Mystery benches are appearing on S.F. sidewalks. The city isn't happy about it

San Francisco Chronicle​

07-07-2025

Eight benches recently appeared on curbs in San Francisco, all bearing the DIY-craftsman style of something hammered together in a backyard, from plans pulled off the Internet.
Which, in all likelihood, is how the benches were made.
No individual has publicly taken credit for this unofficial seating, installed near bus stops in the Mission and throughout the East Bay. Yet each bench has a stencil for the ' San Francisco Bay Area Bench Collective ' website, referring to a loose group of urbanists and do-gooders who believe their furniture provides a 'much-needed' space to rest.
To city officials who have to monitor, clean and possibly remove the benches, they are a source of headaches. Ultimately, it's unclear who would be held liable if someone trips over a bench and sues, or who is responsible to fix them if they break, staff at San Francisco Municipal Transportation Agency told the Chronicle.
There is also confusion over which city department should handle the rogue benches. Public works manages infrastructure on city sidewalks, and has received at least one complaint about a rogue bench. If a bench is placed in a public park, however, it becomes the burden of the San Francisco Recreation and Parks Department. And if one of these structures pops up at a bus stop, it's within the domain of SFMTA, the agency in charge of building and managing bus stop transit shelters.
'While we appreciate the sentiment behind these (guerrilla) bench installations, there are a lot of complex issues that would need to be addressed,' agency spokespeople wrote in a statement, in which they cited the question of 'upkeep' if a bench is tagged with graffiti, and the more serious concern if someone is injured while using a bench. Moreover, SFMTA spokespeople wrote, any piece of sidewalk furniture needs to leave enough space for wheelchair users.
Carter Lavin, co-founder of the transportation advocacy group Transbay Coalition, believes cities 'need to find a way' for people to invest their love and their values into the urban environment. A bench, he said, is an expression of civic engagement.
'Why are benches important?' Lavin asked. 'Fundamentally, it's about human dignity, comfort and love for our fellow residents. The world can be a hostile place, and a bench is a way of saying, 'You're welcome here. You're invited here.''
The message came through to Rita Rincon, who stopped to rest on one of the guerrilla benches near 18th and Mission Streets. Rincon, who is 90, marveled at the structure's sturdiness. Constructed of wooden planks bolted together, the bench was plain, and in its own way, 'beautiful.'
'This is an adequate bench,' Rincon's caretaker, Maria Mira, said in Spanish, taking a seat by her client's side.
But the bench at 18th and Mission could also be viewed as a blight. Set in front of a liquor store, and feet away from a bus stop, it already showed signs of wear. Vandals had scribbled graffiti on its buffed wood, and bits of trash were stuffed between the boards.
Grassroots carpenters in the bench collective trace their movement to a Sunset District engineer named Chris Duderstadt, who spent years building and placing public benches around the city, and even posted the architectural plans online for others to emulate. Transit activists in the East Bay independently latched onto the bench concept two years ago, after observing, with dismay, the number of people who have to stand at bus stops.
In November 2023, Berkeley resident Darrell Owens snapped a photo of his neighbor sitting on the ground while waiting for a bus. The neighbor was recovering from surgery and couldn't bend his legs, Owen wrote in a photo caption, when he posted the image on social media. It instantly went viral.
Owens and Mingwei Samuel, a fellow transit enthusiast with a woodworking background, built benches in Berkeley and Oakland, inspiring Lavin and others from the Transbay Coalition to install them in El Cerrito and Richmond. People gathered for 'weekend builds' in garages, yards and driveways, sharing power tools and teaching each other how to drill holes or sand wood.
Politicians in some cities welcomed the benches. Richmond City Council passed a policy in May instructing city staff to create a permitting program that would legalize the community-made benches at bus stops.
'I think this is innovative, it's needed and it's helped restore pride in our transit system,' said Richmond City Council Member Jamelia Brown, who co-sponsored the policy measure. 'It's great that someone thought of all the riders who had to stand for 30 minutes and wait for the next bus.'
Whether San Francisco will follow Richmond's example is an open question. Already, the bench collective has seen two of its installations torn out of the Noe Valley area.
'Unclear who removed,' the group writes on its website.
Days ago, Public Works logged a complaint through the city's 311 system about a bench at 26th and Mission streets.
'We'll go out and assess it and ask the bench folks to remove it,' said Public Works spokesperson Rachel Gordon. Noting that many of the guerrilla benches are bolted to the sidewalk, she said that city officials would probably ask the bench collective members to fix any holes.
Lavin points out that the city has created processes for other imaginative ideas — like converting a parking space into a parklet. Such arguments prompt a beat of contemplative silence from Gordon.
'Look,' she said. 'We don't want to be overly cumbersome. But there are real reasons why we don't just say, 'OK, put whatever you want on a public sidewalk.' There are real things a government needs to take into consideration.'
Gordon and other officials say they grasp the sentiment behind the benches. They understand the functionality and the symbolism of convenience, comfort and dignity. Nonetheless, Gordon said, 'We just want folks to do this properly.'