In order to be famous, "one has to plunge oneself into blood ... have lots of money ... or, if you don't have money, you have to resort to murder. The end justifies the means."
That's a passage from Maldoror, written by the grandaddy of all of Surrealists, the Comte de Lautréamont. It was written 140 years ago, and it seems like things haven't changed all that much. It's a pretty good description of the activities of the Bush administration. It seems to me that the Surrealists, with all of of their zany artistic antics, always did have much more sense than the so-called Establishment. Dada and Surrealists were a reaction to the mania of war. Most thought they acted like lunatics and didn't give a damn about anybody. Nothing could be further from the truth. It's because the artists such as André Breton, Tristan Tzara, and Marcel Duchamp were the ones who really cared enough to be outraged. As you walk into City Lights book store, you'll see Surrealist literature prominently displayed near the front door. It's easy to understand why. Lawrence Ferlinghetti, ebullient at 88 years of age, had a reading at his shop the other night. He reminds us that the Surrealists were among the first to rail against the all-too-common human appetite for blood, money and murder -- that is, war. It's the absurd answering the insane.
By the way, I have a Marcel Duchamp joke. No such thing, you say?
The USA Today has to explain it all. "Marcel Duchamp (who painted 'Nude Descending A Staircase') ..." Oh, THAT Marcel Duchamp. But does anyone know about his lesser-known masterpiece, "Nude Going Back Upstairs Because We Have Guests"?
Perhaps not.
I read Maldoror when I was a kid. It's part horror/part poetry. But at the heart of its outrageousness, I sensed there was humor. If the Surrealists -- or the rest of us -- have no ability to laugh, then we really are insane. Ever notice how none of the presidential candidates has an ability to be the least bit funny? Except Stephen Colbert, and he makes more sense than any of them. I don't mention this because this ghastly war in Iraq and the general rapid deterioration of our country is amusing. I mention it because humor usually indicates a bit of intelligence and maybe a sense of soul.
Resorting to murder is the order of the day. Even the little murders that are committed in the name of politics here in San Francisco. There's a gleeful rubbing of hands together when someone falls from grace. I have sympathy for Ed Jew because there were times when I wasn't sure what my home address was either. San Francisco Schadenfreude. Yes, when one gets enjoyment from another's pain. I have long waited for the word Schadenfreude to appear in the Marina Times. In politics, it's an occupational hazard. Just ask Sen. Larry Craig, poster boy for hubris, airport restrooms -- and Schadenfreude. The hat trick of ignominy. He's going to need a sense of humor.
All this talk about unnatural acts reminds me of an encounter I once had with the Marquis de Sade. Let me explain.
During a less-temperate time in my life, I met a gal in a local saloon who was named Justine.
"Ah, Justine, a great novel by Lawrence Durrell, " I declaimed. "There's a bookstore nearby, I'll get you a copy."
"I never heard of it," slurred the colleen.
"I'm sure they have a copy at the bookshop right next door," said I, grandly, slightly drunkenly, and not really interested in the girl's literary tastes. Off I went, in search of Durell's Justine.
But there was no Justine in the store. I recalled that there was a Justine written by the Marquis de Sade -- and, naturally, it was an unspeakably unnatural, lurid tale of debauchery & violence. So I got a collection of de Sade, bought it, and trundled it back to the saloon, just a few doors away.
"Look, Justine," I announced proudly. "I've brought you the Marquis de Sade."
By now a few of the bar patrons were getting interested in the little melodrama.
But Justine of Ireland was not impressed. Beyond that, a nice Irish Catholic girl wants nothing to do with world-famous smut, especially when others are watching. Undaunted, I told her that it was actually an autographed copy.
"Autographed?" she said, "whatta ya mean?"
"Here."
And I signed the frontispiece of the book in broad strokes of my pen: "Dear Justine, all good wishes. Yours, most sincerely, the Marquis de Sade, Charenton, Dec. 1, 1814."
The Irish girl did not think this funny at all.
Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay. He'll be pleased to autograph a copy for anyone who asks. In fact, he'll sign a book written by any other author, too.
His e-mail is bruce@northsidesf.com
Friday, October 26, 2007
Bruce Bellingham Homored by San Francisco Board of Supervisors
The San Francisco Board of Supervisors, at the suggestion of Sup. Michela Alioto-Pier, honored Bruce Bellingham, our longtime reporter and columnist last month for his service to the community, "and enriching the neighborhood."
On Oct. 23, Sup. Alioto-Pier took time out from the regular Tuesday session of the board to present Bellingham with a proclamation at City Hall.
"Bruce's columns have graced the pages of the Marina Times for over nineteen years," the Supervisor explained, as she presented Bruce with his accolade. "He has an original take on local stories and events."
Supervisors Tom Ammiano and Aaron Peskin added their good wishes and words of appreciation.
In the audience to show support were Marina Times & Northside publisher Susan Reynolds, Father William Myers, of St. Raymond's Catholic Church in Menlo Park, artist Sharon Anderson, and the celebrated photographer, Jane Richey.
"May I go back to making fun of the board now?" Bellingham quipped as he left the Supervisor's Cambers, clutching his proclamation in an official blue folio.
He recently won a "Pubby," an award for his column-writing, by the San Francisco Publicity Club.
Bellingham wrote a widely-acclaimed daily column in the San Francisco Examiner. He was a frequent contributor to the Herb Caen column in the San Francisco Chronicle for over 17 years.
Bellingham was once described by the Chronicle's Gerald Nachman as "the Boswell of the Marina," a neighborhood Bellingham has written about for over 18 years, in the Marina Times. His work has also appeared in the Irish Times, the Nob Hill Gazette, the Marin Independent Journal, FRISKO and SOMA magazines. Nachman also called him, "the columnist's friend," but that sounds too much like a plumbing utensil. He is the author of "Bellingham by the Bay" (Council Oak Books) which includes anecdotes about the famous, the infamous of San Francisco and beyond. He says his career "is as checkered as a cab" -- working as a chef, musician, broadcaster and writer. He was an editor, writer and reporter for KCBS and KQED-FM all through the 1980s. Bellingham is also a trained operatic tenor -- house-trained anyway -- and graduated from Music and Arts Institute of San Francisco. Bellingham sang at the world-famous music competition, the Festival of the Rose of Tralee in County Kerry, Ireland. He's had two featured movie roles in films directed by Oscar-winning Steven Okazaki; also appears in "Father's Day" with Billy Crystal. He narrates the documentary, "The USA vs. Tokyo Rose," which was aired on PBS. Bellingham is the voice of Herb Caen columns past of KRON-TV's 1996 film about the famed Pulitzer Prize winning columnist. Bellingham's new book-in-progress is a spindrift memoir called "The Angina Dialogues." A resident of San Francisco for over three decades -- long before any man first set foot on Britney Spears -- Bellingham grew up in New Jersey where, he's happy to say, "ravioli is still considered a vegetable."
####
On Oct. 23, Sup. Alioto-Pier took time out from the regular Tuesday session of the board to present Bellingham with a proclamation at City Hall.
"Bruce's columns have graced the pages of the Marina Times for over nineteen years," the Supervisor explained, as she presented Bruce with his accolade. "He has an original take on local stories and events."
Supervisors Tom Ammiano and Aaron Peskin added their good wishes and words of appreciation.
In the audience to show support were Marina Times & Northside publisher Susan Reynolds, Father William Myers, of St. Raymond's Catholic Church in Menlo Park, artist Sharon Anderson, and the celebrated photographer, Jane Richey.
"May I go back to making fun of the board now?" Bellingham quipped as he left the Supervisor's Cambers, clutching his proclamation in an official blue folio.
He recently won a "Pubby," an award for his column-writing, by the San Francisco Publicity Club.
Bellingham wrote a widely-acclaimed daily column in the San Francisco Examiner. He was a frequent contributor to the Herb Caen column in the San Francisco Chronicle for over 17 years.
Bellingham was once described by the Chronicle's Gerald Nachman as "the Boswell of the Marina," a neighborhood Bellingham has written about for over 18 years, in the Marina Times. His work has also appeared in the Irish Times, the Nob Hill Gazette, the Marin Independent Journal, FRISKO and SOMA magazines. Nachman also called him, "the columnist's friend," but that sounds too much like a plumbing utensil. He is the author of "Bellingham by the Bay" (Council Oak Books) which includes anecdotes about the famous, the infamous of San Francisco and beyond. He says his career "is as checkered as a cab" -- working as a chef, musician, broadcaster and writer. He was an editor, writer and reporter for KCBS and KQED-FM all through the 1980s. Bellingham is also a trained operatic tenor -- house-trained anyway -- and graduated from Music and Arts Institute of San Francisco. Bellingham sang at the world-famous music competition, the Festival of the Rose of Tralee in County Kerry, Ireland. He's had two featured movie roles in films directed by Oscar-winning Steven Okazaki; also appears in "Father's Day" with Billy Crystal. He narrates the documentary, "The USA vs. Tokyo Rose," which was aired on PBS. Bellingham is the voice of Herb Caen columns past of KRON-TV's 1996 film about the famed Pulitzer Prize winning columnist. Bellingham's new book-in-progress is a spindrift memoir called "The Angina Dialogues." A resident of San Francisco for over three decades -- long before any man first set foot on Britney Spears -- Bellingham grew up in New Jersey where, he's happy to say, "ravioli is still considered a vegetable."
####
Bellingham by the Bay -- SF Northside, Nov. 2007
If you watch NBC on Monday night, you might see "Chuck," the comic series about an amiable computer geek who works in an electronics supermarket and drawn into a wild world of international espionage. The show is co-written by Chris Fedak, a frequent visitor to S.F. In fact, Chris managed to pick up on the twenty-something lingo & mannerisms by hanging out at the 540 Club on Clement St. for three months, picking up on how the young people who frequent the place, mostly USF & UCSF State students, speak and act. For example, Chuck's best friend, the hapless & often helpless Morgan, is based on a 540 regular, Richie Rich of the Richmond. That's what calls himself. The real Rich is not really hapless, he's a bright fellow ..."The character of Captain Awesome is based on Nate, the bartender at the 540," confesses Chris. "Nate's every-other word is 'Awesome!' I think you could tell him that your grandmother died, and he'd say, 'Awesome!'"
That's awesome.
Also awesome is the fact that the inimitable Dame Cleo Laine returns to San Francisco with her equally legendary husband, Sir John Dankworth, to open the new cabaret club at the Nikko Hotel, the Rzazz Room, on Jan, 2008. I first saw Cleo Laine, who just turned 80, at the Mason Auditorium in 1972. I hadn't heard of her then, and I have never forgotten the show. She's an incomparable singer, and an amazing, that is, an awesome, musician, as Dankworth is. This is a rare chance to see England's first lady of jazz. Awesome. Also coming to Rrazz later in the year are the wonderful Maureen McGovern and Lainie Kazan.
The birth of the Rrazz Room spells the end of The Plush Room, which is like an old friend. Located in the York Hotel on Sutter Street, the Plush has been a fave spot for cabaret singers from all over. I think the Plush is more famous in New York than it is here. That's sad. The club, with the rich red velvety drapes and curtains, and the comfy decor, is going out in style with some really talented players who appeared last month, this month, and right to to the end, fittingly with Wesla Whitfield and Mike Greensill with their New Year's show, Dec. 27-31. It will mark Wesla's 27th year at the Plush.
During the last week of October Terese Genneco brought her new "Drunk with Love: The Sequel" show with her Little Big Band. She tore up the place, she's one of the most exciting performers around. ... Linda Kosut makes Oscar Brown Jr. come alive with her tribute show 'Long As You're Livin'. She's reminding many how important this songwriter was and is. Tim Hockenberry, a real talent, gave a great show at the Plush, as did Sony Holland. ... Connie Champagne, who sounds more like Judy Garland than Judy Garland, will join the cast for Cabaret for Humanity at the Plush Room, Dec. 7 & 8. Also on the bill, the great Meg Mackay ... Irene Soderberg ... and Veronica Klaus, and many others. It's a benefit for Habitat for Humanity, San Francisco. ...
The tall, lithe, smooth, sweet Lorna K's having a her first CD release party at The Plush Room on Monday, Dec. 3, at 8 p.m. The album is called "In My Room", by Lorna K and the Dunes -- Kurt Ribak, bass; Greg Sankovich, piano & keyboards: Tom Griesser, Sax & Clarinet; and drummer Bryan Bowman. ... Tickets are on sale through the Plush Room's website, which is www.theempireplushroom.com. Tix will be $30, which includes admission & a copy of Lorna K's CD. There's a singer around town named Lisa B., right? That's Lisa Bernstein. ... Chantootsie Rebecca Griffin joined Suzanna Smith os stage at Savanna Jazz on Mission, backed by the trio, Beep! No, no horns in Beep!
Oh, the Humanity: Sasha Stolz says the planned Safe Needle Zone that's being set up by the City to save people from overdoses or dirty needles, that is, save people from themselves, reminds her of Boyd Stevens, one of the great San Francisco coroners of the past. If you recall, back in the 80s Stevens created a scandal when he offered classes to those who wanted to engage in auto-eroticism (hanging someone or yourself for pleasure) without actually killing themselves. He said it was a matter of public safety. Then-Mayor Dianne Feinstein was furious when she heard of it, and put the kibosh on it pronto. It's funny. I'll bet Sen. Feinstein sees plenty of people hanging themselves in Congress these days. ... Sharon Anderson has come up with a way to save time: get a BMW so she doesn't have to stop at red lights. ... That's a driver's joke. I haven't driven a car in over twenty years, so I'm not quite sure what it means. I don't look forward to riding Muni buses in my senior years, they're perilous enough for me right now. Perhaps I should file my injury claim against Muni in advance to avoid the rush. Cosmo Sostenuto has an idea for a get-rich quick scheme: greeting cards with apologies in advance in case you do something bad in the future. He'll be sorry. ...
Valley of the Heart's Delight, the feature film written and produced by Pacific Heights resident John Miles Murphy opened in Oakland last month, and will debut in San Francisco at the Four Star on Nov. and the Roxie on Dec. 7. It's based on the true, horrific story of the lynching of two men in San Jose in 1933 after the kidnapping and murder of Brooke Hart, the heir to a department store fortune. Of the film, Murphy says that he broke a cardinal rule: he put his own money into the movie. The topic of hanging keeps coming up in the column, and I'm not sure why. ...
Our old friend, Ian Whitcomb, the composer, historian and uke player par exellence, is back on the radio -- Internet Radio, that is. Ian's new programs starts Nov. 7 at 10pm and ends at midnight. "It will continue thus every week for ever after," says Ian is that clipped Brit manner. Go to LuxuriaMusic.com. "You'll never know what you're getting, except me!"
Harry Shearer was in town last month to promote his new book and CD. He said he loved his visit to the Booksmith bookstore on Haight Street. "I have never seen a bookstore anywhere in the world that had a special section for Altered States. So it must really be in San Francisco." ... Standup comic Norm Goldblatt played the Pleasanton Hotel the other day. Strolling down Main Street Norm couldn’t help notice all the ads for street fairs, arts and wine, etc. One was called “Bon Apatite! -Toasts and Tastes of Fall! Pleasanton? I live near Sunnyvale. Beautiful names. Sunnyvale? Sounds more like a nudist colony. My 5 year old daughter asked if for vacation we could all go to Sunnyvale. Sounded nice to her." ... Charlie Mandel just got back from Vegas. He had one of those stories that can't possibly stay in Vegas: "I was in a bar when a good-looking woman, about 60 years old, sat down next to me," Charlie says. "We had a few drinks, and she suddenly said, 'Would going to bed with a mother and daughter at the same time interest you?'" So Charlie said, "Sure," and he followed her to her house, which was nearby. The lady entered the hallway and she shouted up the stairs, "Hey, Mom, are you sleeping?"
Awesome. Maybe it should have stayed in Vegas.
Bruce Bellingham is a columnist for the S.F. Northside and for the Marina Times. He has no plans to go to Las Vegas anytime soon -- expect maybe only to visit the Liberace Museum. E-mail him a bruce@northsidesf.com
###
That's awesome.
Also awesome is the fact that the inimitable Dame Cleo Laine returns to San Francisco with her equally legendary husband, Sir John Dankworth, to open the new cabaret club at the Nikko Hotel, the Rzazz Room, on Jan, 2008. I first saw Cleo Laine, who just turned 80, at the Mason Auditorium in 1972. I hadn't heard of her then, and I have never forgotten the show. She's an incomparable singer, and an amazing, that is, an awesome, musician, as Dankworth is. This is a rare chance to see England's first lady of jazz. Awesome. Also coming to Rrazz later in the year are the wonderful Maureen McGovern and Lainie Kazan.
The birth of the Rrazz Room spells the end of The Plush Room, which is like an old friend. Located in the York Hotel on Sutter Street, the Plush has been a fave spot for cabaret singers from all over. I think the Plush is more famous in New York than it is here. That's sad. The club, with the rich red velvety drapes and curtains, and the comfy decor, is going out in style with some really talented players who appeared last month, this month, and right to to the end, fittingly with Wesla Whitfield and Mike Greensill with their New Year's show, Dec. 27-31. It will mark Wesla's 27th year at the Plush.
During the last week of October Terese Genneco brought her new "Drunk with Love: The Sequel" show with her Little Big Band. She tore up the place, she's one of the most exciting performers around. ... Linda Kosut makes Oscar Brown Jr. come alive with her tribute show 'Long As You're Livin'. She's reminding many how important this songwriter was and is. Tim Hockenberry, a real talent, gave a great show at the Plush, as did Sony Holland. ... Connie Champagne, who sounds more like Judy Garland than Judy Garland, will join the cast for Cabaret for Humanity at the Plush Room, Dec. 7 & 8. Also on the bill, the great Meg Mackay ... Irene Soderberg ... and Veronica Klaus, and many others. It's a benefit for Habitat for Humanity, San Francisco. ...
The tall, lithe, smooth, sweet Lorna K's having a her first CD release party at The Plush Room on Monday, Dec. 3, at 8 p.m. The album is called "In My Room", by Lorna K and the Dunes -- Kurt Ribak, bass; Greg Sankovich, piano & keyboards: Tom Griesser, Sax & Clarinet; and drummer Bryan Bowman. ... Tickets are on sale through the Plush Room's website, which is www.theempireplushroom.com. Tix will be $30, which includes admission & a copy of Lorna K's CD. There's a singer around town named Lisa B., right? That's Lisa Bernstein. ... Chantootsie Rebecca Griffin joined Suzanna Smith os stage at Savanna Jazz on Mission, backed by the trio, Beep! No, no horns in Beep!
Oh, the Humanity: Sasha Stolz says the planned Safe Needle Zone that's being set up by the City to save people from overdoses or dirty needles, that is, save people from themselves, reminds her of Boyd Stevens, one of the great San Francisco coroners of the past. If you recall, back in the 80s Stevens created a scandal when he offered classes to those who wanted to engage in auto-eroticism (hanging someone or yourself for pleasure) without actually killing themselves. He said it was a matter of public safety. Then-Mayor Dianne Feinstein was furious when she heard of it, and put the kibosh on it pronto. It's funny. I'll bet Sen. Feinstein sees plenty of people hanging themselves in Congress these days. ... Sharon Anderson has come up with a way to save time: get a BMW so she doesn't have to stop at red lights. ... That's a driver's joke. I haven't driven a car in over twenty years, so I'm not quite sure what it means. I don't look forward to riding Muni buses in my senior years, they're perilous enough for me right now. Perhaps I should file my injury claim against Muni in advance to avoid the rush. Cosmo Sostenuto has an idea for a get-rich quick scheme: greeting cards with apologies in advance in case you do something bad in the future. He'll be sorry. ...
Valley of the Heart's Delight, the feature film written and produced by Pacific Heights resident John Miles Murphy opened in Oakland last month, and will debut in San Francisco at the Four Star on Nov. and the Roxie on Dec. 7. It's based on the true, horrific story of the lynching of two men in San Jose in 1933 after the kidnapping and murder of Brooke Hart, the heir to a department store fortune. Of the film, Murphy says that he broke a cardinal rule: he put his own money into the movie. The topic of hanging keeps coming up in the column, and I'm not sure why. ...
Our old friend, Ian Whitcomb, the composer, historian and uke player par exellence, is back on the radio -- Internet Radio, that is. Ian's new programs starts Nov. 7 at 10pm and ends at midnight. "It will continue thus every week for ever after," says Ian is that clipped Brit manner. Go to LuxuriaMusic.com. "You'll never know what you're getting, except me!"
Harry Shearer was in town last month to promote his new book and CD. He said he loved his visit to the Booksmith bookstore on Haight Street. "I have never seen a bookstore anywhere in the world that had a special section for Altered States. So it must really be in San Francisco." ... Standup comic Norm Goldblatt played the Pleasanton Hotel the other day. Strolling down Main Street Norm couldn’t help notice all the ads for street fairs, arts and wine, etc. One was called “Bon Apatite! -Toasts and Tastes of Fall! Pleasanton? I live near Sunnyvale. Beautiful names. Sunnyvale? Sounds more like a nudist colony. My 5 year old daughter asked if for vacation we could all go to Sunnyvale. Sounded nice to her." ... Charlie Mandel just got back from Vegas. He had one of those stories that can't possibly stay in Vegas: "I was in a bar when a good-looking woman, about 60 years old, sat down next to me," Charlie says. "We had a few drinks, and she suddenly said, 'Would going to bed with a mother and daughter at the same time interest you?'" So Charlie said, "Sure," and he followed her to her house, which was nearby. The lady entered the hallway and she shouted up the stairs, "Hey, Mom, are you sleeping?"
Awesome. Maybe it should have stayed in Vegas.
Bruce Bellingham is a columnist for the S.F. Northside and for the Marina Times. He has no plans to go to Las Vegas anytime soon -- expect maybe only to visit the Liberace Museum. E-mail him a bruce@northsidesf.com
###
Bellingham by the Bay -- SF Northside, October 2007
There's something intrinsically Irish about holding a wake for a bar that's about to close its doors, a mournful, lugubrious sort of gathering -- and yet, when a person dies, the passing is marked by party, with raucous fiddle music, joke-telling, and stories about what a funny, crusty but benign man the departed was.
Late last month, it was the former sort of event. Nob Hill regulars of the John Barleycorn pub on Larkin at California, were subdued and pensive, and terribly nostalgic. The 40-year old saloon, a nexus of neighborhood activity, is closing at the end of October. Michael Wales, who pours drinks at the Barleycorn and at the Big 4, looked a little lost.
"It's a little like the death in the family," he said. "We got saloons all over town to raise a glass at 7 p.m. to salute the Barleycorn." I didn't hear any solemn ringing of bells from the churches, but the pub was a little noisy. Sup. Aaron Peskin, who helped in the effort to keep the bar open, stopped by for a moment. The new property owner, Luisa Hansen, is mum on her plans for the place, but the locals know the Barleycorn party is over, and an era has ended.
Phil Frank, the "Farley" cartoonist who died last month, would have loved to attend the wake -- but there were too many being held -- for him. This lovely man died last month, and he was way too young. The biggest "Farley" memorial was a gathering in Washington Square. "We were jammed all day," said the gorgeous Linda Fimrite over at the Washington Square Bar & Grill. "People were dressed as Farley characters. It was wonderful." .... Across the park at Moose's on Sept 26, Phil Frank was honored by receiving the First-Ever Herb Caen Lifetime Achievement Award. sponsored by the SF Publicity Club. Emcee Ben Fong-Torres quipped, "We have other awards today -- including one for Ed Jew dot.com." ... The City's salty-dog historian and first-rate Chronicle reporter Carl Nolte, accepted the award for Phil Frank's family. Christopher Caen, Ed Moose, Fred La Cosse, Ronn Owens, Stu Smith, Tara O'Leary, were on hand to hand out Pubby Awards to local media people. They were nice enough to give me one, too. I was speechless. I had to thank everyone by tapping my message with my foot in the men's restroom. ...
Former Supervisor Jack Molinari, the man who would be mayor back in the 1980s, popped into It's A Grind Coffeehouse at Polk & Washington, and allowed a few thoughts about the Ed Jew debacle. "The mayor acted way too late," Jack growled. "Now it has all got out of hand. Ed should have taken a leave-of-absence, avoiding all this drama with the lawyers and distractions for the government. Mark Quessey, a brash barista serving drinks, interjected, "We need some young people to run the government." Molinari acerbic, as usual, shot back." We have a young person running the City, and look how that turned out." ... There's a fuss over whether ads should be placed on the Golden Gate Bridge -- a hideous thought for most of us. But it's not a new idea. On April, 1, 1989, when I was radio reporter at KQED-FM, I was asked to come up with an April Fool gag. I called Quentin Kopp, the San Mateo County judge who was a State Senator and head of the Metropolitan Transportation Commission. I asked Kopp on the air what he thought about Japanese plans to buy the GG Bridge, and hang long, colorful commercial messages for Toyota from the towers. Kopp didn't miss a beat: "This is the work of the Golden Gate Bridge District who have handed the bridge over, garish ads and all, in return for free lunches from the Japanese in perptuity." It sounded far-fetched then. Today, I'm not so sure. ... Lunch was on Norm Howard's mind the other day when he and his old pal, Dorian Clair, the clockmaker, went to their regular Friday lunch at Herb's Fine Foods on 24th St. in Noe Valley, a real landmark. Norm was non-plussed. "Imagine our surprise at finding a hand-lettered sign on the door: 'As of September 18 we are closed. Thank You.' The interior was partially gutted. It had been there since 1943. So we went up to Barney's. But the food wasn't fine in the way Herb's was." ...
Sascha Stolz has been keeping an eye on the singles action in the produce section of Cala Foods ay Hyde & California. It seems to be going strong. Sascha is reminded of Allen Ginsberg's A Supermarket in California.
"Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you, Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons? ... I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys." Whitman may have made it to The Cinch, the lovely gay bar with the wooden Indian on Polk & Clay. "It's that time of year again," mused Sascha "The holidays are coming, but this year, I will not be spending Christmas at The Cinch with my pals. No way. Last year it was the Cinch that stole Christmas." ... So there.
Bruce Bellingham is author of a book also called "Bellingham by the Bay." He swears he's made progress on his second book, "The Angina Dialogues." It's about heart trouble, of all sorts E-mail him bruce@northsidesf.com
###
Late last month, it was the former sort of event. Nob Hill regulars of the John Barleycorn pub on Larkin at California, were subdued and pensive, and terribly nostalgic. The 40-year old saloon, a nexus of neighborhood activity, is closing at the end of October. Michael Wales, who pours drinks at the Barleycorn and at the Big 4, looked a little lost.
"It's a little like the death in the family," he said. "We got saloons all over town to raise a glass at 7 p.m. to salute the Barleycorn." I didn't hear any solemn ringing of bells from the churches, but the pub was a little noisy. Sup. Aaron Peskin, who helped in the effort to keep the bar open, stopped by for a moment. The new property owner, Luisa Hansen, is mum on her plans for the place, but the locals know the Barleycorn party is over, and an era has ended.
Phil Frank, the "Farley" cartoonist who died last month, would have loved to attend the wake -- but there were too many being held -- for him. This lovely man died last month, and he was way too young. The biggest "Farley" memorial was a gathering in Washington Square. "We were jammed all day," said the gorgeous Linda Fimrite over at the Washington Square Bar & Grill. "People were dressed as Farley characters. It was wonderful." .... Across the park at Moose's on Sept 26, Phil Frank was honored by receiving the First-Ever Herb Caen Lifetime Achievement Award. sponsored by the SF Publicity Club. Emcee Ben Fong-Torres quipped, "We have other awards today -- including one for Ed Jew dot.com." ... The City's salty-dog historian and first-rate Chronicle reporter Carl Nolte, accepted the award for Phil Frank's family. Christopher Caen, Ed Moose, Fred La Cosse, Ronn Owens, Stu Smith, Tara O'Leary, were on hand to hand out Pubby Awards to local media people. They were nice enough to give me one, too. I was speechless. I had to thank everyone by tapping my message with my foot in the men's restroom. ...
Former Supervisor Jack Molinari, the man who would be mayor back in the 1980s, popped into It's A Grind Coffeehouse at Polk & Washington, and allowed a few thoughts about the Ed Jew debacle. "The mayor acted way too late," Jack growled. "Now it has all got out of hand. Ed should have taken a leave-of-absence, avoiding all this drama with the lawyers and distractions for the government. Mark Quessey, a brash barista serving drinks, interjected, "We need some young people to run the government." Molinari acerbic, as usual, shot back." We have a young person running the City, and look how that turned out." ... There's a fuss over whether ads should be placed on the Golden Gate Bridge -- a hideous thought for most of us. But it's not a new idea. On April, 1, 1989, when I was radio reporter at KQED-FM, I was asked to come up with an April Fool gag. I called Quentin Kopp, the San Mateo County judge who was a State Senator and head of the Metropolitan Transportation Commission. I asked Kopp on the air what he thought about Japanese plans to buy the GG Bridge, and hang long, colorful commercial messages for Toyota from the towers. Kopp didn't miss a beat: "This is the work of the Golden Gate Bridge District who have handed the bridge over, garish ads and all, in return for free lunches from the Japanese in perptuity." It sounded far-fetched then. Today, I'm not so sure. ... Lunch was on Norm Howard's mind the other day when he and his old pal, Dorian Clair, the clockmaker, went to their regular Friday lunch at Herb's Fine Foods on 24th St. in Noe Valley, a real landmark. Norm was non-plussed. "Imagine our surprise at finding a hand-lettered sign on the door: 'As of September 18 we are closed. Thank You.' The interior was partially gutted. It had been there since 1943. So we went up to Barney's. But the food wasn't fine in the way Herb's was." ...
Sascha Stolz has been keeping an eye on the singles action in the produce section of Cala Foods ay Hyde & California. It seems to be going strong. Sascha is reminded of Allen Ginsberg's A Supermarket in California.
"Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you, Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons? ... I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys." Whitman may have made it to The Cinch, the lovely gay bar with the wooden Indian on Polk & Clay. "It's that time of year again," mused Sascha "The holidays are coming, but this year, I will not be spending Christmas at The Cinch with my pals. No way. Last year it was the Cinch that stole Christmas." ... So there.
Bruce Bellingham is author of a book also called "Bellingham by the Bay." He swears he's made progress on his second book, "The Angina Dialogues." It's about heart trouble, of all sorts E-mail him bruce@northsidesf.com
###
Along for the Ride in the Marina -- SF Marina Times, October 2007
If one wanted to have a barometer to check the changes in San Francisco, then the ever-evolving Chestnut Street would be the place to measure.
The shops, large and small, seem to come and go at an accelerated pace these days. That worries more than a few of us who see older businesses, older merchants forced out by the bewilderingly high commercial rents that keep climbing. To others, the merry-go-round is a sign of the Marina's vibrancy and youthful bravado. For longtime residents and the natives, the Marina keeps its charm through diligence, watchfulness, and respect for the neighborhood that's like no other neighborhood. To paraphrase Clifton Webb in Laura, "It may be beautiful, but it's home."
"San Francisco is a great writer's town," Herb Caen wrote. "It's tantalizing, just out of reach in its misty aloofness."
Caen was not a big fan of the Marina. I think it was too quiet for him. It really was quiet at one time. Honest. The Marina was a sleepy village when I first saw it in the 1970s. On the 30-Stockton bus, you were more likely to hear Italian than English. People knew their neighbors. There was a Woolworth's, there was an Eppler's -- there was even a bowling alley -- and there was an Original Joe's.
“The City is like a snake," observed Caen, "shedding its skin, changing constantly, moving about in unexpected directions."
The Marina was slow to change, though. It was a little bit out of the way, it kept its head down, it minded its own business -- and they were mostly mom & pop businesses.
But it all changed after the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake. The innocence that the Marina enjoyed was unraveled in 15 seconds. To this day, the file footage of the fire at Beach and Divisadero is a symbol of San Francisco's seismic vulnerability. But, instead for being a fearful plot of quicksand, the Marina got discovered, and became a real estate bonanza. The Gold Rush is still on.
It got very expensive to live here. Many of the characters who lived casually and comfortably found the Marina, and The City, too pricey. They had to go elsewhere. Where, I do not know. The City changed in ways lots of us do not like. Herb Caen's aloof, snake-like city could turn and bite us.
"I don't feel like this is my city anymore," lamented Cynthia Fine, at a party the other night. The party was really a wake for the John Barleycorn pub on Nob Hill so the mood was subdued, even a little mournful. The pub, a 40-year old fixture of the hill, will close at the end of the the month. Yes, they lost their lease. The new owner has her own plans for the property.
"It's just awful," Cynthia said. "Not only do I wonder if San Francisco is worth fighting for, I wonder if you think it's still worth writing about."
Worth writing about? Caen said it was a writer's city -- but San Francisco will always stay one step ahead of us. Caen's genius was his ability to accept change over the decades. He did not always like the changes, but he accepted them.
If San Francisco is always going to stay one step ahead of me, I want to see where she's going. If Chestnut Street will always bring a surprise of sorts, if the Marina, in all its misty aloofness, tantalizes the new residents, and gives cold comfort to the older ones, then yes -- of course -- she's still worth writing about.
That's one thing in this ever-changing city, that will never change.
Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay, write a column by the same name for the SF Northside. E-mail him at bruce@northsidesf.com
#####
The shops, large and small, seem to come and go at an accelerated pace these days. That worries more than a few of us who see older businesses, older merchants forced out by the bewilderingly high commercial rents that keep climbing. To others, the merry-go-round is a sign of the Marina's vibrancy and youthful bravado. For longtime residents and the natives, the Marina keeps its charm through diligence, watchfulness, and respect for the neighborhood that's like no other neighborhood. To paraphrase Clifton Webb in Laura, "It may be beautiful, but it's home."
"San Francisco is a great writer's town," Herb Caen wrote. "It's tantalizing, just out of reach in its misty aloofness."
Caen was not a big fan of the Marina. I think it was too quiet for him. It really was quiet at one time. Honest. The Marina was a sleepy village when I first saw it in the 1970s. On the 30-Stockton bus, you were more likely to hear Italian than English. People knew their neighbors. There was a Woolworth's, there was an Eppler's -- there was even a bowling alley -- and there was an Original Joe's.
“The City is like a snake," observed Caen, "shedding its skin, changing constantly, moving about in unexpected directions."
The Marina was slow to change, though. It was a little bit out of the way, it kept its head down, it minded its own business -- and they were mostly mom & pop businesses.
But it all changed after the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake. The innocence that the Marina enjoyed was unraveled in 15 seconds. To this day, the file footage of the fire at Beach and Divisadero is a symbol of San Francisco's seismic vulnerability. But, instead for being a fearful plot of quicksand, the Marina got discovered, and became a real estate bonanza. The Gold Rush is still on.
It got very expensive to live here. Many of the characters who lived casually and comfortably found the Marina, and The City, too pricey. They had to go elsewhere. Where, I do not know. The City changed in ways lots of us do not like. Herb Caen's aloof, snake-like city could turn and bite us.
"I don't feel like this is my city anymore," lamented Cynthia Fine, at a party the other night. The party was really a wake for the John Barleycorn pub on Nob Hill so the mood was subdued, even a little mournful. The pub, a 40-year old fixture of the hill, will close at the end of the the month. Yes, they lost their lease. The new owner has her own plans for the property.
"It's just awful," Cynthia said. "Not only do I wonder if San Francisco is worth fighting for, I wonder if you think it's still worth writing about."
Worth writing about? Caen said it was a writer's city -- but San Francisco will always stay one step ahead of us. Caen's genius was his ability to accept change over the decades. He did not always like the changes, but he accepted them.
If San Francisco is always going to stay one step ahead of me, I want to see where she's going. If Chestnut Street will always bring a surprise of sorts, if the Marina, in all its misty aloofness, tantalizes the new residents, and gives cold comfort to the older ones, then yes -- of course -- she's still worth writing about.
That's one thing in this ever-changing city, that will never change.
Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay, write a column by the same name for the SF Northside. E-mail him at bruce@northsidesf.com
#####
Final Words from Hollywood -- SF Northside, October 2007
A friend of mine called me from Westwood Memorial Park in L.A. the the day -- that's the small cemetery that holds the remains of some big stars. Some of the celebs include Marilyn Monroe ... Truman Capote ... Mel Tormé ... Jack Lemmon ... Walter Matthau ... and one of my faves, screenwriter Nunnally Johnson, who dedicated his collected letters to his wife, thanking her for "never complaining that he made a living by staring out the window."
"Oscar Levant says hello," Sharon Anderson reported to me on her cellphone.
"What does he have to say?"
"That he'd like to come over and borrow cup of phenobarbital."
That would be a curious epitaph, sarcastic and funny, suitable for Oscar Levant, the wisecracking pianist who used to go on the Jack Paar show when I was a kid. He'd amuse everyone with phrases I could not understand. He also seemed to make people uncomfortable. I spotted him right away as a role model. Oh, yes, he was also a spectacular prescription drug addict.
When I write this monthly piece call The Final Word, I cannot help but think of those real final words that people leave behind. Franklin D. Roosevelt's last words were, "I have a terrific headache." Yes, he had had a cerebral hemorrhage. But that's not an epitaph. Sharon said that Dean Martin, residing near Oscar Levant, has an epitaph, "Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime." Nice. Around the corner lies the crypt of songwriter Jay Livingston, who reminds us, "Que Sera Sera." Sinatra leaves, "The best is yet to come."
O.J. Simpson, a favorite son of San Francisco, has already composed his: "If I Did It."
Here in the Northern part of San Francisco, Ambrose Bierce, the sharp-clawed wit, lived at Ft. Mason. He wrote for a publication called The Argonaut, which was published Frank Pixley. You may know Pixley Alley in the Marina, near the Balboa Cafe. It was named for Frank. When Frank died, Bierce volunteered his own suggested epitaph for him: "Here Lies Frank Pixley: As Usual."
Cruel but funny.
How about Ed Jew: "This, I swear, is my permanent address."
Herb Caen's got to be "Gawd, I love this town." But I think it was, "I never missed a deadline."
Johnny Carson leaves: "We'll be right back after this." Or so he joked. He really did not want to come back at all. The problem is that many are written for us as we leave this mortal coil, that is, your epitaph & mine might be the result of a quick scribble by a press agent, a PR intern or another bitter blogger. Make sure they get your name spelled right. Bill Clinton's had better not be: "I did not have sex with THAT woman -- no, not that woman, THAT woman!"
They may come up with an epitaph for George W Bush: "Mission Accomplished."
I can imagine what my epitaph would be: "Say, is it too late to change it?"
Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay. His next book is called "The Angina Dialogues." E-mail him at bruce@northsidesf.com
######
"Oscar Levant says hello," Sharon Anderson reported to me on her cellphone.
"What does he have to say?"
"That he'd like to come over and borrow cup of phenobarbital."
That would be a curious epitaph, sarcastic and funny, suitable for Oscar Levant, the wisecracking pianist who used to go on the Jack Paar show when I was a kid. He'd amuse everyone with phrases I could not understand. He also seemed to make people uncomfortable. I spotted him right away as a role model. Oh, yes, he was also a spectacular prescription drug addict.
When I write this monthly piece call The Final Word, I cannot help but think of those real final words that people leave behind. Franklin D. Roosevelt's last words were, "I have a terrific headache." Yes, he had had a cerebral hemorrhage. But that's not an epitaph. Sharon said that Dean Martin, residing near Oscar Levant, has an epitaph, "Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime." Nice. Around the corner lies the crypt of songwriter Jay Livingston, who reminds us, "Que Sera Sera." Sinatra leaves, "The best is yet to come."
O.J. Simpson, a favorite son of San Francisco, has already composed his: "If I Did It."
Here in the Northern part of San Francisco, Ambrose Bierce, the sharp-clawed wit, lived at Ft. Mason. He wrote for a publication called The Argonaut, which was published Frank Pixley. You may know Pixley Alley in the Marina, near the Balboa Cafe. It was named for Frank. When Frank died, Bierce volunteered his own suggested epitaph for him: "Here Lies Frank Pixley: As Usual."
Cruel but funny.
How about Ed Jew: "This, I swear, is my permanent address."
Herb Caen's got to be "Gawd, I love this town." But I think it was, "I never missed a deadline."
Johnny Carson leaves: "We'll be right back after this." Or so he joked. He really did not want to come back at all. The problem is that many are written for us as we leave this mortal coil, that is, your epitaph & mine might be the result of a quick scribble by a press agent, a PR intern or another bitter blogger. Make sure they get your name spelled right. Bill Clinton's had better not be: "I did not have sex with THAT woman -- no, not that woman, THAT woman!"
They may come up with an epitaph for George W Bush: "Mission Accomplished."
I can imagine what my epitaph would be: "Say, is it too late to change it?"
Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay. His next book is called "The Angina Dialogues." E-mail him at bruce@northsidesf.com
######
Bellingham by the Bay --SF Northside, September 2007
The Hotel Nikko, at Mason & Ellis, is beginning construction on a new cabaret club in November. It will be run by Razz Productions, the two lads from New Jersey, Rory & Robert, who do the bookings for the Plush Room at the Hotel York. Meanwhile, the Plush is booked through Dec. 7, Pearl Harbor Day. After that, well, we will just have to see. ... Connie Champagne, an S.F. favorite, can imitate Judy better than Judy Garland, but Connie wowed everybody at Bimbo's last month by becoming the great Keely Smith, belting out "That Old Black Magic." Also on the bill, the Puppini Sisters, the Londoners who emulate The Andrew Sisters. With a crack five-piece band, they've revived the big-band era in a big way. ... Did you know that Bimbo's sells ear plugs at the bar? At least I think they're for your ears. Naomi Murdach was amazed to see an old-fashioned gents room attendant on the premises: "I've lost track of which era I'm in -- but that happens a lot these days." ... No wonder Naomi is confused. Connie Champagne is Keely Simth. Denise Perrier is Dinah Washington. Kim Nalley is Nina Simone. Both Denise & Kim have been performing their tributes to those great ladies at Jazz at Pearl's, which is owned by Kim & her husband, Steve Sheraton.
Kim and Steve are getting divorced, but it's amicable. "I want everyone to know that Steve and I will continue to run Jazz at Pearl's as partners," Kim says. "Nothing will be different." ...
The saga of the storied John Barleycorn tavern on Nob Hill will soon belong to the ages. Owner Larry Ayres, with his loyal customers, and thousands of signatures on an online petition, fought the good fight to convince the new owner of the building, Luisa Hansen, to preserve the pub. But the watering hole goes dry at the end of October. ... A new edition of Herb Gold's Bohemia is in the stores. Herb was sitting at a sidewalk table at the It's A Grind coffeehouse on Polk & Wash. with his delightful granddaughter Sarah Buscho, talking about his next career as movie actor in a new feature film, Adventures in Power, that's directed by Herb's son, Ari Gold. "I play a blind drummer in a rock band," Herb explained. "I hope I'm not typecast."The film stars Adrian Grenier ... Jane Lynch .... Michael McKean, who are two vets of the brilliant Christopher Guest satires, and Shoshannah Stern, a talented young actor from Walnut Creek. ... More movie-making marvels: SF writer James Dallesandro, who had great success with his novel 1906, may see his story (and his script) hit the big screen. The buzz is that Oscar-winning Brad Bird will direct, Pixar will produce, and famous spots such as the Fairmont & the Palace will get cameos. James is both cautious and optimistic: "I hope I get to the Oscars without having to be lifted on stage in a wheelchair. "...
There's more: James has been working with Jack Bellingham, who is my brother, on a script based on Jack's story, "The Italian Girl in Missoula." Jack & James discussed the project with movie producer Pietro "Pete" Maggi (The Merchant of Venice) aboard his yacht in the Cannes Harbor during the Film Festival this year. Dallesandro made the pitch in Italian. It's a love story set in an interment camp in Montana for Italian-Americans during World War II. Last month, Maggi flew to San Francisco after reading the rewrite. He loves the script. James says, "Pete plans to make the film, with one of Italy's hottest young stars, in the summer of 2008." So there. Congrats, boys. James, a master of suspense, adds, "Further details to follow." ... And so they shall, dear boy, so they shall. ...
Ron Lyons, the great Bay Area radio man, died in Oregon last month after a long, awful struggle with brain cancer. He worked in radio for nearly 50 years, interviewed nearly everyone, including Sinatra. I got to know Ron when I worked with him at KCBS. He had already worked at more stations than I could name, including KNEW & KNBR. For 16 years, Ron gregariously guided thousands of Bay Area commuters with his traffic reports. His delivery was anything but clinical. He was as witty & warm on the air as he was off. He never hesitated to help someone who might be in trouble with substance abuse. Ron used to say that, in the old days, Jack Daniels was his co-producer. Ron loved his family, loved radio, and certainly loved Mickey Newberry, the famed Nashville songwriter who died in 2002. Ron produced and narrated a wonderful homage to Newberry, an "audiobiography" called An American Treasure. Ron was a treasure, too. ...
Kristin Williams says if you want a cleaner San Francisco, then help clean it up. Walking the walk, Kristin joined 100 people who volunteered to clean up Polk Street -- from Market Street to the Wharf -- last month. The organizers, from the Middle Polk Neighborhood Association, included the undaunted Dawn Trennert ... Frank Cannata ... Wylie Adams ... and David Chiu. ... If you'd like to join in, all you do is show up at the It's A Grind coffeehouse on Polk every third Sat., at 9:45 a.m. ... Pat Yankee, the last of the red, hot San Francisco mamas, just marked her 80th birthday. She'll celebrate by singing at Moose's on Sept. 9, backed by a swell five-piece band, including the irrepressible Mike Greensill on piano. Ed Moose himself will emcee. "It's a real saloon show," says Pat, who used to sing for the Turk Murphy band at Earthquake McGoon's on the Embarcadero. You remember that, right? Sure, you do. ... Melanie Stace (with Andy Rumble on Piano, Daniel Fabricant on bass, and drummer ###### proved herself to be a very scorchy torch singer at the Plush Room last month. She lives in London but she may very well return next year to another extended gig at Teatro Zinzanni. ... Some North Beach residents are worried that the spot where Andrew Jaeger's House of Seafood was (former site of the infamous Condor) might quietly slip into something uncomfortable for them, i.e. another strip club. ... It isn't every day you can make a Stephen Sondheim joke. But Jason Graae at the Help is on the Way AIDS benefit at the Palace of Fine Arts, pretended to pull a thorn out of his backside, and moan, "Another vodka stinger!" ... The Ghost of the Holy Grail is back. Erlynn Smithers Hubbard, who runs the B&B above the Irish Pub & Restaurant on Polk & Pine, says the Internet has been flakey lately, the lights have been flickering on and off, & there have been sporadic power outages. Wait a minute. That's happening all over town. ... Sharon Anderson read the news that a 114-year old woman in Japan has died. Sharon asks, "Why are people surprised?" ...
Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay & is a columnist for the Marina Times. tell Bellingham what he should know: bruce@northsidesf.com
#####
Kim and Steve are getting divorced, but it's amicable. "I want everyone to know that Steve and I will continue to run Jazz at Pearl's as partners," Kim says. "Nothing will be different." ...
The saga of the storied John Barleycorn tavern on Nob Hill will soon belong to the ages. Owner Larry Ayres, with his loyal customers, and thousands of signatures on an online petition, fought the good fight to convince the new owner of the building, Luisa Hansen, to preserve the pub. But the watering hole goes dry at the end of October. ... A new edition of Herb Gold's Bohemia is in the stores. Herb was sitting at a sidewalk table at the It's A Grind coffeehouse on Polk & Wash. with his delightful granddaughter Sarah Buscho, talking about his next career as movie actor in a new feature film, Adventures in Power, that's directed by Herb's son, Ari Gold. "I play a blind drummer in a rock band," Herb explained. "I hope I'm not typecast."The film stars Adrian Grenier ... Jane Lynch .... Michael McKean, who are two vets of the brilliant Christopher Guest satires, and Shoshannah Stern, a talented young actor from Walnut Creek. ... More movie-making marvels: SF writer James Dallesandro, who had great success with his novel 1906, may see his story (and his script) hit the big screen. The buzz is that Oscar-winning Brad Bird will direct, Pixar will produce, and famous spots such as the Fairmont & the Palace will get cameos. James is both cautious and optimistic: "I hope I get to the Oscars without having to be lifted on stage in a wheelchair. "...
There's more: James has been working with Jack Bellingham, who is my brother, on a script based on Jack's story, "The Italian Girl in Missoula." Jack & James discussed the project with movie producer Pietro "Pete" Maggi (The Merchant of Venice) aboard his yacht in the Cannes Harbor during the Film Festival this year. Dallesandro made the pitch in Italian. It's a love story set in an interment camp in Montana for Italian-Americans during World War II. Last month, Maggi flew to San Francisco after reading the rewrite. He loves the script. James says, "Pete plans to make the film, with one of Italy's hottest young stars, in the summer of 2008." So there. Congrats, boys. James, a master of suspense, adds, "Further details to follow." ... And so they shall, dear boy, so they shall. ...
Ron Lyons, the great Bay Area radio man, died in Oregon last month after a long, awful struggle with brain cancer. He worked in radio for nearly 50 years, interviewed nearly everyone, including Sinatra. I got to know Ron when I worked with him at KCBS. He had already worked at more stations than I could name, including KNEW & KNBR. For 16 years, Ron gregariously guided thousands of Bay Area commuters with his traffic reports. His delivery was anything but clinical. He was as witty & warm on the air as he was off. He never hesitated to help someone who might be in trouble with substance abuse. Ron used to say that, in the old days, Jack Daniels was his co-producer. Ron loved his family, loved radio, and certainly loved Mickey Newberry, the famed Nashville songwriter who died in 2002. Ron produced and narrated a wonderful homage to Newberry, an "audiobiography" called An American Treasure. Ron was a treasure, too. ...
Kristin Williams says if you want a cleaner San Francisco, then help clean it up. Walking the walk, Kristin joined 100 people who volunteered to clean up Polk Street -- from Market Street to the Wharf -- last month. The organizers, from the Middle Polk Neighborhood Association, included the undaunted Dawn Trennert ... Frank Cannata ... Wylie Adams ... and David Chiu. ... If you'd like to join in, all you do is show up at the It's A Grind coffeehouse on Polk every third Sat., at 9:45 a.m. ... Pat Yankee, the last of the red, hot San Francisco mamas, just marked her 80th birthday. She'll celebrate by singing at Moose's on Sept. 9, backed by a swell five-piece band, including the irrepressible Mike Greensill on piano. Ed Moose himself will emcee. "It's a real saloon show," says Pat, who used to sing for the Turk Murphy band at Earthquake McGoon's on the Embarcadero. You remember that, right? Sure, you do. ... Melanie Stace (with Andy Rumble on Piano, Daniel Fabricant on bass, and drummer ###### proved herself to be a very scorchy torch singer at the Plush Room last month. She lives in London but she may very well return next year to another extended gig at Teatro Zinzanni. ... Some North Beach residents are worried that the spot where Andrew Jaeger's House of Seafood was (former site of the infamous Condor) might quietly slip into something uncomfortable for them, i.e. another strip club. ... It isn't every day you can make a Stephen Sondheim joke. But Jason Graae at the Help is on the Way AIDS benefit at the Palace of Fine Arts, pretended to pull a thorn out of his backside, and moan, "Another vodka stinger!" ... The Ghost of the Holy Grail is back. Erlynn Smithers Hubbard, who runs the B&B above the Irish Pub & Restaurant on Polk & Pine, says the Internet has been flakey lately, the lights have been flickering on and off, & there have been sporadic power outages. Wait a minute. That's happening all over town. ... Sharon Anderson read the news that a 114-year old woman in Japan has died. Sharon asks, "Why are people surprised?" ...
Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay & is a columnist for the Marina Times. tell Bellingham what he should know: bruce@northsidesf.com
#####
A Character Witness At Perry's -- SF Marina Times, September 2007
Now that Perry's on Union Street is 38 years old, it is becoming one of the venerable institutions in San Francisco, still a great place for grown-ups. It still has the blue & white checkered tablecloths and the breadsticks in glasses on the table. It still offers traditional American things on the menu like Cobb's Salad, cheeseburgers, and Apple Brown Betty. A few of the local denizens still visit daily. Mr. Michael English, Kevin Young still pour drinks, and produce genuine conversation, a lost craft throughout the spindrift saloons of San Francisco.
"Nothing last for 38 years," says Dr. Harvey Caplan, a Perry's loyalist, "not in San Francisco." As a doctor, Harvey knows how long things usually last.
"You should've been here 35 years ago," a regular customer told me. "The Pill had just been invented, and the bad diseases hadn't shown up yet." Actually I was here 35 years ago, but I wasn't old enough to drink. Yeah, right. Perry's was always in the middle of the action. It harkens back to the days when flight attendants were called "stews." They would congregate at Perry's between flights of fancy.
The usually taciturn Perry Butler, for whom his restaurant is named, reminisced a little the other day.
"Has Herb Caen really been gone for ten years?" he mused. "This town hasn't been the same, no one has such influence these days."
Nope. We're on our own.
"Why don't you write something about the great characters of San Francisco?" Barnaby Conrad III asked me at a sidewalk table. It's really Maurice Kanbar's table. Maurice, the famous inventor of Skyy Vodka, and many other things, often lunches at this ringside seat for a passing parade of pretty people.
"I didn't invent vodka, Bruce," said Maurice, "I just made it better."
What is a character anyway? It's a guy or gal who looks at the world from a different angle, unfettered by convention, unperturbed by public opinion, unafraid to speak one's mind.
Maurice is a true character, a new kind of character. He's witty, opinionated, brash, brilliant, a cyclone of energy, and he never rests. Maurice isn't the kind of chap to wax eloquent in taverns, and amuse the locals. He's too busy. He does things, not just talks about doing things. Maurice is one of a kind, sui generis -- and generous.
John Gollin was at the table. A veteran newspaperman, John also gets things done, but he doesn't require a byline. He's behind the success of many people in this town, and rarely gets thanked for it. LIke Barnaby, and Maurice, he loves this city, the city that often behaves like a small town just when you were hoping that no one noticed what you were doing. In the old days, it didn't seem to matter as much if you made a fool of yourself. I know I did fairly well as a candidate in the race for village idiot at Perry's on a few occasions.
By the way, who ever came up with that "It Takes A Village" stuff? They ought to be punished.
Perry's is the sort of place you'd find in New York, except there's room to breathe here. It's the Elaine's of the Marina. It's been an attraction for media people, writers, musicians, athletes, lawyers, and doctors. It's never been a dress-up place, it's a look-presentable place. All sorts of affairs were started here. I suppose a few ended, too. Some still endure. Although there is a downtown Perry's, the Union Street Perry's is a fixed point. it won't change until the cows come home to Cow Hollow.
"I finally got to meet (the famous columnist) Charles McCabe at Perry's," recalled Carole Vernier, who was Herb Caen's longtime assistant. "I'll never forget that night. There was a driving rain storm. McCabe shambled out of Perry's just as I was going in. He stepped on my foot, and broke it. Because it was raining, no one could tell I was in tears because it hurt so much." Those newspaper people will step on anybody's toes.
For all of the old once-familiar faces, there's a new generation who regard the aging cats with curiosity and all due indifference. That's fine. All the characters who have come and gone for the past 38 years, have left a little bit of character behind, and that's why Perry's, the saloon, has assumed a character on Union Street unto itself.
Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay, and isn't going to let any of us forget it. He also writes shamelessly for the SF Northside. His e-mail is bruce@ northsidesf.com
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"Nothing last for 38 years," says Dr. Harvey Caplan, a Perry's loyalist, "not in San Francisco." As a doctor, Harvey knows how long things usually last.
"You should've been here 35 years ago," a regular customer told me. "The Pill had just been invented, and the bad diseases hadn't shown up yet." Actually I was here 35 years ago, but I wasn't old enough to drink. Yeah, right. Perry's was always in the middle of the action. It harkens back to the days when flight attendants were called "stews." They would congregate at Perry's between flights of fancy.
The usually taciturn Perry Butler, for whom his restaurant is named, reminisced a little the other day.
"Has Herb Caen really been gone for ten years?" he mused. "This town hasn't been the same, no one has such influence these days."
Nope. We're on our own.
"Why don't you write something about the great characters of San Francisco?" Barnaby Conrad III asked me at a sidewalk table. It's really Maurice Kanbar's table. Maurice, the famous inventor of Skyy Vodka, and many other things, often lunches at this ringside seat for a passing parade of pretty people.
"I didn't invent vodka, Bruce," said Maurice, "I just made it better."
What is a character anyway? It's a guy or gal who looks at the world from a different angle, unfettered by convention, unperturbed by public opinion, unafraid to speak one's mind.
Maurice is a true character, a new kind of character. He's witty, opinionated, brash, brilliant, a cyclone of energy, and he never rests. Maurice isn't the kind of chap to wax eloquent in taverns, and amuse the locals. He's too busy. He does things, not just talks about doing things. Maurice is one of a kind, sui generis -- and generous.
John Gollin was at the table. A veteran newspaperman, John also gets things done, but he doesn't require a byline. He's behind the success of many people in this town, and rarely gets thanked for it. LIke Barnaby, and Maurice, he loves this city, the city that often behaves like a small town just when you were hoping that no one noticed what you were doing. In the old days, it didn't seem to matter as much if you made a fool of yourself. I know I did fairly well as a candidate in the race for village idiot at Perry's on a few occasions.
By the way, who ever came up with that "It Takes A Village" stuff? They ought to be punished.
Perry's is the sort of place you'd find in New York, except there's room to breathe here. It's the Elaine's of the Marina. It's been an attraction for media people, writers, musicians, athletes, lawyers, and doctors. It's never been a dress-up place, it's a look-presentable place. All sorts of affairs were started here. I suppose a few ended, too. Some still endure. Although there is a downtown Perry's, the Union Street Perry's is a fixed point. it won't change until the cows come home to Cow Hollow.
"I finally got to meet (the famous columnist) Charles McCabe at Perry's," recalled Carole Vernier, who was Herb Caen's longtime assistant. "I'll never forget that night. There was a driving rain storm. McCabe shambled out of Perry's just as I was going in. He stepped on my foot, and broke it. Because it was raining, no one could tell I was in tears because it hurt so much." Those newspaper people will step on anybody's toes.
For all of the old once-familiar faces, there's a new generation who regard the aging cats with curiosity and all due indifference. That's fine. All the characters who have come and gone for the past 38 years, have left a little bit of character behind, and that's why Perry's, the saloon, has assumed a character on Union Street unto itself.
Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay, and isn't going to let any of us forget it. He also writes shamelessly for the SF Northside. His e-mail is bruce@ northsidesf.com
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Some Heroes Are Quiet About It -- SF Northside, August 2007
It occurs to me that in order to call a column, "The Final Word," there has to be some sort of finality or termination to the endless spluttering of words, phrases and sentences.
But there really is no Final Word if I don't stop talking. So far, I haven't stopped talking.
The finals words, I suppose, are left to the obit writers. One could only hope to have one such a Diane English, who had a hand in composing the death notice last month in the San Francisco Chronicle. It was a tribute to her good friend, Wesley Carscaden, who was a real American hero.
Mr. Carscaden died of heart failure at his Telegraph Hill home on May 30. He was 86 years old.
"Do you have any idea who that man is?" Michael McCourt once said to me as he poured drinks at the Washington Square Bar & Grill. I turned and saw a powerfully-built elderly gentleman making his way out the front door.
"No, Michael," I said. I don't know who that is."
"It's Wesley Carscaden, a real American hero, not one of those poseurs." I left out a few of Michael's adjectives.
Little did I know that Wes Carscaden was aboard the icebreaker North Star when it reached Antarctica in 1939. He had joined an expedition led by the legendary Admiral Richard E. Byrd. Mr. Carscaden was 17 years old.
"He was the kind of man that Hollywood based their heroes on," said Michael English. "He was the real John Wayne, the real thing."
There were a lot of stories about Wes, and many were recalled at a gathering in his honor at Gino & Carlo on Bastille Day. But his pals from the old days, Glenn Dorenbush, the ombudsman of North Beach saloons, Charles McCabe, the masterful Chronicle columnist, and Jimmy Lyons, who founded the Monterey Jazz Festival, were not there. They've been gone for years.
Lyons and McCabe were Wes' neighbors for decades.
"It amazing to think," said Mr. Carscaden's old friend, Michael English, "that those talented guys lived in the same building on Telegraph Hill."
In the U.S. Navy, Wesley Carscaden was a decorated war hero in the South Pacific during World War II, he chased Japanese submarines in such planes as Hellcats, Corsairs, Scout bombers, and Avengers. He commanded a base in China after the war. He joined the Marines, flew jets, was discharged from the Corps in 1953 as a major.
Mr. Carscaden was always a talented artist, using his natural abilities to photograph, sketch and chronicle his Antarctic adventure when he was a kid. When he returned to civilian life, he worked as an artist and executive for a number of advertising agencies in S.F., including D'Arcy McManus. Later he worked for DDB Needham S.F.
Facts alone are a poor way to describe Wes Cascaden, observed Diane English. He was "a kindly curmudgeon with a barbed wit and colorful language that brightened the lives of all who knew him." That's how Diane described him in the Chronicle.
With an extensive knowledge of all sorts of subjects, and a flair for crossword puzzles, he might have been called -- all too prosaically -- "a Renaissance man."
I asked Michael what it was like to know a man like this.
"For all the many years I knew Wes," he said, "I really didn't know him. He simply did not talk about his accomplishments. Some people do great things, and some people talk about doing great things. Wes did them."
.Mr. Carscaden may have been private, but he was by no means reclusive. He loved saloons and San Francisco saloon characters. But he was not a man who promoted himself. That was poor form.
Wesley Carscaden's life was one that was rich, and well-lived. That stands as his Final Word.
Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay. he also writes for the Marina Times, and is editor-at-large for Rod McKuen's website, Flight Plan. Bruce can be found at bruce@northsidesf.com ... Diane asks that donations in Wesley's name be made to Fisher House (fisherhouse.org), which provides free or low-cost lodging to veterans receiving treatment at military medical centers.
####
But there really is no Final Word if I don't stop talking. So far, I haven't stopped talking.
The finals words, I suppose, are left to the obit writers. One could only hope to have one such a Diane English, who had a hand in composing the death notice last month in the San Francisco Chronicle. It was a tribute to her good friend, Wesley Carscaden, who was a real American hero.
Mr. Carscaden died of heart failure at his Telegraph Hill home on May 30. He was 86 years old.
"Do you have any idea who that man is?" Michael McCourt once said to me as he poured drinks at the Washington Square Bar & Grill. I turned and saw a powerfully-built elderly gentleman making his way out the front door.
"No, Michael," I said. I don't know who that is."
"It's Wesley Carscaden, a real American hero, not one of those poseurs." I left out a few of Michael's adjectives.
Little did I know that Wes Carscaden was aboard the icebreaker North Star when it reached Antarctica in 1939. He had joined an expedition led by the legendary Admiral Richard E. Byrd. Mr. Carscaden was 17 years old.
"He was the kind of man that Hollywood based their heroes on," said Michael English. "He was the real John Wayne, the real thing."
There were a lot of stories about Wes, and many were recalled at a gathering in his honor at Gino & Carlo on Bastille Day. But his pals from the old days, Glenn Dorenbush, the ombudsman of North Beach saloons, Charles McCabe, the masterful Chronicle columnist, and Jimmy Lyons, who founded the Monterey Jazz Festival, were not there. They've been gone for years.
Lyons and McCabe were Wes' neighbors for decades.
"It amazing to think," said Mr. Carscaden's old friend, Michael English, "that those talented guys lived in the same building on Telegraph Hill."
In the U.S. Navy, Wesley Carscaden was a decorated war hero in the South Pacific during World War II, he chased Japanese submarines in such planes as Hellcats, Corsairs, Scout bombers, and Avengers. He commanded a base in China after the war. He joined the Marines, flew jets, was discharged from the Corps in 1953 as a major.
Mr. Carscaden was always a talented artist, using his natural abilities to photograph, sketch and chronicle his Antarctic adventure when he was a kid. When he returned to civilian life, he worked as an artist and executive for a number of advertising agencies in S.F., including D'Arcy McManus. Later he worked for DDB Needham S.F.
Facts alone are a poor way to describe Wes Cascaden, observed Diane English. He was "a kindly curmudgeon with a barbed wit and colorful language that brightened the lives of all who knew him." That's how Diane described him in the Chronicle.
With an extensive knowledge of all sorts of subjects, and a flair for crossword puzzles, he might have been called -- all too prosaically -- "a Renaissance man."
I asked Michael what it was like to know a man like this.
"For all the many years I knew Wes," he said, "I really didn't know him. He simply did not talk about his accomplishments. Some people do great things, and some people talk about doing great things. Wes did them."
.Mr. Carscaden may have been private, but he was by no means reclusive. He loved saloons and San Francisco saloon characters. But he was not a man who promoted himself. That was poor form.
Wesley Carscaden's life was one that was rich, and well-lived. That stands as his Final Word.
Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay. he also writes for the Marina Times, and is editor-at-large for Rod McKuen's website, Flight Plan. Bruce can be found at bruce@northsidesf.com ... Diane asks that donations in Wesley's name be made to Fisher House (fisherhouse.org), which provides free or low-cost lodging to veterans receiving treatment at military medical centers.
####
Bellingham by the Bay, SF Northside, August 2007
The times keep on a'changin'. Or do they? Now that Rupert Murdoch bought the Wall Street Journal, media insiders say that in no time, photos of young, lithe, topless gals of major brokerage houses, draped in pinstripe jackets, will appear daily on Page Three of the WSJ. These nude pictorials have worked so well over the years for the Fleet Street tabloids ... The cult movie cognescenti were among the nearly 100 fans who showed up at Amoeba on Haight Street on Bastille Day to meet the immortal Tura Satana, star of Russ Myer's classic Faster, Pussycat, Kill, Kill! "She has fans of all ages," gushed Brent Jones, Amoeba's kiosk guy. "Even little girls were dressed up like Tura in that signature low-cut black cat suit." Ah, to be a parent today. Ms. Satana, now a lively 69 years old, signed copies of her new DVD, and later had a spot of lunch with a few other cinema luminaries -- John Waters ... Mink Stole ... and Siouxzan Perry. ...
She transcended cult status. Only in America could you have a Tammy Faye Bakker Messner, who died last month.
Five years ago, at one of Robert Pritikin's legendary Labor Day bashes, I sat with Tammy Faye on the sofa and chatted. She was bubbly, of course, and dressed in black slacks, a black turtleneck, Chanel black suspenders, and a gold Chanel belt. Too bad Tura Satana wasn't there. Tammy Faye was very sweet, very self-effacing and quite funny. With her silent husband, Roe Messner, by her side, she talked to everybody -- even Karla La Vey, of the Church of Satan, though I don't think Tammy Faye knew who she was. But she talked a lot about redemption. She told Larry King, the Mortician of the Culture, just days before she died: "After everyone had abandoned me & Jim when the scandal happened, I had absolutely nothing -- but it was the gays who came to my rescue and helped me so generously." In Pritikin's backyard she sang gospel numbers with the 40-voice Jubilee on Fire choir from San Jose. Pritikin, who also wrote a book titled Christ Was an Adman, handed out wristwatches as party favors. The face of Jesus was on the face of each watch. In honor of Tammy Faye, Christ was depicted with false eyelashes. As for the millions she and Jim Bakker squandered, it reminds me of the line from the film, Laura, when Clifton Webb, as the Broadway columnist Waldo Lydecker, smirks to Gene Tierney, "It may be lavish, but it's home." ...
Netta Fedor would know that movie. In fact, she knows them all. Netta is the wife of Michael Fedor, owner of It's A Grind coffeehouse on Polk & Washington. Netta saw over 325 movies last year. Not on DVD, not on cable, but at the movies. She's been a film fanatic since she was a kid. Oh, yes, she has a job, and an important one. She raises money for something called That Men May See Inc., which raises money for the ophthalmology department at UCSF. If Netta's eyes get tired from all the movie-watching, she knows whom to consult. ... Writer/broadcaster Diane de Castro is back from a couple of weeks at Oxford for a few fresher courses on art, history and literature, and reports that a new movie version of Brideshead Revisited was being shot on site.
When she wasn't shopping in all corners of San Francisco, Andrea Marcovicci, the Queen of Cabaret, was rewriting her boffo Rodgers & Hart show that played the Plush Room last month before she takes it to New York. Andrea has to shave a half-hour off the show's length. The performance lasts ninety minutes but it really seems much shorter. Pat Kelley, the doyenne of the Marina, agreed. La Kelley said the anecdotes & the stories about Lorenz Hart, the tragic "Poet of Broadway" -- all researched and written by Andrea -- sets it apart as a cabaret show, succinctly-paced. "Well, all the same, it will have to be an hour when I take it to New York," Andrea explained over lunch at the Balboa. "The Algonquin is very strict about these things. It's a dinner show, and the waiters need time to turn the tables over." Now we know who really runs the world. That reminds me of the faster-than-a-speeding bullet waiters during the halcyon days of the Fairmont's Venetian Room, the premier dinner house of S.F. But all nostalgia has been banned from this column.
The Fairmont Hotel is celebrating its centennial right now, and one of the goodies on hand is a Monoply board game with Fairmont properties instead of the traditional landmarks. "It took us forever to get permission from Parker Bros. to do this," said Michelle Heston, of the Fairmont's Sonoma Mission Inn. But the games cannot be sold. They're for promotional use only. So insists Parker Bros., which has a monopoly on Monopoly. ... If famed S.F. writer Barnaby Conrad III appears larger-than-life these days, that's because he's editor-at-large of Forbes Life magazine, the mag that's delivered to one million millionaires. His boss is his old friend, Christopher Buckley. ...
Sara Jobin is also a class act. She made headlines three years ago when she became the first woman to conduct the mainstage subscription series at the S.F Opera. She's just back from a conducting gig at Wolf Trap National Park for the Performing Arts in Virginia. On Oct 24 she'll conduct a performance of the world premiere opera by Philip Glass, Appomattox, at the S.F. Opera. What does this young, talented woman do for fun? She sings with the Glide Memorial Choir on Sundays. "Glide is different," says Sara. "I'm accessing my brain from another direction. It's a positive charge for my spirit. We get 'it' at Glide, and we also get 'it' at the Opera." ... Douglass Fitch, formerly a preacher at Glide, is speaking at Grace Cathedral Aug. 5. Pastor Fitch has made some big changes in his life. He recently retired from Glide, and is now preaching at a much smaller church, Hamilton Methodist on Waller Street -- and Pastor Fitch just got married. "She's a beautiful and very kind woman named Angel," says Allyson Stinchfield, a singer at Glide. Yes, Angel. I cannot make this stuff up. ...
Earl Darny is making his dreams come true by finally opening his own bakery, Lotta's, at 1720 Polk Street, at Clay. Earl's a first-rate patissier. A graduate of the California Culinary Academy, Star's restaurant, and Bay Wolf, he's also been a Russian Hill resident for over twenty years. Why call it Lotta's? "It's my drag name," explains Earl. Of course. Wy didn't I think of that? It's also an homage to Lotta Crabtree, the famous San Francisco actress of the 19th century. "Miss Lotta, the San Francisco Favorite," was a protege of the great Lola Montez. Miss Lotta, no cream puff, also knew how to invest her money. When she died in 1924, her property in The City was valued at four-million dollars. ... I admire both Miss Lotta and Earl Darney for their practical sense. I'm afraid I don't have it. I was just invited to the Wisdom Festival Conference at Ft. Mason, Sept, 15 & 16. I expect the invitation to be rescinded as soon as they get wise to me. ...
Bruce Bellingham's book is called "Bellingham by the Bay." He's concocting another memoir called "The Angina Dialogues," which should be completed in a heartbeat. Tell Bellingham what he ought to know at bruce@northsidesf.com
####
She transcended cult status. Only in America could you have a Tammy Faye Bakker Messner, who died last month.
Five years ago, at one of Robert Pritikin's legendary Labor Day bashes, I sat with Tammy Faye on the sofa and chatted. She was bubbly, of course, and dressed in black slacks, a black turtleneck, Chanel black suspenders, and a gold Chanel belt. Too bad Tura Satana wasn't there. Tammy Faye was very sweet, very self-effacing and quite funny. With her silent husband, Roe Messner, by her side, she talked to everybody -- even Karla La Vey, of the Church of Satan, though I don't think Tammy Faye knew who she was. But she talked a lot about redemption. She told Larry King, the Mortician of the Culture, just days before she died: "After everyone had abandoned me & Jim when the scandal happened, I had absolutely nothing -- but it was the gays who came to my rescue and helped me so generously." In Pritikin's backyard she sang gospel numbers with the 40-voice Jubilee on Fire choir from San Jose. Pritikin, who also wrote a book titled Christ Was an Adman, handed out wristwatches as party favors. The face of Jesus was on the face of each watch. In honor of Tammy Faye, Christ was depicted with false eyelashes. As for the millions she and Jim Bakker squandered, it reminds me of the line from the film, Laura, when Clifton Webb, as the Broadway columnist Waldo Lydecker, smirks to Gene Tierney, "It may be lavish, but it's home." ...
Netta Fedor would know that movie. In fact, she knows them all. Netta is the wife of Michael Fedor, owner of It's A Grind coffeehouse on Polk & Washington. Netta saw over 325 movies last year. Not on DVD, not on cable, but at the movies. She's been a film fanatic since she was a kid. Oh, yes, she has a job, and an important one. She raises money for something called That Men May See Inc., which raises money for the ophthalmology department at UCSF. If Netta's eyes get tired from all the movie-watching, she knows whom to consult. ... Writer/broadcaster Diane de Castro is back from a couple of weeks at Oxford for a few fresher courses on art, history and literature, and reports that a new movie version of Brideshead Revisited was being shot on site.
When she wasn't shopping in all corners of San Francisco, Andrea Marcovicci, the Queen of Cabaret, was rewriting her boffo Rodgers & Hart show that played the Plush Room last month before she takes it to New York. Andrea has to shave a half-hour off the show's length. The performance lasts ninety minutes but it really seems much shorter. Pat Kelley, the doyenne of the Marina, agreed. La Kelley said the anecdotes & the stories about Lorenz Hart, the tragic "Poet of Broadway" -- all researched and written by Andrea -- sets it apart as a cabaret show, succinctly-paced. "Well, all the same, it will have to be an hour when I take it to New York," Andrea explained over lunch at the Balboa. "The Algonquin is very strict about these things. It's a dinner show, and the waiters need time to turn the tables over." Now we know who really runs the world. That reminds me of the faster-than-a-speeding bullet waiters during the halcyon days of the Fairmont's Venetian Room, the premier dinner house of S.F. But all nostalgia has been banned from this column.
The Fairmont Hotel is celebrating its centennial right now, and one of the goodies on hand is a Monoply board game with Fairmont properties instead of the traditional landmarks. "It took us forever to get permission from Parker Bros. to do this," said Michelle Heston, of the Fairmont's Sonoma Mission Inn. But the games cannot be sold. They're for promotional use only. So insists Parker Bros., which has a monopoly on Monopoly. ... If famed S.F. writer Barnaby Conrad III appears larger-than-life these days, that's because he's editor-at-large of Forbes Life magazine, the mag that's delivered to one million millionaires. His boss is his old friend, Christopher Buckley. ...
Sara Jobin is also a class act. She made headlines three years ago when she became the first woman to conduct the mainstage subscription series at the S.F Opera. She's just back from a conducting gig at Wolf Trap National Park for the Performing Arts in Virginia. On Oct 24 she'll conduct a performance of the world premiere opera by Philip Glass, Appomattox, at the S.F. Opera. What does this young, talented woman do for fun? She sings with the Glide Memorial Choir on Sundays. "Glide is different," says Sara. "I'm accessing my brain from another direction. It's a positive charge for my spirit. We get 'it' at Glide, and we also get 'it' at the Opera." ... Douglass Fitch, formerly a preacher at Glide, is speaking at Grace Cathedral Aug. 5. Pastor Fitch has made some big changes in his life. He recently retired from Glide, and is now preaching at a much smaller church, Hamilton Methodist on Waller Street -- and Pastor Fitch just got married. "She's a beautiful and very kind woman named Angel," says Allyson Stinchfield, a singer at Glide. Yes, Angel. I cannot make this stuff up. ...
Earl Darny is making his dreams come true by finally opening his own bakery, Lotta's, at 1720 Polk Street, at Clay. Earl's a first-rate patissier. A graduate of the California Culinary Academy, Star's restaurant, and Bay Wolf, he's also been a Russian Hill resident for over twenty years. Why call it Lotta's? "It's my drag name," explains Earl. Of course. Wy didn't I think of that? It's also an homage to Lotta Crabtree, the famous San Francisco actress of the 19th century. "Miss Lotta, the San Francisco Favorite," was a protege of the great Lola Montez. Miss Lotta, no cream puff, also knew how to invest her money. When she died in 1924, her property in The City was valued at four-million dollars. ... I admire both Miss Lotta and Earl Darney for their practical sense. I'm afraid I don't have it. I was just invited to the Wisdom Festival Conference at Ft. Mason, Sept, 15 & 16. I expect the invitation to be rescinded as soon as they get wise to me. ...
Bruce Bellingham's book is called "Bellingham by the Bay." He's concocting another memoir called "The Angina Dialogues," which should be completed in a heartbeat. Tell Bellingham what he ought to know at bruce@northsidesf.com
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How To Read an Obituary -- San Francisco Marina Times, August, 2007
I don't think I'm a jealous person, not in a professional sense, anyway. But ... when I saw this lead paragraph in an obituary in the U.K. Telegraph the other day, a newspaper which invariably produces the best obituary writing in the world, I got a pang of envy.
"Count Gottfried von Bismarck, who was found dead on Monday aged 44, was a louche German aristocrat with a multi-faceted history as a pleasure-seeking heroin addict, hell-raising alcoholic, flamboyant waster and a reckless and extravagant host of homosexual orgies."
Wow. That's a bloody masterpiece. It sounds like something I should have included on my Selective Service forms. The author was not credited. Too bad. I wanted to thank the writer. The prose includes one of my favorite words -- "louche." It's a French term -- of course -- that means tawdry, lurid and lascivious in a very languorous, hedonistic manner.
Wonderful.
How to Read an Obituary is sometimes an acquired skill. They're usually not as straightforward as this one about the Count von Bismarck, who clearly sank himself with a lot of effort. Sometimes obits are more subtle. For example, when you see the word, "gregarious," I have to tell you that it really means
"D-R-U-N-K." When one encounters the phrases, "life-of-the-party," or "man-about-town" -- you can bet it really means, "D-R-U-N-K." Anything French, of course, "raconteur," "boulevardier" -- invariably indicates "D-R-U-N-K." And, of course there's gregarious AND louche.
My interest in obits is not at all morbid. It's an art form. It's simply not for the faint-hearted.
"It's such a slow news day," a news anchor said many years ago when I was a writer at the radio station. "Maybe somebody famous will die, and Bellingham could write a two-and-a-half minute obit."
That made me very proud.
That reminds me It was tough -- but I had to tell my friend, Jennifer, that Screaming Lord Sutch is still dead. Lord Sutch might have said, "You bloody twit, of course I'm still dead." What a shame Lord Sutch is dead. He would have been delighted by the controversial, though ill-fated cascade of same-sex marriages at San Francisco City Hall. He would revel in the apoplectic indignation from the right-wing. In his day it would have been required to be outrageously outraged -- to be dripping with mascara with River Styx lip gloss, and angry speeches in order to make one's love heard. But today, it's sweet bouquets, impartations of "all the luck in the world," and a teary Rosie O'Donnell.
For those of us who are old enough to remember, Lord Sutch was a British peer who picked some very unlordly cultural peers, such as Keith Moon, Brian Jones and the Bonzo Dog Band. Yes, all Brit rockers -- and crazy, even by 60's crazy standards, if "standard" is the right term. But this was before the punks who screamed and then drew blood --- real blood. ... Sutch died back in 1997. Surely he knew Gottried von Bismarck -- perhaps Gotfreidn was a protegé.
Lord Sutch fronted rock bands during the '60s Carnaby Street days in London. He maintained a political party called the Official Monster Raving Loony Party. One of Lord Sutch's innovative ideas was to breed fish in a lake filled with wine so they could be caught pre-pickled -- just like many of Lord Sutch's colleagues.
If there were such a body of water in Golden Gate Park, I would have auditioned for the lifeguard position.
Dashing about as a dedicated follower of outrageous fashion in furs, silks, velveteen -- and pounds of face powder --- the good Lord espoused a social tract that was distilled into "Vote for Insanity, You Know It Makes Sense." At times, it seems the fringe people are the only ones who seem rational.
It's tough to be a civilized madman in a world that is truly mad -- one that is devoid of humor, irony and compassion. I'm not sure if Sutch ever made it here to sometimes compassionate San Francisco, but I'm sure he not only would he have felt like home, he would have purchased one here. And opened this house up to every sweet-natured miscreant in all of North American and Alta California. A commune for the comatose -- and the compassionate. ....
Dislordly Lord Sutch dressed himself up in a fabulously splashy way ---perhaps like Wilkes Bashford -- Boy George .... or even Bob Pritikin -- or, going back a few years to the 19th century, Emperor Norton. Being on fire with flamboyance seems pretty harmless.
San Francisco has had a long list of lovable loonies like Emperor Norton, who traversed the streets in a grandly-appointed military uniform with two dogs, Bummer and Lazarus. You see, like Lord Sutch, the Emperor was a real character -- not just a crazy man, not a street person in the conventional sense, but a man filled with madness, a purposeful kind of insanity. The purpose, perhaps, was simply fun.
Even the former Prime Minister of England, Tony Blair, paid homage to the late Lord Sutch: "He made a unique contribution to British politics." That's one dry, condescending assessment typical of the sententious Tony Blair. The war in Iraq has also made a unique contribution to British politics. As did Gallipoli. The War Poets of World War I used to pose the question, "Who are the real dangerous people?"
Lord Sutch is gone now. I guess there was no one left to annoy anymore.
It seems to me the job today of attentive citizens is to continue to annoy, and to annoy with great flair and style. .
May the saints preserve the friendly, fringe folk. May they know what sustainable joy they leave us. The despair and the screaming is over for Lord Sutch. The task of remembering is now left to the not-so-exalted obit writer, who's doing the best a simple obit writer can.
Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay, which includes all kinds of stories about all kinds of dead people. His e-mail is bruce@northsidesf.com
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"Count Gottfried von Bismarck, who was found dead on Monday aged 44, was a louche German aristocrat with a multi-faceted history as a pleasure-seeking heroin addict, hell-raising alcoholic, flamboyant waster and a reckless and extravagant host of homosexual orgies."
Wow. That's a bloody masterpiece. It sounds like something I should have included on my Selective Service forms. The author was not credited. Too bad. I wanted to thank the writer. The prose includes one of my favorite words -- "louche." It's a French term -- of course -- that means tawdry, lurid and lascivious in a very languorous, hedonistic manner.
Wonderful.
How to Read an Obituary is sometimes an acquired skill. They're usually not as straightforward as this one about the Count von Bismarck, who clearly sank himself with a lot of effort. Sometimes obits are more subtle. For example, when you see the word, "gregarious," I have to tell you that it really means
"D-R-U-N-K." When one encounters the phrases, "life-of-the-party," or "man-about-town" -- you can bet it really means, "D-R-U-N-K." Anything French, of course, "raconteur," "boulevardier" -- invariably indicates "D-R-U-N-K." And, of course there's gregarious AND louche.
My interest in obits is not at all morbid. It's an art form. It's simply not for the faint-hearted.
"It's such a slow news day," a news anchor said many years ago when I was a writer at the radio station. "Maybe somebody famous will die, and Bellingham could write a two-and-a-half minute obit."
That made me very proud.
That reminds me It was tough -- but I had to tell my friend, Jennifer, that Screaming Lord Sutch is still dead. Lord Sutch might have said, "You bloody twit, of course I'm still dead." What a shame Lord Sutch is dead. He would have been delighted by the controversial, though ill-fated cascade of same-sex marriages at San Francisco City Hall. He would revel in the apoplectic indignation from the right-wing. In his day it would have been required to be outrageously outraged -- to be dripping with mascara with River Styx lip gloss, and angry speeches in order to make one's love heard. But today, it's sweet bouquets, impartations of "all the luck in the world," and a teary Rosie O'Donnell.
For those of us who are old enough to remember, Lord Sutch was a British peer who picked some very unlordly cultural peers, such as Keith Moon, Brian Jones and the Bonzo Dog Band. Yes, all Brit rockers -- and crazy, even by 60's crazy standards, if "standard" is the right term. But this was before the punks who screamed and then drew blood --- real blood. ... Sutch died back in 1997. Surely he knew Gottried von Bismarck -- perhaps Gotfreidn was a protegé.
Lord Sutch fronted rock bands during the '60s Carnaby Street days in London. He maintained a political party called the Official Monster Raving Loony Party. One of Lord Sutch's innovative ideas was to breed fish in a lake filled with wine so they could be caught pre-pickled -- just like many of Lord Sutch's colleagues.
If there were such a body of water in Golden Gate Park, I would have auditioned for the lifeguard position.
Dashing about as a dedicated follower of outrageous fashion in furs, silks, velveteen -- and pounds of face powder --- the good Lord espoused a social tract that was distilled into "Vote for Insanity, You Know It Makes Sense." At times, it seems the fringe people are the only ones who seem rational.
It's tough to be a civilized madman in a world that is truly mad -- one that is devoid of humor, irony and compassion. I'm not sure if Sutch ever made it here to sometimes compassionate San Francisco, but I'm sure he not only would he have felt like home, he would have purchased one here. And opened this house up to every sweet-natured miscreant in all of North American and Alta California. A commune for the comatose -- and the compassionate. ....
Dislordly Lord Sutch dressed himself up in a fabulously splashy way ---perhaps like Wilkes Bashford -- Boy George .... or even Bob Pritikin -- or, going back a few years to the 19th century, Emperor Norton. Being on fire with flamboyance seems pretty harmless.
San Francisco has had a long list of lovable loonies like Emperor Norton, who traversed the streets in a grandly-appointed military uniform with two dogs, Bummer and Lazarus. You see, like Lord Sutch, the Emperor was a real character -- not just a crazy man, not a street person in the conventional sense, but a man filled with madness, a purposeful kind of insanity. The purpose, perhaps, was simply fun.
Even the former Prime Minister of England, Tony Blair, paid homage to the late Lord Sutch: "He made a unique contribution to British politics." That's one dry, condescending assessment typical of the sententious Tony Blair. The war in Iraq has also made a unique contribution to British politics. As did Gallipoli. The War Poets of World War I used to pose the question, "Who are the real dangerous people?"
Lord Sutch is gone now. I guess there was no one left to annoy anymore.
It seems to me the job today of attentive citizens is to continue to annoy, and to annoy with great flair and style. .
May the saints preserve the friendly, fringe folk. May they know what sustainable joy they leave us. The despair and the screaming is over for Lord Sutch. The task of remembering is now left to the not-so-exalted obit writer, who's doing the best a simple obit writer can.
Bruce Bellingham is the author of Bellingham by the Bay, which includes all kinds of stories about all kinds of dead people. His e-mail is bruce@northsidesf.com
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I Should Have Such Problems -- San Francisco Northside, Nov. 2007
I Should Have Such Problems
by Bruce Bellingham
Tennessee Williams used to call it the "terrah of the blank page in the typewriter." Yes, terrah. That's "terror" south of the Mason-Dixon line.
It's an odd thing to imagine Tennessee Williams suffering from writer's block. He was too busy just suffering. Williams was astoundingly prolific, though most of his plays quickly drifted into obscurity. But he left us masterpieces like "A Streetcar Named Desire" ... "The Glass Menagerie"... and my favorite, "Night of the Iguana." He changed American theater. This is not a column about Tennessee Williams, or about the nighttime of the soul, and the essence of human tenderness, all in Tennessee's territory. It's about the "terrah of the blank page."
Terror is the mother of invention.
I would likely not sit here, and write this thing if people were not waiting for it, the editors, I mean. I'd rather take a walk through Huntington Park or sit in the Big 4, chatting up the tourists. There's nothing like a dark bar on a sunny day. But if I did that, the terror would be waiting for me anyway.
We all have our private fears. As a man, I could be frightened at the thought of being sexually assaulted, or going to prison, or getting booted out into the street, and then having to sleep in San Francisco's genteel Huntington Park. The Nob Hill Association would take a dim view of that. The truth is that what I really fear right now is losing my sunglasses. Sometimes a wave a panic comes over me when I can't find my sunglasses in my jacket, and can't remember where I might have left them. That's why I don't have expensive sunglasses, it's too painful to misplace them. I could say that I don't think I deserve expensive sunglasses but that would be getting off the point. I have a secret to impart here. I hope it causes no harm. Peter James, who owns Fog City Leathers on Union Street in Cow Hollow, always makes sure that I have a pair of sunglasses, and he kindly furnishes me with very cool Elvis-style glasses when I have broken or lost mine, and I'm left bereft and blinded by the garish sun.
In the whole panoply of problems that people have in the world, losing one's sunglasses does not sound so tragic.It is dilemma that is known in some circles as a "luxury problem." In many ways, San Francisco is getting more luxurious -- to a relatively small number of people, that is, the ones who are getting richer every day. So luxury problems are bound to follow. What's a luxury problem? Maybe the Lexus dealer cannot provide the color of car that we desire. Maybe we can't get reservations at Gary Danko. Maybe the interior designer has botched the delicate decor of the guest bedroom. Maybe we're having a row with the dog groomer.
This morning I saw a man, whom I see regularly, sleeping on the sidewalk on Sacramento and Polk. I wonder if there was a time in his life when he had a luxury problem. Yes, there was a time in my life when I thought, "Oh, only if I had a luxury problem." But a problem is a problem, and if a luxury problem drives one to consider getting drunk or jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge, then it's still a real problem. A little problem can soon become a big problem. Who's to know? It always amazes me how often I'm willing to assume I know something about someone, that I know what people are thinking. I'm usually wrong about that. I'm almost always surprised to learn that people have private terrahs, I mean, terrors. Each of us has to tend to them. I have mine, too. That's why I'm sitting here with my sunglasses on, trying to avoid the glare off this terrifyingly bright , white blank page.
Bruce Bellingham is a columnist for the Marina Times, and is the author of Bellingham by the Bay. His next book is "The Angina Dialogues," and he's a heartbeat away from getting it done. Unless there is an unforeseen luxury problem.
by Bruce Bellingham
Tennessee Williams used to call it the "terrah of the blank page in the typewriter." Yes, terrah. That's "terror" south of the Mason-Dixon line.
It's an odd thing to imagine Tennessee Williams suffering from writer's block. He was too busy just suffering. Williams was astoundingly prolific, though most of his plays quickly drifted into obscurity. But he left us masterpieces like "A Streetcar Named Desire" ... "The Glass Menagerie"... and my favorite, "Night of the Iguana." He changed American theater. This is not a column about Tennessee Williams, or about the nighttime of the soul, and the essence of human tenderness, all in Tennessee's territory. It's about the "terrah of the blank page."
Terror is the mother of invention.
I would likely not sit here, and write this thing if people were not waiting for it, the editors, I mean. I'd rather take a walk through Huntington Park or sit in the Big 4, chatting up the tourists. There's nothing like a dark bar on a sunny day. But if I did that, the terror would be waiting for me anyway.
We all have our private fears. As a man, I could be frightened at the thought of being sexually assaulted, or going to prison, or getting booted out into the street, and then having to sleep in San Francisco's genteel Huntington Park. The Nob Hill Association would take a dim view of that. The truth is that what I really fear right now is losing my sunglasses. Sometimes a wave a panic comes over me when I can't find my sunglasses in my jacket, and can't remember where I might have left them. That's why I don't have expensive sunglasses, it's too painful to misplace them. I could say that I don't think I deserve expensive sunglasses but that would be getting off the point. I have a secret to impart here. I hope it causes no harm. Peter James, who owns Fog City Leathers on Union Street in Cow Hollow, always makes sure that I have a pair of sunglasses, and he kindly furnishes me with very cool Elvis-style glasses when I have broken or lost mine, and I'm left bereft and blinded by the garish sun.
In the whole panoply of problems that people have in the world, losing one's sunglasses does not sound so tragic.It is dilemma that is known in some circles as a "luxury problem." In many ways, San Francisco is getting more luxurious -- to a relatively small number of people, that is, the ones who are getting richer every day. So luxury problems are bound to follow. What's a luxury problem? Maybe the Lexus dealer cannot provide the color of car that we desire. Maybe we can't get reservations at Gary Danko. Maybe the interior designer has botched the delicate decor of the guest bedroom. Maybe we're having a row with the dog groomer.
This morning I saw a man, whom I see regularly, sleeping on the sidewalk on Sacramento and Polk. I wonder if there was a time in his life when he had a luxury problem. Yes, there was a time in my life when I thought, "Oh, only if I had a luxury problem." But a problem is a problem, and if a luxury problem drives one to consider getting drunk or jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge, then it's still a real problem. A little problem can soon become a big problem. Who's to know? It always amazes me how often I'm willing to assume I know something about someone, that I know what people are thinking. I'm usually wrong about that. I'm almost always surprised to learn that people have private terrahs, I mean, terrors. Each of us has to tend to them. I have mine, too. That's why I'm sitting here with my sunglasses on, trying to avoid the glare off this terrifyingly bright , white blank page.
Bruce Bellingham is a columnist for the Marina Times, and is the author of Bellingham by the Bay. His next book is "The Angina Dialogues," and he's a heartbeat away from getting it done. Unless there is an unforeseen luxury problem.
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