[via █▬█◉⋒ㅌ⑂ ᶨ℮✝⑀]
SF Magazine reports:
Though S.F. has proven to be an inhospitable place for renters the last several years, the circumstances surrounding this eviction are particularly startling. It seems that Malliett’s new landlords—Mathieu Verbeeck, a VP of product development at Mubi, and Catherine Crevels, a marketing manager at Intuit—are testing out a novel strategy for ejecting tenants. They contend that Malliett and her daughter are causing a “nuisance” by living in a unit that lacks the proper permits. The Board of Supervisors has already blocked landlords from evicting tenants of illegal units simply because they are illegal, but here the owners are taking a different approach—one that tenants’ rights advocates are concerned will create a worrying precedent.
“This is the first time we’ve seen a tenant accused of nuisance for living in an illegal unit,” says tenant rights attorney Joseph Tobener, whose firm is representing Malliett. And what, pray tell, is the nuisance cited in the legal notice? “Defendant’s usage of gas or electrical appliances is dangerous.” That’s right: Only in San Francisco do you stand to lose your rent-controlled apartment for boiling water.
Read on for the whole story.
Capp Street Crap reports:
Around 10 a.m., homeless outreach workers called police after spotting the man on Shotwell Street, between 18th and 19th, waving a kitchen knife, said San Francisco Police Department spokesman Albie Esparza. Officers fired four rounds with a bean bag gun but the man did not stop, he said.
“He charged at the officers with the knife,” Esparza said.
Officers then fired at least seven shots, he said.
Read on for photos, video and more reporting.
Our pal Zach, who you may remember as the infamous seeker of holiday romance, recently had a run-in with some local bike thieves that ended in the BEST WAY POSSIBLE:
HOW I LOST MY BIKE (THEN GOT IT BACK 15 HOURS LATER)
This whole situation was (most likely) avoidable and entirely my fault. But, y’all wanted a story, so here it is.
HOW I LOST MY BRAND-NEW TRACK BIKE
Do you know those once-every-three-years drunks where you do something incredibly stupid and out of character?
No? Just me? OK, well, this was one of those.
After a long day of riding and racing at Quake City Rumble, I figured I’d get my party on. Been working and training hard, plus organizing the finale race, so I felt I’d earned a good tear.
Long story short, after hopping around to a few spots I left my coworker’s birthday party sometime between 2 and 3am. (I sort-of-not-really remember leaving but apparently had promised to walk my bike home)
Now, even when I’m on autopilot, I’m pretty OCD. Phone, keys, wallet – I never lose my necessities. But when I woke up at home around 8 or 9am, and looked at the spot where I keep my bike, it was empty.
Not only did I just get this thing, I’m supposed to race it at the Wolfpack Hustle Finale Crit in Austin next weekend.
Commence freaking out.
But I can’t freak out, because today is the Mountain Lion, the biggest and baddest alleycat in San Francisco. And I won it last year, which means I’m organizing it this year. This keeps me mentally occupied from dwelling on my missing bike and hating myself too much. I post a picture of the bike describing my situation, and since bike people know all too well the pain of a missing machine, it becomes shared quickly across social media.
HOW I GOT MY BIKE BACK
The Mountain Lion ends and we’re hanging out at Potrero Del Sol Park. It’s about 5pm and I’m ready to tuck into a burrito when I get a call from my buddy Demi. He says his friend Eli is pretty sure he spotted my bike downtown; I get his number and give him a call.
“Yeah, your bike’s on Market near New Montgomery.”
“Are you sure it’s mine?”
I don’t believe this is happening but Eli rattles off a part list and now I’m 100% sure; plus it’s one of only 3 Heavy Pedal Axiom frames in the Bay Area.
“There’s eyes on my bike near Market and New Montgomery!” I yell.
Sardine, who is in charge of organizing this weekend’s events and is also great at shouting, hears me. “Oh shit, for real?” He turns to the crowd of racers and chillers, “ANYBODY WANT TO HELP THIS MAN GET HIS STOLEN BIKE BACK, HE’S GOING DOWNTOWN NOW!”
I start pedaling. Adam Shapiro, Brian Dooley, Carlos Balam, Matt Vanaman and possibly some others (sorry if I forget) are in hot pursuit; especially impressive because I just threw a hard-as-fuck race that these guys all finished (to the tune of almost 50 miles and 5500 feet of climbing).
I have my phone on loud for updates, and sure enough, Eli rings me every couple of minutes. I don’t like dipping through traffic while yakking on the phone but it’s sort of a necessity in this situation. The target is riding my bike around Civic Center. OK, no, now he’s at 5th and Market. So at this point it’s Dooley and I tearing down Market street.
I’m scanning the crowds and I spot my bike being walked on the sidewalk. I see Eli getting off his phone (he’s been following the thief this whole time) and pointing to the guy with my bike. He’s a big, gnarly looking white dude covered in tattoos and I get the feeling he’s been to prison at least once.
Well, Mr. Thief hops off the sidewalk and is about to mount up. I immediately flip a u-turn and box him in to the curb from the front and side, with Dooley pulling up right alongside and behind him.
I don’t remember exactly what I yelled in the heat of the moment, but it was just something gruff and direct like “Off the bike, man. That’s my ride.”
The dude very quickly dismounts and hands the bike over to me, spinning some bullshit about buying it off Craigslist this morning. I tell him I don’t want to hear it and just like that we’re off with the bike in hand, just as Matt and Carlos show up. The whole thing is over in 15 seconds.
I ghost ride my recovered whip back to my house, and invite my posse in for some shots of good bourbon and some beers. I put the bike back in its spot, and we roll back to the park for the weekend’s award ceremony.
I’ve never been so depressed and mad at myself, then so elated in less than 24 hours. Bike people are the best people when it comes to looking out for each other. I got incredibly lucky here, but I am eternally thankful to everyone who was keeping an eye out, and who came to help, and especially Demi for the tip off from Eli, who followed the thief like a total crime dog.
Btw, winter is coming. Do you have a holiday girlfriend/boyfriend yet???
Neighbor Blake E. wrote in this morning with quite a story:
I came out of my house on 23rd and Bartlett this morning to see police tape and a news van. The officer standing there said it was a robbery of a person (not a home) at 3am and there was a shooting. Except this time, he said, the suspect shot himself. Then the news crew mobbed me but I escaped.
Pretty wild, right? Wait’ll you hear some of these additional details sussed out by the CBS news crew:
Police are trying to sort out what happened during an armed robbery and shooting in San Francisco’s Mission District Thursday morning.
Police found a trail of blood near Bartlett and 23rd Streets. Officers say one of the suspects may have shot themselves as they tried to escape from police.
It started with an armed robbery at 3 a.m. At least two robbers pulled a gun on a man walking down the street. They took his wallet and cell phone and then ran off. The victim was not hurt.
Police happened to be in the area at the time and they arrested the men as they were running away.
One of those robbers accidentally shot himself in the leg at some point, according to police. He is now in the hospital.
Police found a Mac-10 Semi automatic gun nearby that someone tossed over a fence. [link]
Our pal Alicia takes us through it:
A year ago my bike was stolen. It was not the end of the word. Someone wonderful lent me an interim bike, eventually I bought a new bike at a very reasonable price and it had gears – and I had long needed gears. At other times on my life I would have felt that harder, I was greatful for that. Today I was walking across the street from the place where it was stolen from and there was my old bike frame- worse for the weather – and with new handlebars ex cetra but it was it. I went home, gathered the old paperwork- sure enough the numbers matched.
I did not want the old bike back. My apartment is small, the resale value would be low. It had been gifted to me in the first place and served me for 5 years. But bike theft is a big problem. Eventually-Reluctantly I called the police. …
Then it rider came down the stairs. Sweet Latino guy about my size. Construction worker with his fellow workers. Said he bought it at the flee market. They assured me he was an honest guy, I believe them. He offered it back. I told him to keep it.
Around the time that bike was stolen, I had a big flower pot of succulents stolen off the stoop. I’ve often thought how much I would like to see them again- not to have them back-but just to see if the poppies ever came up, and how they all grew and changed.
I was glad to see my bike again, glad to meet the guy who was riding it around, glad he wasn’t an asshole. Glad it was something that helped his life. This is all to say, don’t steal. Which means many things. Peace be with you dude. Peace be with you little bike. More peace guys. Spread the resources more evenly.