The Statue of St. Francis by Benny Bufano, has now been moved, and is now enshrined at the National Shrine of St. Francis. http://www.mistersf.com/new/index.html?newstfrancis02.htm
May Day came and went and the campus commies had their parade, while the rest of us had a Maypole. Dan and the filmmaker we hired came by the EC and kicked on my door.
“Damn film is expensive. do you know how much 16mm film costs? I’ll buy through the College.”
“Dan, did you give Dr. Colbert my home number? I’m sure the switchboard didn’t…” my voice trailed off. I had my own “shadow” I was currently dealing with, not to mention a friend of mine had gone over the edge,and two days before we were to have lunch he shot and killed his roommate. The thought of another one, even one of Dr. Colbert’s stature, made me more skittish. Davis…. suicide capital of the UC’s… but it was better than being the Velveeta capitol of California...
“Jean, don’t worry about it. That freak who’s been following you, well, we’ll deal with him, if FSS doesn’t. Now, here, have a cup of coffee. We have to decide what is going on the film.” said Dan.
“Well, we have to get all the speakers. and the debate. Leary and Brand. if we could get some one on one time, especially with Dr. Fuller. WOW! NASA has agreed to send an exhibit, and I think a moon rock. I know a spacesuit is coming. Are we going to have a reception?”
“Do you think we could ask Colbert if he wants in on the debate?”
“Oh, Dan, I’ll ask when I pick him up. He’s had some pretty harsh things to say.”
“Jean, anyone ever tell you that you’re evil?” Dan was grinning
“All the time, Dan, all the time” I said laughing
The UC Davis campus is beautiful and its calm belies the pressure it places on the student body. There had been another suicide. I had driven up to San Francisco to pick up Dr. Colbert. It was a nice escape from the craziness of the Festival preparations. I had left quite early so I could dally a bit in the City. Baghdad by the Bay as Herb Caen called it. I was wrong about the dallying. Traffic on 280 was a nightmare. KFRC was rockin’ and I was now running behind schedule. Turned out the nightmare was an auto accident. Finally made it past the ‘stick and was now just 20 minutes from the airport. I made the exit and soon I was driving past the Benny Bufano sculpture of St. Francis, his arms outstretched, welcoming and blessing all who came to the City. I yanked the placard out of the glove compartment, hoping the UC credential would be good enough to keep me from getting a ticket, if not, the EC would pay for it. I hoped. I pulled to the curb, and got out of the car, with my stupid sign with Dr. Colbert’s name on it. Walking into the United terminal, I located the baggage check for his flight and waited for him. Despite my ‘high school hippie’ reputation and FBI file - Daddy has Q clearance - I am really a moderate with a good dose of outrage. I stood there waiting. I know what he looked like. At least from television. I thought I caught a glimpse of a good looking brown haired man looking around, confused. I then thought I was being stared at. I turned around and the man was right behind me.
“Hi. I’m Dr. Stephen Colbert. Do you know how the hell to get out of here?”
I was stunned. How did he do that?… nah… he couldn’t…
“Are you okay?” He was staring directly into my eyes. or my soul. or another part of my anatomy… (My god he has the most intense stare…) “I’m looking for my ride. I’m supposed to meet someone from UC Davis.”
“Yes, yes.. sorry. you surprised me. I’m not accustomed to people materializing next to me.” I thought I sounded like an idiot. “I’m you’re ride. Oh, damn. I’m Jeanne Nathans. The Conference coordinator. The car is at the curb. If we’re lucky, airport police haven’t ticketed and towed…. and, if I was lucky he didn’t see the fact that I had turned beet red or at least if he had,he wouldn’t say anything. it was not to be.
“Do you always leave statements like that lying around?” He found a skycap to take his bags. “It’s alright. I hear it all the time. though not that natural.”
“I’m a theater major… what can I say?”
“You can say, Welcome to California, Dr. Colbert”
“Welcome to California, Dr. Colbert, and on behalf of the Experimental College of UC Davis, thank you for accepting.”
“Thank you. Call me Stephen. I see no need for formality. Is Leary here?”
“No. he arrives on a later flight. Dan Mandell, the head of the EC is picking him up. He thought a pretty face would cheer you up after along flight. But he couldn’t find one with a drivers license, that’s why he sent me…”
“Nonsense. from what I see, you’re a pretty face. Amongst other things. I really don’t like the “cheerleader/centerfold type.”
I flushed again… damn… am I really coming on to him? Is he returning the come-on? “Dr. Col- Stephen, did you have lunch on the plane? If not, we could stop on the way back. I had planned on going to Clown Alley in the City, but a traffic accident made me go past my lunchtime.” He looked puzzled. “Oh. Clown Alley is a small hamburger place on Montgomery Street. You do eat meat, don’t you?” (DAMN! did it again) I caught a sideways glance from him and decided to shut my mouth before I dug myself in deeper.
“Yes, yes I do. Eat meat, I mean. and, I prefer something other than a hamburger after a long flight,” he paused a little too long. “I didn’t come to San Francisco for a hamburger.” He paused once more looking for a reaction. “I heard there’s a place you can get buffalo. Is that true?”
“Tommy’s Joint,” I said hoping my face wasn't too red. "San Francisco tradition."
Thankfully, the airport police honored the UC credential. Popped the trunk’s lid, the skycap placed the bags into the trunk and closed it. We got into the car, and joined the merry-go-round called the Exit Lane.
"Let's go, then,” he said, winking, he slid into the passenger seat. Fearing anymore unintended double entendres, I kept my mouth shut. Although, I must admit, for a Nixon apologist, he is really handsome. For a change.
Tommy’s Joynt is a San Francisco tradition. Like sourdough french bread and Dungeness crab. Driving up Van Ness, mercifully finding a parking space almost across the street from Tommy’s. I parked. curbed the wheels, and we got out of the car. He looked it over. “1965 442… nice. does it have the 442 engine?”
“yep. Last summer, I was offered $800 for the car.”
“If you sell it, don’t take less than $2000. This is a collector’s car.”
I was trying to still figure this man out as we crossed the street. The façade of Tommy’s Joynt looks like it was painted while the crew was tripping. If you drive by saying “where’s is the damn place?” you really shouldn’t be eating there. The interior is dark and all warm wood, inviting and a a bit crowded - it was lunch time. You pick up a tray, stand in line and give your order. Hof-brau, style, you move along the line till the register comes. I ordered the Buffalo Stew sandwich. Dr. Colbert tried the stew.
Finding ourselves a booth, he then asked if I wanted anything to drink, and ordered both of us beer.
“I want to apologize if I’ve aid anything inappropriate,” I said.
“Nonsense… say, this is good. Thank you,” he said. Between bites, he continued. “Just so you know, I’m not married.”
This is a work of fiction. Comedy Central wasn't even around then. Any similarity to persons alive or passed on is purely coincidental
