And I was pretty sure that would never happen, the owner, Robin, and his pal and manager, Terry, were institutions in my world. But times were tough for live music. Times were tough in the city for nightclubs in general. Under Mayor Willie Brown, some fancy, and hastily built, lofts sprang up around and on top of rock clubs and bars. Rumor had it that the zoning in South of Market, where most of these clubs did business, had been changed from light industrial to mixed use. It’s a lot of building code and policy hoo-ha, but the outcome simply was: Rich people bought real estate in and around buildings that housed these establishments, only to be shocked, shocked that those establishments, with their neon bar signs and marquees that announced “Live Music,” actually had live music, served alcohol, and were open late. So, of course, the very upset, fancy new neighbors went about trying to oust the riffraff, the riffraff being musicians, bartenders, waitresses, security, and a ton of other folks who work in the nightclub world, who were there first, and had been there all along.
