One of the great joys of visiting the Big 4 on Sundays was to hear Don Asher's tender treatment of the piano keyboard. He could switch styles from jazz to blues to the Great American Songbook with sublime sensitivity. He had taste, treating each tune with a singular respect. Not only was Don a terrific musician, he was an astute, and eloquent gentleman who also wrote several books. Herb Gold, the most famous novelist on Russian Hill, called to tell me that Don was in a hospice. Herb loved Don. Who didn't? Don loved music, he loved ladies, he loved literature, and he loved tennis. He thought Roger Federer was the cat's meow. Don Asher had so much vitality, and a love for life, that it amazes me that he would not live forever. It's a shame he didn't. He died on Aug. 24. He was 84 years old. There will be a memorial for him on Oct. 2 at the Century Club, 1355 Franklin Street. ...
Herb Gold went back to Haiti last month. Herb's an expert on Haiti, been there more than a dozen times. He wrote a book called "The Best Nightmare on Earth: A LIfe in Haiti." This already bereft country is in shambles since the Jan. 24 earthquake that killed 220,000 people. Hard to imagine. The place has always been tormented by poverty but Herb says it holds a gripping sort of charm. I'm not sure what Herb was doing there -- obviously he'll write about it -- but I suspect he also might try to break up any fist fights between Wyclef Jean and Sean Penn. Just before he left, Herb said sardonically, "One of my neighbors heard that I was going to Haiti. They said cheerfully. 'Have a great vacation!'"
Some day at the beach. ...
There's a sad irony about the closing of the Washington Square Bar & Grill, and the death of Ed Moose, who founded the place all those years ago with his partner, Sam Dietsch. Ed was 81. He loved being the master of ceremonies at his restaurants, The Square & later at Moose's, across Washington Square. I've never seen anyone work a room like Ed Moose. Former Governor Pat Brown was pretty good, too. Like Don Asher, Ed loved what he did, and would sink his teeth into everything. One of the great parties Ed threw was for the surviving chaps who made the Nixon's Enemies List. NBC News' Sander Vanocur and Mart Nolan of the Boston Globe were among the guests. Yes, they were perceived enemies of the great paranoid president. What an inspired idea for a party. Ed loved the media. After all, in his young days he was a reporter for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. He was the best of friends of Herb Caen. I'm not sure if Herb had any real friends, but he and Ed were certainly closely-held co-conspirators, conjuring up North Beach intrigues. Ed was an exacting employer but Barbara Carberry, who worked for him at Moose's restaurant, says her time there gave her some of the best days she ever had.
"It opened the whole world to me," she says. "Because of Ed, I met some of the most interesting people. I'm very grateful for that. I'm very grateful that I was part of Ed Moose's world for awhile."
Ed sponsored his Penny Pitch and raised thousands and thousands of dollars for St. Anthony Dining Room over the years.
Anothrer one of Ed's contributions to San Francisco culture was hiring all those great musicians over the years. Mike Greensill ... Wesla Whitfield ... Dick Fregulia ... Mike Lipskin ... Tim Hockenberry ... and yes, Don Asher, to name a few. Ed also took care of his friends, who sometimes would get a bit drifty. Glenn Dorenbush was one of them. When Glenn did the public relations for the Washbag, as Herb Caen described it -- Ron Fimrite called it the world's greatest saloon -- someone offered Glenn lunch. He shot back, "I've never been more insulted in my life!" Glenn, you see, preferred a more liquid repast. Kevin Keating was a Washbag regular. He used to work with Chronicle columnist Stan Delaplane, who held a permanent seat at The Square. Kevin also wrote for airline magazines. He once said to me, "I just went down the Baja Peninsula in a Hummer for an article. I learned that everything is Mexico will stab you." All this reveals what a territory for San Francisco characters that Ed Moose cultivated. Bless his heart. The Square was a watering hole for friendly beasts to slake their thirst as the climate changed inexorably around them. As Dylan Thomas wrote, "Oh, my poor dead dears." ...
"God was in a good mood when He made San Francisco," Lana Vy remarked the other day, a notably beautiful September day. She pours drinks at the Hyde-out on Nob Hill. Occasionally she takes out her ukulele, and entertain the customers with one of her songs, such as "If You Marry Your Best Friend." Lana just started a band called The Edibles. We have no comment on that. But her line about God and San Francisco is food for thought. It reminds me of the time when I asked a Roman Catholic priest, Father William Myers, what St. Francis would say if he learned this city was named after him.
He said, "I don't know if he'd laugh or cry." ...
Bruce Bellingham is the author of "Bellingham by the Bay." He's not sure if he should laugh or cry. Give him direction at bruce@northsidesf.com
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