Richmond's Fireworks Moved Outside the Craneway. Here's the Real Reason Why

Marina Bay Park was packed by 7 p.m. on July 3, 2026. Blankets staked out patches of grass, food vendors worked a steady line, and kids chased each other around lawn chairs while the sky over the water held its last hour of light before the 9:15 p.m. fireworks. It was Richmond's Third of July, the way it always is, free and open to whoever showed up.

What wasn't there, for the third year running, was the building that used to host the whole evening. Across the water, the Craneway Pavilion sat dark, its floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the crowd rather than lighting up for it. For years, the Oakland Symphony played Sousa marches and movie medleys inside that building before the fireworks even started, and the patio doubled as the best seat on the water for the show. That tradition didn't end because Richmond stopped caring about it. It ended because of a piece of paper signed in 2004, and the paper is still winning.

The Building That Used to Run the Whole Night

The Craneway Pavilion is the old Ford Motor Company Assembly Building, designed by industrial architect Albert Kahn and sitting on 25 waterfront acres at 1414 Harbour Way South, right next to the San Francisco Bay Ferry terminal. At 72,000 square feet with glass walls facing the Bay, it has hosted roller derby, craft fairs, quilt shows, weddings, and, every July 3, the city's fireworks lead-in concert. The last time that pre-fireworks tradition happened inside the building was 2023.

Why Pickleball Ended a Symphony Tradition

In 2023, the pickleball boom found its way to Richmond's waterfront. A group called PB Development Group leased part of the Craneway and began installing courts, with play scheduled to start that fall and the space reopening in February 2024 as a paddle-sport venue with a pro shop and lounge. The city's longtime July 3 organizers announced that the 2023 pre-show would be the last one held inside the Craneway.

Residents did not go quietly. The Richmond Shoreline Alliance organized protests, and future council member Sue Wilson showed up dressed as Rosie the Riveter to argue the building belonged to something bigger than one sport. The objection wasn't really about paddles and nets. The Craneway sits on land regulated by the California State Lands Commission because it's built over tidelands, and tidelands trust rules require public-serving uses that stay open to everyone. A private pickleball club charging court fees didn't qualify. The Commission rejected the proposal, and according to the city's former attorney, Orton terminated the pickleball tenant shortly after.

That should have settled things. It didn't, because terminating one tenant doesn't change who holds the lease.

The Real Reason the City Can't Just Take It Back

Here's the detail that explains everything else in this story: in 2004, the Richmond City Council signed Orton Development to a 55-year lease on the Craneway at $1 a year, paid in full upfront, with an evergreen clause that lets it renew indefinitely and no expiration date attached. It's also transferable, meaning Orton can hand the lease to someone else without the city's say in who that is.

Council member Sue Wilson, who has sat through the entire negotiation, put it plainly in a message to constituents before the April 2026 vote: the original terms were so tilted toward the developer that the city still holds almost none of the leverage two decades later.

That imbalance is why "taking the building back" isn't as simple as it sounds. The city doesn't own free and clear use of its own waterfront landmark. It owns a piece of paper that gives someone else nearly all the control.

What the Council Actually Voted On in April

By late 2025, Richmond and Orton were negotiating quietly. At a November 12 Marina Bay Neighborhood Council meeting, Wilson told frustrated residents "we're close," and the city commissioned a $169,500 building condition assessment from RDH Building Science to find out what it would actually be taking on.

The answer arrived in April 2026, and it wasn't simple. Orton had offered to donate its leasehold back to the city at no cost, plus $80,000 toward first-year operating expenses, and to shield Richmond from a pending lawsuit filed by the ousted pickleball operator. In exchange, the city would take on a building that RDH's assessment flagged for roughly $12.7 million in deferred maintenance over the next decade, including near-term structural reinforcement of the concrete pilings holding up the pier the building sits on.

A second consulting firm ran the numbers three ways:

On April 21, the council split 4-3 against accepting the donation. Council members Soheila Bana, Cesar Zepeda, Jamelia Brown, and Vice Mayor Doria Robinson voted no. Mayor Eduardo Martinez, Claudia Jimenez, and Wilson voted yes.

Bana didn't hold back on her reasoning. Orton had a legal obligation to maintain a historic building it didn't maintain, she argued, and she wasn't willing to inherit that bill with no operating plan behind it.

Jimenez saw it differently, framing the choice as a trade between two costs rather than a way to avoid one:

"All the roads lead to the city."

Her point was that rejecting the donation doesn't make the maintenance problem disappear. It just moves the fight to a courtroom, where the city would need to prove Orton breached its obligation to keep the building in good condition, or challenge the evergreen lease itself. Meanwhile, Orton has said that if the city passes, it intends to hand the lease to an unnamed backup entity for a "marine use," an outcome nobody on the council has publicly explained or endorsed.

The Party That Still Happened Anyway

None of this stopped Orton from booking the building for paying customers. On May 23, 2026, the Craneway hosted a two-year anniversary party for the DJ collective Noise Complaints, headlined by producer London On Da Track, known for production credits with Drake, Future, and Young Thug. Organizers billed it as the "biggest hip-hop and R&B party in the Bay Area," with general admission starting at $50 and VIP packages running to $123. It reportedly sold through its lowest-priced tier before the doors even opened.

That's the part worth sitting with. The Craneway isn't closed. It's fully capable of hosting a sold-out show on a Saturday night. What it can't currently do is host the kind of free, public, city-run event that the fireworks tradition depended on, because that decision belongs to whoever holds the lease, and for now that's still a private entertainment company, not Richmond.

What to Watch Before Next July

Nothing about the current arrangement has an expiration date attached, which is either fitting or maddening depending on how long you've been going to that fireworks show. The council's April vote didn't resolve anything. It preserved the status quo: Orton keeps the lease, the pickleball lawsuit against Orton is still pending, and the city's only real leverage is the threat of litigation Jimenez described, which nobody has filed yet.

If you live in Marina Bay or Point Richmond, the practical takeaway is that the Craneway's civic future will keep getting decided at City Council meetings, not inside the building itself. Richmond's public meeting agendas are the place to watch for the next move, whether that's a lawsuit, a new negotiation, or another vote on taking back a lease that was written to make taking it back nearly impossible.

The fireworks aren't going anywhere. Marina Bay Park handled July 3, 2026 just fine. But if you've been wondering why the best building on Richmond's waterfront keeps sitting empty on the nights that matter most to the neighborhood, now you know it isn't a scheduling problem. It's a contract written twenty years ago that nobody currently in office had a hand in, and that almost nobody can undo.

Understanding what's actually happening in a neighborhood, not just what shows up on a map, is a big part of how The DiMaggio Betta Group works with clients across Richmond and the rest of the East Bay. If you're curious about this stretch of the waterfront, or any corner of the East Bay you're watching closely, get in touch.