The San Francisco Board of Supervisors voted 10–1 in February to clear AT&T's path to a 104-foot cell tower on the edge of Glen Canyon Park, with only Supervisor Connie Chan siding with neighborhood opponents — and construction is now underway.

The fight over AT&T's macro-cell monopole in Diamond Heights is more than a local eyesore dispute. It's a test case for how little San Francisco can actually do when a major telecom company wants to plant a ten-story steel pole next to a playground and a canyon park. Supervisor Rafael Mandelman, who represents the area, concluded the city had no real choice — the Telecommunications Act of 1996 sharply limits municipalities' ability to block carriers' infrastructure requests, and AT&T was prepared to litigate. The Board agreed, almost unanimously, setting a precedent the Diamond Heights community says AT&T can now replicate neighborhood by neighborhood across the city.

The tower has been years in the making. AT&T says it needs the 104-foot macro-cell monopole — to be installed on the grounds of the San Francisco Police Academy, adjacent to Glen Canyon Park and a local playground — to bring its service up to par with T-Mobile and Verizon, which already have reliable coverage in the area, according to testimony in the Board hearing.

Neighbors in the Diamond Heights Community Association mounted a formal appeal, arguing the tower was an unnecessary eyesore and posed wildfire and pollution risks. They also said AT&T had never seriously explored lower-impact alternatives, such as distributed antenna systems. AT&T's own representatives acknowledged at the hearing that they had not pursued alternative technologies — but Mandelman and the city attorney concluded that wasn't legally required under federal law.

"I was very dispirited. I'm really concerned about the future of San Francisco," Daniel Schereck, president of the Diamond Heights Community Association, told CBS Bay Area after the vote. At the Board hearing itself, he issued a warning that landed harder than any aesthetic argument: "If AT&T builds this, every supervisor will have to deal with these monopoles in your district."

Community member Catherine Dodd made the same point from a different angle when she addressed Mandelman directly. "We have been sued by Big Alcohol, Big Tobacco, and the plastic bag industry," she said, according to 48 Hills, arguing that San Francisco has never shied away from fighting corporate giants in court — and shouldn't start now over a cell tower.

Mandelman acknowledged the pole would be "big and unsightly," but said the Telecommunications Act of 1996 ultimately constrained what the city could do. He attached conditions — Fire Department sign-off on the installation and the diesel backup generator, plus an arborist review of any potential tree impact — but moved to deny the neighborhood appeals and let the project proceed. The Board followed, 10 to 1.

Chan's lone dissenting vote has been characterized on social media as opposition to better cell service, but that framing has it backwards. Chan was the only supervisor who sided with the Diamond Heights residents in a lopsided Board vote driven by the area's own representative.

The tower isn't AT&T's first in San Francisco using this playbook. The company has already won approval for similar monopoles at the Palace of Fine Arts and in the Presidio, according to 48 Hills. With the Diamond Heights decision, the pattern is clear: identify coverage gaps, document the technical need, demonstrate a search for alternatives (even a limited one), and let federal preemption do the rest.

By late April, CBS Bay Area confirmed the tower was proceeding to installation, with Schereck left to negotiate cosmetic concessions — tower color, wire covers, a slightly less conspicuous antenna. "We're really just asking AT&T to follow the alternatives that they have done elsewhere," he told the station.

What the Diamond Heights case exposes isn't a rogue vote or a single supervisor's failure. It's a structural reality: under current federal law, a telecommunications carrier with lawyers and a documented coverage gap can walk into almost any American city and get a tower built, regardless of what neighbors, community associations, or even local elected officials want. San Francisco, which has fought Big Tobacco and Big Alcohol and won, found itself with far less leverage against a carrier armed with the 1996 Telecom Act.

The question Schereck posed at the Board hearing is now the question for every other neighborhood that borders a cell coverage gap: who shows up at your district supervisor's office next?