Bernie's Big Secret 

4

 

I knew a government official had indeed once threatened his life. He told me about it one afternoon when we were hanging out in the kitchen of a flat across from Delores Park that I shared with some college students.

Due to a rent strike, he hadn’t paid rent on his own place in nearly a year. With no legal training whatsoever, he was representing himself in lawsuits against landlords and banks – and winning. He had been a math prodigy who walked away from scholarships to become a radical journalist and help bring about an anarchist utopia. During research for an article, he discovered that the City that burned down in ’06 now had a deliberately impenetrable thicket of a fire code, which he had mastered and was now using to advantage in court.

“You th-ee (see),” he said, chuckling at the wickedness of the scheme. “It wath cweated (...was created) back when evewy thity guvooment wath cowupt (...every city government was corrupt). It wath dethigned to be unenfothable (...was designed to be unenforceable).”

He always had an esthetic appreciation for a good con. Friends of his once started a literary review in order to sell the review copies to used bookstores. This review accidentally evolved over the years into a pillar of the West Coast literary establishment.

He was laughing hard now. His sense of humor was my favorite of his traits. We spent a lot of our time together simply laughing. Now as he spoke, his boney, squarish-tipped fingers sculpted the air between us with an awkward grace.

“It wath dethigned to genewate bwibe-th (…was designed to generate bribes)! Evewy beeooding in the Thity mutht be viowating thum pawt (Every building in the City must be violating some part) of the code.”

Doubled over with laughter, he staggered a step to the side. Suddenly I understood.

“That’s how you’ve been winning these rent strikes?!” I asked.

He nodded vigorously, unable to speak from the laughter, then he wiped spittle from his lips and red mustache.

When the laughter subsided enough, he said, “Yeth (yes), if they’oo viowating (they’re violating) the fiuh (fire) code, the went thtwike ith leegoo (rent strike is legal), untiyoo they cowect the viowation-th (until they correct the violations). And that can be ekthpenthive (expensive).” He suddenly became serious and said, “They don’t have compwete wecodth (complete records)!” Face lit with inspiration, he turned to me and explained, “I caught one of the bank’th lawyeth twying to wead my note-th (bank’s lawyers trying to read my notes). Ah’ll bet they don’t have compwete wecodth (complete records) on that beeooding (building) . . . ”

He stepped over to the kitchen table and sat, lost in thought.

After a while, he said, “Ah’ll make thpecial note-th fowuh (special notes for) them to thee nekth (see next) time.” Then he turned to me “Lithen (listen), you can do thith (this) too. Move into any ohd Victowian apawment (old Victorian apartment) in the Thity, like thith one, and I gawontee at leatht thikth month fwee went (...guarantee at least six months free rent). All we do ith decla-oo a went thtwike (...is declare a rent strike). Would yohwuh woommate-th (...your roommates) join a went thtwike (rent strike)?”

The math prodigy had mastered the labyrinthine fire code, and with its ubiquitous violations, was drubbing landlords and banks. Not only was this a blow against the System, not only did it save him rent money, but it was also an exhilarating game. He was the mouse in an animated cartoon toying with the cat.

Then one day, just after leaving the courtroom, going down the echoey marble hall, swinging his briefcase and strategizing, Bernie was stopped by a beefy sheriff’s deputy (the Sheriff’s Department handled evictions). The deputy told him, in a confidential tone, if he didn’t lay off the rent strikes, he could expect jail “or worse.” It wasn’t clear if the deputy was acting on his own, on orders, or for money on the side, but Bernie quit anyway. His attention had already flitted off to other campaigns.