onsite insight

by Riley

Civics can be defined as the study of the obligations and privileges of citizens within a community. In apartment living, the “inner” civics of a medium-sized building is arguably as important as government and politics are on the outside. Even though I manage a building in the middle of a city known as bustling, with more than its share of distant, “please don’t bother me” tenants, it also has its share of those who make this building tick. There have been people who have made meals for the elderly residents, cleaned for incapacitated tenants, provided help up the stairs for those who just can’t make it on their own and given smiles to all of their neighbors whenever they run into them. These have been some of the tenants who go over the line from just being a good neighbor and become the civics lessons that make this building a pleasant place to live.

Over the years, I have studied tenants who have helped others for little to no gain for themselves. Take, for example, a longtime tenant living on the second floor, who I will call Gertrude. Gertrude is in her eighties and is known not only by her given name but also by the affectionate nickname of “cat lady.” I know for most landlords and property managers the term “cat lady” conjures up images of old women with crazy Einstein hair, coke-bottle glasses, and 20 to 30 cats winding around the unit, leaving their waste on all of the landlord’s preserved hardwoods.

However, this “cat lady” is just the opposite; in fact, she has no cats of her own. Most of the building’s residents do, however, and they are also young and like to travel. Gertrude takes care of all these cats when their owners are away. Not only does she take care of them, she spoils them to the point that they do not want to go home after their adoring owners come back into town from their travels. Imagine living a cat life day to day and suddenly a shining beacon comes to your home and gives you fresh water every few hours, scoops your box, and warms your food in the microwave. The cats are happy and the tenants are delighted, trusting Gertrude implicitly in their homes.

These actions are not affecting the political structure of the city, state or country and have little to no effect on world well-being; however, some valued tenants have stayed much longer than they would have because there is a cat community within the building. The cat lady provides structure and a place to call home in the sometimes-isolating apartment life of a city where very few residents even know what their neighbors’ names are.

Is this Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City, in which the residents are completely intertwined? No, but the cat lady brings a sense of community to this building where it might not have been. Is this a civics lesson? Absolutely. Gertrude’s services are a privilege for those who live here. Even if we live alone and our families live across the country, she is someone who is always there and dependable.

Another example of civics in this building occurred in the early years of my management career. One of the first apartments I rented way back when went to a cute, young, newly formed couple. The tiny, blond and bubbly young woman hailed from my home state; the boyfriend was an ex-police officer, injured on duty and looking for a new career after his brief time on the force.

Two weeks into the tenancy, I began to hear complaints from the residents living under and next to the cute couple; there were arguments that ended in her crying and him screaming. The arguments were punctuated by banging and crashing that could not be easily explained. One day, she walked past me with a broken arm, shyly explaining that she was such a klutz that she ran into a door and fractured her wrist. Another night, I looked out of my kitchen window, which faced the bedroom window of the cute couple, and I saw the slight blond escaping out of the bedroom window in tears. I poked my head out and asked her if she was okay. She said that she had locked herself into the bedroom because her boyfriend was going to break down the door and would kill her.

At this point, I became a well-meaning idiot. I allowed the tenant into my apartment, provided a guest bedroom for her to sleep in and locked my door three times over. We called the police, but this was way back when and when the police arrived they knew the young man and just told him to calm down. They said they would check in later to make sure everything was okay.

I am ashamed to admit that this is probably the stupidest action I have ever taken as a building manager, and at the same time it is something for which I will forever congratulate myself. I saw another member of my community who needed help and I reached out a hand. Now, looking back, I realize that I could have been maimed, beaten or killed for my actions.

One night—after it was all over and the girlfriend had gone back to the state that we both knew so well and the boyfriend had luckily gone away peaceably—I received a telephone call from the girl’s mother, thanking me for saving her daughter. It made me feel like I had done the right thing. Would I do the same now? I do not know. I have learned too many things since then. I would fear for my own safety and for those living around the abusive tenants. I would now think twice about endangering myself and the consequences of my actions; but years ago, the civics of this building meant that I should help those in need and I acted accordingly.

Both of these examples of the community of a medium apartment building, one funny and neighborly and one serious and potentially life threatening, are examples of the civics of daily life. There have been too many examples in this community to list in one column, but everyday life provides the basis for the obligations of the people who live in this small section of the city on a daily basis.

Whether tenants live in a huge apartment complex or a medium-sized building like the one I manage, the civic duty towards those who live next to you might be big or small, but they exist. While warming cat food for the most spoiled cats or helping someone in need, San Franciscans—no matter how cosmopolitan—live in small civic communities. We might be landlord vs. tenant much of the time, with organizations that fight for our rights, but all in all we are an infrastructure of people living together.

The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the viewpoint of the SFAA or SF Apartment Magazine. “Riley” has been a San Francisco resident manager in a large, well-cared-for building for 12 years. The names of the tenants, as well as the columnist, have been changed to protect the building and all involved from the court system and irate neighbors. Copyright © 2007 by SF Apartment Magazine. All rights reserved.