Old Haunts

     I didn’t tell Claudette that I desperately needed a beer to chase away my excruciating hangover, but somehow she intuited my pain as twins often do.  While driving along Highway 1 we decided to stop at a famous San Francisco landmark, the Cliff House.  Before stepping through the entryway we read a plaque that spelled out the Cliff Houses' rather ill fated history and tempestuous struggle for survival. From what I could gather we were walking into its third incarnation.  Between 1863 and 1909, the two prior Cliff Houses' were constructed, deconstructed (razed by fires), and reconstructed again. The present building has had many facade lifts over the years, but its basic structure has held on the longest. Third time's a charm, as they say, or maybe a long line of arsonists died out.   What ever the case may be, I sensed that the entire property including the skeletal remains of the Sutro Baths is as haunted as Halloween, but I put a lid on that thought until later.   Gratefully, Claudette and I passed through its front doors and happily seated ourselves at the bar inside.   Shortly after our first sips of Stella, a voguish septuagenarian sat down and we struck up a conversation.  Her name was Sloan.