Sutro Tower — that iconic three-pronged broadcast antenna perched atop Twin Peaks — has been dividing opinion since it went up in 1973. Residents at the time called it an eyesore, a blight on the skyline, a monument to poor urban planning. Fifty years later, it's arguably the most beloved silhouette in the city, appearing on everything from tote bags to tattoos to, most recently, a striking painting capturing the tower as seen from Kezar Stadium on Willard Street.

And honestly? That painting captures something worth talking about.

Sutro Tower is the rare piece of infrastructure that transcends its utility. It still broadcasts television and radio signals to the Bay Area — actual, tangible public value delivered without a single ballot measure, oversight committee, or $4 billion bond issuance. No one had to convene a task force. No one formed a community advisory board to study whether broadcast signals are equitable. They just built the thing, and it works.

Contrast that with, well, gestures broadly at everything else San Francisco tries to build. We can't lay a mile of bus lane without three years of environmental review, but somehow in 1973 they managed to plant a small Eiffel Tower on a hilltop and call it a day.

There's a lesson in Sutro Tower for a city that's forgotten how to build things efficiently: sometimes function creates its own beauty. Sometimes the best landmarks aren't the ones we planned — they're the ones we just got out of the way and let happen.

So here's to the tower. Still ugly. Still perfect. Still broadcasting. Which is more than we can say for most of what City Hall produces.