San Franciscans Fight Monster Home Invasion

SAN FRANCISCO — The sign posted on this hilly picture-book street was a simple public notice of a proposed home building project.

But for Steve Nichelson and his neighbors, it was a call to arms.

Because this was no regular residential add-on, but what they and other San Franciscans have come to know as a monster home--a 6,000-square-foot behemoth that would tower five stories high, casting neighbors in its shadow and stretching clear to its lot lines.

All across the Bay Area, these imposing Lincoln Navigator versions of domestic bliss have inspired a growing list of derisive names: Starter castles. McMansions. Blockbusters. Edifice Rexes.

Replacing a 700-square-foot cottage, the oversized home would insult the character of a street graced by historic Victorian homes and colorful turn-of-the-century bungalows, Nichelson said.

“Your home is your refuge,” he said. “And the street outside is the living room of the neighborhood. Both are worth fighting for.”

In a crusade that has stretched from signature drives to high-pitched hearings at City Hall, Nichelson and hundreds of others alarmed over the spread of monster homes are organizing to form a citywide alliance they hope will become a new force in San Francisco politics.

For these new activists, the battle lines run not just along their own streets but across the entire city. They’ve created a new Web site to trade strategies on fighting monster homes and attend planning hearings as a show of solidarity to sister homeowner groups.

Almost overnight, the 50-year-old Nichelson has been transformed from a hard-working anesthesiologist into a street-savvy organizer.

Working nights and weekends, he helped form a local neighborhood association, waging a yearlong battle that has pitted him and other Sanchez Street residents against what they call the city’s well-financed development machine and often apathetic Planning Department.

Along with longtime companion Paul Turchetto, he has canceled European vacations to stay home and bone up on reams of mind-numbing planning and design documents.

Like a politician running for office, Nichelson has pressed the flesh, circulated fliers, launched funding drives and spoken at countless night meetings. To keep track of the endless tasks associated with the monster home cause, he recently broke down and bought a Palm Pilot.

“Most of these people are not activist by nature,” said San Francisco Supervisor Mark Leno, whose recent hearing on monster homes drew hundreds of concerned residents. “They’re middle-class people with families and careers and a lot going on in their lives. But the issue has become so hot and so important to so many people, we’re seeing this grass-roots activist coalition from a totally unexpected population.”

In places like San Jose, Santa Cruz, Palo Alto and Menlo Park, officials have enacted new size and design limits for new and refurbished homes. Many now post public notices to warn residents that an oversized home is being planned in their midst.

“Some proposals are so outlandish, neighborhoods are starting to ask questions,” said San Jose Planning Director James Derryberry. “They’re asking owners ‘Do you really need a 500-square-foot master bath or exercise salon?’ ”

But nowhere perhaps is the battle more pitched than in San Francisco, a city famous for its Victorian architecture and track record of vociferous historical preservation.

“Many of us moved here in the first place because of the city’s unique architectural character,” Leno said. “And that’s exactly what is at stake here. People feel their way of life is being threatened by these monster homes. There’s a real visceral reaction.”

Many San Franciscans agree.

“Why come in and change the character of a neighborhood that attracted you in the first place?” said Turchetto, who, along with Nichelson, spent 20 years refurbishing a hilltop Victorian home with a dramatic view of the city skyline. “Don’t move to Wisconsin if you don’t like the smell of cows.”

The issue has divided City Hall, where officials disagree even over the number of large-home projects. “This whole thing has been way overblown,” said Hector Chinchilla, a member of the city’s Planning Commission. “We’re talking about maybe 20 of these things all across the city.”

Leno disagrees: “There are a dozen projects going up near my neighborhood alone.”

Behind the monster trend, residents say, are dot-com millionaires in search of a house grand enough to suit their emerging fortunes. Many oversized homes in San Francisco are slated for areas with easy freeway access to Silicon Valley.

But activists see a more sinister trend: so-called carpetbagger developers who build oversized homes for immediate turnaround, paying little heed to neighborhood concerns.

Portraying themselves as future good neighbors, some developers approach homeowner groups with plans for a “dream home” including a rental, or mother-in-law, unit needed to help pay the mortgage.

“Some of these developers show up at planning meetings showing off their wife and kids,” said Turchetto. “Then the for-sale signs go up before the paint is even dry. They never move in.”

Many builders say the neighborhood groups should just mind their own business. “I’ve got property rights,” said John Williams, who is building two homes neighbors say are too big for their block. “They’re calling these monster houses. That’s their interpretation.”

Nichelson said the arrogance of many owners helps drive neighbors to action. “They stand there and tell you, ‘This is what I’m going to build. I don’t think it impacts you.’ End of conversation.”

One resident who lost his battle against a developer-built home posted his own notice next to the for-sale sign. “It warned any buyer that they were not going to be good neighbors,” Nichelson said, “because anyone buying this house was just adding to the problem.”

In San Francisco, once a building project is approved by the city Planning Department, residents have 30 days to file an objection. If negotiations with an owner fail, they can appeal to planners. After that, their only recourse is a design review hearing before the seven-member Planning Commission.

That’s where the real fight begins, with fledging neighborhood groups going up against well-financed developers, architects and consultants.

“It’s a steep learning curve--residents have to immediately learn how the planning system works,” said San Francisco resident Cynthia Kear. “You have learn the code, read plans, learn how to mobilize your neighborhood. And all of us already have full-time jobs.”

With so many design review appeals before the Planning Commission, neighborhood groups must wait months to have their case heard. Meanwhile, Sanchez Street residents have spent more than $30,000 in their battle.

In fighting monster homes, Nichelson says, neighborhoods are on their own. “The cards are stacked against you,” he says. “Our Planning Department is nothing more than a bunch of permit expediters.”

That claim irks Chinchilla.

“These people are frustrated because they’re going up against some experienced developers who have been dealing with these issues for years and who know what the drill is,” he said.

As Nichelson waits for his neighborhood’s day in court, he continues to consult with other fledging groups, showing them the tricks to fighting what he calls the bullying builders. And he bird-dogs other design hearings for pointers on presenting his own case.

He still falls asleep reading design documents. “My friends say I need to get a real life,” he said.

But there’s much to do--like circulating a poster showing Godzilla holding a tiny Victorian home with the words: “Stop the Monsters.”

“This is no longer a street-by-street battle,” warned Turchetto. “If developers can be organized, why can’t we?”