Chapter 6 - Captain Bob and Sally LightfootThey met. They married. They lived happily for the rest of his life.1
It was March 1983, and I had a goal. Jiggs had left for Orange County with his friend Milt. Theyhad gone to sell aluminum siding. They were tin men. My goal was to become truly free for thefirst time in my life. I had no wheels. Although the burned out limo still ran, Jiggs traded it tosome hippies for several ounces of marijuana. The hippies lived in Gate 5, which is where thetransients lived in Sausalito, in everything from tents to lean-tos. They threw a couple of black,fuzzy beanbag pillows in the burned-out backend andtransformed it into a pirate radio station for whatever cause still remained for the hippies of the early eighties.For the first time since coming to California, I had a legitimate job managing an insurance defenselaw firm on Lombard Street in San Francisco. My job in Washington, DC as a court reporter, and agood recommendation landed me the job on my first day looking for work.I was alone and hoped to remain that way. I had moved into a small two-room attic in a housedirectly across the street from Smitty's where I still shot pool in the evening. I had the use of the bathroom in this house, but I had no kitchen privileges. It may be why to this day the kitchen is theleast used room in my house. In fact, I have a plaque on the wall that says, “I only have a kitchen because it came with the house.” It was given to me by a friend who knows me well. I had no phone, and I didn't entertain guests.The isolation was just what I wanted. I had more or less sworn off the human race. With theexception of my job and shooting pool, I kept totally to myself. The law firm was small, tenattorneys and twelve staff. As Office Manager, I supervised the support staff and was responsiblefor the monthly billing of clients. It was a straight forward job, very precise, and I liked the peopleI worked with. The offices were located on the third floor of a building on Lombard Street about amile from the Golden Gate Bridge. It was a fairly short, straight commute by metro bus fromSausalito, convenient since I was on foot.The Silver Cloud Restaurant/Bar was located on the first floor of the building where I worked, andoccasionally I'd join a few of the lawyers and/or staff for drinks or dinner. Most nights I would geton the bus and head for Sausalito and my little attic. I would change out of my work clothes and2
head across the street to Smitty's to shoot some pool before retreating to my little attic to turn in for the night. Smitty's had two bar tables with sign up boards for anyone wanting to play. There wereabout a dozen of us who shot pool most nights. I sat at a table near the pinball machines, andclutched my quarter waiting for my game. If someone came over and asked if I would mind if theysat down, I would say I minded, and they would go away. I was just there to shoot pool.Some evenings I would choose to walk up the street to Pickles' apartment to watch my TV. Pickleswas the local drug dealer who at this point owned my TV, because Jiggs left town owing himmoney, and he kindly accepted my TV as payment in full. I paid off many debts Jiggs had left behind, including several bounced checks; one for $200 at Smitty's.At Pickle's, I'd watch my old TV. When Pickles came back from his “office” which was a corner barstool at Smitty's, I'd get up and leave so he could do business. I knew most of his clients fromshooting pool. Even if he was having friends over, I usually didn't hang out. I just left.One evening he came home, and he had someone with him I had never seen before. After a perfunctory introduction, I said goodbye and left. The next evening I went to Smitty's to shoot pool. I saw a man sitting on a stool at the bar in the corner by one of the big front windows. Hewas by himself.He was wearing a blue corduroy Greek fisherman's hat, blue work shirt and levis. He wore a red bandana around his neck and had a full gray beard and mustache. His salt and pepper gray curlyhair spilled out from under his hat, although his hair didn't reach his shoulders. He had theweathered face and look of an “old salt” who had just sailed into Sausalito from somewhere outsidethe Golden Gate. It was the man I saw at Pickles' the night before. The only thing I knew was thathis name was Bob.Although it was completely out of character, I went over to him and said hello, and he smiled andreturned my greeting. He had one of the kindest faces I had ever seen. I felt completelycomfortable. I quickly finished my pool game and went over to sit next to him. He bought me adiet coke which was all that I drank when I was shooting pool. I told him I recognized him fromthe night before, and he said he remembered meeting me, but I disappeared almost immediatelythereafter. He asked me if I'd like to go to dinner with him, and I said I'd love to. What? Why did Isay yes? There I was, stepping outside of the wall I had built around me.3
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PART 6 - Captain Bob
We met in March of 1983; we married in April of 1983; He "walked on", as the Odawas call dying, in 1996. I had experienced the worst of times. This was the best of times.
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