Stories endure because they’re retold. The work of “slamming” canonical texts like Treasure Island is not merely destructive: it’s a method of testing what those stories mean now and whom they serve. By interrogating the island’s myths, creators and readers can open space for voices long silenced by the siren song of adventure.
Rating: 2/5 (for the incident response; the festival itself was otherwise well-curated)
To understand why Treasure Island is being slammed today, you have to understand its fragile origins. Built in 1936-1937 using 287,000 cubic yards of bay dredge and quarry rock, the island was created to host the Golden Gate International Exposition of 1939.
It was an art deco masterpiece—a "fairy city" of white towers and neon lights. But as soon as the fair ended, the treasure chest slammed shut. The Navy took over the island, using it as a naval station for 50 years. slammed treasure island
That military legacy left a curse. When the Navy departed in the 1990s, they left behind a Superfund site: radiological contamination, lead paint, asbestos, and barrels of unknown chemicals buried in the sandy soil. For decades, the island sat in limbo—affordable housing for the working class, but a poisoned chalice for developers.
Today, the redevelopment of Treasure Island is the most ambitious and controversial urban project in California. And the critics have not held back.
When cultural touchstones are re-examined, debate follows. Stories endure because they’re retold
“Slammed Treasure Island” as a phrase can therefore point to both denunciation and to a productive critical engagement.
Islands are powerful climate symbols—rising seas, vanishing shores, fragile ecologies—and Treasure Island’s metaphorical baggage makes it apt for ecological critique.
These directions make Treasure Island a useful scaffold for urgent environmental storytelling. “Slammed Treasure Island” as a phrase can therefore
San Francisco is earthquake country. Treasure Island is entirely built on "hydraulic fill"—loose, sandy dredge that turns to liquid jelly during a major quake.
During the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, the island suffered significant soil liquefaction, cracking roads and tilting buildings. The new plan fortifies the ground with 1,300 stone columns driven 60 feet into the bay floor.
Yet, the state’s seismic safety commission recently slammed Treasure Island’s risk assessment as "optimistic." Building massive residential towers (including a 20-story condominium) on this terrain has engineers wincing. One consultant called it "building Versailles on a slinky."
The truth is that "slammed treasure island" is a perfect storm of modern anxieties.
And yet, the project moves forward. The first residents moved into the new "Phase 1" buildings in late 2024. Cranes still dot the skyline.