Speaker Emerita Nancy Pelosi was scheduled to take the stage outside City Hall. A group of well-dressed politicos and commissioners gathered to commemorate Women’s Equality Day. Pelosi was a no-show. With nothing to see or report, I took an early exit and headed to the Civic Center Inn.
Sam Patel, who runs the nearby Best Western, had taken over the dilapidated and now-defunct motel. Squatters had occupied the rooms and were using the building as a drug den.
Soon, Smith and I spotted a very young pit bull, who got up and hobbled over. Her front paw was crumpled. Who was the dog’s owner?
Omar Ward, who goes by JJ Smith, rode up on his scooter and met me at the motel. Together, we entered through the front gate, which was usually locked but now stood wide open.
Patel was inside. After introductions, he invited us in.
The stench of rotting food, human and dog excrement, mold and decaying vermin was overwhelming. Dead rats were in small piles and on the stairs.
There were no people in the ground-floor rooms, but we looked in. Several were filled to the ceiling with trash. Patel said we could go up, so we climbed the stairs, trying not to step on feces and rats in various stages of decay.
Photos by Erica Sandberg for the Voice
Rooms on the third floor were still occupied. A man was sitting in the outside hallway. Smith greeted him and asked where he was from. The man said Honduras. Smith turned to me and said, “He’s the lookout.”
Soon, Smith and I spotted a very young pit bull, who got up and hobbled over. Her front paw was crumpled. I knelt to pet her while Smith spoke with the Honduran man. Who was the dog’s owner? The man vaguely responded that she belonged to a woman, but didn’t know who or where she was.
Because the puppy was clearly injured and seemed to be in pain, Smith and I decided we couldn’t leave her behind. I tried to reach Animal Care and Control (ACC) by phone, but couldn’t get through. Due to budget cuts, the city agency has just 10 officers to work the field seven days a week. 6 a.m. to midnight. We climbed back down the stairs, only to find that Smith’s scooter had been stolen.
Smith explained that his scooter had a tracker on it, so he said he would find it.
I ran to the Tenderloin Police Station, hoping to get an officer to accompany me so we could remove the puppy and get her help. The officer I spoke with was kind and said she would contact ACC and expedite the matter.
About 15 minutes later, I returned to the Civic Center Inn and found Smith there. While I was gone, he had tracked down the thieves, who had tried to flee in a car. SFPD deployed spike strips to catch them. His scooter, hopefully, will be back in his possession without delay.
Unsure of what else I could do, I started for home, only to get a call from Smith minutes later. ACC had arrived.
I returned to the motel and climbed the stairs once again. Summer had finally hit San Francisco, and the warm temperature only deepened the rank odor.
An officer from ACC was talking to a young woman who said the dog was hers. Lieutenant Stephanie Ryer, assistant supervisor of field services, asked questions: “How long have you had the dog? Is she spayed? Do you know what happened to her leg?”The woman couldn’t answer, but said she would be taking the dog to a veterinarian. When Ryer asked which vet, the woman had no response.
Soon a large man appeared and claimed the dog was his. Ryer requested proof, such as photos of the dog on his phone. The man had none.
With remarkable power of persuasion, Ryer convinced both parties that she would be taking the dog for care. If either could later prove ownership, they might be able to reclaim her.
The Honduran man approached me. “Why are you doing this?” he asked. “The dog is hurt,” I said. “She’s just a puppy and needs help.” He did not want to back off.
After gently coaxing the limping dog away from the tense group, Ryer eventually lifted the puppy and carried her down the stairs and into the waiting van.
What will happen to the Civic Center Inn? Patel was firm: one by one, the squatters are being evicted.
Before I left, I watched as the workers made it clear to those who had barricaded themselves inside that the end had come. A door cracked open, and a white husky-type dog tried to escape. The occupant shooed the husky back inside and tried to hide from the inevitable.
The monumental task of cleaning the rooms and returning the building to a functioning motel is next, yet success feels almost unimaginable. To me, it will always be filled with the ghosts of extremely sick drug users, violent dealers, and the innocent animals they drag into their world.
I’m not sure how long the people on the steps of City Hall were congratulating each other for Women’s Equality Day, but I do know they were quite unaware of what was unfolding just blocks away. Interestingly, Aug. 26 is also National Dog Day.