The future of the Armand Vaillancourt fountain in San Francisco is threatened
In 1971, according to the Los Angeles Times, the construction of this fountain cost US$607,000.
Photo: Justin Sullivan Getty Images via Agence France-Presse In 1971, according to the Los Angeles Times, the construction of this fountain cost US$607,000.
Jean-François Nadeau
Published on April 16
Culture
A masterpiece by sculptor Armand Vaillancourt, his famous fountain in the heart of San Francisco is under threat due to redevelopment in the surrounding area. A $35 million project is underway to completely redesign the site.
According to San Francisco District 3 Supervisor Danny Sauter, the neighborhood is dilapidated and desperately needs a new project. "It's dilapidated. The bricks are sagging. There's a fountain that hasn't worked for 10 years," he said. The Vaillancourt Fountain , built between 1967 and 1971, is thus in the crosshairs of the complete redevelopment of Embarcadero Square. The fountain, designed by the Quebec artist, born in 1929, could soon be destroyed.
In the meantime, a Quebec petition is calling for its preservation and restoration. But what impact will this petition have on decisions made in California? At the time Le Devoir consulted it, the petition had just over 500 signatures.
In 1971, according to the Los Angeles Times , the construction of this fountain cost US$607,000. The redevelopment of the square is now partly a matter of private interests. At the fountain's inauguration, Armand Vaillancourt himself covered it in graffiti, to everyone's surprise. He wrote "Free Quebec!" as many times as he could on its structure. The artist then explained that his fountain was dedicated to all freedoms. "Free Quebec! Free East Pakistan! Free Vietnam! Freedom for the whole world!" he declared on the sidelines of his action.
In 1998, Boston Properties acquired the offices, hotels and retail properties in the immediate vicinity.
Photo: Justin Sullivan Getty Images via Agence France-Presse
The “Vaillancourt Fountain” is approximately 12 meters high.
In the eyes of the Armand Vaillancourt Foundation, this work has been a symbol "for over 50 years"—in that "it defies norms, transcends eras, and showcases Quebec creativity internationally." The work faces the sea, within an urban development that has lost its luster, in San Francisco's financial district.
This monumental work is featured in tourist guides. It appears in films. Major events have taken place in its shadow. It hosted a free U2 concert in 1987. Singer Bono spray-painted graffiti on the fountain, earning him both praise and criticism. The Atlas of Brutalist Architecture (Phaedon, 2018) mentions it, observes the Armand Vaillancourt Foundation, which considers it "an integral part of San Francisco's history and identity." The Foundation therefore urges San Francisco authorities "to include the preservation of the fountain in any redevelopment project" for the site.
Sometimes called Free Quebec!, the Vaillancourt Fountain is about 12 meters high. It is made of prefabricated concrete tubes. 110,000 liters of water per minute are supposed to flow through it, but the liquid stopped flowing for many years.
Controversial since its creation, described as a "Frankenstein work," the fountain has been the subject of several unsuccessful demolition attempts since the 1980s. Will it survive once again?
U2 played a surprise 1987 S.F. concert. Then all hell broke loose
By Peter Hartlaub,
Culture Critic
Nov 17, 2022
Nov. 11, 1987: U2 singer Bono spray paints the Vaillancourt Fountain during a free concert at Justin Herman Plaza in San Francisco.
Nov. 11, 1987: U2 singer Bono spray paints the Vaillancourt Fountain during a free concert at Justin Herman Plaza in San Francisco.
Fred Larson, Staff / The Chronicle
Eric Blockie was on stage in 1987 with the biggest rock band in the world.
But the memory that strikes him 35 years later is the buildings surrounding him. The young security guard working the U2 show in San Francisco’s Justin Herman Plaza peered over the crowd of 20,000 at the corner of Market Street and the Embarcadero, and saw another vertical wall of fans.
Nov. 14, 1987: U2 singer Bono and Armand Vaillancourt paint on stage at a concert at the Oakland Coliseum.
Nov. 14, 1987: U2 singer Bono and Armand Vaillancourt paint on stage at a concert at the Oakland Coliseum.
Deanne Fitzmaurice, Staff / The Chronicle
“I remember looking out and every one of those windows in downtown San Francisco had a face pushed up against it,” Blockie says. “All you saw were faces. I’ll never forget it.”
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It was a calm moment before the chaos.
The free Embarcadero Plaza concert on Nov. 11, 1987 caused an unforgettable furor in local politics and entertainment. One of the greatest achievements in promoter Bill Graham’s storied history — pulling off a surprise concert in less than a day — was overshadowed by a week of controversy.
Bono defaced public art, drew the rage of then-mayor Dianne Feinstein and faced a graffiti charge — all before the concerts that he’d come to the Bay Area to play. By the time the saga ended with a band apology on Nov. 17, 1987, the drama had split the city in two.
“To this day, if he comes up in a playlist or something, I still skip to the next song,” said Karin Golde, who attended the show as a 17-year-old high school senior.
Nov. 11, 1987: U2 singer Bono and bassist Adam Clayton entertain San Franciscans during a free concert in Justin Herman Plaza in San Francisco.
Nov. 11, 1987: U2 singer Bono and bassist Adam Clayton entertain San Franciscans during a free concert in Justin Herman Plaza in San Francisco.
Fred Larson, Staff / The Chronicle
U2 flew into San Francisco days before a pair of weekend concerts at the Oakland Coliseum, coming off the success of the band’s breakthrough “The Joshua Tree” album, while recording and filming the hybrid studio/concert album “Rattle and Hum.”
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The November 11 “Save the Yuppies” concert in San Francisco was suggested by U2, scheduled on a Wednesday and planned in less than 24 hours. The dramatic scene — the band played on two flatbed trucks in front of the Vaillancourt Fountain and learned the chords to “All Along the Watchtower” minutes before the performance — gave the group a rebellious punk rock moment for the “Rattle and Hum” movie.
Sharon Goetzl, a marketing and events manager for Embarcadero Center, said she walked through Justin Herman Plaza with Bono, Graham, her boss and “Rattle and Hum” director Phil Joanou the afternoon before the show. Embarcadero Center gave permission for the concert, and at 5 a.m. Wednesday morning trucks rolled in — even as the concert remained top secret. On all the band’s gear, tape covered the name “U2.”
“Bill did not want any information let out to the press, to the public, no one,” Goetzl remembers. “Our PR person... was just fielding calls one after another. ‘I don’t know. I can’t say anything.’ And people in the towers could see there was something going on.”
Blockie credits the show’s success to the brilliance of Graham, remembering his boss getting on an early cellular phone less than two hours before the concert and calmly calling local radio stations one by one to spread the word: “U2 is playing a free show in Justin Herman Plaza at noon.”
Nov. 11, 1987: Eric Blockie, left, talks with Bill Graham at the U2 concert at Justin Herman Plaza in San Francisco.
Nov. 11, 1987: Eric Blockie, left, talks with Bill Graham at the U2 concert at Justin Herman Plaza in San Francisco.
Courtesy Eric Blockie
According to Blockie, Graham timed the announcement perfectly to get a crowd that was big, but not too big. Another hour’s notice could have brought crowds from Sacramento.
“About a half hour later, we were kind of looking at each other like, ‘Wow, there's not that many people,’” Goetzl said. “But by 11:30 people started breaking for lunch … and it was like a wave. People just were flooding in. I mean, it was crazy.”
Academy of Art student Robert Quinn heard about the concert on the radio, and quickly made a huge sign on aluminum poles, “SF + U2.” It would spark the second most infamous moment of the day.
U2 opened the set with “All Along the Watchtower” and “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” but Bono grew agitated and paused midway through the second song. The singer mistook the letters “SF” on Quinn’s sign as support for Sinn Fein, the Irish Republican Army political wing responsible for a 1987 bombing just days before that killed 11.
Quinn could tell U2 singer Bono was furious with someone in the crowd. But until fans started begging him to take his sign down, he had no idea that one of the biggest pop icons in the world was lobbing profanities at him.
“I couldn't understand what he was saying exactly,” Quinn remembers. “I just heard cuss words and a very angry yelling tone to his voice.”
Robert Quinn, now an artist who makes posters on the Groovy Frisco site, held a sign at a U2 concert 35 years ago that caused an uproar. He sits in front of the Vaillancourt Fountain where the band played.
Robert Quinn, now an artist who makes posters on the Groovy Frisco site, held a sign at a U2 concert 35 years ago that caused an uproar. He sits in front of the Vaillancourt Fountain where the band played.
Chloe Aftel / Special to TheChronicle
The vibes would get even worse.
In 1987, Mayor Feinstein was in the middle of a crackdown on graffiti and public tagging, offering a $500 reward to citizens who turned in their friends. Bono would be the 346th person in San Francisco cited for graffiti that year.
Blockie and Goetzl were both surprised to see Bono holding a spray-paint can during the last song, “Pride (In the Name of Love).” With cars halting to watch the show on the double-decker Embarcadero Freeway that overlooked the plaza, Bono snaked through the sculpture created by Canadian artist Armand Vaillancourt, climbed a ladder and tagged “Rock and Roll, Stop the Traffic” on the fountain.
Goetzl, who up to that point had mostly been worried about fans climbing light poles, said she moved to stop Bono, but was blocked by security.
“I don't know if I thought it was going to tackle him or just grab him and say, like, ‘What the hell are you doing?’” she said. “Once he was above me, there was really nothing I could do.”
Karin Golde, the U2 fan who skipped class at Bishop O’Dowd to see the concert, remembers booing the singer.
“I just felt like he was a visitor or a guest. You know, he doesn't live here,” Golde said. “... It felt so presumptuous.”
Over the years, the show has become synonymous with Bono’s graffiti of the fountain, but in the moment, concert video shows, there was little reaction. The singer disappeared for what seemed like several minutes into the maze-like sculpture behind the stage, as fans seemed disinterested, or confused.
“There was no collective gasp” from the crowd when the graffiti started, Blockie remembered. Music critic Joel Selvin’s Chronicle coverage of the event didn’t mention the incident until the ninth paragraph of his story. But behind the scenes, there was a scramble as soon as the hour-long concert ended.
Graham sent Blockie with the spray paint to Fox Hardware on Fourth Street, to ask what paint remover was needed to restore the statue. The tag was removed by the end of the day, but back at City Hall, Feinstein was enraged.
Bono was cited for malicious mischief and ordered to return to court in December. The band’s rebel act became front page news for the rest of the week, with Chronicle headlines like “U2 Star May Have to Scrub Buses.” (Removing graffiti from Muni coaches was a popular punishment during the Feinstein administration.)
Nov. 11, 1987: A crowd of 20,000 showed up when U2 played a free concert in Justin Herman Plaza in San Francisco.
Nov. 11, 1987: A crowd of 20,000 showed up when U2 played a free concert in Justin Herman Plaza in San Francisco.
Fred Larson, Staff / The Chronicle
“Police delivered the citation to Bono Hewson yesterday afternoon in his room at the Portman Hotel,” The Chronicle reported the following Friday. “(SFPD) Inspector Joe Toomey (said), ‘He was very pleasant, very cordial. He said once again that he did not do this as an act of graffiti but as an artistic expression.’”
The Chronicle letters to the editor page was full of U2 discourse all week, mostly critical of Bono. Herb Caen surprisingly defended the band, on the grounds of his dislike for the sculpture, writing, “Anything done to that abomination — real title: ‘10 on the Richter scale’ — has to be an improvement.”
By his Saturday show in Oakland, Bono was all bluster. He invited sculptor Vaillancourt, who defended the singer, and the pair created more street art with paint rollers on a stage backdrop.
“Have you ever picked on the wrong band,” Bono told the Coliseum crowd. “We're U2. We're the Batman and Robin of rock and roll. Somebody should explain to Mayor Feinstein there is a big difference between graffiti art and an act of vandalism."
Nov. 14, 1987: Bono invites artist Armand Vaillancourt on stage at a U2 concert at the Oakland Coliseum.
Nov. 14, 1987: Bono invites artist Armand Vaillancourt on stage at a U2 concert at the Oakland Coliseum.
Deanne Fitzmaurice, Staff / The Chronicle
But off stage and behind the scenes, he was taking a different tone. Bono penned a private note to law enforcement, explaining that he regretted spray painting the art.
"I am sincerely sorry if my actions caused any inconvenience to the citizens or law enforcement forces in the city," Bono wrote. "I think San Francisco is one of the most beautiful cities U2 has ever been asked to play. I would never want to deface it. Spraying Vaillancourt sculpture was a mistake. I regret that, but it was not meant as a malicious act. I would also hope that the real street artists of San Francisco will not suffer because of a scrawler like me."
District Attorney Arlo Smith dismissed the charge, and that was the end — except for the legend, which continued to grow. When The Chronicle shared found photos from the concert five years ago, dozens of readers wrote in with their memories.
Quinn, who now makes San Francisco-themed art under the Groovy Frisco brand, says despite being misunderstood by Bono for an Irish revolutionary, he’s still a U2 fan.
“I really felt bad about it because it was just a misunderstanding,” Quinn said. “If I had spelled out ‘San Francisco plus U2’ there would not have been an issue.”
Nov. 11, 1987: A fan holds up a U2 license plate at a free surprise concert in Justin Herman Plaza San Francisco.
Nov. 11, 1987: A fan holds up a U2 license plate at a free surprise concert in Justin Herman Plaza San Francisco.
Fred Larson, Staff / The Chronicle
Golde continues her U2 boycott, but acknowledges the statute of limitations may have passed
“Maybe at this point in my old age I can quietly forgive Bono and we can come to terms with each other,” she said, laughing.
Blockie continued his career in concerts, and is now the general manager of the Tech Port Center and Arena in San Antonio, Texas. He thinks about Bill Graham and the U2 show often.
“Downtown San Francisco on a Wednesday? You just couldn’t pull it off now,” he said, with a little bit of awe in his voice. “Something like that will never happen again.”
Peter Hartlaub (he/him) is The San Francisco Chronicle’s culture critic. Email: phartlaub@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @PeterHartlaub
You rule U2WANT!!! 
