Frankie, Veronica, George, John, Cookie, and of course Joanne of Jonell’s at Ellis & Jones. Many other Tenderloin old timers and residents. The problem-bar-that-had-to-be-shut-down crowd. Happy. Hugging each other. Celebrating. The powerful and positive life-energy of the 100K+ Women’s March was palpable everywhere in the Tenderloin as the crowds streamed into the neighborhood afterward. It was fitting to host the reunion at Jonell’s on that evening: Jonell’s run by three women who have been in the Tenderloin for ages and are not to be messed with.
A lot of the old 21 Club crowd has since moved over to Aunt Charlie’s across the street. I’ve moved over with them. Aunt Charlie’s has the same “All are Welcome” vibe that Frankie’s place always had. Joe and Barry, the barkeeps, have been there for decades. José and ninety-plus year old Bob, who has travelled the world, have been there for a mere 14 years or so.
That’s what I loved about Frankie’s. It didn’t matter who you were, whether you had money or not, lived in a SRO or Pacific Heights mansion. Your race, whether you did time (so long as there was no violence), who you slept with, none of that mattered. (It helped if you were a Giants fan though.)
During 21’s last few years the corner @ Turk & Taylor got really rough. Lots of drug trafficking and violence, culminating the night when eight people were shot outside. Frankie himself was a non-escalation Buddha master. He had a disarming way with people. The girls selling crack outside would come in sometimes to use the bathroom, but they never disrespected the place by trying to conduct business there. Frankie was easy with people and loved by everyone. He would only get irritated when the press reported shootings at the 21 that actually took place outside on the corner.
The new watering holes in the Tenderloin – the Black Cats, the Biig and the like – are fancy joints. I’ve walked by a couple of times and have seen zero Tenderloin residents hanging out. They’re “Uptown” establishments whereas 21 was, and Jonell’s and Aunt Charlie’s are, definitively Downtown.
Biig now occupies 21 Club’s notorious old corner. They discuss seasonal drink concepts with patrons. I don’t understand what’s so complicated; haven’t they heard of scotch?
I’m just kidding, I’ve had one wee dram too many – Lagunitas 16! – courtesy of two dear friends of mine. (I know what you’re thinking – I should be drinking Ron del Barrilito!) I shouldn’t be a snob or hater, there’s way too much of that going around. I have my own nostalgic inclinations that can lead to ignorance and intolerance for others. I’ll save up and stop by for a seasonal drink consultation one of these days, though I can imagine pops in heaven looking down at me and having a good laugh. Pops, and Brooklyn/Queens Mets fans (after losing their beloved Dodgers), were Schaefer or Rheingold Extra Dry people. (You don’t even want to talk about the Yankees.) I remember driving by Schaefer’s giant plant each day on the way to the factory in Greenpoint.
In the meantime, see you all at Aunt Charlie’s. I don’t care what the plaques say – it’s in Downtown Tenderloin, and we don’t need the federal government to tell us where we are, who we are, or how important we are.
Forty-two years at Turk & Taylor. Bon voyage Frankie.
I salute the organizers who pushed last year’s Proposition S campaign to near victory and in the process built a strong foundation on which the arts community’s resilience can grow, especially now that federal resources are being eviscerated.
63.71 percent and counting! Check-in with Arts for Better Bay Area to learn what’s next.
Dig if we will the picture, of safe and affordable arts spaces.
Or do we? What about if it takes, gasp, development? Building? Rebuilding? What if it is made affordable through a bump in a height limit established forty years ago? Or capital dollars to underwrite construction? Or leveraging private sector investment with, double gasp, tax dollars? Or dedicating city land? Or all of the above?
Will we protest “giveaways” for “greedy” developers? File specious CEQA appeals that blow-up the project’s affordability? Threaten to put the height increase – which would buy permanent affordability – on a ballot measure?
Will we spar over who’s deserving of the space? Visual arts vs. performing arts? “Native” groups vs. “Outsiders?”
I’ve been working on stabilizing and building new, safe, purpose-designed, permanently affordable arts space in the Tenderloin and mid-Market for seven years and have experienced this resistance in all its forms. In my former role as director of the Tenderloin Economic Development Project I helped facilitate and support the space needs of the Luggage Store Gallery, PianoFight, the Strand, CounterPulse, SF Camerawork, Women’s Audio Mission, and Hospitality House’s Community Arts Space. And there were big heartbreaks – Alonzo King LINES Ballet, Lorraine Hansberry Theater and Intersection for the Arts – all of which had a chance, especially Intersection. But those are all long stories I won’t get into here.
I’m now on the board of the Luggage Store Gallery/509 Cultural Center. Thanks to its founders Darryl Smith and Laurie Lazer, this landmark Tenderloin/mid-Market cultural institution has been providing affordable space for emerging artists for thirty years. Luggage Store’s gallery @ 1007 Market Street just underwent a major renovation as a part of the CAST initiative that acquired and also renovated 80 Turk Street, the new home of CounterPulse. How was this achieved? A combination of philanthropy, New Market Tax Credits and other proven real estate development methods. The protected space represented by these two organizations are, in effect, a desired civic goal achieved through a creative use of real estate economics and tools.
The greatest local struggle for new arts space, as many know, was for the 950 Arts and Education facility. Over 40,000 square feet of permanently protected space for the arts. How were we going to achieve this? Again, by deploying a number of proven real estate development tools to underwrite the space: tax-increment financing, New Market Tax Credits, height/density bonus, capital campaign. Through these tools the 950 project raised $24 million dollars before day one of a capital campaign. Real estate economics and tools used creatively for social ends.
As the story now infamously goes, San Francisco shuns this proven real estate economics model. Instead it takes the laissez-faire road and hides behind “community benefit agreements,” all of which leaves city hall completely off the hook and puts projects at the mercy of opportunistic politicians playing local groups with all manner of xenophobic, NIMBY sensibilities like: “Your housing is not for “our” people,” and “That arts organization is an ‘outsider.’” In the end, larger public interests like socioeconomic diversity, affordability and cultural resources lose big, and we are all the poorer for it.
I’m pissed – aren’t we all? We want our goodies, like affordable residential and commercial spaces, but we want them to come magically, or through vacuous “progressive” legislation that mandates, but doesn’t provide, a mechanism to achieve them. Mandated social goals devoid of real world tools… that’s living in laissez-faire unicorn land, not to mention a sure formula – literally – for making space less affordable for everyone, or altogether nonexistent.
Here’s an excellent, more technical but plain English translation of what works and what doesn’t to make space affordable: Inclusionary Zoning: The Most Promising – or Counter-Productive – Of All Housing Policies. An excerpt: New York City allows a 33 percent increase in building size. In contrast, San Francisco offers nothing at all to offset the financial encumbrance of its IZ requirements. I.E. We don’t get what we don’t help pay for. That holds true regardless of whether the developer is for-profit or non-profit.
We’ve been unwittingly undermining and fist-pumping against space affordability. We don’t like building, developing, or capitalism (unless we’re engaged in an annual or capital campaign). We don’t like “those people,” or more people of any kind, period. Maybe the next four years of assault from the reality-tv White House will force us to grow up and learn the basics on how space works. Otherwise our new POTUS will just kick up his heels and let us continue to do his destructive, polarizing us vs. them work for him.
Now, as a volunteer, I’m fighting alongside the developer of 950 Market Street project to protect its remaining affordable arts space committed to the venerable Magic Theatre. Where the larger arts center was undermined by our laissez-faire city, a dysfunctional SF Foundation, and a no-extra-height-or-tax-increment-dollars-for-arts-space attack by the usual crusty Tenderloin pillars of parochialism, the new attack is from a couple of opportunistic liars using a deplorable misrepresentation of Tenderloin history and abuse of the CEQA process as tactics.
And they’re doing it using public money! so its free or charge for them while killing housing and arts space affordability for everyone else. CEQA abuse is a wondrous thing. Their initial message to the developer: “Give us the Magic Theatre space or we’ll appeal your project.” Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to get through this thing called extortion. Here the “greedy” developer is being threatened by a couple of “progressives” demanding the developer displace a small and much loved nonprofit arts organization even before the space is built. (These guys are inventing a whole new kind of displacement!) The developer, by the way, who is effectively a community partner given their extensive and strong relationships here in the Tenderloin, continues to honor its agreement with Magic for the arts space and is holding its ground. Check that out.
Which leads to some good news: The 950 project just received its planning approval! There were moving testimonies from Tenderloin youth, affordable housing advocates, members of the LGBTQ and arts communities, and labor. There are enormous living-wage union jobs, housing, human and community development benefits involved, even with a totally absent city hall (our fault, really) contributing virtually nothing. There’s also the first new construction permanently affordable arts space to be built in the Tenderloin for nearly twenty years. That’s a big deal, and we’re going to fight to protect every last square foot of it while building more.
“Elvin! If it weren’t for the Tenderloin all these people would be living in Vallejo!”
A flash-argument broke out while chowing on some slammin’ phở at Turtle Tower on Larkin. Supervisor Kim had me at a disadvantage: I didn’t know where Vallejo was. I could only wonder: Do the apartments there have toilets?
“The city exploits the Tenderloin,” I responded, “to avoid paying for quality affordable housing. There are numerous quality SROs, but much of the housing is substandard, if it can be considered “housing” at all. Are you saying there’s no such thing as substandard housing in the Tenderloin?”
“No, there is not.”
And with that the brief argument ended as quickly as it began. There’s no debating with someone who thinks all the 8 x 10 rooms without toilets or sprinklers qualify as decent housing. Different, and ironic, world views I suppose: one’s money Upper East Side Manhattan and one’s no-money East New York Brooklyn. One prioritizes place over people, often accompanied by the argument that we can’t provide any better. The other prioritizes people over place, and wants to force us to provide better.
I’ve heard similar arguments on numerous occasions from various progressive friends: the Tenderloin is the last affordable neighborhood downtown is a common refrain. This always mentioned geographic factor overrides all other considerations, like healthy living conditions and environment. It makes me wonder what’s the great privilege in living downtown that the city would concentrate poverty so intensely – is it so we can be close to Macy’s?
Displacement in East New York Brooklyn
I can understand the emotional attachment to place at any cost. I grew up in a no heat or hot water, rodent and roaches infested apartment in East New York Brooklyn, one of the most violence-plagued neighborhoods in the country. Each night before I went to sleep I would rehearse in my mind the emergency evacuation sequence in case we woke up to one of the fires burning down the buildings all around us: I’d jump down from the top bunk, open the window, grab my kid brother, and climb out onto the awning over the convenience store beneath us. Then we would slide down onto the safety of the sidewalk below. I used to worry about the fall from the awning to the sidewalk, but always concluded that a broken leg would be better than burning to death.
Fires, gunfights, chains, bricks, bottles, knifes, gangs, heroin, bodies, human feces, needles. Fear was omnipresent. As a kid leaving in the morning on the way to school I would routinely have to step over someone to get out the front door downstairs (or jump, if there was more than one body). Coming home at the end of school, I remember wondering if there was someone waiting to assault me in the stairwell upstairs. I would start talking out-loud, in the deepest voices I could muster, with a make-believe companion to scare away would-be assailants. Strength in imaginary numbers.
But there was also Thanksgiving dinner, Christmas tree and presents, visits from kings on el Día de Los Reyes, weekend mornings café con leche, rolling Matchbox cars on the crooked floor, making fun of my sisters as they sat under the hair dryer with their rollers, mami’s awesome pollo guisado con arroz blanco y tostones, watching the Mets on Channel 9 with pops (the best), my brother and I celebrating when pops’ car got stolen and he would stay home, and music, always music: Tito, Celia, Hector, Willie. In all this there was a lot of love and happiness, and the nightmare around us was kept at bay.
So, when our place got condemned by the city as “Unfit for Human Habitation,” I felt a powerful sense of loss. Our place was dangerous and substandard, but it was home. We moved to a gigantic Section 8 project – Starrett City, the biggest in the country – built on a former landfill on the outskirts of East New York and Canarsie. Our high-rise apartment had heat, hot water, the toilets flushed, there was grass out front – real grass! – walking paths, and handball courts free of feces and needles. There were no roaches or rodents; no bodies to step over or assailants waiting at the top of the stairwell. No smell of burned-down buildings. In short, it was heaven. The old corner of Rockaway Avenue and Fulton Street vs. the new apartment in Starrett City was no contest.
I hear rumblings now of gentrification coming to East New York, which has always been considered impossible. From what I’ve read the neighborhood needs to go up to keep costs down, and that is a cultural problem for a place characterized by old 4 story walk-ups. Mayor de Blasio has proposed a major upzoning of East New York to add more affordable housing. Rebuilding East New York, like my old building that was constructed in 1910, would introduce over a thousand new affordable units, but would it still be East New York? Activists and preservationists are opposing upzoning/new development while offering in return nostalgia for the old days and the myth of a neighborhood that will be affordable in perpetuity. Today’s protectionism laying the foundation for tomorrow’s displacement.
But maybe I’m calling balls and strikes from 3000 miles away; even worse than what Bay Area progressives do to the Tenderloin. Best I shut up before my old ENY homies come find me at farmerbrown’s and bust me upside the head.
Segregation and the Intense Concentration of Poverty in the Tenderloin
I’ve heard Supervisor Kim say on a couple of occasions the goal is to make the TL a stable low-income community like Chinatown. I don’t know if Chinatown is a stable low-income community, but in this we are in agreement. It will be impossible, however, for the Tenderloin to achieve this socioeconomic equilibrium until the Department of Public Health (DPH) and Human Services Agency (HSA) treat the Tenderloin and Chinatown on equal terms, and on this measure we’re not remotely close.
This, of course, would require an advocacy that does not exist in the Tenderloin. Unlike Chinatown, without DPH and HSA programs, many Tenderloin SROs would be economically obsolete and sit empty. And if our goal is historic preservation of buildings at any cost – even at the cost of constructing new high-quality affordable housing – then we won’t push back against DPH or HSA. Our policy is poor people – or, more specifically, the government funding they bring with them – in the service of buildings, rather than the other way around.
If President Obama and HUD argue that neighborhood poverty at or over 40% constitutes “Extreme Poverty” and segregation hurtful to poor people, why are they funding a city with placement programs that far exceed that number in the Tenderloin? (Mere “High Poverty,” by the way, is considered 20% or higher.) In the Tenderloin, and adjacent blocks in mid-Market, the number exceeds 90%. Indeed, given all the literature dating back to William Julius Wilson, the War on Poverty and the more recent research on Social Determinants of Public Health from major public health foundations, a strong argument can be made that the worst offenders to the public health interest of the Tenderloin’s poor have been the San Francisco Department of Public Health and the Human Services Agency.
Since Supervisor Kim’s office tried to prevent DPH and HSA statistics from being made public (see Housing, page 24) it’s no surprise she would not challenge this strikingly inequitable status quo that renders her comparison to stable low-income Chinatown completely absurd. How would she challenge DPH and HSA? – by telling them to take their bean-counting bureaucratic boots off the neck of the Tenderloin. The Tenderloin doesn’t belong to city hall to exploit. (Though through its Master Lease Program, much of the Tenderloin is de-facto controlled and exploited by the city; effectively privatized public housing, without the toilets.) Or, if parity with Chinatown is truly Kim’s goal, she could tell DPH and HSA to apply the same placement practices to both.
Who’s Afraid of the Black Cat?
Now that I’m back in the neighborhood I’m noticing what appears to be a conversion of SRO hotels back to tourist hotels. Heretofore illegal but now going unchallenged (perhaps the new owners have the right connections to avoid legal action being taken against them), it will be interesting to see if and how this trend continues, and the impact it will have on the city’s 90%+ placement number. If the result is more income-diversity, local spending on small businesses and a drop in the concentration of poverty, this would be a good development for the Tenderloin’s poor. Maybe we can get the placement percentage down to a mere, say, 45%; that still qualifies as egregious, unhealthy segregation per government and public health policies, but would still be far less oppressive for the Tenderloin’s poor.
How about Tenderloin low/moderate income entrepreneurs? The conversion back to hotels, if this is indeed happening, could be a benefit or threat. Many low/moderate income entrepreneurs took a giant hit and went out of business years ago when hotels converted to 100% residential; hundreds of low-cost lodging rooms that catered to low-income travelers were lost. These low/moderate income travelers patronized the Tenderloin’s small businesses. Maybe some of these travelers will come back now as a result of these conversions. Or perhaps we’ll see another wave of extinction as more mom & pop New Star Chinese restaurants and Lafayette Coffee Shops give way to sleek and high-end Black Cat “Uptown” establishments.
Ideally, the extensive inventory of ground floor commercial space owned and/or controlled by nonprofits can be made available at below market-rate rents to displaced low/moderate income entrepreneurs. That can be tricky, however, as some affordable housing developers don’t see providing affordable commercial space as part of their mission (not unless they’re subsidized for it, like they are for residential units). Hopefully the Tenderloin Neighborhood Development Corporation (TNDC) will, given that the organization’s name suggests a holistic focus above and beyond affordable housing. (Perhaps TNDC’s opposition to public funding for neighborhood-serving facilities and improvements was an aberration.) Between TNDC, the Tenderloin Housing Clinic, Mercy Housing, Community Housing Partnership and Chinatown Community Development Corporation, there’s plenty of commercial space that arguably should be protected. Will they help?
Back to the quiet conversions – like the Warfield Hotel at Turk & Taylor for example, or the Adrian Hotel on Hyde – the historic preservationists at the Tenderloin Housing Clinic must be happy. Whether facilitated by poor people’s or tourists’ money, the buildings remain intact and the gentry are visiting. A return to the glory Uptown days of yesteryear. They’re drinking Champagne at the new high-end bars after indulging at the new luxury spas, i.e. the kind of community serving retail the Tenderloin Housing Clinic advocates for in Community Benefit Agreements with market-rate real estate developers. The socioeconomic chasm between rich and poor in the Tenderloin may be worse than ever, but the party is on.
I’ve heard concerns from Southeast Asian community activists (all API children of refugees, none progressives) that hotel landlords have been harassed to evict Southeast Asian moms & pops to make way for the Uptown Black Cats. But I don’t buy that: Taking poor people’s Supplemental Security Income to keep the 8×10 rooms/one-sprinkler-per-floor buildings economically viable, while squeezing out low/moderate income moms & pops on the ground floors to make room for Champagne and caviar joints more befitting the Uptown profile, would constitute the most insidious and disgusting example of poor people exploitation and gentrification ever witnessed. Besides, I’m sure HUD and/or HHS would have investigated.
Maybe once upon a time it was about protecting poor folks, but at some point the focus in the Tenderloin turned a corner and became principally about protecting nostalgia, not the people. I know from experience the vast majority of poor folks in the Tenderloin care little, if at all, about the history stuff or plaques; they’re just fighting to get through the day. If it were about the people, we would not accept the extreme concentration of poverty. And we would go up, give them better housing, fire sprinklers, and maybe even toilets, like I suspect they have in Vallejo.
I’m not suggesting the Tenderloin goes high-rise like Starrett City. I’m suggesting we rebuild obsolete buildings – and go higher in the process – that haven’t served the needs of poor people or the city for a long time, except maybe to save an expedient buck in the short run. In some instances we may want to rebuild entire blocks (we’ll take a look at an example later). Put the needs of the people, not the buildings, first.
Despite the harsh environment I come from, I’m the beneficiary of a loving family and privileged education; I’m an incredibly lucky person. Still, given the history of substance abuse and mental illness that runs in my family, and maybe a little “residual stuff” carried over from childhood (you never forget the fires, the smell of burned buildings, the fear), I occasionally wonder about the possibility I’ll someday wind up in a placement program of some sort, somewhere. If that day comes, I hope I’m nowhere near the likes of SF public health/human services officials or progressive, status-quo protecting politicians that have such complete disregard for the welfare of poor folks and decades of public health research.
And I’ll especially keep a lookout for nostalgic preservationists who would exploit me – and what little money I have – for their own poverty theme-park creation purposes.
Ed Lee’s laundry list, as San Francisco Foundation CEO Sandra Hernandez dubbed it, went by the official name of Central Market Economic Strategy (CMES). Not without its flaws, CMES (central-marketeconomic-strategy-november-2011) attempted to lay out a comprehensive road map to revitalization without displacing existing low-income residents. It was developed after an exhaustive outreach effort and extensive vetting among mid-Market stakeholders and government officials.
CMES was recognized by the American Planning Association for its 2012 Grassroots Planning Award. Not bad props. From what I observed during the marathon development of CMES, this was recognition well deserved. Any and all community gathering spaces were used by organizers to connect with neighborhood residents, ask lots of questions and solicit input. I participated in many meetings in my capacity as Tenderloin resident and director of a neighborhood community development organization.
As far as I can discern, three things happened after this herculean effort. First, there was no leadership from the mayor to move the multiple agendas forward. Second, there was no money to move the multiple agendas forward. Third, tech showed up and the mayor’s office effectively said: “What CMES? May The Tech Be With Us!”
On leadership, it only fair to acknowledge this was a very ambitious plan to take on. Numerous entrenched interests were being challenged, or at least questioned. Statistics on placement programs were being made public for perhaps the first time, triggering at least one attempt to censor the CMES. One prominent nonprofit ED went so far as to accuse the mayor’s staff of “class warfare.” That’s a tough one, and a common paradox in progressive San Francisco: You listen to poor people, you respond to poor people, you’re accused of being anti-poor people. What were plan organizers responding to? Many testimonies from Tenderloin and nearby South of Market residents pleading for better housing conditions and cleaner, safer streets.
The failure in leadership was also, in part, our fault, when we opened wide and swallowed whole the Community Benefits Agreements approach the mayor and local supervisor laid before us after passage of the payroll tax exemption. The larger, big budget, veteran mid-Market nonprofits, afraid or unable to challenge city hall because of their contracts/funding, raced to get in front of the line for the tech company handouts. These large nonprofits squeeze out smaller nonprofits – especially those that focus on families and youth – even now as discussions with local builders/developers are ongoing. One ad hoc assembly of groups, “Market Street for the Masses,” unwittingly became laissez-faire city hall’s best friend during this crucial time. As one colleague who went to one of their meetings put it years later: “We gave city hall a Get Out of Jail Free Card.”
Let’s Not Go Dutch
The CMES’ had a task force: the Central Market Partnership Funders Collaborative. As a participant I accompanied staff on the mayor’s magical mystery tour of imaginary Mid-Market messiahs (couldn’t resist!). The Collaborative’s goal:
Launch a collaborative of foundations, corporate donors, social investors, and other private sector and commercial partners that will contribute and align funds to support projects outlined in the Central Market Economic Strategy.
We met with directors of several local foundations. One especially respected figure in Bay Area philanthropy reviewed the CMES and concluded: “You’re looking at $100 million minimum; local foundations don’t have that kind of money. Float a bond.”
They also famously said: Talk to the SF Foundation; while they don’t have that kind of money either they do have access to a network of immense wealth. But Sandra wasn’t buying it, at least not without the city demonstrating it was going to put some skin in the game first.
Something along the lines of this might have gotten some traction: This is our program, to implement it’ll cost about $150 million. We’re getting things started with $50 million by floating a bond. We challenge and expect philanthropy to match with $50 million, and the private sector to match with $50 million. Then we can work toward equitable development in the face of the tech boom.
Instead, the message was: Here’s our plan, please pay for it. The neighborhood was left with city hall, philanthropy and corporate sectors all looking at each other and saying “You go first.” (With the very notable exception of the Rainin Foundation.)
This was, in my view, the great failing of city hall on the eve of the city’s launch into a massive and inequitable period of growth. It never presented a challenge; it instead raced to the back seat. I’ve spoken with San Francisco real estate dynasty heiresses and young venture capital tycoons about their civic duties and they’ve all asked the same question in response: Give back to what?
On this point I often think about one conversation in particular. It was with Daniel Lurie, the Founder/CEO of The Tipping Point Community (TPC). TPC gives away all the funds it raises each year, a different approach to conventional foundation grantmaking. After hearing the city’s pitch, Daniel expressed skepticism about investing in the area. “Who are your changemakers? What will be different? I don’t see new thinking or new models of anti-poverty programming in the Tenderloin. What’s there has been there for a long time, and the intense poverty remains unchanged.”
It’s good to see, now years later, the Tipping Point Community investing in Larkin Street Youth Services. If Daniel is reading this, might I also recommend the Vietnamese Youth Development Center? The Asian Pacific Islander community in the Tenderloin has few voices representing their needs or rich and important legacy in the neighborhood; in fact, some consider them an inconvenient presence in the quiet but methodical campaign to upscale/gentrify the TL’s commercial businesses. (333 beer is out, molecular cocktails are in; alas, the Asian community is not down with the Uptown. But you can help one family here.)