Carl Ernst Jr. is a man of great height and girth. At first, he seems to be a gentle giant, intelligent and slightly self-mocking. But behind the twinkle in his eyes lie wells of bitterness. In March, Ernst talked for an hour inside a cabin cruiser tethered to the rotting pier he leases from the city of San Francisco. The boat rocked as Ernst shifted his weight from side to side, trying to explain why a fellow with what amounts to a lifetime lease at low rent on a valuable waterfront property can't make the damn place spin off any real money. Ernst complained that what stood in his way was city officials waiting to be bought off before they would help him. To dramatize the point, he pirouetted and held out his hand, palm up, in the universal gesture for baksheesh, some grease, a touch of... More >>>
Ernst rents out office space on the second floor of Pier
38; the first-floor rooms are unoccupied.