Community
Speaking at a late afternoon press conference near the site of Friday’s Oakland Ghost Ship fire, Oakland Mayor Libby Schaaf announced that the death toll has officially reached 33, and that city officials have positively identified seven of the victims. Their names will be released via the city’s website and social media feeds later on Sunday. “At this time we have delivered the unacceptable and horrific news of losing a loved one to seven of our families. We will be releasing…
As the official death toll in the Oakland Ghost Ship warehouse fire rose to 30 on Sunday afternoon, crowds gathered outside to set up small memorials and watch as authorities continued their search process inside the building. Several workers in yellow vests and hard hats could be seen carrying shovels around the building’s perimeter, and authorities had blocked off a roughly two-block area with yellow crime scene tape, stopping traffic in the area between International Boulevard, Fruitvale Avenue, Derby and 12th…
A fire that broke out during an electronic music party at an artists’ warehouse space in the Fruitvale late Friday night has claimed at least 9 lives, and an estimated 25 more people are feared missing. A joint statement by the Oakland Police Department and the Alameda County Sheriff’s Office released mid-day on Saturday tallied 9 known fatalities, although the death toll is expected to rise once law enforcement officials are able to more closely search the building. Friends and family…
On a Thursday morning in October—just an ordinary Thursday, not any one in particular—the staff reporters of Oakland North scattered across town with a simple mission: To spend one hour observing what Oaklanders do on a typical day.
If you forget to bring your mother-in-law a gift when you visit for the holiday, you can buy her a set of “Mindful Mandala Cards” for $18 from the souvenir vending machine at the Oakland International Airport. If she’s not that kind of woman, you might get her a “Golden Gate Bridge Flour Sack” for $14 instead (flour not included). For $28, you can win (or lose) several adored auntie points by bringing your nieces and nephews a “Woodland Animal…
The sun shines over Mountain View Cemetery. Rays beam down through the trees, split by the branches which rustle and dance in the light breeze on this beautiful morning, and you wonder how many dead people fit in this cemetery. We have strange ways of counting the dead in this country. Cigarettes kill 480,000 people a year in the United States, certainly some of whom are in this cemetery, but we don’t keep a running tally on the news like…
Saved from staggering by the blue bench beneath him, a man sits. It’s Thursday at Mosswood Park and, perhaps, this is his usual spot. The sun reflects off his balding head, which is framed by salt and pepper puffs of hair and connected to a beard that’s more salt than it is pepper. He gazes across the basketball court, staring at no one in particular. A group of folks make a diagonal beeline across the court. They are a motley…
A 30-something, slightly overweight woman clad in yoga pants, Adidas and an electric blue athletic pullover, as if she frequents an overpriced workout class, stares begrudgingly at the stairs before her. She waits, looking at those stairs, like they have done something personally to her. Finally, after what feels like 30 minutes, she lets out a long “huff” before taking her first step on the gray cracked stairs at Joaquin Miller Park. It’s a wonder she hasn’t fallen on the…
The janitor sings when no one’s around. 11 a.m. is quiet at Macarthur BART Station. The bike racks are full: the morning commuters are long gone. The janitor leans up against the ticket machine in a BART-blue jumpsuit, looks out at the forecourt, and scats. His voice—broad, electric—reaches round the bare concrete, swells in the crevices. Jazz. Loud, secret. After a moment, a low hush builds overhead. A whistle, the universal sound of wheels on track, and a high hum…