have the same attraction, that urge to try to explain what people are looking at.
Avery Trufelman
So unlike other ruins, remains of Sutro Baths were less than 50 years old. They are part of a National Park. Since 2012, they do have their own tiny museum and gift shop on site right along Merry Way where the midway used to be. The street sign is still there. And yet the ruins are still pretty dangerous and to many people, still mysterious.
MasterCard Representative
So at this point, you may be wondering how to get out to the baths or about parking availability, or maybe if you can go hold your photo shoot there, Jill can help people.
PNC Bank Representative
Write to me with, can I have my wedding there? How can I get there? Can I film my movie there? I answer all their questions.
Avery Trufelman
Jill Corral runs sutrobaths.com and I don't.
PNC Bank Representative
Say, like, oh, I'm just this random chick in Seattle from Seattle. You know, I just respond to their question like, yes, is your Wedding party smaller than 30 people. Sure, you can have it there.
MasterCard Representative
Jill snagged Sutro baths.com in 2000.
PNC Bank Representative
I couldn't believe that the domain was available.
Avery Trufelman
If you contact Sutro Baths on Facebook or Twitter, those accounts are also run by Jill in Seattle.
PNC Bank Representative
I love it when people ask me, like, how much does it cost? Can I get in? And it's just like, just go. It's never closed.
MasterCard Representative
And unlike Tom Bratton or John Martini, who actually both experienced Sutro Baths when it was a functioning building, Jill first encountered the place as a ruin.
PNC Bank Representative
I was flown out to San Francisco for a job interview 1997. My main mission was to touch the Pacific Ocean that day before my interview, I went down there, and I stumbled on this just insane playground of concrete and metal sticking out of the ground. I didn't know what the hell it was. It was just pretty much the closest to a magical place I'd found as an adult. And I fell in love. I think I will toss my ashes there after I die. Well, I won't. Someone else will.
MasterCard Representative
Jill actually did bury her two pet lizards there. They're in the cave.
Avery Trufelman
The story of Sutro Baths didn't exactly shape history. Yes, it helped expand San Francisco public transit. Yes, you can see the ruins briefly in a scene in the movie Harold and Maude. But ultimately, it was a strange glass complex at the edge of the ocean that was destined to fail. And amusements and attractions were constantly added and removed throughout its life.
MasterCard Representative
But in a city as rapidly gentrifying as San Francisco, in a country as young as the United States, these ruins are an anomaly.
PNC Bank Representative
I respect people's desire for it to be like this mysterious, unknown thing. But when I hear tourists talking and just sitting there wondering, like, I have been known to walk up to them and tell them, like, there used to be this giant, beautiful, magical thing here. Like, you have to know about it. Always read the plaque. Right?
Avery Trufelman
You got it.
MasterCard Representative
In addition to researching what the baths were, Jill keeps tabs on how they're changing.
Avery Trufelman
Ruins seem static, like a fixed ending, but of course, they're not.
PNC Bank Representative
I have watched it continue to fall apart. There used to be a deck that you could go and read on by the cave, and then it just crumbled into the sea sometime around 2005. It's still living and dying in slow.
Roman Mars
Mo which is a process the parks.
Avery Trufelman
Are actually trying to stop. According to Tom Bratton.
Tom Bratton
As far as the national parks go, they. They want to make it so that it's not going to deteriorate any more than it already has. If it deteriorates anymore, you're not going to really be able to tell what it really was.
Avery Trufelman
Tom speculates they might do this by adding more signs, maybe stabilizing some of the decaying structures, but not too much more.
Tom Bratton
Well, with the parks really don't want to do. They don't want to make it look like a box to go inside and look at the ruins and then come out again.
Avery Trufelman
But recently the young ruins have become something else entirely.
John Martini
Nature's reclaiming the site.
MasterCard Representative
The ruins continue to evolve.
John Martini
The old swimming pools themselves have become partly silted in. It's become a wetland. Migrating birds love the site and recently.
MasterCard Representative
An otter appeared swimming in Sutro Baths. The public dubbed him Sutro Sam.
Avery Trufelman
Sutro Baths continues to be a machine for generating new San Francisco folklore.
MasterCard Representative
Today, Sutro Baths is pretty much back to where it started. All that remains is the foundation, including the original catch basin that Adolph Sucho built before ever imagining a swimming pool, a tropic beach, a carnival midway, an ice skating rink.
Avery Trufelman
So after all the years of building this palace of wonder, after adding games and rides and oddities, trying and failing to draw the public out to this strange place by the ocean, all Adolphe Sutro or George Whitney had to do was let it burn down and crumble into ruin.
Swan Real
That story was produced by Avery Trufelman and originally aired back in 2014. 99% invisible was reported this week by Jasmine J.T. green and edited by Lasha Madan, mixed by Martin Gonzalez and music by Me Swan Real. Cathy Tew is our executive producer, Kurt Kohlstedt is our digital director, Delaney hall is our senior editor, Taylor Shedrick is our intern. The rest of the team includes Chris Berube, Jason De Leon, Emmett Fitzgerald, Christopher Johnson, Vivian Lay, Joe Rosenberg, Gabriella Gladney, Kelly Prime, Jacob Maldonado Medina, Nina Patak, and of course, roman Mars. The 99% invisible logo was created by Stephen Lawrence. We are part of The Stitcher and SiriusXM podcast family now headquartered six blocks north in the Pandora building in beautiful uptown Oakland, California. You can find us on all the usual social media sites as well as on our new Discord server. There's a link to that as well as every past 99pi episode@99pi.org.
PNC Bank Representative
Do you.
Jasmine J.T. Green
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Roman Mars
Hello beautiful nerds. It's Roman here. If you're loving 99% invisible and want to hear new episodes ad free and get access to exclusive bonus content like AMAs with me and producers on staff, subscribe to SiriusXM podcast plus on Apple podcasts to start your free trial today.
Summary of "Meet Me at Riis" – 99% Invisible Episode
Episode Title: Meet Me at Riis
Host: Roman Mars
Release Date: November 5, 2024
Produced by: Jasmine J.T. Green
In this episode of 99% Invisible, host Roman Mars delves into the fascinating history and transformation of Riis Beach at Jacob Riis Park, highlighting its significance as a haven for the queer community. Through interviews with key figures and archival research, the episode explores how design and architecture shape social spaces and communities.
Jasmine J.T. Green recounts her first visit to Riis Beach on July 4, 2017:
"I was seven months into living in Brooklyn after a move from Chicago. The ocean was never part of my landlocked life in the Midwest... we landed on a patch of sand that was partially shaded by an abandoned building... the Neponset Beach Hospital." [01:49]
Dean Labowitz, an urban planner and historian, provides historical context:
"In 1914, before it was a beach, it was a military base for the Rockaway Naval Air Station. Then in 1915, the Neponset Beach Hospital was built to treat children with tuberculosis." [05:00]
Designed with beautiful porches and open-air balconies facing the beach, the hospital initially served as a healthcare facility but soon became integral to the park’s identity.
The abandoned Neponset Beach Hospital inadvertently provided a secluded area that became a sanctuary for the queer community. Jasmine J.T. Green explains:
"This rundown old hospital became a landmark of queer sanctuary. It offered a kind of protective shadow for this queer paradise to persist." [03:05]
Chris Bernson, a documentary artist, shares archival photographs showcasing the vibrant LGBTQ+ presence at Riis Beach during the 1980s:
"People's fashion is really on point. It's like Riis has always been a congregation point for everybody." [08:28]
Despite its unofficial status, Riis Beach became a widely recognized space for queer gatherings, offering a sense of community and freedom that was rare in other public spaces.
In the early 2020s, the long-abandoned Neponset Beach Hospital faced demolition. Jasmine J.T. Green reflects on the emotional impact:
"I didn't know what would become of this place that had made me feel safe. We wondered what would happen to the future of queer Riis now that our private oasis was no longer in shadow." [12:55]
The demolition led to increased visibility and regulation of Riis Beach, causing apprehension within the community. Chris Bernson expresses concern over the potential erasure of its queer legacy:
"Chris would hate to see that happen to Riis." [15:49]
With the hospital gone, Riis Beach faces new challenges, including rising arrests for public nudity and pressures from local residents advocating for increased safety measures. Jasmine J.T. Green highlights ongoing community efforts:
"Glitz, Gays, and Lesbians Living in a Transgender Society is working on a proposal for a community land trust that leads to a healthcare facility focusing on trans New Yorkers." [15:49]
Chris Bernson envisions a future where Riis Beach balances its natural allure with improved infrastructure:
"I would love to see native plants and grasses and trees be planted there and give some nature back to the place." [15:49]
Despite the changes, Riis Beach remains one of the few accessible queer spaces that do not revolve around alcohol or expensive entry fees, maintaining its unique role in the community.
In a poignant moment, Jasmine J.T. Green shares her personal ritual at Riis Beach:
"This was the first time I would step into the ocean as an out trans lesbian woman. I took the pill and just like my ancestors before me, I took a deep breath and ducked my head underwater, fully submerging myself into the sea." [16:29]
This act symbolizes both personal transformation and a connection to the enduring spirit of Riis Beach as a sanctuary for marginalized identities.
"Meet Me at Riis" intricately weaves the architectural history of Riis Beach with its social evolution, illustrating how physical spaces can become pivotal in fostering community and identity. The episode underscores the resilience of the queer community in carving out safe spaces amidst changing urban landscapes and highlights ongoing efforts to preserve Riis Beach’s legacy.
Notable Quotes:
Jasmine J.T. Green [03:21]: "Ever since that first visit to Riis, I've made a trip every summer to enjoy a nutcracker while gazing at the Atlantic Ocean."
Dean Labowitz [04:19]: "Rhys is Dean's queer haven as well. Their apartment is decorated with shells and sea glass they've collected from the beach."
Chris Bernson [08:52]: "This is like a weird, timeless image where I'm like, Riis has always been a congregation point for everybody."
Avery Trufelman [23:16]: "Ruinenlust. The long-standing aesthetic obsession with decay."
This episode sheds light on the intricate relationship between design, architecture, and community, showcasing how abandoned structures like the Neponset Beach Hospital can inadvertently become pillars of social sanctuary.