The Last Shoeshine Man In San Francisco

At the apex of the city, where California and Market Streets meet, stands the lone practitioner of a dying art: the shoeshine man.  It is an art and a craft once represented by over 30 shoe-shiners, that dotted the city.  Due to the pandemic and changing dress habits (casual shoes are now more desired than dress shoes) amongst the movers and shakers of San Francisco, there is now only one.  

 And his name is Christopher “Olajuwon” Mitchell.

How many people do you know who say they truly love their work?  Despite the limited economic opportunities, the unpredictable weather, panhandlers, and diminished foot-traffic he has to contend with daily (rain or shine), Olajuwon has been setting up his stand for the last 40 years next to the California St. Cable Car terminal.  

I asked him what happens if you retire or move?   He shared that he had tried to get young people interested, but it is a hard and unsteady life with razor-thin profit margins.  It is a tough call to compete with jobs that pay more with less harsh conditions.  Although he was stoic, he didn't have to say anything.  I could see the melancholy in his face as the thought of being the last of his profession washed over him.  However, that only lasted seconds before his indomitable spirit and joie de vivre returned.

Olajuwon, the last shoeshine man in San Francisco

I don't think I spent more than ten minutes in his chair while he shined my shoes to their original luster, when he shared his entire life story and philosophy.  I personally witnessed him commit a selfless act of kindness in between shining and buffing.    As he told me his story, he pulled out a food container and showed me half a dozen barbecued beef ribs he bought with his own money, and cooked for the sole purpose of giving to the hungry.  

Like clockwork, a young scared homeless kid approached him sheepishly.  He asked the kid if he was hungry, but before the kid could answer, Olajuwon handed him a salad in a to-go container.  Then without missing a beat, he continued his story.  He was born in Louisiana, one of 14 kids.  And although he was poor, his mother raised him to always help those less fortunate.

So beloved is he, that everyone from bankers to politicians have made it their mission to see that he remains in business.  Like many small businesses, he was forced to shut down during the pandemic but was lucky enough to avoid homelessness, primarily sustained by his most loyal customers.  They simply and generously donated out of their own pockets.  Now that is customer loyalty.

In an era when tech millionaires like Y Combinator CEO and political donor Garry Tan, who wished out loud online for some members of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors to, “Die slow (F-Word deleted),” here is a man living day-by-day, who gives what little he has to those less fortunate.   Because if you truly love your job, you never work a day in your life.

Within a few minutes he helped his community and made my shoes look like new.  

I mean, who does that?