This San Francisco Post Office Is the Only Address Some Residents Have

On a recent Tuesday afternoon, Gary Parkinson waited at the end of the line in San Francisco’s Tenderloin neighborhood.

He and others waited for their turn at a little window, like one where you might pick up fast food.

The window is a post office, but not one where Parkinson can buy stamps or mail a letter. It’s the U.S. Postal Service General Delivery Unit — a mail service where people who don’t have a permanent address can pick up mail.

“Two weeks ago in the hospital, I lost my — I had two IDs, I lost them both, and my phone,” he said. “So I’m hoping it’s come in the mail.”

Parkinson hoped to find out if his replacement driver’s license had arrived. He uses General Delivery’s address — 391 Ellis St. — on his license because, like most patrons in line here, he does not have an address of his own. He’s been unhoused for the better part of 20 years.

Parkinson, 65, has lived in various vehicles for the past year, and currently parks his van a couple of miles away in the Bayview neighborhood. He’s been using General Delivery to get his mail for as long as it’s been open: a decade. Before moving to San Francisco about 25 years ago, Parkinson grew up in Los Angeles.

“I started out as a professional foosball player,” he said, “traveling the country. It was great. It almost got super big, but it died off. I went into sales and marketing before I gave up the desire for money.”

Parkinson said he now lives on his social security benefits.

“So, getting my information on that’s really important cause they’ll cut you off if you don’t respond,” he said. “So this has been important for that, to have an address that’s consistent.”

Unhoused people need an address to stay on other government services, too — like food stamps.

Kay waited in line ahead of Parkinson in her hiking boots, her grey hair pulled back with a clip. She didn’t want to share her last name. She’s a fan of General Delivery, too.

“It’s great,” Kay said. “It’s a way to safely get your mail. And you don’t have to pay for it.”

General Delivery is a free service. To get their mail, patrons slip their IDs through a small hole in the thick plexiglass window. A USPS clerk inside searches for their mail and delivers stacks of letters and packages through a small, transparent door on one side of the window.

“Before post offices did delivery, this was the original way,” Kay said.

Formed in 1775, the postal system predates the U.S. But free home delivery didn’t start in cities until the 1860s, and began even later in rural areas. So for decades, people went to the post office to pick up their mail. General Delivery service has evolved since.

“Usually, the General Delivery is in the main post office for a city,” Kay said. “Here, it’s kind of unique. It’s the first one I’ve ever seen like this.”

That’s because standalone General Delivery locations like this one are rare. In most parts of the United States, General Delivery is a service offered at designated post offices, not an entire dedicated branch.

In the Tenderloin, its services are in demand; the district is home to nearly 2000 unhoused residents. General Delivery is open Monday through Saturday from 10 a.m. until 2 p.m. And from the moment this post office opens, it is busy.

“It’s like nonstop,” USPS clerk Robert Tapia said. “Ever since I opened the door, it’s like no break, nonstop, keep going and going and going.”

Tapia is 44, and his freckled face is quick to smile. He described the types of mail that patrons commonly receive here: IDs, bills, phones and more.

“Of course, from the first of the month, it’s checks,” Tapia said. “Like social security checks. And if it’s not here, I have to be able to tell them it hasn’t arrived yet. It feels bad ‘cause I want to give them their mail. And I know they could be homeless, and they depend on the money.”

Tapia has only worked at General Delivery for around six months, but he’s starting to build relationships with his regular customers.

“There’s one lady, I don’t even need to see her ID because I know her face,” Tapia said. “There are also some customers whom I’m gonna go check again. Even though I know their mail’s not there, I just go the extra mile to do a thorough look for them.”

Mail addressed to 391 Ellis St. is held for pickup for 30 days before it’s returned to the sender.

After 20 minutes, Parkinson reached the front of the line. He carried a tablet, which he flashed at Tapia through the window. The screen showed a photo of his lost driver’s license, which lists the General Delivery address.

Tapia disappeared into the mailroom, where he examined a wall full of alphabetized slots, some stuffed with mail. He returned with a stack of a dozen letters for Parkinson, which he delivered through the tiny door in the window. Parkinson flipped through them.

“Credit union, Social Security Administration, City of Oakland. No driver’s license.”

Parkinson then spied a hand-addressed envelope in his stack. It was a letter from Zuckerberg, San Francisco General Hospital, where he lost his ID. Parkinson opens it.

“Notice of Unclaimed Valuables: You left your phone and California ID,” he read. “This is great news. I figured maybe someone threw it away. But they had it all along. Woo! I’m going to get them right now.”

Parkinson started to head off, but turned back around and began to recite a poem he said he wrote about 20 years ago:

I’m dreaming of the day 

That we can get away 

From all our pains and sorrows. 

Sunshine replacing 

The rains of our tomorrows.

Cradling his stack of letters, Gary Parkinson crossed the street, walking out of the shade and into the sun. He’s off to the hospital to collect his once-lost belongings — now found.

Erin Bump is a radio reporter and podcast producer living in San Francisco. Find more of her work at kalw.org or in the Century Lives podcast feed.