When you work at a local store, you become a celebrity. Therefore, it behooves you to be charming.
Frank Chamberlain, who worked for 22 years at the Good Life Grocery at 448 Cortland St., absolutely nailed the assignment.
When he died on Oct. 27, at age 67, his absence left a huge hole in Bernal Heights.
“He didn’t like anything, Frankie loved everything,” said Samantha Zuvella, the owner of the neighborhood grocery store. “He loved people. He loved the Good Life Grocery. He made us his family. He made a lot of the people in this neighborhood his family.”
Those who knew Chamberlain can reel off those loves by memory: The House of Prime Rib, the steak and mashed potatoes at Vega, the blue suede smoothie at Progressive Grounds, the soups at Moonlight Cafe, the drinks at Wild Side West and the feeling of a long bike ride.
Chamberlain’s dislikes were rare, but also passionate. “He didn’t like veggie soups,” said Shayne Hill-Zeck, an employee at Moonlight Cafe. Whenever Chamberlain opened the door to the cafe, Hill-Zeck recalled, and a veggie soup was on the menu, staff would yell “Lentils!” as a warning, and Chamberlain would make a hasty retreat.
Also: smartphones. “He had an iPhone for one day, and he hated it,” said Zuvella. “He returned it the next day, and got his flip phone back.”
Customers, fellow coworkers and employees at nearby businesses described Chamberlain as a force of kindness, friendship and compassion.
He’d dress up on Halloween and Easter and hand out candies to kids. He’d buy a coffee, a sandwich, a smoothie, a drink or a meal for coworkers. He would give customers samples like no one else could.
“Everyone’s very sad,” said Jocelyn Navarrete, an employee of nine years at the Good Life Grocery, “A lot of customers have come up to us with teary eyes, giving their condolences to the company. He was a big part of it.”
It was not rare to encounter Chamberlain along the Cortland Avenue commercial corridor before and after his shifts, even though he lived downtown.
One could find him having an after-work drink and playing Dolly Parton at the jukebox inside the Wild Side West, or having dinner at Vega, a restaurant he visited multiple times a week, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends.
Chamberlain, a former U.S. Marine and a proud veteran, grew up in the South with his two sisters — either Alabama or Oklahoma, according to Zuvella. He moved to California, first to Stockton, and headed to San Francisco with a friend in the 1980s.
On a recent Wednesday afternoon, Terry Casey, who met Chamberlain nearly 20 years ago, stood outside of the Good Life Grocery in front of a glass-covered bulletin board with Chamberlain’s photo. Plastic flowers and candles adorned the image.
“Some called him the mayor of Cortland Street. A lovely guy,” said Casey.
To the dogs of Bernal, Casey added, Chamberlain was also a legend. “There are owners who say that when their dogs walk by, they turn in towards the store and bark, because they think Frankie will come out and give them a treat.”
“Children loved him because he’d give them candy,” said Gustavo Lopez, as he contemplated Chamberlain’s photo. “He’d always put water out for dogs, too.”
Once, Casey said, she found herself $14.77 short at the register when buying groceries. As she was about to put items back, Chamberlain came running, took money out of his pocket, and made up the difference.
“He didn’t even know my name. He’d just seen me lots of times,” said Casey. “I came running back that day to pay him back because I felt terrible. I was so grateful. He acted sort of surprised. He was like, ‘You could have just gotten it the next time you came.’”
“He did that with me!” Lopez said. “I was a dollar short and he just said, ‘Pay me back.’”
Chamberlain’s cause of death was unknown, but before he died he spent a month at Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital in a coma. While Chamberlain was in the hospital, Good Life put out paper hearts for customers to send a message.
The result was overwhelming: About a thousand people wrote him notes — so many that they papered the walls of his hospital room. They now line the stairway leading to the Good Life employee break room and Zuvella’s office.
“He was just so innocent, sweet, kind, gentle and pure,” said Zuvella. “His kindness really just went everywhere, and it just spread everywhere. It touched strangers in ways that they remember from years ago.”
This is a beautiful tribute. Thank you for writing this story. People like Frankie are truly the fabric of San Francisco. As the crisis of inequality gripping the Bay Area grinds our cities into dust, it’s vital that we work to preserve livability for people like Frankie who are dedicated to serving, feeding, and enriching our communities.
Thanks so much for this profile on Frank…He did tell me emphatically once that he was from the Ozarks…Though I know of no one who knew for sure, it was felt among several people in my circle that he had Tourette’s…He would buzz energetically around the store audibly chunnering to himself…He definitely had a running motor with the idle set high….
Thank you for capturing Frank’s warmth and ability to build community through kindness and presence. He was a gift to all who crossed his path.
Frankie was one of a kind. I worked with Frankie for over ten years. I never enjoyed working with anyone as much as Frank. Frankie became a part of my family and one of my wife’s best friends. We’d have him out to our house for bike rides while he was training for the Aids ride to Southern California. After a trip over the Antioch Bridge on a bike, Frank said we were crazy. We took him on a 100 mile ride called the Chico Wild Flower. By that time we couldn’t keep up with him. He will be missed.