Losing My Old Hippy Town, A Renter's Perspective, Leaving SanFrancisco

Responding to Al Williamson's show many years ago (podcast #8) about owning an apartment and being an ethical landlord, the show kind of put a tear in my eye.  I wanted to share a renter's perspective of being a regular income city dweller/renter.  

I lived as a renter in a six unit Victorian in a once transitional neighborhood in San Francisco from 1996 to 2006. Four of our building's family members have since passed away, three of them elderly (Mr. and Mrs. Houston & B. Holland) as well as a younger guy (Pablo). The old Victorian which we all presided in was on Bush Street and it was once considered to be standing in a sketchy part of town called Western Addition. In the 60's the Houston's and B.Holland with her little boy all moved to San Francisco from the south and found our beautiful affordable apartment building. But I guess it wasn't thought to be so beautiful back then. 

When I moved in the original ".Com" thing was in full momentum, the railroad tracks miraculously seemed to have migrated three blocks down to Geary Blvd. and I battled 40+ other applicants for a room in a building that was now sitting in the new swanky neighborhood of Lower Pacific Heights. My two future roommates liked me over all the other applicants due to me being a mobile mechanic and not a .Com'er. At this point the Houston's had been in the building close to 50 years, Mr. Houston every couple of months would take his old Cadillac out of some underground parking space he had for the last 30 years, and somehow managed to move that beast without killing any people or trees. I found myself sitting on the front porch talking to him every couple of weeks just like you see in the shows. B. Holland was two years less than the Houston's but also closing in on 50 years in the old Victorian. Her son grew up went to UC Berkeley, had his own CPA firm, and tragically died in a bicycle accident in the crowded city. B. Holland was now the apartment manager, tough as nails, but since she suffered from Lou Gehrig's Disease, she couldn't get around much and the manager title was more honorary but she still had all the spare keys to all the units, and when someone locked themselves out you would ring her doorbell, walk out to the sidewalk, wait for her to hobble to the window, she would put a spare key and her own apartment key in a plastic bag on a rope and lowered it to you with a loud lecture and a laugh. Once you let yourself in you would take her key, open her unit, return both keys and visit her. She owned her son's old Toyota and probably once every 6 months she too would hobble to the same old dungeon that held Mr. Houston's Cadillac, and attempt to move the thing. Applied to her rear bumper, she had two identical "Jesus" bumper stickers. I saw B. Holland once attempt to parallel park the Toyota next to our building, she ran over the curve probably 6 to 8 times, and even though it wasn't really parallel, at least the car was out of the way of busy Bush St. traffic. She pried herself out of the Toyota with her bent arms and two strong canes and walked slowly to the porch where a few of us had congregated. I told her it's a good thing you have two Jesus bumper stickers because when it comes to driving you need all the help you can get. I never saw her laugh so loud as that day. It was like looking a young lady again.
It became apparent rather quickly I was a handy kind of guy. One day Mrs. Houston said she was tired of the repair guy attempting to fix the hot water only to have it go out again. To my horror I found out that her and Mr. Houston had been taking cold showers for a week now and the hot water was out for almost two. This is how they were wired, never never complained, just took everything in stride. I walked two blocks down to the plumbing supply store on Fillmore, bought a Thermo-Safety Switch for three dollars and fixed their water heater.

After that I kind of took it upon myself to maintain the little things in the units especially the Houston's and B's. It wasn't said but most of the residents in our building were very fond of each other, almost I'd say loved like family members. So when I heard show #8 with Al Williamson, all the memories came flooding and knowing they have all passed, my eyes started filling up. Besides my beautiful wife and daughters, that old building has some of the best memories of my life. 

Now we own a few investment properties in other states and bought an "affordable" $700K single family 30 miles outside of my little village San Francisco.  How things have morphed in that old hippy town.  
Thanks for all your good work Al, now back to welding an arm for a Caterpillar Extenda-Boom.