A look inside the never-before-seen interior of one of the Golden Gate Park windmills Spoiler: it's incredible

David Daniel peers out of the very top of the Murphy Windmill in Golden Gate Park. David Daniel peers out of the very top of the Murphy Windmill in Golden Gate Park. Photo: Blair Heagerty / SFGate Buy photo Photo: Blair Heagerty / SFGate Image 1 of / 57 Caption Close A look inside the never-before-seen interior of one of the Golden Gate Park windmills 1 / 57 Back to Gallery

Only a handful of people have ever actually been inside of Golden Gate Park's Murphy Windmill.

Neal Hemming is one of them.

Maybe even the most important of them, which is at least a little surprising when I find the 58-year-old inside the base of the dimly lit windmill, his neon yellow vest providing about as much light as the three low-wattage bulbs above that aren't burnt out.

Hemming floats through the windmill like a boxer, dodging and weaving his way through low hanging beams and bars, adding a bit of oil here, and a bit of grease there. He's the Stationary Engineer in charge of the windmill. But to truly understand why he's important, you need to understand the history of the Murphy Windmill.

The second of two windmills erected at the far west end of Golden Gate Park, the Murphy was initially installed in 1907 with a singular purpose: to provide wind-powered irrigation for Golden Gate Park, which wasn't actually a park yet, but a field of sand dunes.

"We have the windmills to thank for Golden Gate Park," Hemming says standing just a few feet from the site of the old irrigation pumps.

The wind-powered system became obsolete six years after the Murphy was erected and a motorized one was installed in 1913. The windmills stopped turning. The dust started collecting. And for almost 100 years, they sat idly at the end of the park, falling into disrepair until 2011, when a 9-year-long restoration project was finally completed.

Hemming, who was born in San Francisco, joined the SF Rec and Park's department in 2010 as a Stationary Engineer and was assigned to the Murphy Windmill in 2011. Since then he's spent the last eight years running the windmill for a few hours at a time on "most" Saturdays, plus during special events like Outside Lands, Bay to Breakers, and Hardly Strictly Bluegrass — largely as machinery exercise.

"I don't know how many thousands of people have yelled up here, 'that's the first time I've seen it run'," Hemming says. "If you were born in the 1920s or 1930s there's a very good chance you've never seen it run — it's only been running for the last eight years. And basically it's only on a Saturday or special events."

Not only have I never seen it run, I've never seen the windmill itself up close and personal like this. The entryway is inscribed with "Gift of Samuel G Murphy, 1905" (they needed a couple years to complete it thanks to the 1906 quake). It stands at 95 feet, but looking up from its base it feels like twice that.

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Hemming, who graduated from Skyline College with a degree in automotive engineering, asks me to head up a wooden staircase that will lead us out of the dank, cement basement. Hard hat secured tightly, I oblige up the incredibly steep and winding staircase past an empty second floor, and onto a third that is, in a word, magical.

One part secret clubhouse, one part Dutch windmill museum, the third floor incredibly features a throw rug, old leather armchairs, a pair of dutch clogs, oil paintings, a giant rope secured to a wood block bolted to the floor, and all of the accoutrement you'd expect from what's essentially a windmill break room (microwave, mini fridge, speaker system).

We keep climbing to floor six, where we make our way through a trap door and into the top of the windmill where Hemming — who needed four days to learn to operate the windmill (in Holland you have to go to school for a year) unlocks a series of emergency brakes that have the windmill's blades in park.

"We've never had an emergency," Hemming says. "These brakes have worked superiorly."

Hemming then tells me if they ever did, they'd have 90 seconds before the final safety mechanism would melt and possibly start a fire. It's at this moment that I spot a single tiny red fire extinguisher in the corner. (Phew?)

Hemming, 58, loves his job, but he loves his craft even more.

"My dad was not interested in anything mechanical. I'm absolutely opposite of him. I was just starving for knowledge."

Hemming worked for United Airlines at SFO for 30 years, taking on various mechanical projects ("ground equipment is my specialty"). Then he landed the job in Golden Gate Park, which has held a special place in his heart for years.

"I have a great affection for this area of the park," he says. "My father used to run the merry-go-round at Playland when it was there. I remember that — I was just a baby. But then I used to go to Playland up until they closed in 1972. I love old machinery. I love historical machinery."

And he gets plenty of opportunities to work with it in the 149-year-old park.

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"We have nine swimming pools to maintain and we have the entire Golden Gate Park on Saturday, which requires starting up Rainbow Falls and checking the central pump system — this park has so many different needs.

"You're spread out."

Hemming says he usually doesn't get to the windmill until 11 a.m., if he's lucky.

We make our way back down to the third floor living room, ripping through some newly formed cobwebs on the way down. There's a single door on the third floor, which Hemming leads us out of and onto a deck about halfway up the windmill. He's got a long metal pipe in his hand with a small circular joint on the end of it.

"What's that for?" I ask.

"Starting the windmill," he says.

Turns out there's no ON-switch for a wind-powered windmill. Hemming hooks the end of the pole onto one of the windmill's blades, then gets into an athletic stance and literally just pulls the pole as hard as he can. As the blade makes its way slowly toward him, he saddles up and pushes it like a car in neutral that won't start.

Then he tells me to back up. And I'm glad he does.

Just a couple of minutes later the blades are flinging around the windmill at runaway bus speeds.

Hemming stands proudly admiring his achievement before we make our way back into the windmill and down the staircase.

"This is a great job. And I think everybody here loves being a part of this," he says. "With the exception of the stairs."

I fully understand. My knees are Jello at this point. But I make it down and out to the windmill's exterior where a biker is admiring the Murphy.

"I've lived here for 20 years and never seen it turn."

Same, man. Same.

Grant Marek is SFGATE's editorial director. Email: grant.marek@sfgate.com | Twitter: @grant_marek