A Tale of Three Rooms

I don't really want this piece to sound like I'm an old fogie who complains that, "things were better in my day", but there's bound to be a bit of that because I'm going to reminisce about three rooms in this city that loomed large in my life, and now they're gone. And "rooms" is just what they were, just bricks and mortar, but populated by unique human beings who brought them to life.
I first entered Washington Square Bar & Grill in the fall of 1977. Fresh from the colonies (England and Hong Kong, long story)
I was eager, as a new immigrant and jazz musician, to check out the local scene. I was immediately directed to North Beach and the warm and woody confines of "The Square". Ed Moose, one of "The Square's" co- owners along with Sam Dietch, always hated the commonly used nom de plume "The Washbag" that Herb Caen had coined, so we'll call it "The Square". Within a week I'd become fast friends with various curmudgeonly bartenders and the nightly parade of jazz piano players. Every Wednesday Norma Teagarden, the sister of the more famous Jack, held forth at the piano and invited musicians to sit in. In those days I played clarinet as well as piano and I became a regular visitor. In 1979 I was finally asked to play a shift on piano.

Friday nights. Oh the horror! 10,000 people crammed in, falling over the piano, blowing cigar smoke at me; the noise so loud my most creative flourishes went completely unheard.I must admit I enjoyed being a customer at the Square much more than attempting to persuade the regulars of the efficacy of the Duke Ellington Songbook. But anyway I seemed to spend many more lunchtimes and afternoons drinking and eating at the Square than I did nights playing the piano. Of course in those days one could have 4 pints of Guinness at lunch and still function in the evening. Ah days gone bye.

Ed Moose and Sam Dietch owned the Square and in those days I was closer to Sam than Ed. Ed was always shepherding some local or national notable and generally "working the room" whilst Sam seemed happier spending his time with the proletariat. Sam could be acerbic and didn't suffer fools gladly, but I loved him and here's why. One night a customer came up to me and requested "New York, New York" and being as I was in one of my "I'm an artist don't bother me with this commercial crap", phases, I said I don't play that one! So off he goes in a huff to, "complain to the management". Probably in any other joint I was about to be in trouble, after all we were supposed to entertain the customers. But Sam Dietch in his inimitable way proceeded to throw the customer out, come over to me and whisper, "let me know if anyone else is bothering you". The Square has a permanent place in my heart because it's where I married my 3rd and favorite wife the vocalist Wesla Whitfield. It's great getting married in a saloon, one can throw down a Martini before the ceremony. After the deed was done Wesla sang and I played the beautiful love song "That's All" by Bob Haymes, not a dry eye in the house and the whole wonderful event chronicled in Herb Caen's column. Priceless! The Washington Square Bar & Grill will be sorely missed.

Speaking of Ms. Whitfield she looms large in the next rooms history. The Plush Room is a Cabaret. What's a Cabaret? It's small room where lovers of the Great American Songbook gather, in silence, to worship at the feet of Gershwin, Porter, Berlin, Rodgers et al, singers ply their craft and you can get a Martini. There seems to be a theme here! The Plush Room was the perfect cabaret. It seated 130, everyone could see and hear and the piano was good.
The waitresses were almost wraith-like in their ability to quench the thirst of the punters. Even during the most sensitive ballad they would ply their trade without disturbing the sensitive ego of a quietly emoting torch singer - they were known as "The Plushettes".

I first accompanied Wesla there in 1984, though she started singing at The Plush when it first opened in 1979. We've performed there almost every year since. The Plush Room was unique because it was a "listening room" no loud shouts for "New York, New York" in here! We've lived through countless changes of ownership and management and survived it all until now. It was a magic place where a simple saloon piano player could make music with taste and dignity.

When I was originally writing this piece it was titled, "A Tale of Two Rooms" but now another venerable institution that has had the good taste over the last 10 years to employ my aging fingers has closed. "Moose's", Ed Moose's successful follow up to "The Square" has shuttered it's doors. The thing I love about about Moose is that he loves jazz and hires jazz musicians, not because they might sell more drinks, but because he loves the aesthetic of live music permeating his restaurant. I remember when I was working at Stars (good lord I've closed a lot of rooms!) Jeremiah Tower would often hang the sword of Damocles over my head by saying, "I could get rid of this piano, put in a 4-top and make an extra $100,000 a year, don't forget it!" Moose would never say anything like that.

I'm sure that the 20 and 30 something's of today have their own Square's, Plushes and Mooses. Though you won't find me in them, the thump, thump of techno rock or any other form of the rhythmic water torture that seems to pervade saloons these days sends me scurrying back to my burrow. The vibrations disturb the balance when imbibing that first sip of an overfilled Martini. But, despite the fact that the world I knew and loved is seemingly collapsing around me, I will raise a toast to a place that's still the greatest city in the land, my adopted home, San Francisco!