SAN FRANCISCO — Three months after the Golden Gate Bridge opened in May, 1937, a war veteran named Harold B. Wobber climbed over its rust-red railing and plunged 220 feet to his death. Since then, a grim parade of tormented souls have followed him, giving the San Francisco landmark dubious fame as the No. 1 suicide shrine in the Western world.

Most were killed instantly, but one who survived his four-second tumble called it "the only stylish way to go." Another described it as "certain death in a painless way," and "a romantic thing to do."

San Franciscans have long regretted the morbid legend their beloved bridge has become, and Mayor Frank Jordan, hoping to reduce deaths and rid the bridge of its haunting stigma, is advocating a plan to equip the span with emergency telephones linked directly to suicide prevention counselors.

"It is high time we took some action to prevent this ongoing tragedy," the mayor recently said.

Experts applaud the idea but say it doesn't go far enough. They want a suicide barrier erected on the bridge, a solution proven effective at the Eiffel Tower, the Empire State Building, Pasadena's Arroyo Seco Bridge, and other once-notorious plunging platforms.

"Phone lines are a step in the right direction, but they won't save those who are really determined to go," said Dr. Jerome Motto, a UC San Francisco psychiatrist and authority on suicides. "The bridge is like a loaded gun on your coffee table. If we really want to save lives, we need to unload that gun."

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Luis Marin, an accountant from Guatemala City, peered over the Golden Gate's iron railing, staring at the frothy gray waters far below. "How," the tourist wondered as he aimed his camera downward, "could anyone make such a jump?"

The Golden Gate's chief engineer, Joseph Strauss, was convinced that no one would. A year before the bridge carried its first car, Strauss promised that its railings and security system would make suicides impossible.

Wobber's death leap quickly proved Strauss wrong and today the official tally of victims totals 938--a number that excludes 422 "possibles" whose bodies never turned up. On average, there is a suicide from the bridge once every three weeks.

Many leave notes that bespeak their despair. One memorable message, left by a 72-year-old man in 1959, read: "Survival of the fittest. Adios--Unfit."