Eye on the East Bay: Searching for 'Beast Mode' in Point Richmond
Contra Costa Times
Posted:   01/26/2014 12:00:00 AM PST | Updated:   3 days ago

in search of 'beast mode': Soon after the Seattle Seahawks secured their NFC Championship game victory over the San Francisco 49ers, The Eye's phone buzzed with text messages. "Did you know Seattle's Marshawn Lynch lives in Point Richmond?" a prominent local politician wrote. The Eye had heard for months the rumor that Lynch, nicknamed "Beast Mode" for his ferocious running style, lived in the upscale Brickyard Cove neighborhood of Point Richmond.
With Super Bowl week upon us, The Eye went on the hunt for Beast Mode. What followed was a series of visits to local Point Richmond hangouts and casual inquiries into Lynch's whereabouts. At first, the hunt came up empty. No posters or signs celebrating Lynch's accomplishments. At lunch at Little Louie's Cafe & Deli, no one who was asked knew they had a famous, football-toting neighbor.
Starbucks was another strikeout. Xtreme Pizza came up empty, too. But then, over a pint of beer at the Up & Under Pub and Grill, The Eye struck gold. The bartender said Lynch was a frequent topic of conversation among the bar's denizens. There were even rumors, unsubstantiated, that he had been seen in the neighborhood.
In the end, it was clear that Lynch, known for his media-shy persona, is every bit as elusive at home as he is on the football field.
Richmond's finest: The Eye has a distinct weakness for parties and free food. Hence The Eye's presence at a community reception hosted by For Richmond, one of the city's newest nonprofits. The Jan. 16 gathering at 3109 MacDonald Ave. turned into more than just a very well-catered soiree -- thanks to all the Chevron Corp. dollars that fund For Richmond. It was a brief, writ-large demonstration of all that makes Richmond such a colorful town.
Inside, fresh-faced teens in clean, white button-ups passed out hors d'oeuvres. The Eye snatched a handful of chicken wings from the first kid's tray.
Over the next hour or so, mingling was the activity du jour. Councilman Nat Bates, the city's elder statesman, held court while leaning on a table draped in soft linen, regaling a gaggle of smiling admirers with anecdotes about his recent visit to the Obama White House (which included a kiss from first lady Michelle Obama, he stressed).
Jeffrey Wright, Richmond's loquacious proponent of the banking and mortgage industries, livened up the scene with his staccato delivery and personal panache. At least one member of the Richmond Progressive Alliance, a rival political faction, was seen sliding around the room. Perhaps a reconnaissance mission? Who knew? The Eye matriculated through the crowd, exchanging handshakes and small talk.
"Attention," someone boomed over a mic. The noise tamped down to a low roar.
Kyra Worthy, For Richmond's executive director, detailed the nonprofit's accomplishments since it was founded in 2012, which include helping kids go to college and posting cameras along 23rd Street.
Dr. Desmond Carson, wearing his white lab coat from his day job at Doctors Medical Center, urged the crowd to support the hospital, which is losing millions and faces possible closure.
As the party wound down, Councilman and political jester Corky Boozé showed up and ramped up the volume, chewing fat with everybody and slinging verbal darts toward every corner of the room, between mouthfuls of pasta drowned in Alfredo sauce.
Councilman Jim Rogers, the reserved, light-footed anti-Boozé of Richmond's political scene, slid in the back door for a few hellos but was quickly outed by Boozé's thunder rasp.
"Don't let Rogers in, he's liable to stuff all the free food in his pants and sneak out of here," Boozé yelled, laughing. Rogers returned a half-smile before angling his way to the farthest corner of the room.