Life seems to move slowly behind the gates of Treasure Island. As visitors descend to the naval base entrance, beyond the restless traffic of I-80 and the officer’s quarters of Yerba Buena, they are met by sweeping views of the San Francisco Bay.

A security guard waves tentative visitors through the intimidating brick gate, and confused tourists often park immediately to take photos with the San Francisco skyline as a backdrop.

A wide public road leads past the Administration Building, a towering turn-of-the-century structure with a flight control tower perched on its roof. East of the building, the road narrows and traffic slows to 15 miles per hour, the same speed limit as it was in its military years decades ago. It is here, in the residential streets of Treasure Island, that the juxtaposition of new and old, poor and poorer becomes apparent.

Treasure Island has come to be called a “ghost town” since it was decommissioned in 1996, but the formal naval base is home to a growing new population of residents – and that change has not necessarily been for the better.

Though most buildings are still stenciled with antiquated (and now arbitrary) numbers, they are covered in modern equipment, from satellite dishes to brand new light fixtures. Airport hangars that once housed the Pan-Am Clipper fleet are now home to movie soundstages, and solar panels sit atop buildings that once served as dorms for younger enlisted Navy men.

The community evokes a bizarre sense of 1950’s nostalgia, much like entering a Ray Bradbury novel in which several contradictory genres exist at once. Feral cats roam solo, ancestors of pets once brought to the island by sailors during World War II. Aluminum-sided uniformity is consistent through all the homes, and most eerie about the scene is that children simply do not exist in the streets.

Deborah Braden, an officer in the Southern Station of the San Francisco Police Department, said that the island has become a treacherous place to live for both adults and children. The only school that previously existed in the area, Treasure Island Elementary School, was closed because of assault and abuse issues among students as young as 7 years old.

“We’re just a microcosm of the city,” Braden pointed out. “Many of our residents are from Hunter’s Point and Bay View.”

The median property price on Treasure Island, according to Jack Gardener of the John Stewart Company, is below $2,000 for two and three-bedroom homes. Since that price is considerably lower than San Francisco’s, many tenants are Section 8 migrants from the city's rougher neighborhoods. Braden, however, dismisses Section 8 residents as the cause of problems on the island.

“It’s mainly at-risk youth and students from Job Corps,” Braden explained, referencing the Department of Labor career-training program housed in former military dorms on the island.

Monique Laws, the Jobs Corps Community Liaison at Treasure Island, chose not to discuss the negative effect believed to be caused by Job Corps students, who are between the ages of 18 and 24.

“We offer vocational and academic training,” Laws insisted. “We give students a chance to find opportunities beyond their neighborhoods.”

A laundry list of additional problems still plagues the residents of Treasure Island, however. Domestic violence, burglaries, arson sprees, vehicular theft, shootings and busted drug labs are only a fraction of the factors that contribute to a crime rate “comparable to that of San Francisco,” according to Braden.

In keeping with its desolate ghost town image, the island has very few amenities within its limits. Only one bus line runs to and from Treasure Island, and there’s no gas station, hospital, or grocery store.

“Visit Crossroads Café,” suggested Braden with a laugh. “It’s the only café on the island.”