Stories
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Ray was a regular and a member of our table. Dave came once maybe and was married. Ray was not. They were both around mid thirties in years. Ray had started out as a leather worker selling his wares at the Vaillancourt Fountain, at the foot of Market Street at the Wharf. But he said people didn't buy unless it looked like it would be sold in Macys. So he went into the restaurant business with an eatery at Dolores and 18th Street across from the park. Then he and his partners began buying apartment buildings from three to fifteen units each and he sold the restaurant. They had a half a dozen places.
Ray was not-that but short, stocky, strongly built, barrel chested, clean shaven, sandy haired and glasses. He owned and lived in a three story Victorian on Dolores and Valley. Also they owned the next house down on Valley. He lived on the first floor of the corner building and rented the upstairs and small place below for a very old woman, who came with the house when they bought it. He was a cook and had giant old cook stove in the kitchen which he loved. Dave lived across Dolores Street a half block south in a two story Victorian with wide front steps.
The cafe got to be quite popular meaning more crowded. On the weekends it overflowed outside to the alley tables and into the back. I can remember sitting back there only once. It was to play chess with someone. My strategy was charge down to the king and freak the opponent out. I couldn't play chess I would just first make this pincer movement and after they had escaped they came back to kill me.
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