SLO’s street signs are infamous now — but they haven’t always been. See how they looked before
Having been to a few civic-decision-making meetings over the decades, there are often two major impulses — often at odds.
One idea is be conservative with public funds. Every dollar spent needs to be justified. The least spent is always the best choice.
The other thought is if the wallet is being opened, people deserve something nice that they would find useful or like. And spending a little on prevention could save in the long run.
The classic example of false economy in the city of San Luis Obispo was the 1938 fire that lead to the demolition of the classic 1879 city hall and fire station.
The city’s budget had been run on a shoestring for decades. There wasn’t much money flowing into the region during the Great Depression, and the county had never experienced boom times like other regions of the state.
But in retrospect, a series of preventable funding fiascoes lead to disaster — including not upgrading the building’s faulty wiring or replacing worn-out fire hoses that burst three times.
That story was covered in a 2019 Photos From the Vault column.
Another example of debate over funding something that ultimately gets mixed reviews is street signage.
A recent Tribune story outlined how San Luis Obispo got signs that look like the calligraphy on a J.R.R. Tolkien map.
What did the signs look like before that?
The previous generation of signs were brown enamel with white lettering and a no-nonsense highway-sign-ready, Series E font.
What it lacked in personality, it made up for in quick readability.
Prior to that, the street signs were also a block letter design, and the color scheme was a simple black-and-white.
In the 1940s, the city had few street signs. The town wasn’t that big and as mentioned earlier — it was cheap. Also keep in mind there wasn’t any GPS navigation at the time.
In May 1941, the city proposed buying 112 signs from the Lyle Sign Company in Minneapolis. If that did not satisfy residents who wanted additional signs, they were invited to put them up at their own expense. Price was $3.95 for a two-wing unit.
The complete sign assembly consisted of a steel pole painted silver, topped with a white porcelain sign with black letters. Orange paint accented a steeple.
The city splurged and bought an additional six signs more than the original proposal, according to a story in September of that year.
The program would be shut down when the United States entered World War II in December and steel became a critical war resource.
After the war was over, the city slowly began to fix the shortage of signs.
A Dec. 8, 1948, editorial in the Telegram-Tribune, likely written by editor Robert W. Goodell, read:
“The proposal being considered by the City Council to install new street signs throughout San Luis Obispo is a timely move that will meet with general approval.
Not only are many street signs in a state of disrepair but the recent annexation movements have added two large areas to the city, which call for expanded street markings. Within the city there are also many streets which were comparatively uninhabited at the time the last signs were put up but which now need additional direction finders for the convenience of a much larger population.
San Luis Obispo streets are not the easiest in the world to locate in any case. The founders of this pleasantly informal community had no great regard for geometrical design. Not only do San Luis Obispo streets wander casually cross country but subdividers and real estate men of past eras have tucked in little streets here and there with numerous dead ends and twists and turns.
It will be a hospitable and helpful gesture for the city to bring our street signs up to date.”
