Review: ‘Mayor of the Tenderloin’ Shows Del Seymour’s Triumph Over Misery

Del Seymour, a man who brought job-preparation skills to San Francisco’s poor, is hailed as “Mayor of the Tenderloin,” a new book by San Francisco author Alison Owings.

Seymour was a drug addict, dealer and pimp in the neighborhood, but eventually he turned straight and took others with him.

Residents of the Tenderloin, a notorious neighborhood riddled with homelessness, drug dealing and prostitution, often end up there because of their addictions or because they fall outside of available services.

As nonprofits and government agencies try to bring health and hope to the residents of the Tenderloin, perhaps no one stands out more than Seymour, who has been nicknamed Mayor of the Tenderloin.

Coming out September 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 his drug addiction and drug dealing to find a way out for the marginalized residents of the neighborhood.

Owings met Seymour during one of his Tenderloin Walking Tours, in which he led mostly white, affluent visitors through his neighborhood. Known as Del, he was recognized by everyone he met and for his points of interest.

During the tour, he pointed to a spot on the sidewalk and said, “I could have gotten a doctorate in sidewalks.”

It was then that Owings, a former television news journalist and the author of three oral histories, including “Frauen: German Women Recall the Third Reich,” realized that Seymour had been homeless, a subject she had been planning to write about. She became captivated by his life story and began to record his downfalls and triumphs with compassion and meticulous detail.

The Seymour she paints is eloquent, sharp, idiosyncratic, humorous and above all ‘a very human person’.

Owings shows how he kicked his habit, relapsed and crawled out of it. Along the way, there were people who helped him recover or pushed him back into the mud.

“Mayor of the Tenderloin” is a lot of fun to read and in places it’s a bit of a madcap. But there’s no arc to the story. Owings said the trajectory was meant to be “limping” and “staccato” because “that’s the way he lives.”

So the book contains flashbacks as well as forward and sideways movements.

Despite his steady job in the East Bay, Seymour one day decided to visit San Francisco, ending 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 camp under the freeway.

Seymour was attracted to “the party life, the freedom to do whatever you want, to live a completely wild lifestyle… Sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll.”

That’s what he got, including sleeping in garbage cans, jail time, poor health, and the breakup of his family. He also got a front-row seat to seeing the decline of the people he served as a dealer or pimp. Seymour is ashamed of pimping. He refused to elaborate on such activities to the author, except to express his sorrow over them.

After years, he sobered up and looked around his neighborhood to see people suffering on the streets; many were recipients of his merchandise. Meanwhile, a few blocks away, tech startups were flourishing and creating steady jobs.

In 2014, British software designer Shash Deshmukh attended a TED Talk with Seymour, who implored his professional audience and employers “to take a girl from the corner of Turk and Taylor and teach her to program.”

Just one girl would change her family and her environment, he said.

Deshmukh, who had experience coaching marginalized children in the United Kingdom, teamed up with Seymour to develop a plan to educate Tenderloin residents and prepare them for the workforce.

To recruit students, Seymour, as he put it, “went out onto the streets” and found instructors among volunteers.

He named his free program Code Tenderloin, not to describe programming in the tech world, but the signal of urgency used in hospitals.

The online ad stated: “A history of difficult issues, such as substance abuse, mental health, educational background, personal finances, or a criminal record, does not disqualify you from finding work.”

Participants were expected to attend classes several days a week, which also included simulated job interviews.

Seymour has a lot to say about solving homelessness. He rejects the popular idea that housing should come before services. First, he insists, the marginalized need to have a job and a skill.

Today, Code Tenderloin has an admirable track record of providing instruction and skills. The 2023 annual report states that 82% of participants graduate from the Job Readiness Program and 86% secure employment or higher education after graduating from Code Tenderloin.

Seymour acknowledges that there are other institutions that serve the people, such as the nearby Glide Memorial Foundation and the St. Anthony Foundation, which serve food and provide useful services.

But he is less optimistic about nonprofits that claim to help the suffering. Seymour has seen many use government and grant money to enrich themselves. Without naming them, he calls them “the homeless mafia.”

Owings also describes the many upheavals in Seymour’s family life, including the separation from his children and his wife’s attempt to murder his lover.

At the end of the book, he is reconciled with his two daughters, eventually leaving the Tenderloin and moving to Fairfield to be closer to them.