San Francisco's cable cars are an internationally recognized symbol of the city, but they also have a long and fractious history. There are actually three cable lines in operation today: the California Street line and the two Powell Street lines-- the Powell-Mason and Powell-Hyde. The Powell Street lines have been the subject of much controversy through the years, due to a complex lineage of private and public ownership. Cable cars on Powell Street began in 1888, operating under the Ferries and Cliff House Railway Company and utilizing the same basic design pioneered by Andrew Hallidie in 1873. Among the story's twists and turns are the line's actual routes following the 1906 earthquake, which caused heavy damage and forced major repairs. Post-quake, United Railroads was able to replace many of the cable car lines with streetcars, including a part of the Powell Street system. San Francisco at one time had eight separate cable car operators. Gradually most were replaced by streetcars, buses, and trolley buses, given the complexities and expense of cable systems. The Powell lines were taken over by the city in 1944, but the mayor tried to abandon them in 1947. The public disapproved of this move, and since then the Powell Street line has only grown in stature and its importance to San Francisco.
It's strange to think that an electric commuter rail line rivaling BART in efficiency, speed, and comfort ran over 100 years ago between San Francisco and San Mateo, but run it did. The 40 Line, or San Mateo Interurban, began in 1892 with an initial segment operating between Market and Steuart Streets out to the county limits on San Jose Avenue. Three years later, the line reached Baden in present-day South San Francisco, and by 1903 service was opened all the way to downtown San Mateo. During the line's heyday, there was talk of extending it down the peninsula from San Mateo to Palo Alto to connect with the Peninsular Railway to San Jose. The 1906 earthquake put this plan on hold. Following much the same route as today's Mission Street, El Camino Real, and Caltrain, the San Mateo Interurban carried over four million passengers a year along its main and spur lines until 1949, when the system was shut down amidst much fanfare.
It is difficult now to imagine San Francisco Bay without bridges, but not too long ago, a complex system of ferries and trains helped span the waters in an elegant way. The Key System was a huge portion of this network; it was part of businessman "Borax" Smith's method to attract San Francisco workers to live in the cities of Berkeley, Oakland, and Piedmont, where he dealt in real estate. The Southern Pacific Railroad was the Key System's fierce competitor, then later an ally, before it was vanquished. Thousands of commuters rode the system for years, until a ridership decline eventually doomed the Key when bridges finally crisscrossed the bay.
It is difficult now to imagine San Francisco Bay without bridges, but not too long ago, a complex system of ferries and trains helped span the waters in an elegant way. The Key System was a huge portion of this network; it was part of businessman "Borax" Smith's method to attract San Francisco workers to live in the cities of Berkeley, Oakland, and Piedmont, where he dealt in real estate. The Southern Pacific Railroad was the Key System's fierce competitor, then later an ally, before it was vanquished. Thousands of commuters rode the system for years, until a ridership decline eventually doomed the Key when bridges finally crisscrossed the bay.
Diversity is the prime characteristic of the California Central Coast's many rail operations. Readers will be attracted by the varying scope of Central Coast--Santa Cruz, Monterey, and San Luis Obispo Counties--rail systems. They range from local horsecar services and the narrow-gauge electrified plant railroad that served the Santa Cruz Cement Company at Davenport to the Southern Pacific Railroad's Coast Line and its engineering marvel Cuesta Grade, highlighted by the world-famous horseshoe curve. Local streetcar systems and long-ceased regional railroads are part of the area's rail legacy. Rare historic images blended with contemporary photography chronicle the region's railways from times past to the present.
It is difficult now to imagine San Francisco Bay without bridges, but not too long ago, a complex system of ferries and trains helped span the waters in an elegant way. The Key System was a huge portion of this network; it was part of businessman "Borax" Smith's method to attract San Francisco workers to live in the cities of Berkeley, Oakland, and Piedmont, where he dealt in real estate. The Southern Pacific Railroad was the Key System's fierce competitor, then later an ally, before it was vanquished. Thousands of commuters rode the system for years, until a ridership decline eventually doomed the Key when bridges finally crisscrossed the bay.
San Franciscos internationally recognized cable cars are the symbol of the individual character of a great city. The California Street cable car line is one of only three remaining lines in the city. The California Street Railway, or Cal Cable, was developed and opened by Leland Stanford, one of the builders of the transcontinental railroad and later founder of Stanford University. Indeed, the iconic line, intimately connected with some of the Wests pioneer businessmen, was sold, expanded, and reached its peak mileage just after 1890, only to be destroyed in the great earthquake and fire of 1906. As resilient as the city it served, Cal Cable was rebuilt and lasted as an independent business longer than any other private San Francisco transit operation. Cut down to its present form in 1954, that remnant and its double-ended cars survive as an integral part of todays cable car system.
It's strange to think that an electric commuter rail line rivaling BART in efficiency, speed, and comfort ran over 100 years ago between San Francisco and San Mateo, but run it did. The 40 Line, or San Mateo Interurban, began in 1892 with an initial segment operating between Market and Steuart Streets out to the county limits on San Jose Avenue. Three years later, the line reached Baden in present-day South San Francisco, and by 1903 service was opened all the way to downtown San Mateo. During the line's heyday, there was talk of extending it down the peninsula from San Mateo to Palo Alto to connect with the Peninsular Railway to San Jose. The 1906 earthquake put this plan on hold. Following much the same route as today's Mission Street, El Camino Real, and Caltrain, the San Mateo Interurban carried over four million passengers a year along its main and spur lines until 1949, when the system was shut down amidst much fanfare.
San Francisco's cable cars are an internationally recognized symbol of the city, but they also have a long and fractious history. There are actually three cable lines in operation today: the California Street line and the two Powell Street lines-- the Powell-Mason and Powell-Hyde. The Powell Street lines have been the subject of much controversy through the years, due to a complex lineage of private and public ownership. Cable cars on Powell Street began in 1888, operating under the Ferries and Cliff House Railway Company and utilizing the same basic design pioneered by Andrew Hallidie in 1873. Among the story's twists and turns are the line's actual routes following the 1906 earthquake, which caused heavy damage and forced major repairs. Post-quake, United Railroads was able to replace many of the cable car lines with streetcars, including a part of the Powell Street system. San Francisco at one time had eight separate cable car operators. Gradually most were replaced by streetcars, buses, and trolley buses, given the complexities and expense of cable systems. The Powell lines were taken over by the city in 1944, but the mayor tried to abandon them in 1947. The public disapproved of this move, and since then the Powell Street line has only grown in stature and its importance to San Francisco.
Diversity is the prime characteristic of the California Central Coast's many rail operations. Readers will be attracted by the varying scope of Central Coast--Santa Cruz, Monterey, and San Luis Obispo Counties--rail systems. They range from local horsecar services and the narrow-gauge electrified plant railroad that served the Santa Cruz Cement Company at Davenport to the Southern Pacific Railroad's Coast Line and its engineering marvel Cuesta Grade, highlighted by the world-famous horseshoe curve. Local streetcar systems and long-ceased regional railroads are part of the area's rail legacy. Rare historic images blended with contemporary photography chronicle the region's railways from times past to the present.
With contributions from seven of Mexico's finest journalists, this is reportage at its bravest and most necessary - it has the power to change the world's view of their country, and by the force of its truth, to start to heal the country's many sorrows. Supported the Arts Council Grant's for the Arts Programme and by PEN Promotes Veering between carnival and apocalypse, Mexico has in the last ten years become the epicentre of the international drug trade. The so-called "war on drugs" has been a brutal and chaotic failure (more than 160,000 lives have been lost). The drug cartels and the forces of law and order are often in collusion, corruption is everywhere. Life is cheap and inconvenient people - the poor, the unlucky, the honest or the inquisitive - can be "disappeared" leaving not a trace behind (in September 2015, more than 26,798 were officially registered as "not located"). Yet people in all walks of life have refused to give up. Diego Enrique Osorno and Juan Villoro tell stories of teenage prostitution and Mexico's street children. Anabel Hernández and Emiliano Ruiz Parra give chilling accounts of the "disappearance" of forty-three students and the murder of a self-educated land lawyer. Sergio González Rodríguez and Marcela Turati dissect the impact of the violence on the victims and those left behind, while Lydia Cacho contributes a journal of what it is like to live every day of your life under threat of death. Reading these accounts we begin to understand the true nature of the meltdown of democracy, obscured by lurid headlines, and the sheer physical and intellectual courage needed to oppose it.
In Taming Ares Emiliano J. Buis examines the sources of classical Greece to challenge both the state-centeredness of mainstream international legal history and the omnipresence of war and excessive violence in ancient times. Making ample use of epigraphic as well as literary, rhetorical, and historiographical sources, the book offers the first widespread account of the narrative foundations of the (il)legality of warfare in the classical Hellenic world. In a clear yet sophisticated manner, Buis convincingly proves that the traditionally neglected study of the performance of ancient Greek poleis can contribute to a better historical understanding of those principles of international law underlying the practices and applicable rules on the use of force and the conduct of hostilities.
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