Making the Right Change

San Francisco's Marina District is about to undergo another transformation. All those nail salons are being converted to nail-biting salons. It is a sign of these edgy times. But the apprehension might be lessened by the legion of available workers who are willing to chew on the nails of the privileged. The more comfortable citizenry may now have their lips free to complain about
who the enemies of our country really are.

It's not the Taliban anymore. It's the Dixie Chicks. And Marin's own Sean Penn. I'm sure they'll be distressed to know their security clearance is in jeopardy. No USO shows for them this time.

Come to think of it, the only good thing about the Viet Nam War was Joey Heatherton jiggling and giggling at Bob Hope's USO shows on TV. A Viet Nam vet said to me the other day, "It's always the poor who get the shaft in these wars. That'll never change." But who really wants
to hear from anyone who has actually been through a war? And, besides, we have no Joey Heatherton to console us today.

"Do you really think the members of the The Petroleum Club get together and discuss the liberation of the Iraqi people?" asks Rick Kerr. "I was just wondering." I don't know. I wouldn't know anyone in The Petroleum Club. Nor the Petroleum Jelly Club, I'm happy to say.

Let's be grateful for these little things. I am erring on the side of optimism. Just to be different. I don't believe we are so thirsty for oil, that we would sacrifice all these people for it. But Italy had better look out if we suddenly encounter a shortage of olive oil. The leader of North Korea is learly a very bad man. In the rapidly rising field of nasty despots. But he is also very lucky. The administration has yet to find anything profitable in kim chee. Of cabbages and kings.

If there was royalty in the Marina, it was Vic Ramus. He was the wiry and wise former owner of the Horseshoe Saloon on Chestnut. Vic was a Marine captain who fought at Iwo Jima -- in a war so long ago. But another war in another time, in another world. A good war, some say. The meaning, is, I guess, that it was a justified war where the issues were clear and the stakes were as high as the come -- survival. The clear and present danger that isn't so clear today. And the nobility of it all is hard to grasp as it's proffered on CNN between commercials.

Vic died Feb. 26 at the Veteran's Hospital in Palo Alto. He was 81. He was even fearless in his battle against cancer. "He wouldn't give up," said his wife, Loree. "I told him it was all right to just let go." That must have been difficult for such a tenacious man.

Tom Sinkovitz, a longtime pal and golf partner, remembers Vic in the Horseshoe: "If the bar was full of men, you could swear like a sailor if you wanted to. But if a lady walked through the door, you'd better mind your manners." A short man, Vic was notorious for leaping over the bar to vanquish any lout who was out of order.

Vic was all about order -- and all about honor.

I wonder what he'd have to say about this mess we are in today. He was a darling guy but tough as nails. There was wisdom in his sweet, sinewy spirit. By the time I knew him -- I lived upstairs from the saloon -- his command was the bar. His troops were the local denizens. Like all good bar habitues, I brought him my troubles. He gave me advice. And told me very funny stories.

"The tavern business is not about mixing drinks," he told Sinkovitz. "It's about making sure you know who is in the place, whose money is whose and who gets the right change." Think how wonderful it would be to have him running the government.

I hadn't realized how much I missed him. But it seems when someone with integrity and decency leaves us these days, the loss is conspicuous. It was a better neighborhood for Vic Ramus. It would be even better if he were still here to convince me that all this fighting might have a good ending.

Bruce Bellingham is the author of "Bellingham by the Bay." His e-mail is bellsf@mac.com