Former Obama campaign manager Jim Messina bought the Glen Park home from PayPal Mafia member Keith Rabois for $8.7 million, according to property and loan records.

Rabois launched the home in late 2020, shortly after the billionaire announced he was moving to Florida. The price started at $12 million, but after that multiple cuts had fallen to $10.25 million before the sale.

Even after losing a quarter of the original bid, the home is still the highest-priced sale ever made in San Francisco’s Glen Park neighborhood. According to Redfin data, there have only been six $5 million sales in the hilly area south of Noe Valley and east of Bernal Heights in the last five years.

Messina and his wife Taya Cromley, a clinical psychologist, closed the 5,700-square-foot home on Valentine’s Day, according to property records and loan documents Bank of the First Republic who list them as two members of SashaHouse, the Montana-based LLC that purchased the cul-de-sac home. The Obamas’ younger daughter is also named Sasha, but it’s unclear if she was the inspiration for the LLC’s name.

Messina lives in San Francisco and Montana with his wife and their two dogs, according to a bio on the website of his political consulting firm, The Messina Group. The site’s clients include Uber, Airbnb, Google and Delta Air Lines, as well as more than a dozen world leaders, including former British Prime Ministers Theresa May and David Cameron and former Mexican President Enrique Peña Nieto.

In the 2012 election cycle, Messina served as manager for Barack Obama’s re-election campaign, which used technology for public relations and fundraising. He was also deputy chief of staff in the White House under Obama.

Rabois also had a short-lived career in politics as an adviser to former Vice President Dan Quayle in 1999. A year later, he moved to Paypal, where he and other early payment site executives and founders such as Elon Musk and Peter Thiel became known as the “Paypal Mafia” due to the interconnected web of giant tech companies — Tesla, Uber, Pinterest, and Airbnb — that they later founded or in which they invested.

Rabois bought the home in June 2011 for $3.5 million while he was COO at Square and immediately submitted approval to fully develop the early ’70s hillside lot as a “breathtaking architectural development” with panoramic views of the city’s skyline to rebuild the city, according to the notes of Coldwell Banker’s Joel Goodrich and Camron Paul Garcia.

Garcia and Compass agent Steve Mavromihalis held the listing when it first went public, and Maveomihalis said via email that “we were able to secure immediate offers within the range of values ​​we had proposed to the seller, but were unable to complete a sale at that time.” Subsequently, he “backed out of that engagement,” he said, although Garcia stayed.

The home’s floor plan centers around an open-air atrium with a “mature birch tree, a flowing stream, and an outdoor shower,” according to the listing. The atrium has a one-car garage on either side of the top floor, and there are four bedrooms, five full baths, two half-baths, a media room, a library, a wine cellar with a sauna next door, and an outdoor hot tub spread across its four floors. The lowest level features a 700-square-foot gym with a half-bath and patio.

Rabois also plans to build a larger gym with a basketball court into another home he bought and is expanding across the street at 43 Everson. Despite moving abroad in 2020 and the ire of some of his neighbors who have urged the city to reject his “scale” plans, Rabois still owns this home, which was purchased in 2015 for $2.35 million, and seems to be moving forward with his Renovation. Electrical permits for AV systems, motorized blinds and automated lighting were recently approved, and gross plumbing inspections were also signed this week, according to city records.

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Imagine opening your front door, still in your pajamas, on a frosty Swiss morning, only to find a man dressed entirely in black staring back at you. Charcoal trousers, top hat, and boots, a little broom and dustpan peeking out of his bag. He waves an official-looking document in the air and insists on entering your house. A little bemused, you wave the chimney sweep in.

Such encounters are common in Switzerland, where these men and women in black are jokingly called the “chimney sweep mafia”—“mafia” because they seem to be exempt from all the rules. In some cantons they can turn up at short notice, enter your house, and charge you for the privilege. It’s all state sanctioned: the cantonal government assigns one chimney sweep—or one small company, often family-run—to service a particular geographical area, and all other chimney sweeps are forbidden from working there. The government also sets the price of their service (from about $100), and residents are legally required to have their chimneys swept every year or so. This type of monopoly is highly unusual in a capitalist state where virtually every other profession is governed by the norms of free-market competition.

Swiss government protection of chimney sweeping is rooted in history and was designed to protect citizens from a very real fire threat. Wood burnt in a fireplace often doesn’t receive an adequate air supply, leading to incomplete combustion. The resulting vapors produce a toxic, tar-like substance called creosote which hardens inside chimneys and can blow up at inopportune moments. For instance, creosote is likely to have contributed to the severity of the Great Fire of Bern in 1405, which destroyed more than 600 buildings and killed 100 residents. The Swiss government believed chimney sweepers and their monopoly would help prevent more of these types of devastating fires.

A Swiss chimney sweep in the traditional black top has skis to work in St, Moritz, circa 1935 (left); the chimney sweeps who work on the rooftops of Lauterbrunnen today still dress in all-black uniforms but they no longer wear hats (right). Imagno/Getty Images; Marion Bernet for Atlas Obscura

Until recently, they weren’t the only ones either. Neighboring Germany and Austria only liberalized their own chimney sweep monopolies in 2013 and 2015 respectively, because of increasing criticism that the monopolies were violating European Union competition law. As an EU outsider, Switzerland remains impassive to this pressure. Nevertheless, the chimney sweep mafia may be slowly becoming obsolete. To date, just over half of Switzerland’s cantons have overturned their chimney sweep monopoly which has existed for over 100 years—a change that may allow chimney sweep companies to expand and make the seemingly antiquated profession an attractive career option for young Swiss.

Training to become a chimney sweep in Switzerland is rigorous, consisting of a minimum three-year apprenticeship program, with the option to continue to a master level. Far from the sooty stereotype perched on a rooftop, a modern-day Swiss chimney sweep can advise on the safe, environmentally friendly, and energy-efficient operation of all types of combustion and heating systems, in both residential and industrial buildings. Brooms have made way for dust and water vacuums, steel brushes, and high-pressure cleaners. Even the uniforms have been updated, to simple black trousers and shirts.

A chimney sweep can inspect five to six heating systems per day, depending on the size. Here, Graf cleans a wood-burning furnace, which needs a visit from the chimney sweep twice a year. Marion Bernet for Atlas Obscura

Twenty-year-old Martina Graf is perhaps the best proof that chimney sweeping is not merely a relic of the past. Growing up on a traditional alpine dairy farm with a spectacular view over the waterfalls which gush down the Lauterbrunnen Valley, Graf had specific criteria for her future career. “I always wanted a physical job, where I would be outside and also where I wouldn’t have to travel far to work,” she says. That was chimney sweeping. She now works at a small family-run business which employs five sweeps, three women and two men.

The chimney sweep monopoly ended in Graf’s canton of Bern earlier this year. At least temporarily, the increased competition has meant less work and more traveling for Graf. “It’s also interesting to go further away and see how things work in other places…but actually, I found it was better before, when everyone had their own area and knew everything,” she says. Perhaps that’s why parts of Switzerland continue to embrace the chimney sweep mafia. It’s nice to see a familiar smudged face every year and develop local relationships. “When you can go inside the house, there’s often coffee, maybe something to eat,” says Graff. “That always saves my day.”

Another possible explanation for why chimney sweeps still hold a monopoly in many cantons: they are considered a symbol of good luck. In Switzerland today it’s not uncommon to buy a lucky four-leaf clover plant at the supermarket embellished with a tiny black sweep figure sticking out of the soil. Older residents remember the days when just seeing or touching a chimney sweep promised to bring happiness.

Brooms are no longer the primary tool in the chimney sweep’s kit. Modern heating systems also require dust and water vacuums, steel brushes, and high-pressure cleaners.
Marion Bernet for Atlas Obscura

It’s an unexpectedly cheerful connotation for a profession with a difficult history. If you were a particularly small boy between six and eight years old in the Italian-speaking region of Switzerland in the 18th century and had the misfortune of coming from a poor family, chimney sweeping might just have been your worst nightmare. Hundreds of little sweeps were recruited to work the sweeping season from September to April. As they cleaned chimneys deemed too narrow for adults their heads were often enveloped by a “caprüza,” a hood without eye holes to protect them from soot and dust as they scraped with the rasp and brush in the dark.

“They went into the chimneys barefoot, propped themselves up with their knees and elbows…until they’d scratched [the creosote] all out They were given little to eat. It was a terrible exploitation,” says Anita Hofer. Hofer is the vice president of the Chimney Sweep Association in Italy and oversees the Spazzocamino (Chimney Sweep) museum in Santa Maria Maggiore just over the Swiss-Italian border. The practice lasted about 100 years, until around 1930 and the story is retold in pictures, song, and first-person accounts on the museum’s second floor. The humble exhibition is found off a cobblestoned street and behind the stone church in Santa Maria Maggiore; it is easily recognized by the shadowy figures adorning the roof. The museum is both a celebration of the profession and a haunting reminder of its checked history.

Before the chimney sweep monopoly ended in the canton of Bern, Graf was one of the few sweeps allowed to work in her hometown of Lauterbrunnen. Marion Bernet for Atlas Obscura

The sacrifices of the little sweeps have not been forgotten by their successors. They are remembered each year at the International Chimney Sweep Festival held in Santa Maria Maggiore over three days on the first weekend in September. The festivities attract some 1,000 chimney sweeps from 26 different countries, including Japan and the United States. The festival also attracts thousands of curious visitors who gather to watch the chimney sweeps parade in their traditional dress with sooty black faces. Look for the revelers with black top hats and red scarves tied around their necks, an enduring symbol of Switzerland’s chimney sweep mafia.

The post Is This the Finish of Switzerland’s Chimney Sweep ‘Mafia’? appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

Imagine opening your front door, still in your pajamas, on a frosty Swiss morning, only to find a man dressed entirely in black staring back at you. Charcoal trousers, top hat, and boots, a little broom and dustpan peeking out of his bag. He waves an official-looking document in the air and insists on entering your house. A little bemused, you wave the chimney sweep in.

Such encounters are common in Switzerland, where these men and women in black are jokingly called the “chimney sweep mafia”—“mafia” because they seem to be exempt from all the rules. In some cantons they can turn up at short notice, enter your house, and charge you for the privilege. It’s all state sanctioned: the cantonal government assigns one chimney sweep—or one small company, often family-run—to service a particular geographical area, and all other chimney sweeps are forbidden from working there. The government also sets the price of their service (from about $100), and residents are legally required to have their chimneys swept every year or so. This type of monopoly is highly unusual in a capitalist state where virtually every other profession is governed by the norms of free-market competition.

Swiss government protection of chimney sweeping is rooted in history and was designed to protect citizens from a very real fire threat. Wood burnt in a fireplace often doesn’t receive an adequate air supply, leading to incomplete combustion. The resulting vapors produce a toxic, tar-like substance called creosote which hardens inside chimneys and can blow up at inopportune moments. For instance, creosote is likely to have contributed to the severity of the Great Fire of Bern in 1405, which destroyed more than 600 buildings and killed 100 residents. The Swiss government believed chimney sweepers and their monopoly would help prevent more of these types of devastating fires.

A Swiss chimney sweep in the traditional black top has skis to work in St, Moritz, circa 1935 (left); the chimney sweeps who work on the rooftops of Lauterbrunnen today still dress in all-black uniforms but they no longer wear hats (right). Imagno/Getty Images; Marion Bernet for Atlas Obscura

Until recently, they weren’t the only ones either. Neighboring Germany and Austria only liberalized their own chimney sweep monopolies in 2013 and 2015 respectively, because of increasing criticism that the monopolies were violating European Union competition law. As an EU outsider, Switzerland remains impassive to this pressure. Nevertheless, the chimney sweep mafia may be slowly becoming obsolete. To date, just over half of Switzerland’s cantons have overturned their chimney sweep monopoly which has existed for over 100 years—a change that may allow chimney sweep companies to expand and make the seemingly antiquated profession an attractive career option for young Swiss.

Training to become a chimney sweep in Switzerland is rigorous, consisting of a minimum three-year apprenticeship program, with the option to continue to a master level. Far from the sooty stereotype perched on a rooftop, a modern-day Swiss chimney sweep can advise on the safe, environmentally friendly, and energy-efficient operation of all types of combustion and heating systems, in both residential and industrial buildings. Brooms have made way for dust and water vacuums, steel brushes, and high-pressure cleaners. Even the uniforms have been updated, to simple black trousers and shirts.

A chimney sweep can inspect five to six heating systems per day, depending on the size. Here, Graf cleans a wood-burning furnace, which needs a visit from the chimney sweep twice a year. Marion Bernet for Atlas Obscura

Twenty-year-old Martina Graf is perhaps the best proof that chimney sweeping is not merely a relic of the past. Growing up on a traditional alpine dairy farm with a spectacular view over the waterfalls which gush down the Lauterbrunnen Valley, Graf had specific criteria for her future career. “I always wanted a physical job, where I would be outside and also where I wouldn’t have to travel far to work,” she says. That was chimney sweeping. She now works at a small family-run business which employs five sweeps, three women and two men.

The chimney sweep monopoly ended in Graf’s canton of Bern earlier this year. At least temporarily, the increased competition has meant less work and more traveling for Graf. “It’s also interesting to go further away and see how things work in other places…but actually, I found it was better before, when everyone had their own area and knew everything,” she says. Perhaps that’s why parts of Switzerland continue to embrace the chimney sweep mafia. It’s nice to see a familiar smudged face every year and develop local relationships. “When you can go inside the house, there’s often coffee, maybe something to eat,” says Graff. “That always saves my day.”

Another possible explanation for why chimney sweeps still hold a monopoly in many cantons: they are considered a symbol of good luck. In Switzerland today it’s not uncommon to buy a lucky four-leaf clover plant at the supermarket embellished with a tiny black sweep figure sticking out of the soil. Older residents remember the days when just seeing or touching a chimney sweep promised to bring happiness.

Brooms are no longer the primary tool in the chimney sweep’s kit. Modern heating systems also require dust and water vacuums, steel brushes, and high-pressure cleaners.
Marion Bernet for Atlas Obscura

It’s an unexpectedly cheerful connotation for a profession with a difficult history. If you were a particularly small boy between six and eight years old in the Italian-speaking region of Switzerland in the 18th century and had the misfortune of coming from a poor family, chimney sweeping might just have been your worst nightmare. Hundreds of little sweeps were recruited to work the sweeping season from September to April. As they cleaned chimneys deemed too narrow for adults their heads were often enveloped by a “caprüza,” a hood without eye holes to protect them from soot and dust as they scraped with the rasp and brush in the dark.

“They went into the chimneys barefoot, propped themselves up with their knees and elbows…until they’d scratched [the creosote] all out They were given little to eat. It was a terrible exploitation,” says Anita Hofer. Hofer is the vice president of the Chimney Sweep Association in Italy and oversees the Spazzocamino (Chimney Sweep) museum in Santa Maria Maggiore just over the Swiss-Italian border. The practice lasted about 100 years, until around 1930 and the story is retold in pictures, song, and first-person accounts on the museum’s second floor. The humble exhibition is found off a cobblestoned street and behind the stone church in Santa Maria Maggiore; it is easily recognized by the shadowy figures adorning the roof. The museum is both a celebration of the profession and a haunting reminder of its checked history.

Before the chimney sweep monopoly ended in the canton of Bern, Graf was one of the few sweeps allowed to work in her hometown of Lauterbrunnen. Marion Bernet for Atlas Obscura

The sacrifices of the little sweeps have not been forgotten by their successors. They are remembered each year at the International Chimney Sweep Festival held in Santa Maria Maggiore over three days on the first weekend in September. The festivities attract some 1,000 chimney sweeps from 26 different countries, including Japan and the United States. The festival also attracts thousands of curious visitors who gather to watch the chimney sweeps parade in their traditional dress with sooty black faces. Look for the revelers with black top hats and red scarves tied around their necks, an enduring symbol of Switzerland’s chimney sweep mafia.

The post Is This the Finish of Switzerland’s Chimney Sweep ‘Mafia’? appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.

Imagine opening your front door still in pajamas, on a frosty Swiss morning, only to find a man dressed all in black staring at you. Anthracite pants, top hat and boots, a small broom and a dustpan peeked out of his pocket. He waves an official-looking document in the air and insists on entering your house. A little amused you wave the chimney sweep in.

Such encounters are the order of the day in Switzerland, where these men and women in black are jokingly called “chimney sweep mafia” – “mafia” because they seem to be exempt from all rules. In some cantons they can show up at short notice, enter your house and bill you for the privilege. Everything is state sanctioned: the cantonal government hires a chimney sweep – or a small, often family-run business – to look after a certain geographic area, and all other chimney sweeps are prohibited from working there. The government also sets the price for their service (starting at around $ 100), and residents are required by law to have their chimneys swept every year or so. This type of monopoly is most unusual in a capitalist state where virtually every other profession is subject to the norms of free market competition.

Swiss chimney sweep protection is steeped in history and was developed to protect citizens from a very real fire hazard. Wood burned in a fireplace often does not receive adequate ventilation, which leads to incomplete combustion. The resulting fumes produce a toxic, tar-like substance called creosote, which hardens in chimneys and can explode at inopportune moments. Creosote, for example, probably contributed to the severity of the Great Fire of Bern in 1405, which destroyed more than 600 buildings and killed 100 residents. The Swiss government believed that chimney sweeps and their monopoly would help prevent these devastating fires from happening again.

A Swiss chimney sweep in traditional black hat skis at work in St. Moritz, around 1935 (left); the chimney sweeps who work on the roofs of Lauterbrunnen today still wear completely black uniforms, but no longer have a hat (right). Imagno / Getty Images; Marion Bernet for Atlas Obscura

Until recently, they weren’t the only ones either. The neighboring Germany and Austria did not liberalize their own chimney sweep monopolies until 2013 and 2015, respectively, because the monopolies were increasingly criticized for violating EU competition law. As an EU outsider, Switzerland is not under pressure. Nevertheless, the chimney sweep mafia could slowly become obsolete. Slightly more than half of the Swiss cantons have overturned their chimney sweep monopoly, which had existed for over 100 years – a change that has allowed chimney sweep companies to expand and makes the supposedly antiquated profession an attractive career option for young Swiss.

The training to become a chimney sweep in Switzerland is rigorous and consists of at least three years of apprenticeship with the option of the master’s level. Far from the sooty cliché on the roof, a modern Swiss chimney sweep advises on the safe, environmentally friendly and energy-efficient operation of all types of firing and heating systems, both in residential and industrial buildings. Brooms give way to dust and water vacuums, steel brushes and high-pressure cleaners. Even the uniforms have been updated to simple black pants and shirts.

A chimney sweep can inspect five to six heating systems per day, depending on their size. Graf cleans a wood stove here, which the chimney sweep needs to visit twice a year. Marion Bernet for Atlas Obscura

Twenty-year-old Martina Graf is perhaps the best proof that chimney sweeps are not just a relic of the past. Growing up on a traditional dairy with a spectacular view of the waterfalls that plunge down the Lauterbrunnen valley, Graf had certain criteria for her future career. “I always wanted a physical job where I could be outside and not have to drive far to work,” she says. That was chimney sweep. Today she works in a small family business with five sweeps, three women and two men.

The chimney sweep monopoly ended at the beginning of the year in Graf’s canton of Bern. For Graf, the increased competition means less work and more travel, at least temporarily. “It’s also interesting to go further afield and see how things work in other places … but actually I found it better before when everyone had their own area and knew everything,” she says. Perhaps that is why parts of Switzerland are still embracing the chimney sweep mafia. It’s nice to see a familiar smeared face every year and to build local relationships. “If you can go inside, there is often coffee, maybe something to eat,” says Graff. “That always saves my day.”

Another possible explanation for why chimney sweeps still have a monopoly in many cantons: They are considered a symbol of luck. In Switzerland today it is not uncommon to buy a lucky four-leaf clover in the supermarket, which is decorated with a tiny black swing figure that protrudes from the earth. Older residents remember the days when just looking at or touching a chimney sweep was good luck.

Brooms are no longer the main tool in the chimney sweep’s kit. Modern heating systems also require dust and water vacuums, steel brushes and high-pressure cleaners.
Marion Bernet for Atlas Obscura

It’s an unexpectedly happy connotation for a job with a difficult history. If you were a particularly young boy between the ages of six and eight in Italian-speaking Switzerland in the 18th century and were unlucky enough to come from a poor family, the chimney sweep was perhaps your worst nightmare. Hundreds of small sweepers were recruited to handle the sweeping season from September to April. When cleaning chimneys, which were considered too narrow for adults, their heads were often covered with a “capruza”, a hood without eye holes, to protect them from soot and dust if they scratched in the dark with a rasp and a brush.

“They went barefoot into the chimneys, supported themselves with knees and elbows … until they had scratched themselves” [the creosote] everything off. They were given little to eat. It was a terrible exploitation, ”says Anita Hofer. Hofer is Vice President of the Chimney Sweep Association in Italy and heads the Spazzocamino (Chimney Sweep) Museum in Santa Maria Maggiore just across the Swiss-Italian border. The practice lasted about 100 years, until about 1930, and the story is retold in pictures, songs, and first-person stories on the second floor of the museum. The humble exhibit is off a cobblestone street and behind the stone church in Santa Maria Maggiore; it is easy to recognize by the shadow figures that adorn the roof. The museum is both a celebration of the profession and a haunting reminder of its checkered history.

Before the chimney sweep monopoly in the canton of Bern ended, Graf was one of the few sweepers allowed to work in her hometown of Lauterbrunnen. Marion Bernet for Atlas Obscura

The victims of the little sweepers have not been forgotten by their successors. You are reminded every year at the International Chimney Sweep Festival in Santa Maria Maggiore for three days on the first weekend of September. The celebrations attract around 1,000 chimney sweeps from 26 different countries, including Japan and the United States. The festival also attracts thousands of curious visitors who gather to watch the chimney sweep parade in their traditional costume with soot-black faces. Keep an eye out for the night owls with black top hats and red scarves around their necks, an enduring symbol of the Swiss chimney sweep mafia.

The post Is This the Finish of Switzerland’s Chimney Sweep ‘Mafia’? appeared first on DAILY SAN FRANCISCO BAY NEWS.