Muni’s Operator of the Year Battles Cancer, Traverses the City Like a Superhero

What do San Francisco Mayor London Breed, SFMTA Director of Transportation Jeffrey Tumlin and former Boston Red Sox relief pitcher Jonathan Papelbon have in common?

They all have a commemorative baseball card signed by the same Muni employee: Mike Delia.

Delia made the limited-edition cards himself. But the collector’s items — which feature Delia wearing a fully retro-fitted Muni uniform, including an 8-point cap from the 1950s, while posing inside some of San Francisco’s most historic trains — are just one of the operator’s high-motor quirks.

After moving cross country in 2014 to pursue a career with Muni, Delia has steered a variety of the city’s most important routes, including the F Line. Unfortunately, he was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia in October 2021, forcing him to take medical leave for over a year. It’s the second time Delia has battled cancer, which he previously overcame in 2019.

Since then, Delia has been in and out of remission, undergoing a chemotherapy regimen — it consists of a series of shots for weeklong periods and a daily set of prescriptions that must be closely monitored by his doctors. After a bone marrow transplant that saved his life last spring, he has a renewed sense of gratitude. Throughout it all, Delia miraculously hasn’t shied away from what he enjoys most: the movement of this city and its people.

“The short of it is this: I love what I do,” says Delia, who speaks with an unmistakably Bostonian accent. “I always had a passion for public service. Maybe this is just my gift. At several points I considered giving up, but my wife, family, friends and colleagues encouraged me to fight. I look for those warning signs in others going through similar cancers and try to help them through opportunities that allow me to tell my story. I am thankful to be alive and try to inspire others.”

Originally from Massachusetts — where his 69-year-old father still serves as a “semi-retired” transit employee — Delia, or Mr. Boston, as riders and colleagues know him as, has become a staple in San Francisco’s transportation community. In 2022, he earned SFMTA’s Operator of the Year Award for his eight years of service, despite being out of commission from his day-to-day duties.

This week, he rejoined Muni, leaving the operational side to work as a member of the Chief of Staff’s Office, which will include collecting and sharing stories about Muni internally with employees. I shadowed Delia on a cloudy Thursday as he took me for a spin around The City, beginning in the Castro District.

A ride to remember

After a round of routine blood transfusions at UCSF Hospital, Delia meets me for his usual afternoon brew at Castro Coffee Company. We then hop across the street to Rossi’s Deli for lunch. One employee, a Central American immigrant, immediately comes from behind the counter to give him a hug, and after preparing his sandwich order, insists on Delia’s return.

“He has a beautiful spirit and is always friendly,” Rina Flores, a Salvadoran worker at the deli, tells me in Spanish. “He’s always in a good mood when he stops by. He survived cancer and he’s inspiring to us.”

Delia isn’t the only SFMTA employee to frequent these haunts. With a major station around the corner, it’s a regular stop-off for the city’s transit employees during their breaks. But it’s clear that Delia’s connection is deep — and genuine.

We then make our trek underground to say hello to a few of his former colleagues — who each react with the same level of adoration as the deli workers, calling Delia their “ambassador” — before Delia takes me back up for his favorite train ride: the historic F Line down Market Street.

By chance, we’re picked up by none other than “the Harvey Milk Streetcar,” which Delia tells me was reinstated into service in 2017. It honors Castro’s very own Harvey Milk, who advocated for public transit during his time as the first openly gay politician in California.

The green car is painted in the color and design scheme from the days when Milk himself rode Muni from Castro to City Hall. When Muni introduced their monthly “Fast Pass” in 1978, Milk helped to promote it, along with Curtis Green, the first Black transit manager in the nation. (Green began his career as a Muni bus operator after serving in World War II and became one of the first “Muni Man of the Month” recipients in the 1950s).

It turns out you can learn a lot about a city by simply tracing its transit history. According to Delia, San Francisco is one of the few cities remaining in the country that continues to use a historic trolley system, providing a literal preservation of memories that are often dismissed in the internet age.

But the city’s interchanging host of archaic street cars — which have been accumulated over decades from other cities, after their railways were dismantled or downsized — are still in service to remind us of our region’s eccentric past. The trolleys are as well-traveled as the many immigrants who ride them, with vehicles from various time periods spanning origins from Mexico City, Philadelphia and Milan.

The modern streetcar in San Francisco dates back to 1962, when a $792 million bond for BART’s construction ultimately led to the “beautification” of roads like Market Street and the increase of above-ground trolleys, particularly in the Financial District.

They’ve since become a symbol of San Francisco’s forward-motion spirit. Inaugurated by then-Mayor Dianne Feinstein in 1983, Muni Heritage Day (formerly “Historic Trolley Festival”) is an example of how the city has embraced the charm of its street cars. But it hasn’t always been smooth riding. At one point, Muni didn’t want to expand their trolley service. It wasn’t until the mid-90s that the F Line — which Delia says serves mostly workers and business people — was built. Nowadays, the F Line has become an enjoyable way for visitors from around the globe to see a side of San Francisco, making it one of SF’s most iconic transit routes.

“I came here initially as an outsider, a visitor, a tourist,” Delia says. “Muni gave me a good cross section of this city — the Wharf, Bayview, Marina, Castro. I’ve been all over. I worked here all these years. I feel connected. I especially cherish the F Line, its workers, the visitors, tourists. You don’t even have to pay any special fee to ride it like you do with the [Powell St.] cable cars.”

For the love of Muni

Despite the wilder things Delia has seen or encountered as a Muni operator — including a belligerent passenger who violently swiped an entire stack of transfer tickets from him before jetting away — Mr. Boston mostly has a positive impression of San Francisco’s riders.

There was the time he picked up a bride on Valentine’s Day and took her and her bridesmaids to City Hall, becoming an unofficial member of their wedding. Another time, he picked up a mom and her kids, one of whom was part of New Jersey’s Make-A-Wish Foundation and requested to ride a street car in San Francisco — so Delia invited the child to ring the bell and open doors for oncoming passengers. Delia has also collaborated with artists like the French photographer JR on projects about the city and its people. Through it all, working with Muni has been “eye-opening” for Delia as a transplant.

A typical day for him as an operator might include a handful of trips around the city, often hitting the 10-hour mark, with a two-hour break in between. Though transit workers aren’t often held in the same noble light as educators or firefighters, folks who rely on drivers will tell you they’re a glue for any metro region, maintaining the essential needs for daily transportation and road safety. It’s a role Delia describes as being “representative” of and “respectful” towards one’s city.

On this particular excursion, we rumble towards the Wharf, hopping off at the San Francisco Railway Museum, where Mission Street tapers off into Embarcadero. Though the trolley continues down the pier with its mix of riders, we take a detour into the museum.

Alison Cant, a founder and director of the museum, describes its unique relationship with Muni: “We are detached from Muni so we have no obligations to them, but we see ourselves as advocates and guardians of the F Line and we feel strongly about it,” she says, noting that museum staff serve on an advisory board that consults with Muni on how to accurate preserve the system’s history.

The museum, which was founded in 1995, highlights moments like Maya Angelou becoming San Francisco’s first Black woman Muni conductor in 1944, and displays artifacts like advertisements for the 45th Annual Cable Car Bell Ringing Contest. Studying these displays, it’s evident how the many colorful and sometimes forgotten influences of San Francisco all converge through Muni’s history.

It’s no wonder that Muni has served as inspiration for so many creative Bay Area residents, like Optimist Williams (a graffiti artist whose 2021 exhibit “Ticket to Ride” honored famous locals by printing their names and birthdates on oversized Muni transfer tickets); Kurt Schwartzman (whose illustration project “Yellow Line Art” features portraits of Muni’s sights and workers); and the folks at Muni Diaries (a live event series and podcast that chronicles tales from Muni riders and employees alike).

There’s also the rap song “I’m on the Bus!” by local emcee Satellite High, and a rap album, Night Train, with SF lyricist Richie Cunning, which pay homage to Frisco’s many modes of public transit. And who can forget that epic battle scene on Muni from Marvel’s Shang-Chi, as poetic homage?

It’s all a part of what Delia loves — and a part of what keeps him in his role despite his battle with cancer.

“When you’re faced with a long-term illness and you work for the city, you have options to consider a re-assignment,” he says. “If you meet certain parameters, you can maintain your employment. I’m a direct result of that, and I feel fortunate. I can still be a part of Muni and they can accommodate my illness.”

Before our multi-hour trip ends, Delia and I take the faster, more modernized Muni subway back to Castro. Mr. Boston shows me his array of patches on a jacket that his colleagues got for him as a gift. I finally ask him how he first felt when he found out about his cancer, and what drove him to return to the public demands of Muni.

“I was so distraught when I first got sick,” he admits. “Depression, anxiety. Was I going to survive? But then I started thinking, if you can meet someone with a similar problem and help them through that, that’s rewarding. Through the course of this, I’ve met so many people and shared my story. I won’t have that same face-to-face with riders anymore, but I’ll have a connection with the public. And I think that’s what’s most important. I’m on the road to recovery.”

The San Francisco Railway Museum is planning a celebration for the 150th anniversary of Andrew Halladie’s first cable car. And this fall, Muni’s annual Heritage Weekend will see a special vintage fleet of buses and streetcars operating near the Ferry Building. Both events are free. Visit www.streetcar.org for updates and information.