Del Seymour, a man who brought job readiness skills to the down and out in San Francisco, is celebrated “Mayor of the Tenderloin,” a new book by San Francisco writer Alison Owings.
Seymour was a drug addict, dealer and pimp in the neighborhood where he eventually went straight and brought others with him.
Denizens of the Tenderloin, an infamous area known for homelessness, drug dealing and prostitution, often wind up there due to their addictions or by falling through the cracks of available services.
As nonprofits and government agencies seek to bring health and hope to Tenderloin residents, perhaps no individual stands out as much as Seymour, who’s earned the nickname Mayor of the Tenderloin.
Due out Sept. 10, “Mayor of the Tenderloin: Del Seymour’s Journey from Living on the Streets to Fighting Homelessness in San Francisco” (Beacon Press, 272 pages, $25) paints a vivid portrait of a man who freed himself from drug addiction and dealing to fashion a way out for marginalized inhabitants of the area.
Owings met Seymour while taking one of his Tenderloin Walking Tours, in which he led visitors through his neighborhood. Known as Del, he was recognized by all he passed and as he noted points of interest.
During the tour, he pointed to a spot on the pavement and said, “I could have gotten a Ph.D. in sidewalks.”
At that point, Owings, a former TV news writer and author of three oral histories including “Frauen: German Women Recall the Third Reich,” realized that Seymour had been homeless, a subject she was planning to write about. She became gripped by his life story and began recording his falls and triumphs with compassion and meticulous detail.
The Seymour she paints is articulate, insightful, opinionated, humorous, and, above all, “a very human person.”
Owings shows him kicking his habit, falling back, and crawling out again. Along the way were individuals who helped him recover.
“Mayor of the Tenderloin” is thoroughly enjoyable, and at some points, a romp to read. However, there isn’t an arc to the story. (Owings said her carefully crafted trajectory was meant to be “hopscotch” and “staccato” because “that’s the way he lives.”)
So, the book has flashbacks as well as goes forward and sideways.
Despite having a steady job in the East Bay, Seymour one day decided to visit San Francisco, and wound up in the Tenderloin, where he stayed for 18 years.
“I drove into San Francisco on Highway 280, and within 30 days I was living under Highway 280,” he said, referring to the tent community below the freeway.
Seymour was attracted to “the party life, the freedom to do whatever the hell you want to do, to live a completely wild lifestyle… Sex, drugs, and rock and roll.”
That’s what he got, including sleeping in Dumpsters, jail time, poor health and the unravelling of his family. He also gained a ringside seat watching the decline of people he served as their dealer or procurer. Reluctantly, he briefly discussed activities including pimping with the author and expressed sadness about them.
After years, he regained sobriety and looked around his ‘hood to see suffering people on the street; many were recipients of his commerce. Meanwhile, a few blocks away, technology startups were thriving and creating steady jobs.
In 2014, British software designer Shash Deshmukh attended a TED Talk featuring Seymour, who implored his professional audience and employers “to take one girl off the corner of Turk and Taylor and teach her to code.”
Just one, girl and that would transform her family and her environment, he said.
Deshmukh, who had experience coaching marginalized children in the U.K, devised a plan with Seymour to educate Tenderloin neighbors and bring them to job readiness.
To recruit students, Seymour went “on the streets,” as he put it, and found instructors among volunteers.
He called his free program Code Tenderloin, not to describe coding in the tech world, but the signal of urgency used in hospitals.
Its online ad read, “Previous history with difficult issues including substance abuse, mental health, education level, personal finances or criminal record does not disqualify you from securing work.”
Participants were expected to attend classes several days a week that included mock job interviews.
Seymour has a lot to say about solving homelessness. He rejects the popular notion of providing housing before offering services. First, he insists, the marginalized must have a job and a skill.
Today Code Tenderloin has achieved an admirable track record in offering instruction and skills. Its 2023 annual report states that 82% of participants graduate from its Job Readiness Program and 86% secure jobs or higher education once they graduate from Code Tenderloin.
Seymour acknowledges other institutions also working on the side of the angels, like neighboring Glide Memorial Foundation and the St. Anthony Foundation, which serve food and offer helpful services.
But he is less sanguine about nonprofits that purport to help the suffering. Seymour has observed many taking government and grant money to enrich themselves. Without naming them, he calls them “the homeless mafia.”
Owings also records the many upheavals in Seymour’s family life, including separations from his children, and his children’s mother’s attempt to murder his lover.
By the end of the book, he is reconciled with his two daughters. He ultimately left the Tenderloin and moved to Fairfield to be near them. Today he lives in San Leandro.
Correction: A previous version of this story incorrectly identified the mother of Seymour’s children as his wife.