"This is a good place," says 20-year-old Leonard Haywood in a raspy voice. "We can get off the streets for a while."
Outside in the parking lot, co-owners 30-year-old Brian Alberson--a black man with small square glasses--and his uncle, 47-year-old Joseph Pigott, chat with the underage patrons and keep a sharp eye on people entering the building. One adult woman breezes in the door, past the large "No Smoking" sign spray-painted on the wall, cigarette in hand. Alberson follows her and politely asks her to smoke outside.
"We're trying to make a positive neighborhood hangout," explains Alberson, who's originally from East Oakland. Smoking, drinking, and drugs are not allowed inside the all-ages space. The three hands-on owners hold their patrons--both teens and adults--to a code of respect. The regulations not only help Alberson and his partners maintain order, but help differentiate Best from the business that used to occupy the building: the Hook Line & Sinker nightclub, a bar where neighbors say drug dealing, underage drinking, and gang activity got so bad that the place shut down earlier this year. "This is not the Hook Line & Sinker," Alberson says repeatedly. "This is a completely new business. The neighborhood knows that it's not the same environment."
But despite the new atmosphere at Best--kids having fun while the owners, and even a few parents, keep watch--the owners say they're getting harassed by the police.
Cops stop by almost every night--sometimes six or nine officers at a time, Alberson says--to check up on the place. In a part of town with a history of distrust between blacks and cops, the constant police visits are scaring off customers.
"Police just come in and look around. Or they come and sit in our parking lot for an hour," Alberson says. "It's getting outrageous. It's bad for business."
On Saturday night, September 28, the police show up twice. During the 11:00 p.m. visit, Sergeant Leung pulls up in one police car, and two officers follow in another. "We stop by from time to time," Leung tells the owners and teens standing outside. Alberson and Pigott follow the police as they walk through the business. The cops leave in a few minutes.
Last month, the owners say several police officers--plus an assistant chief and the South Precinct commander--stopped by to discuss a trespass agreement. If the owners sign such a deal, the police "can enforce trespassing on the premises without having a representative from the business present," explains police spokesperson Duane Fish. "It's an effective tool for merchants as well as officers. When officers see criminal activity occurring--something that won't amount to an arrest--they can say you're no longer allowed to loiter at this facility. It often diffuses volatile situations."
Alberson says the cops told them they should sign the agreement, or police will keep stopping by. "They said if we would sign it, we wouldn't see the police as much." But Best's owners are resisting. They argue that many of the neighborhood's teens have already been banned from most local businesses, like the fast-food restaurants and grocery stores, and need a safe place to hang out. Moreover, Alberson says, he'd rather be the judge of who can and cannot patronize the business. "We will hit the kids upside the head if needed, because we want to hit them upside the head before the police do," he explains with a smile.
Fish says the frequent police presence isn't meant to hurt business. "If in fact there is no criminal activity going on, business owners should not be upset that police are coming around," he says. "The last thing the officers want to do is divert paying patrons and good customers from businesses. That is not a good community partnership."
