Mohammed Nuru answered the door of his two-story house in San Francisco’s Bayview neighborhood, where the once-unflappable public works director had been cloistered upstairs with his attorneys.

The city’s cleanup man, who for decades was so indispensable that leaders supported him amid scandals and missteps, looked chastened. Federal agents arrested him Monday on suspicion of wire fraud in a case that may ensnare other top officials.

On Thursday, as supervisors railed against him on the steps of City Hall, Nuru — on leave but still collecting his $273,400 salary — sat at home with the shades drawn. He wore a cap and glasses, and spoke in a quiet tone. Facing charges of corruption, taking bribes and lying to the FBI that could put him in prison for 20 years, Nuru offered little comment. His lawyers have said he will answer the charges in court.

“I’m just trying to get through this,” he said, responding to a question about whether he’ll resign. “I’m going to tell the truth.”

More Information Correction: An earlier version of this story misquoted attorney Waukeen McCoy when he discussed the depositions he has taken.

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For years, Nuru was one of the most vital and powerful people in the city, a dutiful caretaker who answered calls in the middle of the night, made homeless encampments disappear and power-washed the streets before every ribbon cutting.

He was responsive, elected officials said in interviews. So responsive that mayors, supervisors and colleagues overlooked — or helped to stifle — activities that might have gotten others disciplined or fired.

City Hall officials helped him survive allegations of corruption in 2004 and discrimination in 2009. Some raised money for his legal fees. Some helped settle the discrimination lawsuit against him. In a city known for its fractious and bellicose politics, Nuru had a knack for befriending people on both the moderate and progressive sides.

His allies were numerous because he never hesitated to mollify constituents who complained about problems, like the highly visible homeless crisis.

Now Nuru is accused of schemes far harder to pave over, allegedly arranging fraudulent city contracts for developers — including San Francisco restaurateur Nick Bovis, who was also arrested — in exchange for money and gifts, like a $2,000 bottle of wine.

When it all came crashing down last week, some city officials rushed to denounce the man in charge of fixing their infrastructure. Others kept mum.

“He never said ‘no’ to anything,” said former supervisor and coordinator of homelessness services Bevan Dufty, who used to clean streets with Nuru after epic Halloween parties in the Castro district. The two picked up trash until 3 a.m., took a brief nap and continued cleaning at 6 a.m. to make the neighborhood presentable for commuters.

Nuru, 57, was born in England but raised in Nigeria, on a farm that grew corn, fruit and rice. He immigrated to the U.S. in 1983 and studied landscape architecture at Kansas State University before settling in San Francisco. In later years, Nuru managed to parlay his fascination with agriculture into a robust political career. From 1995 to 2000, he ran the San Francisco League of Urban Gardeners, expanding SLUG from a grassroots gardening group to a job-training organization for low-income San Franciscans.

In 2000, then-Mayor Willie Brown hired Nuru as deputy public works director. An eager protege intent on pleasing his boss, Nuru took what some saw as extreme measures to sanitize the city’s grimy downtown, even ripping benches from United Nations Plaza in 2001 — a controversial move designed to chase out transients and drug dealers.

Three years later, Nuru came under scrutiny when the city attorney investigated a string of whistle-blower claims. They came from a staff member at the Human Rights Commission, nine street sweepers and other unnamed people. Chief among those claims: that Nuru forced employees of SLUG, which had a city contract, to spend their workdays campaigning for Gavin Newsom in the 2003 mayoral race.

Separately, the city controller probed allegations that Nuru had allowed the nonprofit to bill the city for unusual expenses — a double-wide trailer, consulting fees, overalls and baseball caps —while pushing to extend its $1 million-a-year grant to sweep streets.

In 2004, before the ethics investigations concluded, five members of the Board of Supervisors sprang to Nuru’s defense, ready to help him if the findings led to criminal charges. The elected officials held a buffet-style dinner at the Four Seas restaurant in Chinatown to raise money for a top criminal defense lawyer, should Nuru need one.

The fundraiser stunned political observers, in part because the mostly progressive supervisors usually sparred with Newsom, a moderate. Nuru represented a political establishment that the progressives resented. But given the opportunity to take down one of Newsom’s inside circle, they instead helped him.

“Fifteen years ago, I believed the guy should get a second chance,” said Supervisor Aaron Peskin, who helped organize the dinner.

Later in 2004, the city attorney and controller each confirmed that SLUG had inappropriately used city funds to influence an election, and presented evidence that Nuru had coerced workers to distribute campaign literature. As a result, the controller barred SLUG from future city contracts.

Ed Lee, director of public works and Nuru’s supervisor at the time, imposed no discipline on Nuru, and the episode faded into history.

Five years later, human resources manager Toni Battle sued Nuru for discrimination, saying he routinely made harassing comments toward black female employees and fired her when she exposed his abuse.

City officials — with taxpayer assistance — helped Nuru put that problem behind him, as well, before boosting his fortunes further.

The city settled the suit in 2011, using $105,000 of public money. That same year, interim Mayor Ed Lee promoted Nuru to head the Public Works Department.

Battle’s attorney, Waukeen McCoy, described his alarm and fascination at Nuru’s ascendance in city politics.

“I’ve taken thousands of depositions ... and his name would always come up in some way — even if the case wasn’t about him,” McCoy told The Chronicle. “I always had a feeling that something big would come out of his employment” with the city.

Nuru had detractors, but speaking out could come at a price.

In one highly public example, said former Supervisor John Avalos, 2011 mayoral candidate Dennis Herrera challenged Nuru’s record and found himself accused of racism.

“Dennis Herrera opened his mouth during the 2011 mayor’s race, talking trash about Mohammed Nuru and about corruption,” Avalos said, remembering the heated contest for San Francisco’s top job, when he and Herrera both ran against Lee and lost.

“And what did the city family do?” the former supervisor continued. “They said, ‘How dare you go after an African immigrant who is doing good work in this city?’ He (Herrera) basically got slapped down for it.”

But it wasn’t just fear that insulated Nuru. People also liked him. And more than that, they needed him. He was on the front lines of a high-profile war against feces, needles and sidewalk tents. He knew where all the encampments were in each district. And he helped build the infrastructure for San Francisco’s Navigation Centers, a key part of Lee’s and Mayor London Breed’s strategies to combat homelessness.

The demands on supervisors to solve these issues got passed on to Nuru, who fit right into San Francisco’s impatient, “do this, and I don’t care how it gets done” culture of governance.

“In a city struggling under the weight of homelessness and the debris that accumulates (on the streets), Public Works is uniquely responsible,” said Supervisor Rafael Mandelman, whose district includes Clinton Park Alley, where neighbors put boulders on the sidewalk last year to block homeless people from camping. When activists heaved the boulders onto the street, Nuru and his crews put them back, a move that Mandelman supported.

Mandelman acknowledged that Nuru and other department heads often feel obliged to placate supervisors, who vote on each department’s budget and can interfere with its structure if they want to.

“We control their budget,” he said. “If we’re unhappy, we can make that felt.”

Nuru may have taken the expectation to extremes.

As city politicians frothed over Nuru on Thursday, the public works director stood in the foyer of his lime green home on the other side of town. For a moment, the bright smile that endeared him to so many people flashed across his face. Then he retreated and closed the door.

Rachel Swan is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. Email: rswan@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @rachelswan