Becoming San Francisco’s Most Famous Unknown Celebrity
Born a cheery quipster myself, when I arrived in San Francisco in 1971 I immediately fell in love with master tweeter Herb Caen’s column in the San Francisco Chronicle. Decades ahead of his time, Herb delivered twenty or so tweets every weekday to his maybe-a-million Bay Area readers. (And by tweets I mean short zippy items of news and gossip, separated by dot-dot-dot…) Herb loved playing with language. He coined the word beatnik, popularized hippie, and called the city’s second-most-famous bridge a “car-strangled spanner.” His whole life, day and night, was devoted to finding the most interesting items, wording them perfectly, and printing them in the best order.
Herb Caen & I Become Each Others’ Perfect Easy Creative Partners
In the fall of 1972 I popped out of an envelope with no return address and slipped a silly quip into Herb’s blessedly receptive mind. The next morning all those Bay Area neighbors read: “Strange de Jim reports: ‘Since I didn't believe in reincarnation in any of my other lives, why should I have to believe in it in this one?’"
At work it was, “Way to go, Strange!” And at home lots of friends called to congratulate me. I sent more items. Herb printed hundreds over the next quarter century, giving me a perfect kind of celebrity. In real life I was usually on my couch, watching TV and reading new age books, mysteries and science fiction. In Herb’s column I was a man about town. For example, I just made up these two items:
8/26/73 – Our other roving elegant, Strange de Jim, was in top form while dining at Le Trianon. After the sommelier had gone through the uncorking, sniffing and pouring ritual, Strange tested the obligatory mouthful, looked up and declared triumphantly, “Wine, right?”
10/25/78 - During the "Yes on No on Six" benefit at Chez Jacques, Strange de Jim was asked his sexual preference, and I'm afraid he replied, "The Mormon Tabernacle Choir."
Herb & I Don’t Want to Meet, But...
As you know, in 1974 my friend April said, “de Jimbob, we’re going to massage school, three nights a week for eight weeks.”
The first night, a smart, attractive, lively young lady walked up to me and said, “I’m Arleen, Herb Caen’s junior assistant.” I said, “Whoa!” What were the chances!? The next night she said she’d told Herb, and he’d said he didn’t want to know anything about me. Instead of being hurt or insulted, I was delighted. I respected a man with taste, and I didn’t ask her anything about Herb either. One of my idols, Andy Warhol, had pointed out that mystery generates energy, and I realized Herb really understood it.
Herb’s senior assistant, Carole Vernier, did, however, want to meet me, so she and Arleen and I had lunch. Over the years we’d occasionally meet and chat. Carole knew not only every celebrity in the city, she knew all their “people” as well; because she spent half her time on the phone with them, seeking or verifying items. She was invaluable a few times over the years in connecting me with a celebrity I wanted to contact or one who wanted to contact me.
It was also Carole who told me Herb valued me because ordinarily he had to be careful to verify every item to be sure it was true, so he wouldn’t be sued. He could print mine anyway, such as, on 6/11/78: “I’m going to write a book about a dragon that goes flaming through San Francisco,” said Armistead Maupin. “Makes sense,” nodded Strange de Jim. “Early works always tend to be autobiographical.” Although by this time Armistead and I were good friends, Herb knew this item wasn’t true, because I’d given him a choice of three restaurants where the conversation might have taken place.
I think Herb really liked it when I made digs about his best friends. He’d run them, and I’d get the blame. Once when one of his closest pals, society clothier Wilkes Bashford, was being audited by the IRS, Herb ran my worry, “I hope Wilkes won’t be best remembered for his double-breasted accounting system.”
Great Fun with S.F. Chiefs of Protocol
Cyril Magnin, San Francisco’s 80-something Chief of Protocol, always took visitors to see the wonderful revue Beach Blanket Babylon. Cyril was being celebrated for having seen the show two hundred times. On 7/27/85 Herb wrote: “Strange de Jim’s strange ambition: ‘I want to be there the night Cyril Magnin realizes he’s already seen Beach Blanket Babylon.’”
This item had fascinating consequences. Cyril Magnin worked with a young associate, Charlotte Mailliard (now Charlotte Shultz), who since Cyril’s passing has been sole Chief of Protocol for nine Mayors, and Chief of Protocol for California under Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger.
By coincidence, the evening of the day my quip appeared I attended a party at the apartment of one of the Beach Blanket Babylon stars. Charlotte was there; so I introduced myself. She said, “Oh, my goodness. If I’d known you were going to be here, I’d have worn a better dress.”
Wanting to be gallant without stretching the truth, I replied, “And if I’d known you were going to be here, I might have taken a shower.”
She laughed, and then I asked if she’d seen the item in Herb’s column. She said, “Yes, I hope it didn’t hurt Cyril’s feelings.” Oh dear. I had the feeling it had hurt Cyril’s feelings, but she was letting me know in the gentlest way possible. I admired her for being on Cyril’s side, but being on my side as well. I’ve encountered her at a number of events over the years, and she invited me to two of the major events of my life. She may be the friendliest and biggest hearted person I’ve ever met.
What Herb Caen Wrote About Me in 1978
In 1978 I counted up and found Herb had printed 116 of my quips. I decided to publish them in a little booklet. One morning my roommate Randy called from the kitchen into my room, “Hey, you made Herb Caen!”
“And I can break him!” I hollered back. I had the title for my booklet.
For the first time I contacted Herb. I called his office and told Carole what I wanted. She relayed the request to Herb and then put him on the line. I told him I was publishing a booklet of my quips from his column and asked if he’d write the introduction. He said sure, but because of his contract with the Chronicle I couldn’t advertise on the cover that he’d written the intro. I assured him that wouldn’t be a problem, and gave him my Strange P.O. box address. Here’s the cover of the booklet.
That’s my roomie Randy with me. The pose is because when I was being interviewed by a neighborhood newspaper, the reporter asked me how I dressed for a party. My friend Viktor piped up, “Casual clothes, a pillowcase over his head, and a nude young man or woman, to taste, draped casually around his shoulders.”
HERB’S INTRODUCTION
Many of the few people who read my column ask, “Who’s Strange de Jim?” When I say, “I don’t know,”they look at me oddly; but it is the truth. Strange, as I have come to think of him in preference to the more unwieldy “de Jim,” has never met me. By the same token, I have never met him. Our paths have never crossed, to my uncertain knowledge. Still, people do look at me oddly most of the time.
After a long silence, a few will then suggest, “Then YOU are Strange de Jim!” Being innately honest as well as innately stupid, I stamp my feet, one upon the other, and say, “I am not!”, much as I would like to take credit for his wild and original wit.
Strange’s incredible one-liners, written neatly by hand in blue ink, arrive almost daily in my office on a memo pad with the strangely unoriginal heading, “From the Desk of Strange de Jim.” However, this does not detract from the sophisticated humor that follows.
Every morning, I rustle hastily through the mail, looking for Strange’s submission. He has seldom let me down. Some of his observations are too outre for a family newspaper; some are too subtle for the likes of me; but all show a gift for epigram unsurpassed since the time of (insert name of your favorite epigrammatist – er – that is, writer of epigrams).
I hope we never meet. Ours is the perfect relationship. Strange favors me with his wit, and I favor him with my print. Come to think of it, he could even be a girl, for all I know. The whole thing is strange, isn’t it. Jiminy
I was delighted and touched. Herb saw me as a much better person than I’d observed from within.
Herb’s & my relationship started to get burdensome for him when I dared to call for the second time a mere two years later (luckily I never needed to call again). I was writing the first volume of my memoirs, The Strange Experience, and I wondered if he’d send me a photo and not mind if I wrote about our creative partnership. He said sure. I mailed him a photo release, a check for $1 signed by me on my Strange de Jim bank account, and a stamped manilla envelope addressed to my Strange P.O. box. Herb sent me his photo and the signed release.
Although Herb knew I’d attended massage school years ago with his junior assistant, when I sent him a signed copy of the book, he was probably surprised to find it also contained photos of almost a third of the more than three hundred strangers who’d entered my apartment voluntarily blindfolded, were given a massage called a Strange Experience, from someone they’d yet to see named Strange, and were now happy to tell the world about it. This must not have startled him too much; because he continued to print my quips.
I’m not sure what year it was, but a young lady and I vacationed together in a Club Med in Hawaii, where we met two other fun young ladies. A year later one of them called and said they were in town and wanted to have lunch. I suggested Enrico’s, an outdoor cafe in North Beach often mentioned in Herb’s column. The caller then admitted she and her friend weren’t sure they remembered what I looked like. I told her I’d be the one with a pillowcase over his head. (I had one with eye holes which I’d worn to disguise my identity on a local TV show.)
Arriving at Enrico’s, I sat at an outdoor table and donned my ‘case. A waiter asked what was up, and I explained I was Strange de Jim. He was delighted and brought over the other waiters to meet me. Then my friends showed up and we had lunch. At one point I went inside to use the men’s room. When I emerged I saw Herb Caen at the bar. One of the waiters must have told him who I was; because when I started to walk over to him he waved me away. Ordinarily I would have gone over to say hello anyway; but because Arleen had told me he really didn’t want to meet me, I continued on out.
Strange de Luncheons
That had been so much fun I started having Strange de Luncheons every Friday where everyone had to cover his and/or her face. One of them featured Pat Steger, Social Scene columnist for the Chronical and her assistant, socialite Harry de Wilt, the owner and editor of national gay magazine The Advocate, a few members of The Tubes; my friend Sando, a tightrope walker for the Pickle Family Circus, and S.F. Chief of Protocol Charlotte Shultz.
One More Nonmeeting With Herb
One Christmas, Steve Silver, creator of the eventually-45-year-running Beach Blanket Babylon, asked me to be in a video he was filming for a local charity. I wore a new pillowcase for the occasion. Again Herb and I waved at each other from across the room.
The Only Time Herb & I Met With Neither of Us Wearing a Pillowcase
In the 1980’s I met and spoke to Herb without my pillowcase for the first and only time. A beautiful, intelligent, wealthy young woman who called herself Dream de Menthe, loved The Strange Experience so much she bought 100 copies and gave them to her friends. She began visiting me in San Francisco. On one trip she said something really funny; so I sent it to Herb, and he ran it. She also sent me plane tickets to fly to her home in Montecito, the upscale suburb of Santa Barbara. On one trip she treated me to a place in the famous Santa Barbara Writer’s Conference, run by Barnaby Conrad, a best-selling author and close friend of Herb Caen’s, who’d left San Francisco before I arrived. He said Herb, between wives, was coming to visit with his society girlfriend, and he had to introduce us. I said no, but he said yes.
The next afternoon Dream and I were walking through the parking lot when Herb and Donna Ewald got out of his car. Bowing to the inevitable, I walked up and said, “Hi, I’m Strange and this is Dream de Menthe. He introduced his socialite girlfriend. We all nodded to each other, and Dream and I walked on.
Roast Herb Is Delicious
I was invited to speak September 1, 1990, at a Herb Caen roast at the Mark Hopkins Hotel.
It never even occurred to me to go over and talk to Herb. However, as I was at the microphone delivering my speech, he was sitting to my immediate right. I had one very funny but very convoluted joke. When I delivered it, no one else got it, but Herb whispered, “Good one, Strange!”
Herb Caen Day
After Herb turned 80 on April 3, 1996, he won a Pulitzer Prize, got married for the 3rd time and contracted terminal lung cancer. San Francisco’s Chief of Protocol, Charlotte Mailliard (now Shultz) organized Herb Caen Day for Friday, June 14. Charlotte called and invited me to ride in the parade down Market Street, sit on the temporary stage in front of the Ferry Building, and then attend the luncheon afterwards. The parade was to start from the Chronicle building at 5th & Mission Streets. I decided not to wear my pillowcase.
When I arrived I was directed to take the elevator to the newsroom. Robin Williams rode up with me. We hugged and commiserated, and for the first time, didn’t make any jokes. When we got off the elevator there was Herb, standing in front of his office, surrounded by well-wishers. I hadn’t thought I’d be asked to go inside the building, much less find myself close to Herb.
Robin went over to talk with Herb. I hung back. I didn’t think Herb would recognize me. He’d probably seen my photo in The Strange Experience in 1980. He’d seen me in person for less than a minute in Santa Barbara a year or so later.
I moved closer and ended up beside him as he talked with the people surrounding him. Should I introduce myself and try to thank him for all he’d done for me? He had so many people clamoring for his attention. I lightly touched his left arm with my left hand, lightly cupped my right hand on his back over his heart chakra, closed my eyes, and tried to breathe love and healing into his lungs. Then I slipped away and found the person who told me I would be riding in a vintage car down Market Street. There was a little sign on the door. Two teenage girls were the only ones to step out of the crowd and come up close enough to read it. One of them said, “You?” I said “Yep.” She said, “Wow.”
When I left the car and climbed the stairs to the temporary stage, Chronicle Social Scene columnist Pat Steger saw me and pointed me to the correct seat. I found myself directly behind national CBS Evening News anchor Walter Cronkite, beside baseball great Willie Mays, and in front of Armistead Maupin and Actor Don Johnson, who’d shut down production on Nash Bridges to attend. Armistead introduced me, and I got to tell Don that the final scene of one of his early films, A Boy and His Dog, was one of the funniest and most brilliant surprise endings I’d ever seen. The reason Don was there was that one of his earliest acting gigs was a good play in San Francisco that hadn’t found an audience and was about to close. Herb attended, loved it, and said so in his column. They were sold out for months.
Charlotte had organized a real show. It was being telecast live. There were fire boats on the Bay spraying water, vintage planes overhead, a parade of bike messengers, etc., and the boulevard on the Bay was renamed Herb Caen Way. When Herb spoke he ended his speech with, “One day if I do go to heaven, I'm going to do what every San Franciscan does who goes to heaven: He looks around and says, ’It ain't bad, but it ain't San Francisco!’"
The luncheon was held at a nearby restaurant on the Bay. There were no place cards. Herb wasn’t there yet. I decided not to plunk myself down at the main table, but sat with his two assistants, Carole Vernier and Jennifer Blot, and a lady who turned out to be the wife of the Chronicle publisher. I didn’t talk with Herb. On the whole I’m glad I didn’t ruin the perfection of our undemanding relationship.
In his last column on 1/10/97, Herb called me San Francisco’s guru di tutti guruskies. Again, he saw me as someone better than I really was. To me that was as good as his calling our bridge a “car strangled spanner.” At the realization of what a wonderful man we were losing I burst into tears.
Herb’s Memorial Service
Herb passed on 2/1/97. Chief of Protocol Charlotte Shultz called the next day to invite me to give one of the eulogies at his memorial service, to be televised live from beautiful Grace Cathedral. One of my best friends, Martin Hyland, and I showed up at the side door Charlotte had specified. She asked an usher to seat Martin in the front row of the packed Cathedral, and then she escorted me to the Green Room. Mayor Willie Brown said, “Strange!” and introduced me to Herb’s boss, Chronicle Editor Bill German, who said he liked my jokes and asked me to call him at his office on Monday. Robin Williams came over, hugged me, and then took me aside to practice his eulogy on me.
Robin surprised me by saying Herb was now united in Heaven with his great pal, U.S. Ambassador to France Pamela Churchill Harriman. I’d seen in the paper that she’d died. I knew that besides being French Ambassador she was the wildest and most celebrated courtesan of the 20th century. I had no idea Herb knew her. Then I realized, Herb and his current wife were always among the guests of billionaires Gordon and Ann Getty on their private jumbo jet for an annual trip to Paris, with luxury suites at the Ritz and New Year’s Eve at Maxim’s. Of course Pamela would have been there.
Robin said, “Pamela died last week at the health club at The Ritz …”
I broke in, “Where she exercised everything but discretion.”
Robin said, “Oh, good one, Strange!” (and at the reception at the Fairmont Hotel after the ceremony several people told me Robin had told them the joke, giving me credit.)
Meanwhile, I’d brought my pillowcase in my suit coat pocket; so when it was time for us to leave the Green Room I pulled it out, held it up, and looked questioningly at Robin and Mayor Brown. They both shrugged; so I put it on.
Onstage Mayor Brown sat with Editor German, and I sat with Robin. In his eulogy Robin would say, “I was sitting beside Strange going, “I feel like I’m sitting next to the Elephant Man on Sesame Street.” I felt the same way about sitting next to him.
At the start of the service Herb’s son Christopher came up from the sanctuary to deliver the first eulogy, saying a word or two to each of the four of us as he passed on the way to the microphone. I captured the moment in a Letter to the Editor which the Chronicle published the following week:
Letters to the Editor — San Francisco Chronicle, 2/12/97
To Editor — What do you do when you encounter a man with a pillowcase over his head at your father's memorial service? Christopher Caen just said, "Thank you for being here, Strange."
And that's why I love San Francisco.
Just Plain Strange
(Formerly Strange de Jim) San Francisco
And here was my entire eulogy:
"My Name is Strange de Jim, and I'm a Herbaholic.
"In 1972 I sent Herb Caen a note saying, 'Since I didn't believe in reincarnation in any of my other lives, why should I have to believe in it in this one?' Herb printed it. So I sent him another item. And another. And another. It turned into one of those codependency things. He ran several hundred in all.
"When San Francisco was having water rationing, Herb reported how silly I felt saving up water for a rainy day. Herb confided that I attended the Democratic National Convention wearing a Mondale supporter, and that my sexual preference was the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. He gave you my theory that monogamous is what one partner in every relationship wants it to be.
"Because I was 'that guy from Herb Caen's column,' I got to meet people I otherwise wouldn't have. So Herb got to report my verbal exchanges with folks like Jack Nicholson and Elizabeth Taylor, Jane Fonda and the immortal Armistead Maupin. Herb and I both got a huge kick out of our relationship.
"And now, a quarter century after we started, Herb is gone.
"So, once again, I'm Just Plain Strange.
(Removes pillowcase.)
"Thank you, Herb, for everything. I truly love you."
Too Silly for Words, Yet Here They Are
A Small Sample of Strange Herb-al Appearances
New Age
11/10/74 - "Do any of your readers know where I can get some acupuncture needles?" inquires Strange de Jim. "I already have a thimble."
12/17/74 - "The thing I like about meditation," adds Strange de Jim, "is that it makes doing nothing respectable."
10/29/78 - "I discovered the sound of one hand clapping," says Strange de Jim, in a mordant mood, "and it only cost me an arm."
Play On Words
3/11/73 - “Last night I folded paper until I reached origami”
11/27/75 - Or if that doesn't turn you on about 400 degrees, consider the plight of Strange de Jim: "If I can't get my oven fixed in time, I'm going to have to face this Thanksgiving cold turkey."
12/31/75 – Happy New Year and may you have better luck tonight. Or, as Strange de Jim advises, remember to smile at midnight “because there’s nothing nicer than grinning from year to year!”
2/29/76 - “I sometimes worry about my short attention span,” confides Strange de Jim, “but not for very long.”
5/29/77 - “People who are hung up on nostalgia,” scoffs Victor Vecsey, “are banal retentives” (bringing to mind Strange de Jim’s observation that “I’d rather be an anal-retentive than whatever’s the opposite”).
Celebrities/High Life
8/26/73 – Our other roving elegant, Strange de Jim, was in top form while dining at Le Trianon. After the sommelier had gone through the uncorking, sniffing and pouring ritual, Strange swallowed the obligatory mouthful, looked up and declared triumphantly, “Wine, right?”
10/13/77 – Further foodnotes: “Joan Hitchcock,” confides Strange de Jim, “is hosting a gourmet dinner tonight. She’s going to have a crate of live chickens in the hall, and each guest gets to select his own.” Note: Joan, who Playboy recognized as a JFK mistress, was so delighted that she sent her chauffeur to Chinatown for a live chicken, which she displayed outside her dining room. The other guests and I loved it.
8/30/78 – Comedian Henny Youngman, whose great tag line is “Take my wife – please,” has been topped by our very own Strange de Jim, who, after catching Henny at the Mocambo, reports, “I took his wife. She seemed pleased.” Note: The owner of the Mocambo had asked me to pick Henny up at the airport, and he turned out to be a delight.
4/27/83 - (Voters were deciding whether to recall Mayor Dianne Feinstein) Strange de Jim, about to enter the voting booth yesterday morn, asked a polling official: "I want to be sure I have the rules straight. Do you have to recall the whole Mayor or can you specify just the hairdo?"
11/22/84 - Our longtime pet purveyor of one-liners, the matchless Strange de Jim, has turned philosophical. His latest peroration: "All you need in life is one great shining delusion. Mae West firmly believed she was 20 until she was well into her 80's, and then died happy, never suspecting her mistake."
5/15/86 - Carol Channing to Strange de Jim: "Well, the Soviet reactor fire is out." Strange: "Really? And what's in?"
10/3/86 - Beverly Hills scene: Liz Taylor polishing her diamonds and purring to Strange de Jim: "See how domestic I can be?"
3/15/88 - Hello, Strange de Jim! "Wouldn't Divine be mortified to find out he died of 'natural causes?'"
6/1/90 - Jane Fonda to Strange de Jim in L.A.: "Do you realize Soviet food prices haven't gone up since 1954?" Strange: "That's reasonable - it's the same food."
11/9/92 - At Moose's, actor Martin Hyland looked up from his perusal of Madonna's book, Sex, and said, "But there's no penetration!" "I know," sighed Strange de Jim. "Not in the photos, either."
12/9/94 - Strange de Jim doesn't believe the caddish Major James Hewitt ever had an affair with Princess Di. "I just read his book," says Strange, "and nowhere does he mention that funny little sound she always makes at the end."
1/19/95 - Dame Edna Everage on the horn to Strange de Jim: "I've started having orgasms every time I sneeze." Strange: "Good Lord, what're you doing about it?" Edna: " Well, right now I'm lying naked in my freezer snorting pepper." Strange: "God bless you!"
3/7/95 - Foodies, concluded: Strange de Jim to Jeremiah [Tower] at Stars, "This mushroom soup tastes like shiitake." Jeremiah didn't know how to take that so he walked away.
Sex
11/25/73 - "An aphrodisiac," defines Strange de Jim, "is a drug two people take and then both pretend it worked." *
8/15/74 – You may prefer a few words from Strange de Jim: “I won’t say I had a good time last weekend, but one morning I had to go to four rooms in the hotel just to get dressed.”
1/31/75 – Front page newsquib in The Chronicle: “The sexual revolution is waning in America,” a noted sociologist said. Exit Strange de Jim, singing, “Swinging in the wane; we’re swinging in the wane …”
4/6/75 – Further and perhaps final from the uncollected thoughts of Strange de Jim: “I live life to the full or 11:30, whichever comes first.” Dance, fool, dance.
4/29/75 – Strange de Jim browsing Dalton’s bookstore at Sutter and Kearny, noticed that Shelf No. 28 is labeled “Sex & Etiquette,” and murmured, “Just watch the hostess – that’s always been MY rule.”
9/17/75 - “I knew I had a championship hangover this morning,” groaned Strange de Jim yesterday, “when I discovered my eyes weren’t opposite the holes.”
5/9/76 - “As I understand it,” ventures Strange de Jim in a wee voice, “the main value of sex education in public schools is to teach the students never to forget the ‘Thank you, ma’am.’”
4/28/76 -The first question in a Psychology and Contraceptive Methods true-or-false test given April 21 at UC-Berkeley: "A man can produce sperm until he dies," to which Strange de Jim could not resist appending, "At least it's more fun than getting killed crossing the street."
10/26/76 - Sorry about that, Harry Reams. Harry is the actor who could go to jail in darkest Tennessee for his part, as it were, in the porno film Deep Throat, and Strange de Jim is properly sympathetic. "I'm sure," says Strange, "that he didn't realize he was being asked to stick his neck out as well."
10/25/78 - During the "Yes on No on Six" benefit at Chez Jacques, Strange de Jim was asked his sexual preference, and I'm afraid he replied, "The Mormon Tabernacle Choir."
11/3/78 - "I am so unprejudiced," confides Strange de Jim, "that I never notice a person's race or sexual orientation until it is much much too late."
3/2/81 - "Sex is simple, once you realize it's just like riding a bicycle," offers Strange de Jim. "In both cases, the hardest part is learning not to fall off."
5/26/93 - Strange de Jim confesses he was thrown out of the Army for contributing to the delinquency of a major.
San Francisco
2/10/74 – Along came Strange de Jim, cogitating in public. “While walking on lower Octavia,” he said, “something kept bothering me. Why would people build such nice Victorians under a freeway?”
4/6/76 - “I disagree,” murmurs Strange de Jim, “with those who say we should just let the Muni stay on strike forever. I have found the improvement in service since the strike began to be negligible.”
10/1/76 – And near Union Square, a policeman winning the plaudits of Strange de Jim by commanding stylishly to a crowd cluttering the corner: “Will a few of you passersby please do so?”
4/14/77 - "I suppose this rationing is necessary," muses Strange de Jim, "but I for one feel very foolish saving up water for a rainy day."
8/7/77 – Spinoffsky: “What Would You Change About San Francisco?” was the Chronicle Question Man’s quizzer a few days ago, and Michael Oesterman replied, “The street signs. Why can’t they all be in the same place and the same size?” A neat idea, observes Strange de Jim, who suggests we make them all eight feet by ten feet and put them at California and Montgomery.
11/20/77 – No one talks about what’s RIGHT with the Muni. An elderly woman, with a cane, hauled herself aboard a Market streetcar and started down the aisle. When the driver yelled after her, “Hey, lady, you didn’t pay your fare,” she swung around, shook her cane at him and shouted, “You men are all alike. All you wanna do is f__k!” The motorman was so taken aback he let it drop. Sliding into a seat, she winked at fellow passenger Strange de Jim. “Works every time.”
8/1/79 - Whatever happened to Strange de Jim? Here he is: "My life has been in turmoil. I just moved, and now I'm going to have to move again—the bar downstairs keeps complaining about the noise."
9/2/79 - Strange de Jim's definition of a San Francisco party: "One where you have to go to a doctor Monday morning and ask to be turned rightside out again."
3/2/80 - (The Golden Gate and Bay Bridges began collecting double tolls, but in only one direction) "I don't get it," a visitor said to Strange de Jim. "You can leave town free, but you have to pay a bridge toll to enter San Francisco." "Right," beamed Strange proudly. "We're the only major city with a cover charge."
5/27/82 - At the next table a diner produced a cigarette and asked Strange de Jim, "Do you mind if I give myself cancer?" "Certainly not," replied Strange, "as long as you don't smoke while you're doing it."
7/15/85 - Strange de Jim at the Old Poodle Dog: "I won't eat snails—I prefer fast food."
2/18/86 - (Gertrude Stein didn't like Oakland "because there's no there there.") Strange de Jim explains that he likes San Francisco because "there's so much here here."
5/6/86 - Scene: At 3 a.m., the flicker of flames through the Levelors alerted Strange de Jim to the possibility that the house was on fire. Poking his head out the window, he discovered it was the downstairs neighbors dancing around naked and waving sparklers. Spring is here!
3/15/89 - Sporting Green headline: "Giants Lose An Ugly One." Strange de Jim: "Who'd they trade now?"
Whimsy
11/26/72 – Marble halls note: “Grace Cathedral is really nice,” beams Strange de Jim, “especially if you’re wearing taps on your shoes.”
12/10/72 - “I never had any imaginary friends when I was a child,” muses Strange de Jim. “I just thought I had.”
8/19/73 - “Count your blessings,” advises Strange de Jim. “If your toilet worked, it might not be home when you needed it.”
3/17/74 – Further from the uncollected thoughts of Strange de Jim: “Fools rush in and get the best seats.”
6/5/74 – SPRINGING foolblown from the fevered brow of Strange de Jim: “You have to be in the right place at the right time, but unfortunately I was absent the day they explained how that’s done.”
10/13/74 - “For an interesting existential afternoon,” suggests Strange de Jim, “go to City Hall and try to renew your birth certificate.” … “The people who like my humor,” he continues, “fall into two categories. And usually hurt themselves.”
11/2/75 - “When you open a cigar store,” inquires Strange de Jim, “are you supposed to hand out free babies?”
1/29/78 - "A true friend," defines Strange de Jim, "is one who says, 'You're getting so thin!’ without adding 'on top.'"
3/7/78 - "I like Mexican food," confesses Strange de Jim, "but only from the waist up."
10/26/81 - Our native witz: "I won't say the de Jim clan is up to date," says Strange, "but our family crest does have fluoride in it."
3/6/83 - Item in L.M. Boyd's Grab Bag: "Spiders weave their webs half an hour before dawn." Appends Strange de Jim: "Or when dey have to go to da baffwoom."
12/10/84 - "I think Grandma de Jim's beauty book is much more practical than Raquel Welch's," writes Strange de Jim. "Grandma's morning facial, for instance, consists of picking up a large fluffy towel and draping it firmly over the mirror."
4/24/85 - "I won't say Grandma de Jim lacks fashion sense," tattles Strange de J., "but her latest ensemble got her arrested for 'leaving the scene of an accident.'"
6/23/89 - Did you take your medicine, grandma?: "Just think," muses Strange de Jim. "We're the first society to kill off our old people with childproof caps."
9/16/92 - Straaange de Jim is back! Quote: "The Red Cross' $40 first aid/CPR course is a good deal. If you save just one loved one's life, the class has practically paid for itself."
5/17/93 - "We're all just batteries waiting to be included, " philosophizes Strange de Jim, who adds for no reason at all, "You could plumb my depths and never even get your plum wet."
My Bios
12/8/76 – That brings up Strange de Jim. Don’t ask me why, it just does. A lot of people ask me if there is such a person, whose witticisms I quote from time to time, and I’m not sure. However, this message, titled “The Story of Strange de Jim,” just arrived”
Strange de Jim was delivered postage due. ‘Birth for me was a very frightening experience,’ he relates. ‘I was glad just to get out of it alive. And believe you me, next time around I’m not going to make the mistake of sitting in the Caesarian Section.’
“In the maternity ward, Strange switched I.d. bracelets with the baby whose parents made the best faces through the glass. He was in his teens before he sat his mother and father down and broke the news to them that they were adopted.
“’School was very boring for me,’ he remembers. ‘I probably would have learned more if I’d known you were supposed to face the front.’
One day, without warning, Strange grew up and stumbled into Herb Caen’s column. In no time at all, San Franciscan’s were stopping each other on the street and asking, ‘How are you?’ and ‘Do you think it will rain?’
When asked his goal in life, Strange replied shyly, ‘What I really want to be, to tell you the truth, is an eighty-year-old man with potential.’”
7/20/77 – Add vacation reports: Strange de Jim has been in Rowlesburg, W.Va., visiting relatives, and quite likes it: “The restaurant closes at 4 p.m.; there are 60-year-old men named ‘Wee Wee’ and ‘Junior,’ and being fashionably late means arriving no more than five minutes early.”
His brother, Huntington, has a two-year-old son who appeared in the living room wearing a dress and ladies’ gloves. “He takes after his uncle’s side of the family,” Huntington explained hastily. And it was at a buffet party that Huntington said, “Care to eat a deviled egg?” Picking it up and examining it closely, Strange shrugged, “Might as well. It doesn’t appear to be of museum quality.”
