Tennessee Williams once said “America has only three cities: New York, San Francisco and New Orleans. Everywhere else is Cleveland.” What a bitch, right? He left out North Muskegon, Mich.!

Anyway, I’ve exhibited art in two of those three and will show at the third this fall in San Francisco. Continuing with the “Great Good Places” series, I’m drawing some of the excellent bars of SF, the city where Tony Bennett left his heart and Jack Kerouac lost his lunch. San Francisco — cold and foggy in the summer, less so in the fall, then back to cold and foggy for the rest of the year. And how we love it. The prints will show at 3 Fish Studios out on Irving Street near 46th Avenue in the Outer-Outer-OUTER Sunset the weekend following Thanksgiving, starting on Saturday November 30th.

I’m starting with Trad’r Sam’s, an excellent, old-skool Trader Vic’s knockoff featuring tiki drinks that are also knockoffs, in that they will indeed knock you off your stool. I guess Trader Vic warned that if they used the moniker “Trader” in the name he’d break Sam’s legs. Sam got cute with the apostrophe, and the rest is history. Hey, whatever works. Look who’s still in San Fran, serving up Mai Tais and Zombies. Maybe one day they’ll be serving up Mai Tais TO zombies. Let’s see how long they last then, hmm?

After Sam’s it’ll be Caffé Trieste, the old coffee house / bar in North Beach, a favorite spot for that bohemian scene in the post-war period, not to mention Francis Ford Coppola, who wrote the screenplay to The Godfather right there. After that I’m thinking the Kezar Pub, Hunter S. Thompson’s old watering hole, or “trough,” just down the street from his pad on Parnassus, where he wrote Hell’s Angels. The bar (then known as the Stadium Club) was also frequented by many of the SF 49ers, who played at quaint little Kezar Stadium, right across the street. Hunter used to ferociously drain bottles of whiskey with some of those dudes, right there, within those hallowed walls.

A couple more on the list might be Club Deluxe, a Deco-era throwback on Haight Street (one door off Ashbury, to be precise) that somehow maintained its style through the 1960s and ’70s. How, I do not know, but it’s a peach.

Beyond that, I have some ideas, but am open to suggestions.