QUARANZINE! QUARANZINE! QUARANZINE! SEE LAST WEEK'S!                                                      SEE LAST WEEK'S!                  SEE LAST WEEK'S!          SEE LAST WEEK'S!                                                      SEE LAST WEEK'S!                  SEE LAST WEEK'S!                   SEE LAST WEEK'S!                                                      SEE LAST WEEK'S!                  SEE LAST WEEK'S!                            SEE LAST WEEK'S!                                                      SEE LAST WEEK'S!                  SEE LAST WEEK'S!                                     SEE LAST WEEK'S!                                                      SEE LAST WEEK'S!                  SEE LAST WEEK'S!


QUARANZINE SKIPPED 13
SEPT 14, 2020

WASH YOUR HANDS & STAY TF HOME!!!!!

FOLLOW US ON INSTAGRAM @quaranzine.club



Bay Area and beyond: please consider contributing to the campaign of Carroll Fife, who is running for Oakland City Council in District 3. Carroll is a community organizer and Director of ACCE Oakland, one chapter of a grassroots, member-led, statewide community organization working across California to champion racial and economic justice. Carroll's platform is built for systemic change rather than incremental reform, focusing on housing as a human right, defunding the Oakland PD to fund the Black New Deal, supporting essential workers and taxing the rich. Donate or volunteer.


Table of Con­tents

👩‍🚒🌏🐿

isolated images

yasiman2D - Twitter | Instagram and Instagram

feelings while being alone in quarantine, put into images.

germs




even the sun is angry


Michigan's Left

Midwesterners make demands as Michigan’s unemployment rates, water shutoffs and evictions come to a head

Eli Day - Twitter

This piece was originally published in Current Affairs magazine on September 3, 2020.

A few months back, my home state of Michigan was dragged under the country’s dizzying and bizarre circus lights, with all of a circus’ terrors and none of its thrills. Conservative protesters stormed the Capitol, some of them armed for what looked to be a strangely intense video game, demanding that we “reopen” as a deadly virus was still hulk-smashing its way through largely poor Black communities like mine. Most establishment figures saw the anti-lockdown protests as dangerously divisive at a time when, as Governor Whitmer stressed, “we are in this together.” But many on the left knew we didn’t have the luxury of rolling our eyes as examples of right wing outrage—some small and exaggerated, others worryingly large with the potential for Tea Party-style astroturf mobilization—continued to mount. As Ben Burgis correctly argues in Jacobin, if the left isn’t “prepared to fight for bold measures...much more sinister forces will flourish.”

Michigan has taken on strange symbolic power in recent years. Since shattering elite forecasts by breaking for Trump in 2016—the first time a Republican won here since 1988—my home state has periodically been shoved under the world’s sloppiest spotlight. And, I gotta say, the show stinks. For the better part of four years, the mainstream media has been wandering around Michigan’s suburbs and former industrial centers, dazed and confused, painting a portrait of an uncertain land torn apart by “suburban trench warfare.” Many moons and much ink have been wasted on an unbearable quest to unlock the supposed mysteries at the heart of the “Midwest sensibility.” It’s all poorly thought-out of course, and shows no interest in the Black and brown Midwesterners who have every reason to reject both parties as deeply unserious about addressing their material suffering. But this kind of reporting fits the pre-approved conclusions about plaid-covered midwesterns torn between their hatreds and their self-interests (as if hatreds aren’t an interest people fight to preserve).

Nationwide, unemployment is “literally off the charts,” with tens of millions filing for benefits as the country gallops toward a second Great Depression. Food insecurity is spiraling upward. Millions are needlessly losing medical coverage, exposing the obvious and cruel stupidity of attaching healthcare to private employment. While the Center for Disease Control’s new eviction moratorium will help to protect some tenants who are unable to pay rent, it won’t help tenants whose landlords cite other reasons for eviction, or who are thrown out in informal evictions that never see a courtroom. Housing advocates are predicting a “tsunami of evictions” if we don’t move swiftly, as Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor argues, to “cancel the rent.”

None of this is the natural result of economic collapse. Mass suffering is a choice, made every day by the people who rule the country and could do different things. We know because other countries exist and some of these different things are done in them. Instead of adopting “disastrous programs” where “money is not going” to the working-class communities “where it’s needed most,” as economist Joseph Stiglitz told Foreign Policy back in April, we could have “directly reimbursed businesses for maintaining their workforce during the shutdown, as was done in Europe.” As Vice reports, we also could have avoided the “uniquely American” “issue of healthcare” in which “people who lose their jobs are also losing their insurance” by adopting a Medicare for All style system present in other countries where no one has to ask themselves “‘Can I go to the doctor or not?’”

But because establishment media and political discourse is so polluted with garbled nonsense about what can and can’t be done, the choir of progressive voices must continue to rise and tell better stories about the “portal” this pandemic provides for remaking the world. The Michigan section of that choir is growing. Take groups like MI Covid Community, of which I am a member. Formed in the shadow of COVID-19, we’ve brought more than 100 grassroots organizations together under this single banner to connect people to mutual aid while also joining forces to make concrete demands on our political institutions. As my comrades Art Reyes and Betsy Coffia spelled out, at the exact moment the media was “fixed on the threatening actions” of a cartoonishly armed few, “another gathering [of thousands of] Michiganders was taking place” just as our Stay Home order was set to expire.

“Rather than fanning the flames of fear and division” write Reyes and Coffia, our democratically-run crew gathered online to share “stories, art and music, mutual aid resources” and demand that “policies provide real relief and keep all our communities safe.” Spanning eight hours on April 30, and marking the climax of a seven-day week of action, many of the ingredients of a basic egalitarian agenda were there, including an absolute right to things like healthcare, housing, water, and education “regardless of citizenship status or ability to pay,” and, of course, a habitable planet to enjoy them all. Thousands of people tuned in to hang out in our virtual auditorium of passionate and very cool leftists, with special cameos from progressive faves like Naomi Klein, Dr. Abdul El-Sayed, and Kerry Washington. Our goal was simple: to paint a picture of the world as it could be, and provide people a toolkit for hammering those demands into their elected officials. By the end of it all, our call to action led to thousands of petition signatures, emails, and tweets being sent to local officials, a stadium’s worth of bulletins highlighting our demands in bright and unmistakable colors.

These are all longstanding demands of the left anyhow. And our choir—of economic, immigrant, environmental, and racial justice organizations, to highlight just a few—come from communities across the state where they’ve spent years doing the thankless, grinding work of fighting for a better world. Thanks at least in part to public pressure and encouragement, Governor Whitmer has repeatedly extended the state of emergency. Meanwhile, our groups have continued to organize together in neighborhoods and communities across the state to fill the gaps in human need that wouldn’t exist in saner nations, while still pushing the state’s decision-makers to extend and deepen the meager relief provided up to this point. Our next challenge, and current subject of deliberation, will be to bring a little imagination to Michigan’s budget battle, because of course our state’s ghoulish Republican Senate Majority Leader is telling people on the brink of starvation and eviction that we must “suffer through” these hard times.

Luckily, the left has some ideas about strengthening the common good. We could, for instance, do reasonable things like snatch healthcare and housing and other basics out of the luxury goods aisle and place them in the public commons as one of the things you get for being a human. And while we haven’t won each and every one of our deepest egalitarian aspirations, alliances of everyday people in Michigan have flexed real muscle and won real victories by guarding against further abuse from the elite, and showing us all what a future governed by the priorities of everyday people might entail.

Take water. Over the last several years, Detroit has carried out more than 140,000 water shutoffs in spite of UN declarations that this constitutes “a violation of the most basic human rights” as well as widespread outcry that blocking the flow of water to poor families is unconscionable bullshit. As the pandemic sunk its teeth into Detroit, our “water warriors” successfully pushed the governor to halt and reverse shutoffs. Recently extended through the year, organizers and activists have dug their heels in for a fight to make the changes permanent. Monica Lewis-Patrick of We the People of Detroit put it potently when she urged popular movements to “make sure that every policy recommendation...becomes life. That it grows legs.”

“Those legs and arms,” she thundered, “are your legs and your arms...We’re not going to let this moment of harm and death and destruction define us.” Instead, “we’re gonna make it a catalytic moment that takes us from trauma to transformation.” Besides its role in extending the moratorium on water shutoffs, We the People of Detroit continues to fight for a basic water affordability plan and a public water utility that serves the needs of everyone instead of demanding ransom payments for basic necessities.

Because what kind of sociopathic society makes luxury items out of basic necessities? Early on in Michigan, as in many other corners of the country, a web of tenants’ rights groups rose to demand that no one be forced from their home because they’ve lost their job to the plague. Their first victory was a modest eviction moratorium. But they didn’t stop there. Organizers kept the fires of outrage burning, circulating petitions and staging car caravan protests until the governor extended the ban again and again. Though the state’s moratorium lapsed in July, and the city of Detroit’s expired August 15, activists I’ve spoken with are nowhere near relenting. Just the opposite: they are now carefully deliberating how to make the pandemic-related eviction bans permanent by cancelling rent altogether. In the meantime, organizations like Detroit Eviction Defense have experience blocking the path of dumpster trucks that get menacingly left outside of people’s homes before court-appointed goons arrive to throw people onto the street. Organizers I spoke with have looked to cities like New Orleans for inspiration, where dedicated, ordinary people jammed up eviction courts the day the city tried to restart them. Elsewhere, known Midwestern icons with Kansas City (KC) Tenants have been really flexing lately, disrupting eviction court proceedings and exposing cruel slumlord fraudsters. They also won a Tenants Bill of Rights late last year, which, among other things, “affirms tenants’ right to organize,” a critical protection as experts warn “an eviction crisis of biblical proportions” is about to rain down on our heads.

Detroit organizers are getting in on this. Thanks to a network of racial, environmental, immigrant, and disability justice advocates, a Detroiters’ Bill of Rights is making its way through the local arteries of power. If adopted by the city’s Charter Commission, the progressive policy package could strike an important blow against the city’s towering racial and economic inequality. Its demands are clear and bold, establishing an absolute right to things like food, water, housing, recreation, and transportation. It’s a powerful reminder of what’s possible as elected leaders everywhere shake their heads in anguish and pretend to be powerless in the face of disasters they absolutely have the power to address.

Michigan’s left is also making electoral noise. As The Intercept documents, our August primaries saw a strong chain of progressive wins. For the state legislature, Abraham Aiyash, a Sanders campaign surrogate, won the 4th district primary in Detroit to replace another Sanders veteran, former State Rep. Isaac Robinson, who died tragically of COVID-19. Over in another section of the city, the 7th district, former Jobs With Justice organizer Helena Scott also prevailed. And adding to the growing nationwide march of progressive prosecutors, reformers Karen MacDonald and Eli Savit won closely watched races against more establishment figures, while Victoria Burton-Harris ran a thoughtful and staunchly progressive campaign against longtime Wayne County prosecutor Kym Worthy, despite falling short. And lastly, and so very satisfyingly, Congresswoman Rashida Tlaib convincingly thumped her establishment-backed challenger, erasing any doubt that the Left has some staying power in a state that has so puzzled centrist observers. These are important victories. Not because they mean the revolution is finally nearing the gates, but because it reflects the left’s increasing potency in the land that birthed Reagan Democrats.

One of those prosecutorial races, in fact, was only the second most important showcase of progressive power in the region it took place in. Oakland County is one of Detroit’s wealthy suburbs. Karen McDonald won the primary there by running on increasingly mainstream leftist ideas like ending cash bail and no longer prosecuting marijuana possession.

When ProPublica broke the story of Grace, a 15-year-old student who was imprisoned for not doing her homework, one of the most forceful voices was Michigan Liberation, a group dedicated to building “a long-term movement” to transform the criminal punishment system. After they organized the first rally, communications director Marjon Parnham tells me, it was “just like a domino effect.” More rallies followed calling for Grace’s release, as more and more people were stirred with “the courage” to “do something.” In one especially courageous and kickass show of solidarity, Black Lives Matter in All Capacities, a group established by Black teenage girls that stepped into a prominent leadership role and “organized an overnight occupation outside of Oakland County Children’s Center,” where Grace was being held. For Parnham, it was a testament to the power of grassroots action. “If we would’ve had to wait for this person running” based on “what they may or may not do...oh, my goodness, can you imagine? We would be waiting forever.” It was the perfect split-screen lesson: on one, a progressive challenger is elevated by grassroots leaders to dislodge a status quo incumbent. On the other, that same grassroots movement demonstrates that they will be there every step of the way, prepared to move swiftly and aggressively if that challenger should fail to follow through. After nearly three months—and relentless public outcries of “how fucking dare you?”—Grace was released.

Grace’s story is just one infuriating window into a much wider reality. Michigan ranks near the top for coronavirus deaths behind bars. As Ricardo Hart, who’s incarcerated in Michigan, put it in a recent report, “There is no such thing as social distancing in Michigan prisons, only the death penalty.” Titled “I Don’t Want to Die in Prison,” the report pulls together firsthand testimony from hundreds of incarcerated Michiganders, and rightly concludes that the only appropriate response is rapid and dramatic decarceration, and the eventual abolition of a system that cages human beings.

We must be clear about this: both the virus and capitalism have the vast majority of us on a death march. And, as Arundhati Roy writes, “the pandemic” can be “a portal,” and we can decide to emerge from it and live differently. Imagine all the pie-in-the-sky we could have if our national priorities looked more like the demands of working-class communities across the country. Wherever possible, the left should be marching in to fill the void. The “how” of this isn’t a mystery. Jane McAlevey puts it plainly when she states that “only the slow and steady work of smart organizing” can save us. That means expanding our base by kindling and igniting the imaginations of everyday people in workplaces and neighborhoods everywhere we can, building unity and solidarity that can withstand the backlash of the super-wealthy and powerful. If we don’t, as Burgis notes, the most vile narratives will take root and blossom.

This is what nearly happened when the phony populist protests came to Michigan. A deadly pandemic is on the rise, the economy is totally sunk, and people are left to doggy-paddle through oceans of uncertainty. In that context, it makes perfect sense that some would object to only being given janky life rafts to float around on. Whatever the motives of the protesters, many people who are genuinely concerned about their material lives are looking for explanations. The right will enthusiastically provide them. It was the Michigan-based DeVos family (as in Trump’s public school-hating Education Secretary, Betsy DeVos) who funded institutions that helped bring those protests to life, representing a real core of diabolical economic power in the state that couldn’t care a lick about what happens to working people.

To be clear then: the real issue here isn’t that this pandemic, and its many avoidable horrors, has opened up new and hotly contested theatres of conflict. It’s the way the battle lines have been drawn and which side of it people find themselves on. In Michigan, we’ve been making the argument that, as another comrade Maria Ibarra-Frayre writes, “More is possible when we work together.” Not only to get people the things they immediately need, but to fight against the enormous forces of private power and their pals in public office who have made life so desperate for so many.

It’s important that we give them hell. As lefties often stress, the country’s ruling class has been warring against working-class people since this bloody story began. Take founding father John Jay, who reportedly loved saying, while no doubt thinking he was hot shit, “Those who own the country ought to govern it.” He meant it, and so do his ideological heirs.

As any hope that we can “return to normal” without simultaneously triggering enormous human suffering continues to fade far far away, the left desperately needs a persuasive answer for how we can secure people’s well-being without throwing them in front of the plague. In order to do that, we can’t pretend that those in executive suites and private villas have basically the same interests as those surviving off of food pantry rations or who ride the bus to work every day terrified that they won’t make it out alive. The ruins of market capitalism, and the horrific human costs of tying public fate to its whims and incentives, are all around us. And it has again made clear that our best shot at a sensible, humane world lies with everyday people demanding a full menu of social democratic policy.

This is why the Michigan example is important for the Left. As organizers here know too well, ours is one of the most viciously segregated states in the country. And with plenty of economic despair to go around, the ground is fertile for classic divide-and-conquer politics that drives deep wedges between communities that should be building lasting solidarity. After all, the multi-racial working class is rich with shared adversaries, but also with shared aspirations. The latter has become increasingly clear thanks to the tireless dedication of everyday organizers here, proving that people in the rustiest of states still have lively and kinetic imaginations, and that we can “go into difficult terrain” and raise “people’s expectations that their life can be better.” If only, as Reyes and Coffia write, we reject the “shadowy billionaires who seek to stoke fear and paranoia” and instead decide “to have each others’ backs.”

concerning spaces (I just wanna be a bug)

Marissa Deitz - Instagram



Good Money

Robert Woods-Ladue - Website

Notes On Del-Camp
or, The Ballad of Chester MacPhee

Devin Smith - Instagram | Twitter

L-R: Mayor George Christopher, Sherman P. Duckel, and Chester MacPhee, Sept. 23, 1958.
SF History Center, via FoundSF

This story came up, tangentially, while I was doing research for a screenplay set during the redevelopment of South of Market in the late 1970s. (I stalled on the final act and never quite finished — but anyway...) For a while, SF’s redevelopment was somewhat under-examined outside of city planning and activism spheres, but has been getting more general-audience attention recently, owing to its ripple effects into our current housing situation.

For some quick context: SF’s public-private Redevelopment Agency [RA] was established in the late ’40s, in order to make use of federal funding from the 1947 “Housing and Rent Act” earmarked for (big air quotes here) urban renewal, or colloquially, slum clearance. The private-side members of the RA’s board came from the Bay Area Council, an “influential ‘private chamber of commerce’... organized around the corporations and financial institutions that dominated the West’s economy. Six of these — Bank of America, American Trust Company, Standard Oil of California, Pacific Gas and Electric, U.S. Steel, and the Bechtel Corporation — each pledged ten thousands dollars annually to start BAC operations.” 1

As you might imagine, these cigar-chomping bigwigs gave exactly zero fucks, and kicked off the first major rounds of redevelopment by demolishing Black and Japanese neighborhoods in the Western Addition and displacing thousands of residents to the East Bay or recently-repurposed WWII barracks in the Bayview. Similar displacements were happening nationwide — prompting Baldwin’s famous conflating of “urban renewal” with “negro removal” — but beyond this racial decimation, redevelopment presented a veritable cornucopia of shady profit-making opportunities for real estate speculators, developers, financiers, and, of course, unscrupulous City officials with insider knowledge of future redevelopment plans and decision-making power.

Here’s a simplified overview of the process:

First, the RA was tasked with drawing up maps for redevelopment. A strong lobbyist (or a little kickback) could shift the plans a few blocks here-or-there, alter the zoning of a parcel, or glean some tips about the final map before it went public. Speculators could persuade landowners to sell at low prices before redevelopment began by giving them bad information about the acquisition process — or, literally, hiring goons to harass them. The more parcels a person or company owned in a redevelopment zone, the more leverage they had in the upcoming negotiations.

Next, the City had to acquire the parcels in the redevelopment zone (using money from the aforementioned 1947 act), either by buying from the owners, or using eminent domain via the courts (referred to as a “condemnation suit”). The famously corrupt Assessor’s office was involved in setting the acquisition prices, and homeowners without financial access to or experience with the legal system often sold rather than fighting.2, 3 But developers and speculators with deep pockets knew how to use the courts to negotiate for better acquisition prices — and the RA, weighting the diminishing returns (and eventual construction delays) stemming from protracted litigation, often elected to pay the higher prices. And the judges deciding these cases came with their own angles, too.

Then, the RA would collect bids from developers, and select one to redevelop the space. The winning developer would buy the property, build whatever on it, and then sell or lease the new building. Financing was, of course, required for reconstruction, and banks (and their shareholders) made a nice percentage from the interest rates on these hefty loans.

For white-collar crime enthusiasts like myself, this shit is pure catnip. Like most redevelopment scandals, the Del-Camp affair touches on several of these profit-making areas, but it’s unusual for displaying so clearly how weak leadership and cronyism — in this case, all the way at the top, with Mayor Christopher — allowed these schemes to proliferate almost unchecked.

And now, my friends, it’s time to meet Chester MacPhee.

After the War, MacPhee worked his way up to the unassuming role of US Collector of Customs, tasked with overseeing the department which handles things like tariffs on international shipments (or whatever). But in 1956, he found himself looking over a shipment of a small, black-and-white poetry books titled Howl. Being the official posted in SF, his name appears in the documents of the famous court case — and I’ll just assume you know how that one ends. After a stint as a City Supervisor, where he sat on the Redevelopment committee which drew up the Japantown zone map, MacPhee was appointed Chief Administrative Officer by Mayor Christopher in the late ’50s. (The CAO position oversaw a grab-bag of administrative power over development; it’s since been eliminated and its portfolio distributed across different departments.)

Which brings us to October 11, 1958, when the IRS made a call to City Attorney Dion Holm. They’d flagged a sharp increase in profits from the Del-Camp Investment Company, and requested Holm look into any ongoing litigation involving the company... which in fact there was: courtroom haggling over the price for the RA’s acquisition of parcels in the Fillmore which Del-Camp had purchased just prior to the area’s redevelopment zoning. In total, Del-Camp owned “16 parcels of property in a 28-block section” of the zone. Holm noticed MacPhee’s name on the shareholder list and called him in for questioning.

MacPhee claimed he’d given up his stake in the company, but his son-in-law, John S. Russell, still made investments with them... using loans from MacPhee, which Russell then quickly repaid: “Last July, [MacPhee] loaned Russell $15,000 to buy a South of Market building, a loan which was repaid by Russell August 21.” (That’s $134k in 2020.) You do the math.

Any other City government folks on that Del-Camp list? Sure! SF Superior Judges Walter Carpeneti (Director, Shareholder) and Raymond J. Arata (Director, not a shareholder), and Grand Juror Angel E. Campana (Principal Owner). The City opened an investigation, expected to take 10 days.

MacPhee sat down with Dion Holm again, and went over his investments in detail. He agreed to sell back his shares to Del-Camp’s other investors at the original price — “Quite a bargain,” as in the intervening years Del-Camp’s net worth had ballooned from $300k to $1.26m ($2.7m to $11.3m in 20202). MacPhee publicly listed his assets ($492k, $4.4m in 2020), and denied under oath that any of his holdings present a conflict of interest.

An accompanying federal investigation was launched by US Attorney Robert Schnacke into the bank which provided the loans for Del-Camp’s Western Addition purchases, Eureka Federal Savings and Loan. The Federal Home Loan Bank Board also ordered a special audit of the bank, which, in a show of good faith, Eureka’s directors supported in a public letter.

Redevelopment Agency Chairman Joseph L. Alioto (Yes, that Alioto) said he would recommend that condemnation suits be filed against the 16 Del-Camp properties in the Western Addition redevelopment area, but added “that he believed the agency should continue to negotiate with Del-Camp using the City’s appraisal of the properties as the basis for the Negotiation.” And who was in charge of those appraisals? That would be the Assessor’s office, which itself was in some hot water, as a few days prior, it was revealed that Supervising Appraiser Arthur J. O’Conner had wildly under-assessed properties in future redevelopment zones, so his buddies could flip them to the RA for a tidy profit.

As the 10-day investigation pressed on:

Mayor Christopher started looking for a new head of the RA. He denied reports that he was firing the current head — he was merely being judicious — and chastised the Chronicle for printing Fake News.™

Grand Juror Angelo E. Campana was permitted to remain on the Grand Jury, as long as he resigned from any matters related to redevelopment. (He was not forced to sell his Del-Camp shares.)

Superior Judge Walter Carpeneti was in the clear, having sold his Del-Camp shares and resigned his directorship as soon as the scandal broke.

The RA voted to bring condemnation suits against 14 Del-Camp properties currently “deadlocked over prices” in the courts.

Other city officials angling for RA positions began scrambling to meet with City lawyers to see whether they might have any conflicts of interest... ya know, just in case.

And Arthur J. O’Conner from the Assessor’s office was suspended.

On October 18th, a roundtable of Mayor Christopher, Joe Allen and his Exec. Secretary, a representative from the Police Commission, and Don Fazackerly (President of the Public Utilities Commission and a personal friend of MacPhee’s) convened a meeting to discuss MacPhee’s fate. A few days later, Don Fazackerley advised MacPhee to quit in a face-to-face conversation. Dion Holm spent an hour with the mayor going over the legalities, and gave contradicting statements to reporters afterword. MacPhee “vehemently denies” he’ll resign.

The decision now rested entirely with Mayor Christopher.

On the 23rd, The Chronicle ran an editorial on the affair, saying they “simply proceed (and we are sure the public generally is following the same line of thought) to the unavoidable comparison” to another recent conflict-of-interest case which led to the dismissal of the official in question. Though this editorial claims to advocate neither for nor against MacPhee’s firing, it makes the pointed statement that because the CAO is a mayoral appointee, any scandal will cast an inevitable shadow on the mayor himself.

SF Chronicle, October 23, 1958

The next day, Mayor Christopher cleared MacPhee of any “Official Misconduct” and allowed him to remain CAO. MacPhee agreed to sell all his real estate holdings (around $350k worth of property, $4.1m in 2020) to avoid any further conflicts.

In the Chronicle article about his announcement, Christopher described MacPhee’s actions as “negligent,” but that

an underlying intent of unlawful manipulation has not been proven... The Mayor’s statement, written as a letter to the Board of Supervisors showed the emotional strain of making a public judgement of a close friend. There were seven references to the “mental anguish,” the “relegation to dismal oblivion,” the danger of “breaking a man in two,” the “destruction” that would follow a wrong decision.

As for MacPhee’s “future usefulness,” the Mayor said, “we cannot disregard this important element of public service.” But he said “I believe this point can best be judged in the future, when the shadows are lifted and the doubts are cleared.”

(Hey, the future! That’s us!!! OK Imma judge it: This is straight fucked and everyone involved in Del-Camp should have been, at minimum, fired, and possibly prosecuted. Easy-peasy!)

There was a brief détente, during which the RA expedited its Del-Camp condemnation suits, and the Chronicle broke an unrelated kickback scandal at the Assessor’s office, describing it as “certainly morally wrong, but not necessarily illegal.” In December, the City bought a 30,000 sq. ft. plot from Del-Camp for $57k, bagging a $20k profit ($179k in 2020) for the company.

But in January of 1959, MacPhee was back in the spotlight: “On Thursday, it was disclosed that the Redevelopment Agency had paid $12,500 for a two-story flat on Webster St. as part of its Western Addition slum clearance project. City Savings & Loan Association held a $7,000 mortgage on the flat. MacPhee is a 6% stockholder in City Savings & Loan, and a member of its board of directors. City Attorney Holm is once again studying the matter.” (And as it turned out, Superior Judge Daniel R. Shoemaker was also the President and a shareholder of the company — but had denied any of the loans were for Western Addition projects. Whoops!)

And on January 29th, MacPhee finally resigned. The situation was awkward and bitter. Essentially, the Mayor reiterated his request that MacPhee sell all of his real estate holdings (real estate-related banking included) and MacPhee decided he’d rather keep the dough and ditch the job. In his resignation, he stated that “Although my severest critics have attested to my personal integrity and competence, nevertheless the almost constant unjustified harassment concerning my personal investments has affected the healthy and well-being of my family to such an extent as to cause me great concern... I cannot and indeed I do not intent to subject my family or my good name to any further groundless aspirations or insinuations.”

Or, in the immortal words of Puff and Biggie: mo money, mo problems.



Notes

This piece is drawn from from articles in the Chronicle and the now-shuttered News-Call Bulletin (a more left-leaning paper which broke a lot of City government scandals in this era), appearing from October 11, 1958 to January 23, 1959. All quotes are from the Chronicle.

1. This quote is from Chester Hartman’s City for Sale. There’s also an interesting through-line here to the death of SF’s robust labor movements: The Bay Area Council was basically a civilian reconfiguration of the “Wartime Metropolitan Defense Committee,” one of the Bay Area’s first regional planning bodies. It was formed to organize the production of war materiel, and legally empowered to — this is oversimplified — dissolve labor unions for the duration of the war. See Chris Carlson’s “The Progress Club: 1934 and Class Memory” in Reclaiming San Francisco.

2. “Bring Back the Crooked Assessor,” by Mark Paul, for Zocalo Public Square. https://www.zocalopublicsquare.org/2012/06/10/bring-back-the-crooked-assessor/

3. Part of the reason the later SOMA redevelopments included so much more resistance was that many of the older residents in the SROs had participated in the 1930s union movements, and had experience with collective action and using the courts as a lever.


THANK YOU FOR VISITING QUARANZINE!

If you would like to contribute, email us.