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# Mourning the loss of a ‘best friend’
- URL: https://www.smdp.com/mourning-the-loss-of-a-best-friend-editor/
- Published: 2003-11-22T16:00:00.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-23T03:15:52.000Z
- Author: Guest Author
- Tags: Opinion, Promenade, #archive-import, Homeless

*By Neely Bogad San Francisco*

I am writing regarding the article on the front page of your paper about the death of Bobby Ray Capps (SMDP, Nov. 19, page 1). I knew his brother, Albert Williams. I had also met Bob about three years ago. In 2000, I worked at Tower Records on Santa Monica Boulevard right by the Promenade and Albert (who had told me his name was David) used to sit in front of the store with a little cardboard sign requesting help in the form of money or food. He was always there, sitting quietly, never bothering anyone around him. A few weeks after I met him he modified his sign to include the words “or just a smile” to his requests.

After working at Tower for a while, and spending many a break outside right next to David, we started talking. I don’t know how it started or who spoke first, but I found him to be so kind. We introduced ourselves and chatted about our days. When I would go to La Salsa to get lunch, I would bring him a burrito, too. He stopped me one day and asked, “How much do those burritos cost you at La Salsa?” I said “Around $6.” He said, “You know, $6 can buy a lot of bread and bologna...” I realized how inconsiderate I was being. I spent on my lunch what could feed him and Bob for a few days. I stopped buying him burritos and started just funding his groceries as much as I could. He never asked me for anything — not once. I wanted to make him and his brother as comfortable as I could. I was 25 years old and made $7.25 an hour at Tower Records as a supervisor, but, unlike David, I had a free place to stay that my mother luckily was providing. That is all that kept me from the lifestyle he had forced upon himself. A lot of my fellow employees were in the same boat as David and Bob.

The article you wrote said that “It’s unclear how or why they became homeless.” I know how and why. David told me one day after we had been friends for some time. I finally asked. He told me that he and his brother had had a painting business. They had a truck full of their supplies — it was their whole business. And it wasn’t insured. One day, they got up to go to work and the truck was gone. Someone stole it — that which made up their entire business. Everything they had was in that truck, including that month’s rent. It was all gone. Unlike a lot of us, they didn’t have someone who would put them up until they got back on their feet. They did what a lot of people are forced to do and they went to live on the streets. Where else do you go when you have no one to fall back on? They didn’t have anyone. That isn’t true. They had each other.

David and Bob lived together in a camp on the side of the 10 Freeway. Every once in a while, David told me, Caltrans workers would force them out or tear up their camp, but they always went back. They always set up again. They panhandled around the Promenade for money to buy food and supplies. David saved enough every year so that they could spend Christmas in a motel. He would check in and shower and just lay there and watch television the whole time. He looked so happy when he told me that was where he’d be for Christmas. I couldn’t help but laugh and smile right back at him.

David had his backpack stolen once by some terrible evil man who was handing out leaflets or something along the street. The man denied it, of course, but he had David’s backpack and we both knew it. David got it back, but it was empty — without his pictures he had been carrying around for so long. Those couldn’t be replaced. Ever. He also now had no reading glasses — they were also thrown away by the man that stole his backpack. How can people just discard the things of a man who has nothing else? I hope that man that stole David’s pack gets a swift boot in the butt from karma. I still feel so helpless at not being able to do anything for him when that happened. How can I not?

About six months after I met David and Bob, I got a new job. I stopped my daily walks from my mom’s at Sixth Street and Santa Monica Boulevard down to the Promenade. I didn’t see David anymore. In fact, I haven’t seen him since. When I told him, he was so excited that I had gotten a better job, but still made me promise to come by and see him once in a while. I never saw him again. I saw him once out the window of the car I was riding in, but that was it. Our paths just never crossed any-more. I should have made them. I always wondered about them and hoped they were doing all right. I really hoped that they had gotten back on their feet and managed to get a place to live and be safe.

Hearing the news that Bob had died broke my heart. I am so worried about David/Albert. I am sitting here crying at my desk, having recently lost my best friend, but knowing that my sister is right there if I need her. David doesn’t have that any-more and that must be killing him. He is one of the kindest people I have ever encountered in my life and I just want him to know that. I think of him often and I want to help him through this as much as I can.

*Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on November 22, 2003.* [Read the original PDF.](https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/smdp%5Fbackissues/112203.pdf?ref=smdp.com)