WHEN I departed for San Francisco on vacation, I signed off with the caution to look for a disaster there since one always seems to occur when "Disaster Dave" is in town: earthquake, fire, explosion, shootout, etc. Shortly after my arrival, this trip's bombshell hit: Herb Caen admitted in a front page column that he'd been diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. The town treated it as a disaster, wondering aloud what life there would possibly be like without the Caen byline on view daily, Chronicling the doings of the city that dubbed him Mr. San Francisco ... THE report climaxed an amazing run of Caen making news rather than reporting it. In short order he turned 80 and the party was celebrated by everyone through the papers; he won a Pulitzer Prize for a lifetime of achievement - 58 years of column writing in S.F.; he celebrated a wedding to "Ann of Three Thousand Days," the approximate time he and companion Ann Moller have been "an item" and now this sad medical report. The walkway along the Embarcadero has been named "Herb Caen Promenade," changed from an earlier "Herb Caen Way..." complete with dots which city protocol chief Charlotte Mailliard Swig felt inappropriate to its magnitude. It'll be so dubbed Friday, which the three-dotting legend's buddy, Mayor Willie Brown, proclaimed "Herb Caen Day" in San Francisco ...
Michael McCourt
EVERYBODY who still drinks in S.F. will probably over-imbibe on Friday since many saloons are having martinis made with Herb's beloved "Vitamin V," vodka, at 1936 prices. One barkeep who'll have a great view of the festivities Friday will be my favorite cantankerous Irishman, Michael McCourt, who's relocated from the Washington Square Bar & Grill to Seal Cove at Pier 33, right along the Herb Caen Day parade route. Incidentally, a great many of his Washbag customers followed him to the Cove, guaranteeing it instant success. As one admirer put it, "No other bartender in the City could do that." ...
MORE sightings: I saw Carmen Hedlund, the ex-Carol & Mary spokeswoman now working in health care in the City ... I struck up a conversation with a young couple at the Bus Stop, one of my favorite Union Street stops. Clare Dissy ("As in Dissy Blonde?" "I've heard that before.") is a nurse in the City and I again lauded her profession for their unappreciated work. Small World item No. 3,579: Her escort, Mark Hammond, learning I work for the Star-Bulletin, said, "My cousin is the wife of (sports writer) Paul Arnett." ... Maui's Bill McDonald, who keeps a home in S.F., said "Hi" at Seal Cove as did Nicole Hotti, another double resident. I was introduced to a fellow named Dempsey there, who on hearing my name said, "Dave 'The Moose' Donnelly?", harking back to K-POI days. "I'm Maryknoll, Class of '65," he explained, adding "You guys were huge!" The ever rancorous McCourt bristled, "Don't tell him that, he's got a big enough head already." ... And I ran into pal Dick Bender, whom I met through Russ Francis 20 years ago and hadn't seen in a decade. He made and lost a fortune in Texas in the missing years, and is tending bar at Capp's Corner in North Beach ...
