The crowd did their best to squeeze onto the northwest corner of Eddy and Taylor, but there were just too many people, and they spilled into the street, waiting. As the harsh sun bore down Friday, they gathered to remember their dear friend Stephen Tennis, who served the Tenderloin community and passed away last year.
They shared inspiring memories, and funny ones. They cheered at the moment that had drawn them here: the unveiling of a sign commemorating the 200 block of Eddy Street as Stephen Tennis Way.
“With this street unveiling, all of the people that Stephen touched will be able to remember him every single day of the year,” said District 5 Supervisor Bilal Mahmood, who represents the Tenderloin and had proposed the street naming at the Board of Supervisors. Now a literal part of the Tenderloin, Stephen’s presence “inspires and reminds us all to do better for our neighborhood as well,” he said.
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Stephen was many great things to the people whose lives are based in the Tenderloin. He was a tenant advocate, a protector of children, a keeper of Boeddeker Park. He was a leader in the realm of food justice. He was a veteran. And he was someone who overcame addiction in pursuit of his better self. You can read even more about him in a great story by Michael Nulty, who also reminisced about Stephen at the unveiling event.
After becoming sober, Michael said, Stephen “emerged as a motivating figure of fortitude and kindness to others.”
Many people told stories about Stephen at the event, and I’m sharing what they said with you, below.
Do you also have memories of Stephen Tennis that you’d like to share? If so, comment at the end of this story. Or you can email me, and I’ll add your memories to the story itself. I’m at noah@tlvoice.org.
These quotes have been edited for clarity and brevity:
Mike Vuong
The fact is, Stephen was part of my introduction to the Tenderloin. I understand the community so much more because Stephen was a part of my life. He made me a better human being and I miss him every day. I just hope we can honor him with the work we do moving forward.
Jalal Alabsi, Tenderloin Community Benefit District
Stephen, he was our co-worker, our friend, a friend of my kids. He was my trainer. First day at my job — this is six years ago — he helped me to take care of Boeddeker Park.
He was like a brother. He was like, for my son, as an uncle. He gave him a computer, a laptop.
He didn't leave us. He lives in our heart. He stays with us.
Tatiana Alabsi, Tenderloin Community Benefit District
I loved Stephen's enthusiasm. He supported community, and helped community.
Every day he played with kids here, running with kids. Many times he was injured, because he was running and sometimes he fell down — you know, kids are faster than Stephen. But it never stopped him.
I always said, “Stephen, please be careful at your age!” But it's not working, he continues. He loved life, loved adventure, and loved to be so active. And his energy never stopped.
John McCormick, Chinatown Community Development Center
Stephen Tennis was a tireless advocate for food justice. Steve was a member of the Healthy Retail Network that worked to get healthy food into corner stores, and Steve's main corner store that he worked was at the corner of Eddy and Taylor. (That’s the intersection with the new placard with his commemorative street name now stands.)
Today, that store is full of terrible junk food, and it's plastered in soda and candy ads. It's just so difficult because I feel like Steve would be very upset about that. He put so much hard work into making that space a healthy option for people.
Steve always used to have these cool motorcycles, these electric motorcycles. And he would ride around on them.
He had old-school biker tattoos. He had shark tooth necklaces, that kind of stuff. He'd whip around the Tenderloin in these electric, Harley-looking motorcycles. They were so cool. Stephen was just the coolest man.
Kelly Ecker, Central City SRO Collaborative
Stephen is what I would refer to as a pillar. And what do I mean by that? For those of you who know our program, most of the work is based on our volunteers. And there's a select few that show up, not because they're going to get a rent reduction or a stipend check — they show up because they care about the community, and they believe in the work that we do. And Stephen was definitely one of those.
Anyone who knows me and has seen me in the office, running around like a crazy nut, knows I'm all over the place. And Stephen was one of the few people who could walk in the door and instantly bring me back down to the ground, put a smile on my face, and calm me.
He didn't take things too seriously. He could laugh at himself. He could make you laugh at yourself. I remember there was a safety committee meeting we had, where a lot of times the police department will show up, and he was wearing a shirt that had some reference to drugs on it. And you know, most people wouldn't point that out, but he did and we laughed our butts off about it. That was Stephen.
David Elliott Lewis, Tenderloin People’s Congress
He was a jokester. He used to live at the Hartland Hotel for quite a while, which he used to call the “heartless hotel.” And yeah, it was a rough life there. He never lost his sense of humor, his sense of sarcasm.
He would buy these oversized electric bicycles. Sometimes he couldn't even get them into his room. He would try to stuff it into the elevator to get it up to his tiny SRO (single-resident occupancy) room, but he didn't care.
He was a huge heart, a huge passion. He cared about other people. He would do stuff beyond the call of duty, beyond his job description, just to help fellow residents, especially fellow SRO residents. Living in an SRO hotel — it's too small a space for a very big life. And yet, he helped people make it more manageable. Thank you, Stephen Tennis. You're in my heart.
Bobbi Lopez, Mayor’s Office for Victims’ Rights (and co-founder of La Voz Latina)
When La Voz was first starting, and it was a ragtag operation where it was a little bit of organized chaos, he would just volunteer. He would just come and serve food and support the kids and the families. He didn't know the families! He didn't speak Spanish! But he would be there supporting them, and that's the kind of guy Stephen was.
Stephen was also a guy who was fascinating. He and I spent many times talking about our respective sneaker collections. If anyone knows Stephen, you're very aware of his sneaker collection.
But I think what he'll be remembered for is the deep and profound love of community. And it didn't matter who you were and how you got to the Tenderloin, he loved you.
Sunny Angulo
One of his favorite things to say was, “Oh Sunny, you can't bullshit a bullshitter.” And he was probably one of the most beautiful bullshitters I have ever met in my life.
Not only did he clean out Boeddeker Park, but he was actually part of the group that helped us go to the state to secure more funding, to finish this renovation of this beautiful park that we all enjoy today.
He was also really involved in the SRO tenants' working group and helped us create legislation on everything from bed bugs to taking care of evictions. He was involved in everything.
I see so many familiar faces, people that have taken care of each other, even when City Hall isn't able to do those things. You guys are really the ones that have looked out for each other. And Stephen was a model for that.
I'm a journalist who has reported for years on San Francisco topics like homelessness, housing, and governance. I co-founded News Relay Network, publisher of the Tenderloin Voice, where I write and edit. Reach me at noah@tlvoice.org.
