Chapter 40 #2
A woman seated next to Gustavo, whose long nose and tiny eyes gave her the appearance of an exotic bird, raised her hand. “It’s to be expected that the plumbing in kitchens and bathrooms would be updated during the life cycle of a building, without appreciably affecting its historic value.”
“It was more than fixing a leaky pipe,” Drew said, his voice rising. “She gutted that mess hall and turned it into her Betty Crocker dream kitchen. That has to affect its historic value.”
Drew swiped up the remote and clicked through a series of images copied from faded Polaroids.
The first photos showed an industrial kitchen with steel counter tops and bulky vintage ranges.
“These are pictures of the original kitchen. And these,” he said, advancing to the next series of photos, “show the kitchen in 1965.” The room was now bright and airy, with gleaming domestic appliances and colorful linoleum on the floor.
Drew then cycled through a series of photos comparing the original bathrooms with the ones his grandmother had installed. The metal trough sinks and vintage toilets with overhead tanks had been torn out and replaced with modern porcelain fixtures.
The female commissioner spoke again. “Mr. Mazer, with all due respect, the changes I’m seeing are cosmetic, not structural.”
Gustavo rubbed his temples. “Ellen, we have to judge the building as is, at the time of the petition.”
“I know,” Ellen snapped. “I’m just saying some surface-level changes to a kitchen or bathroom don’t seem disqualifying to me. With this photo archive, the rooms could eventually be restored to their original condition.”
Drew’s face twisted into a sneer. “I’m not sure we can trust a porn star to properly maintain or restore a historic building.”
“Hey!” Ethan yelled, slamming his hand on the table.
Gustavo glared at Drew. “Mr. Mazer, that’s uncalled for.”
Ethan moved to stand, but Blake gripped his wrist. “I’ve got this,” Blake said quietly. He stood, raising his chin and squaring his shoulders. “Mr. Rojas, can I say something?”
“You may.”
“What Mr. Mazer said is true. I’m a sex worker.
I’ve starred in adult films. But that’s not all I am.
I can sing, and dance, and make my own costumes.
I’m trying to create a club where the talent of my performers is the focus, not just their bodies.
Where they’ll have dignity and not be forced to do things they don’t want to do.
I’ll show the same respect to the building itself. ”
Alistair stepped to the podium, placing a hand on Drew’s shoulder and gently moving him away from the microphone.
“That’s touching, Mr. Larsen. Truly.” There was a brief hint of warmth in his voice.
“But the law isn’t based on intent. It’s based on site integrity.
And because of the numerous external and internal alterations to the original firehouse, it no longer meets the integrity requirement for historic preservation.
There are numerous precedents of other buildings denied landmark status for similar reasons… ”
Blake sunk into his seat. He leaned over and whispered to Ethan. “This is bad, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I was so focused on the history of the building, I didn’t pay enough attention to the firehouse itself. I can’t believe we’ve come this far to lose on a technicality.”
Alistair and Drew returned to their seats, and Gustavo addressed the small audience. “At this time, we welcome members of the community to comment on this petition for historic preservation.”
The woman wearing the butterfly hair combs approached the podium, moving with a quiet, regal grace. She laid her purse on the podium and smiled at the members of the committee.
“My name is Margaret Donovan. I have a special interest in the history of the 1906 earthquake, and a personal connection to Engine Company Number Nine. My great-uncle, William Baird, was stationed there at the turn of the twentieth century. He had a close friend at the station, a fellow firefighter named George Miller. They were part of the team that protected the Mission district from the fires that broke out after the earthquake.”
Her breathing hitched, but she recovered quickly, looking to Blake and Ethan before continuing.
“William and George lived together as roommates for the rest of their lives. George died in 1959, from pneumonia. Within a year, William was gone, too. My mother always said he died of a broken heart. It was the only time anyone in my family acknowledged they were lovers, even though everyone knew.”
Margaret dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief she’d hidden under the cuff of her blouse.
“They’d survived a devastating earthquake as heroes, and lived through the upheaval of two World Wars.
But they didn’t live long enough to proudly declare their love for one another to the world.
I think William would have been happy to see that times have changed, and now you can be open about who you love.
“The firefighters stationed at this firehouse were a vital part of this city’s history. This building is where they worked, and lived. And in the case of my great uncle, fell in love. Isn’t that important to preserve? More important than a hose-drying tower and some bay doors?”
Two members of the committee, including the man in the sky blue jacket, sniffed and wiped their eyes.
Margaret returned to her seat, and when no one else came forward to offer comments, Gustavo brought the hearing to a close. “This matter will be continued to a future hearing, pending a site inspection and staff report. Thank you.”
With a final glare, Drew and his lawyer packed up and left in a rush. As the commissioners lingered at the front table, talking amongst themselves, Margaret approached Blake and Ethan.
“Excuse me,” she said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a small envelope. “I have something I want to give you.” She slipped a black and white photograph out of the envelope and handed it to Blake.
In the picture, two smiling young men in their late twenties were standing in front of an open apparatus bay door, a turn-of-the-century fire truck barely visible in the background.
Margaret pointed to a man with light hair. “That’s William.”
William had his arm around the shoulders of a shorter man with dark hair. “And that’s his friend, George.”
In the upper right corner of the picture, a caption had been scratched onto the photographic plate: William and George, July 1905.
The men looked happy, glowing with the optimism of youth, unaware of the disaster that would devastate their city within the year.
“You can keep that copy,” Margaret said. “I have the original.”
“Thank you,” Blake croaked, his voice thick with emotion.
Margaret patted his shoulder. “Thank you, Mr. Larsen. I wish you both great success.” She smiled, shook their hands, and followed a few of the commissioners out of the room.
Blake looked down at the photograph on the table. William and George. Two young, handsome men beaming with love. Friends and companions for life.
Blake was done with sex for sex’s sake. He wanted something real. A love that could survive wars and natural disasters. A love as pure and strong as the love shared by William and George.
And he wanted that bond with the man sitting beside him.
Blake threw his arms around Ethan.
“Hey,” Ethan said softly, returning the embrace and rubbing Blake’s back. “It’s okay.”
Blake clung to his business partner, overwhelmed by the stress of the day, and how much he longed for the man in his arms – a man whose body was right next to him, but whose heart might as well have been a hundred miles away.