The Trident Restaurant

Welcome to the Trident!

2010-03-09T17:45:00Z

Welcome to the "original" Trident Restaurant's web log! This site would like your help collecting photos, stories, and memories, from employees, patrons, and anyone that frequented this unique establishment/ experience from 1966 to 1976.

The Kingston Trio's Trident, at 558 Bridgeway in Sausalito, uniquely reflected what was going on in the late 60's and through the mid 70's in the Bay Area. Janis Joplin had her own table when she came in. In 1972 and 1975, after their concerts, the Rolling Stones held private parties thrown by Bill Graham. The night the Trident closed in 1976, most of the employees had taken some sort of mind altering substance ,and the "kind" was freely indulged in throughout the evening ... without any incidents or trouble from the Sausalito Police who were in attendence.
What a trip!

Have the times changed? Your thoughts, stories, photos, and memories are welcomed!

Email photos, stories, or videos to : Endorfunns@aol.com or post your comments on the site, and enjoy the conversation.

Grateful Dead's Phil Lesh

2010-03-09T02:29:00Z

Photo provided by Tom Smith of Marin

Larry Noogle's Trident Menu Artwork Proof

2010-03-08T19:05:00Z

If you think there's anything suggesting part of the male anatomy here, phallically speaking,
including the twins, you're not blind...who knew? This proof was provided by Kurt "Crowbar" Kangas
and signed by the artist in the bottom left hand corner. Now, the flip side...

Nick and Me

2010-03-03T16:41:00Z

Nick and Me

In the spring of 1964, a week or so past my sixteenth birthday, I found myself taking a motorcycle ride on Sir Francis Drake Blvd., heading west through Marin County towns like Greenbrea,Kentfield, Ross, San Anselmo, and Fairfax. I have a significant history of adventures in some of these towns but they are not my destination. I’m headed for a house in the San Geronimo Valley town of Lagunitas, owned by a man named Ken Howard. Ken Howard was a local writer, activist for liberal causes and father to two lovely girls. I am on my way to meet Sarah Howard, the older of his two daughters, but it his younger daughter, Debbie, who first caught my attention.

Debbie was a dark haired beauty with deep-set, brown eyes and a smooth, tan complexion. Sarah, older by a year or so, had light brown hair with a persistent wave bordering on frizzy, paleskin with some freckles and intense blue-grey eyes. They hardly looked like sisters but as I rode, I did not dwell on this but rather on my mission.

Strapped to the back of my red Honda 150, held in place with bungee cords, was my first guitar, which my parents had given me as a birthday present about a week earlier. The guitar was a Montgomery Ward special (“Monkey Wards” my parents used to call it) worth all of thirty bucks with the strings sitting about a half an inch above the fingerboard. By any standard it was a real piece of shit, but it was what I had and I was determined to learn to play it. After the money they had spent getting me an accordion and lessons starting back in the fourth grade, I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised when they didn’t fork over the big bucks for a Gibson or a Martin. Sarah, my best friend Gary Steadman assured me, that they knew the words and chords to Guantanamera, a folk song made popular by Pete Seegar, and my mission was to have her teach me to play the song.

I also had it on reliable authority that Sarah Howard was known to make out when the stars were aligned, and the wind was just right.

So with the promise of an auspicious launching of my new musical career, and the prospects of a handful of boob throbbing in my loins, I crested the hill leaving Fairfax and dropped down into the San Geronimo Valley, the sun was getting ready to set over the hills in West Marin, and I soon arrived at their house in Lagunitas. I went inside and said my hellos to everybody, and her family asked me if I wanted to stay for dinner.

“Yes, I’d love to.” I replied and off to the living room we went. Debbie said she had to babysit and someone was coming to pick her up. I went out to the driveway to fetch the guitar from hell, and only then learned that it was woefully and criminally out of tune. The Howards had an old upright piano in their livingroom and Sarah and I worked for a while trying to get that guitar in tune and presently the guy Debbie was supposed to babysit for showed up to take her tohis house. He introduced himself as “Nick” and he looked vaguely familiar. He saw that we were having trouble getting the guitar tuned, and offered to help.

“He plays in the " Kingston Trio ”, Sarah whispered.

“Huh?” I stammered. Well no wonder he looked so familiar. I had four of their records at home and played them all the time. My dad had worked in radio and TV all my life, and one of the perks of such a job was that the station where he worked,KJBS in San Francisco gave away hundreds of records that didn’t meet the criteria of the program director’s play list. Thankfully, The Kingston Trio, arguably one of thehottest acts in the country in the late fifties and early sixties, fell into this category, along with about a ton of other records including jazz, blues,and priceless old comedy records. KJBS played a sickeningly sweet format of“middle-of-the-road”, post-war standards. Patty Page, Rosemary Clooney, Perry Como with a lot of lame string arrangements…elevator music for the fifties –that’s the crap Dad’s radio station played, and their “dump bin” became my playground.

So here’sthis well-dressed, and young looking guy with a kind of soup-bowl haircut, who is standing at the very epicenter of the music scene as I understood it back then, and he’s teaching me to tune my first guitar.

“Start withthe E string…that’s the fat string at the top of your strum. Hold down that string at the fifth fret and turn the tuning peg on the next string down –that’s the A string, until the sound matches – like this…” and then he showed me! I was almost in a state of rapture, forgetting for a short while all about boobs, and the sweet smell of Sarah Howard’s hair. Nick Reynolds drew a little chart for me to use and wrote down the changes to Tom Dooley and MTA on a piece of Sarah’s notebook paper. He was very nice to me, and I’ll never forget that day. I never could have anticipated that five years down the road, I would beworking for Kingston Trio Inc. and I surely didn’t know that nearly fifty yearslater, I would be recounting this story to his widow, Linda Reynolds, one ofthe first friends I made when I started working at the Trident. Years later,when Frank Werber sort of introduced us again, I told him about that day and what it had meant to me.

“Oh yeah,”he said. “I remember…how’s the guitar coming?”

“Pretty good”, I said, “But you were right…it does take a lot of practice.”

He laughed and asked me how Sarah was doing. I told him Ihadn’t seen her in awhile, but I still saw Debbie from time to time. “She’sliving in Mill Valley.”

Even Frank got a kick out the story when I explained how Nick and I had met.

Anyway, I eventually taught myself the song and along the way figured out that songbooks and chord diagrams were easier to understand than notes scribbled on scraps of note paper and soggy cocktail napkins and thus began a life-long, love – hate relationship with the guitar. I never really hated my guitars…just the fact that I wasn’t able to play them better.

Not long after meeting Nick Reynolds, I got this part-time job working the door at this little night–spot in Sausalito that featured live music called TheLion’s Share. It was owned by a guy named Mike Considine and he was able toconsistently book some of the top acoustic acts around at the time. Rambling Jack Elliot, Sandy Bull, Eric Anderson ( whom we jokingly used to call “Blind Eric Flatpick”), Dave Van Ronk and a host of others played there often. Even Stevie Winwoodsat in one night. Some of the guys that went on to form Jefferson Airplaneplayed there regularly.

One night, KJAZ disc jockey Richard Conti, came in with Mose Allison, who even played a set. The place served pub-food; chili, beefstew and hotdogs and in my relatively impoverished state, I was glad to have some place other than my parents house to eat. The club burned down in about 1967, and Mike moved to San Anselmo and reopened it with the same name - but Idon’t think it was ever as successful as the Sausalito incarnation, but a lot of local Marin County bands got their , start there.

The point is, music was ever a recurring theme in my life andcontinues to be to this day, but I thought it proper that after all these years, I write this small tribute to the guy who kind of got me started…so, thanks,Nick, wherever you are.

Nick Reynolds of the Kingston Trio

By Patrick Pendleton email Pat at: Gizmo754@aol.com

The Rolling Stones Trident Party "1972" by Patrick Pendleton

2010-02-16T21:54:00Z

In the summer of 1972 an amazing event took place at the Trident. I was working late Monday night – the start of my work week back then, when I got a call from Lou Ganapoler, general manager of the Trident Restaurant. He asked me how long it would take for me to get the place show time ready. So I asked Lou what he had in mind. He told me that Bill Graham wanted to bring the Rolling Stones to the Trident for an impromptu private party and that he was in the process of getting Frank sprung from the Honor Farm, where he was serving a short sentence on a possession for sale of marijuana charge. I’ve often wondered just how that conversation unfolded. I mean…here’s a guy doing his time on a drug charge and in the middle of the night he wants to get released so he can go preside over a party for a bunch of other guys famous for stirring the passions of rebellious youth and…you guessed it – taking drugs! So I told Lou…sure I can get the place ready in an hour or so – if you don’t look too closely at it…more help would be better and Lou said, “No problem…Milt was on his way down to help me.”

So I went into maintenance overdrive, swamping out the restrooms, replacing the paper, sweeping, vacuuming, dusting and mopping the floor…I had a pretty good sweat worked up when Bobby Lozoff walked in about twenty minutes later to set up the bar. I had called home after I got off the phone with Lou because we needed some seasoned help to pull this off. And, let me share a word or two about one of the seasoned help named Iris…who was a tough, blond, Jewish girl raised in a small Long Island suburb of New York. She had a body to die for, and a mouth that would make a longshoreman blush – and she wasn’t a bit bashful about using either one. Never a respecter of persons, she was perfect for this occasion. I mean…all of us were used to seeing and dealing with the rich and famous – it just wasn’t all that uncommon. We had a burgeoning population of musicians, performance artists of all stripes, and movie stars…all of whom were part of our targeted clientele.

Also part of the evening's cast was Paul Broadhurst from an upper crust English family who'd come to the US for a better life and was a great choice for the evenings festivities with all the mad-dogs and Englishmen running around...Soon after Bobby arrived and then Milt showed up, and together we whipped the club into some semblance of order. Pierre, Thomas Eng, Big John and Steve Burrus all came in to get the kitchen fired up. Basically, anyone who would answer their phone at 2:30 am was there. Josie from the Dominican Republic, Patsy Petty, Cathy Civale, Sophie Kurtz, Kathleen Delaney, Noreen, Iris, Linda and Sharlee all showed up to help out. Diane and Frank came in along with Richard, Marshall, Lisa Sharp and Dagney. There are large tie-dyed curtains covering the arched windows on the south side of the restaurant so that people driving down Bridgeway Blvd. could not see what was going on inside.

I have a distinct memory of Patsy and Josie in the ladies room trying to decide if Josie should go sans panties for this affair. The ladies of the Trident generally dressed fairly provocatively simply as a matter of course but I do believe some of them pushed the envelope to its logical extreme that night. I know Iris and Sharlee did. Even Pierre had a tough time trying to keep the smile off his face as nipples struggled through their bonds of diaphanous lace to the light of kitchen florescence.

In due course, Bill Graham arrived with about eight stretch limos and our “guests” were shown inside. The Stones traveled with a huge entourage…let’s face it – by any yardstick imaginable they set the bar for all past, present and future standards of excess.

The point man for this motley crew of rockers was a foppish little Brit by the name of Peter Rudge. Many of the guests were wearing white newsboy caps, which was, I’m guessing, some kind of inside joke. They brought their own security team, their roadies, a few ladies and assorted hanger-oners. Frank stood prominently near the door to greet his guests, a charming Buddha-daddy guru proudly showing off his baby to a new cast of discerning characters. Once the ice was broken, he and Bill Graham and Lou retired to a quiet corner to swap “promoter stories” that nobody but themselves would ever appreciate. At one point, Frank asked me to turn on the tiny faux fireplace for the sake of “ambience”. Fingers of fog crept over the hills and down towards the Bay in Sausalito, as they did most nights, but it wasn’t cold. As I finished lighting the fireplace, I felt something hit the back of my head, so I turned around and there was Keith Richards, biting into cocktail shrimp and tossing the uneaten tails around the room. He had a mischievous grin on his face, like he was daring me to do something about it and suddenly I felt this presence next to me. I turned and found myself eye to eye with one of the most menacing looking black men I had ever seen.

“I know what you’re thinking – don’t do it”, he said to me.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“My name’s Leroy and I’m the head of security for this tour.” he replied. He was built like a linebacker – a fireplug in a suit complete with the requisite white newsboy cap.

“You want a drink, Leroy?” I asked.

“Nope – workin” he replied.

“Well…how ‘bout some coffee?” I asked.

“Sure” he said. So I went and got him a cup of coffee, anxious to defuse what could have been a messy situation. Bad behavior at the Trident was nothing new and I had, on occasion, been part of the posse delegated to remove unruly patrons from the premises. Normally, someone would have called the cops but this situation didn’t call for action that drastic and when I came back with Leroy’s coffee we sat and talked for a couple of hours.

Meanwhile, the party is in full swing around us. There is a steady stream of folks going to and from the deck outside, which seems to be the designated drug ingestion station. The restrooms are also a popular meeting place and after awhile, it’s pretty clear that both the staff and the guests are getting wasted. Hell – I’m getting wasted!

Stones bassist, Bill Wyman is sitting nearby, getting tag-teamed in backgammon by Jerry Pompili and Barry Imhoff. Peter Rudge is vainly chasing Josie all over the restaurant and saxophonist Bobby Keys is telling hilarious stories from his life on the road in his gentile southern drawl. I hear little snatches of his stories about how he and Waylon Jennings burned down a hotel room somewhere in Ohio and Bonnie Bramlet punched out Elvis Costello onstage. Charlie Watts is sitting in rapt attention, drinking what looks like scotch.

The “STP” tour as it came to be known followed the release of Exile On Main Street and was the first US tour without Brian Jones. You may remember the distinctive album cover – a waist-down shot of a pair of leather pants with a working zipper embedded in it. Mick Taylor, late of John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, handled second guitar duties on the tour and was conspicuously absent from the party – not that anybody missed him. Jagger himself seemed rather subdued for all the publicity surrounding his escapades…maybe he was pacing himself as the tour was only about a week into it. Frank was drinking Perrier water, wisely understanding that he was almost assured of having to provide the honor farm with a urine sample upon his return.

About 5:30 the whole thing started to wind down…the sun was going to come up soon. it’s been a very good night but I know that there are hours of work ahead of me. Those working the day shift stayed…except for the day waitresses, who managed to get a few hours sleep before returning. Iris told me she made almost $200 that night with her share of the tip pool – not bad for about 4 hours work. The registers were never used that night – Bill Graham paid for everything. (Presumably, he was able to bill his young charges for services rendered) And everyone who was there had a nice story to tell so here’s mine.

Rolling Stones 1972 Tour

By Patrick Pendleton email Pat at : Gizmo754@aol.com

The Rolling Stones Trident Party "1975" by Patrick Pendleton

2010-02-15T22:23:00Z

In the three years between Rolling Stones tours, partying for many of the wonderful folks working at the Trident became elevated to a high art. Everybody was throwing parties all the time – the Record Plant threw a lot of them. They had this big house in Tamalpais Valley where Mick Fleetwood Mac stayed, and it seemed like every Friday and Saturday night, there was some kind of party. Peter Greene, who founded Fleetwood Mac threw a couple of great ones at his home in Mill Valley. Of course, this was before the feds took over the Record Plant from Gary Kellgren, who used to ride around in this purple Rolls Royce Cornishe with license plates reading “GREED.”

(The Alton Kelley/Stanley Mouse (Kelley Mouse), Randy Tuten, and Crazy Arab poster for the 1975 show. Alton Kelley just passed away , a dear friend, and with the help of Keith Impink (the Dead's web guy) we've created a tribute site to Kelley and Dave Sheridan. We've also revived Kelley's Artista Gang. For more information go to The Artista Gang and check out the links there! Arab did the pin stripping for this poster in about 45 minutes, amazing! Mark Lomas) Now back to the story...

Compared to the Stones party in 1972, the affair in 1975 was almost sedate. This time around we had a little more lead-time on who would be there so there wasn’t as much scrambling to staff the event, and prepare the food etc. There was even time to arrange a little entertainment – Laura Cholos and her daughter, Anastasia performed a very provocative belly-dance for those who attended.

Instead of the tour staff, roadies, and other support personnel, those in attendance were strictly members of the band and whatever ladies they chose to bring, BGP inner circle, Trident family and friends, and BGP security staff. I didn’t stay long at this party because I wanted to go home and get some sleep before I went to the much bigger and wilder bash planned for Mick Jagger’s birthday at the Orphanage, a rather run-down old theater near the Boarding House in San Francisco. The Harder They Come, a movie filmed in Jamaica starring Jimmy Cliff had recently been released and reggae music was then taking the country by storm. Chris had arranged to have Toots and the Maytelles to play that night and the rumor was that the Stones would be there as would about half the SF music scene. That was the rumor.

I was driving this big old orange utility-body truck at the time – filled with tools and I didn’t want to park it on the mean streets of SF at night so I arranged to ride over to the City with Don Lewis and Cathy Civale. We got there about mid-night and the place was jumpin’. We went in this closet-sized office and Chris is in there with this bowl of cocaine. There’s also about ten other people in there. Iris, my longtime roommate and one-time lover, is sitting on this old couch not partaking in anything because she is about four months pregnant with her first child. So I wandered out to get some drinks and check out who was also there. Toots and the Maytelles were pumping out some great reggae music and everyone is buzzed to a fair-thee-well. You know you’ve had a rough night when you wake up the next day with condor feet on your third eye. Anyways, about 1:30 am the Stones arrive and the energy level in the place just takes off. There are close to 500 people in that old theater and I don’t know what its rated capacity was but I’m pretty sure we exceeded it. Robin Williams was there with Linda Ondeyko, a gorgeous brunette who also worked at the Trident. Robin was just starting to hit the comedy clubs and always a riot to be around. He was always…on!

I wish I could say I remember what happened after that but the sad truth is…I don’t. I’ve probably made a few mistakes in the chronology of events but to the best of my knowledge, it’s all true. Sleep and I were strangers.

By Patrick Pendleton February 17, 2010 Seabrook, NH

Email Pat at: Gizmo754@aol.com

The Rolling Stones 1972 and 1975 Parties at the Trident

2010-02-13T21:30:00Z

February 15,2010 by Bobby Lozoff

There was definitely a party which I was at on a Monday night in 1972. There was another Stones Trident affair in 1975 but no private party. BGP just gave the crew a block of tickets for this 75 concert tour. This latter tour was the one with the fancy-assed stage which housed a huge inflatable phallus.

BTW: If you are documenting Trident and Rolling Stone interaction don't neglect Altamonte. Milton Hunt had something to do with security for that ill fated affair.

I remember the very private 72 party because I was the only bar tender and previously Billy Rice and myself had invented the Tequila Sunrise (another documented long story) so when Mick walked to the bar and asked me for a margarita I asked if he would like to try a sunrise. He liked it to the extent that he and the rest of the crew took the recipe across the country on the 72 tour. By this time we had simplified the recipe to tequila orange juice and grenadine.

Bill Graham hosted this party,it was not a Trident party and we didn't know about it till several hours before the event. It was for the Stones personnel and BGP heavy weights. We were always closed on Mondays and late Monday afternoon Frank showed up at my Sausalito house, and asked if I would go in to set up the bar for a private party that night. The party was not open to all Trident employees only those of us who were working to take care of the guests. Our gift and payoff were tickets to the show for all employees the following day. BGP security was used to block all access to the Trident especially media. Heaviest security I ever saw at the big T. This was a very sedate dinner party considering it was for the Stones. No jamming and carrying on. Just a nice place to host the Stones quietly.

October 7, 2006 (First Posted on this site) By Brad "Flash" Flaherty
My memory of the "Stones" party was that it was the first tour with Ron Woods on guitar, and Mick was still married to Bianca. There was a rift with Bill Graham so the band all wore the same white caps and kept changing jackets with each other so they could divert attention from Mick (the birthday boy). They were so pleased at the success of their stunt when the cake was placed by (Bill Graham) in front of Bianca, totally dumbfounding him. Bill Graham wore a purple velvet robe trimmed with ermine, Ron Wood had on a chamios suit, the waitresses had on their most revealing string vests and "hotpants."

Thanks for fanning the embers (with a magnifying glass) on the focal point of an era. The camp atmosphere was the networking style of a youthful creativity for many seekers. May many find inspiration in your information.
Brad "Flash" Flaherty

The Stones earlier that evening at the Cow Palace
Mick an Ron Photo: Flash

*Bill Graham generously gave all the Trident employees a pair of tickets to the Stones Concert at the Cow Palace in San Francisco. The first night Mick said, "Hey Oakland, how're you doing?" and was booed. The next night he corrected himself. . . no problem.
Photo: Flash

*Barry, myself and Peter [the cold side guy] cooked that night. Security locked us in, gave us Trident T shirts, and we stayed all nite. Sushi was the main course. (1975) from Harold Erman

It's 2010, Get Your Freak On!

2010-01-24T16:24:00Z

I realize there are many interpretations for or of "getting your freak on", but until I saw this photo did I really ever understand...if anyone has a clue what's going on here, please fill in the blanks....

Courtesy of the Richard Lipfield "Deja Views"collection

Email Richard at: rlipfield@aol.com

1990 Trident Article

2010-01-22T20:43:00Z

     It was the archetypal fern bar, the creme de la hip Sausalito saloon that floated on sex, drugs, and Rock and Roll. The Trident was open from 1961 to 1980.
     Launched as a Jazz Club by the Kingston Trio, it was refurbished in 1968 by the group's manager Frank Werber, who sought to catch the spontaneous, give peace a chance spirit of the day. It became a mecca for rock stars,celebrities and hipsters, young and old.
     "It was like riding a hurrican," says Werber, now 61 and living in Maui. "The Trident was definitely a manifestation of it's time and a forerunner and trendsetter for multitudes of restaurants, and it's effects are still being felt in the cool 90s. Staffers were like family members who regarded the place as a chapel, it was a spiritual experience."
     The Trident hosted impromptu concerts by Mick Jagger, Janis Joplin, threw legendary parties and provided the setting for a scene from Woody Allen's "Play It Again Sam""
It's story attractions included platoons of attractive waitresses hired as much for their good looks as their ability to charm customers. Robin Williams, then a struggling comedian, worked there for a time as a busboy, getting the job "because of his antics," Werber said.
     Employees were hired after Trident executives reviewed Polaroid pictures of them. A prospect's persona was also critical.
     Among the Trident's hallmarks were handcrafted wood, stained glass, art and music.
     Organic food laced an eclectic menu. The menu - a psychedelic work of art that now sells for $100 a print - exclaimed: "Welcome to our space. Positive energy projection is the trip."
     Located at 558 Bridgeway beneath the old Ondine's and now the home of Horizons, the Trident was favored by Woody Allen, the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, Clint Eastwood, Tommy Smothers, Groucho Marx, David Crosby,StevenStills, Pink Floyd, Allan Watts, and scores of other noted customers.

Article by Nels Johnson IJ Associate Editor

Matchbox Twenty Ten

2010-01-02T03:14:00Z

The ever popular Trident Matches....this way you don't have to turn your monitor upside down...unless of course you want to.
And, who was the Artist? These matches served many creative purposes, including ...oh well, ..nuff said.

Happy New Year!

2010-01-01T14:06:00Z

May 2010 be your best year ever!

More photos from the Richard Lipfield "Deja Views"collection:

The lovely Lisa Sharp

Richard, Frank, and Chala

Richard Lipfield budding young hippie...

Richard and Cathy Civale

Barry and Dick

Michael Toomey and ? Monica

Email Richard at: rlipfield@aol.com

Patrick Pendleton

2009-12-19T18:16:00Z

Hi everyone, Patrick Pendleton here…the nearly normal night-shift manager. (Maintenance!) I started working for the Kingston Trio Inc. in May of 1969, a few weeks after my 21^st birthday. My god…has it really been more than forty years?

I’ve tried several times over the years to describe; no, to recount, explain and capture what it was like to work or even “be on the scene” at the Trident. Even now, I think there’s a book in this at least. As I age, I’ve noticed that nostalgia isn’t what it used to be and I wonder if I haven’t over-romanticized the whole era. Yet when I stumbled onto this website while fooling around in Google, I realized that so many of us who worked there were on our way to becoming something or someone and that it had a huge impact on us. So nice to connect with you all again!

Night times, the right time! For seven years more I think, I thought I had the best job in the world. After the big 1000 watt custom-made, improvised work lights – cobbled together from old studio microphone stands came on, after the last alcoholics-in-training had been sent home (You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here), the waitresses, busboys, bartenders have all gone home (mostly) and the night managers have doled out all the blow and boo they’re going to…that’s when the real fun began. It was like a club within a club. Membership was small – there was Milt Hunt, owner and operator of an enterprise known as Great Northern Maintenance Co. Milty didn’t like to come in at night – he had me for that…but he was a great friend ,and man could he make you laugh!

He was also a very useful buffer between the maintenance crew and the Trident brain trust. C’mon, you can say it…Frank could be uh, Difficult? Challenging? Then there were the boys, my troops. Chris Lowe, who we used to call “Chicago” for reasons which escape me now, he was really from Kansas was there for a few years. Then there was Chris Leitz, and Henry Socorso, collectively known by their nom de guerre, Cosmic Popcorn. They were a couple of New York kids who came to California to start a rock band and the last time I heard from them, they were living in LA. When I first started, Clem Borraseau, who started doing the plants when Brian and Frank had a falling out, was the gardener and Thomas Charles Ribar AKA “Squeege Sam” was the window washer. That cat grew the best herb I’ve ever smoked. He’d been a Navy Aircraft Mechanic in the service and he was wound rather tightly. Later on, his duties were expanded to include caring for the over four hundred plants that were rotated in and out of the Trident. We would all gather at the big table just beyond the kitchen and everyone would have something to smoke, and often there were more exotic substances. The point was…this was a place and a time where we weren’t supposed to be caught not high! What a concept! We had the radio blasting, KMPX or KSAN playing all that incredible music that we now call “oldies”. George Horn, who was a recording engineer with Columbia Records, put together what was for the time, a very exceptional sound system.
Of course, from time to time, there would be visitors…I remember one night in particular when Steve Elvin had his scaffolding set up to finish his ceiling mural. The work on sweeping and mopping couldn’t begin until he’d finished so to pass the time, I got up on the scaffold and helped him paint. A local Chronicle reporter asked him if he ever felt like Micheangelo painting the Sistene Chapel, and he replied, “Listen, I paint exactly the way Micheangelo would if he had taken peyote and lived with the Indians.”

Anyway, on that particular night, Grover Boaz, who had done a significant amount of the carpentry and who was at the time one of the night-managers, came in with Don Lewis, Roger Lewis, Ramblin’ Jack Eliot, and John Stevens, noted songwriter and drunk. (No meetings for him) They’re all three sheets to the wind and fixin’ to hoist another sail. Needless to say, the booze and blow flowed. And the music…wow. Every time I hear “912 Toulouse St.”, it brings me to tears simply based on the emotional charge that experience bestowed on me. Somehow, no matter how much dope was consumed, or how late the parties lasted, or how late the ladies stayed, “Club Swell” was always left shiny and clean the next day. We were rewarded with what are arguably the most amazing sunrises I’ve ever seen. Later on, as I recall, Lisa Sharp’s brother, Mel joined the crew. Someone told me he is still there…is that true? About the time Frank was doing his six month stint in stir, I lost my license for a couple of months and also had to do my bit at the Honor Farm. Mel Sharp and Betty Laverene would pick me up and drive me to work. What a beauty! There were a lot of girls actually… I may have fallen in love with twenty or more during the seven + years I worked there. As I die and my strange but rich life passes before me, I’ll remember fondly some of those ladies. Small wonder…during that whole period of my life and many years afterward, I was, for all practical purposes, a caboose for my penis. It seems funny to me now when viewed against the grey schmere that is contemporary California political correctness. The place I grew up in and loved just isn’t there anymore. “.We have met the enemy and he is us.” And I still say there is a book here.

I remember well the night of the robbery. These guys came in about 2:30 am wearing wetsuits. The papers started calling it the “Frogman Robbery”. They threw dish aprons over our heads (there was only Squeege Sam and I there that night) and made us sit on the floor in the men’s room and told us to stay there until morning but we only waited about forty minutes before calling the police at about 4:30am. We subsequently had to look at mugshots and testify at the robbers’ trial. It was supposed to be a scary deal because one of the defendants was allegedly affiliated with crime boss Sam Giancana but it ended up working out okay and I was able to get the DA, Ernest Zunino, to quash a bunch of old traffic warrants for me. That isn’t the only time there was an attempted robbery either. One time, Robin Williams, myself and this beautiful blond hostess, Bonnie were smoking a joint across the street in what was the maintenance shop and my dog, Einstein, started barking like crazy and this raggedy guy with a gun wanted the combination to a safe he believed was upstairs in Frank’s playhouse. We all kinda talked him out of it though. Who knew the job could be so dangerous?

There sure were a lot of good memories in that place. I gradually started working more and more as a carpenter and cabinet maker. I think we worked on this big tour bus for Neil Young for about two years…that was a lot of fun. I now live in a little seaside beach community in New Hampshire and I have never been able to adequately describe the crazy place in which we all once worked. I bet Dagney could do it! Cio for now. And , Merry Christmas
Email Patrick at: Gizmo754@aol.com

Sharlee

2009-12-10T18:14:35Z

Sharlee

"Shine On You Crazy Diamond"

Remember when you were young,

You shone like the sun,

Shine on you crazy diamond.

Now there's a look in your eyes,

Like black holes in the sky,

Shine on you crazy diamond.

You were caught on the crossfire

Of childhood and stardom,

Blown on the steel breeze.

Come on you target for faraway laughter,

Come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!

By Pink Floyd, that visited the Trident in April of 1974, and were extraordinarily friendly. There's a lot more to this story, maybe for another time? Here's Sharlee that had a spectacular diamond set in one of her front teeth. When she smiled, and the light hit her diamond, she literally dazzled anyone caught in her spell. What a beauty... others tried to replicate her bling, but no one came close.

Robert Lazoff "Bobby"

2009-11-17T15:07:00Z

Did you know about Manager John my roommate at the time, who got coked out and stole the contents of the safe?. However he left enough money in banks to open the restaurant the following morning! Next, the opening manager Skipper Cutty cleaned out the bank money before calling Lou, Frank, and the police ... so, when we all had to take lie detectors in a suite they booked at the Alta Mira ... Skipper was going to fail, so John confessed. Frank didn't turn him in, but confiscated the stash John bought, and Frank shared it with staff commenting on each line what poor taste John had. I didn't think it was that bad.

The punch line? Rip-Off John ended up, and still may be the DA in Sonoma County? All because Frank didn't charge him.

By the way, for the Trident talent show Sharlee did a strip tease as the finale. Her main talent.

I was also held up at gun point twice in my Trident history, and I was working the time the nude streaker guy ran down the bar surface, across the floor, and dove into the Bay.

When I met Mick Jagger at a private party he asked for a margarita and I turned him onto a Tequila Sunrise which Billy Rice and myself invented in 1970, when the Trident served more tequila then all the other bars in the US combined. There is documentation on this somewhere. Anyways, Mick took the drink across country in 1972 and promoted it.

And of course I was tending bar for the Hell's Angel's Sunday afternoon take over and subsequent fight with the offensive line of the San Francisco Forty Niners. The next day it made the headlines of the San Francisco Chronicle. And,the San Francisco Forty Niners won! The Hells Angels used glass coffee pots from the bus stations as frisbee type weapons and damaged some players. Which became the reason thereafter we only used metal coffee pots. I never used a pyrex pot again in my career. Dangerous weapons!

More excerpts from emails:

Frank's original lawyer was Michael Metzger, Metzger was brought in by the Feds from NY to prosecute Frank. He lost. Metzger quit the prosecutors office and then got divorced, and then joined Frank's law team, and took up with the Trident waitresses. The Feds then busted him and Frank, at the DeSilva Island house and it made a big stink in the newspapers.

Shirly, aka Thunder Pussy, Styles, and Debris was among the most exotic girls to work at Trident. Hard core sixties Gate Fiver. One week Lou ordered her to do cocktails on deck against her wishes, and she went out and changed into a riské Pre WWII sleazy cocktail outfit. A tiny red crinoline sticking out perpendicular from the crotch and not much more, but very artsy.

She also starred in the non commercial porno "Marriage of Captain Garbage andThunder Pussy" filmed in the mud location at Gate Five around 1969. In that era non commercial meant for fun of it. She also sang with "the Tubes" for years.

BTW: After the Jazz Club days up to the beginnings of the Trident Frank's nick name in the press was "High Priest." Tommy Smothers was also in attendence for the trial with other celebrities like the Reverend Cecil Williams!

Email Bobby in Maui at: bobby@lahaina-maui.net

Trident Interior Bobby in Maui Bob's Blue Max in Maui

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Deja Views...a Retrospective by Richard Lipfield

2009-11-16T17:44:00Z

About to walk into the Trident on a Saturday evening to begin my shift... place is full...one shift ending , another beginning.....customers everywhere... rock and roll.... beautiful women.... one hour wait ...sensory overload ...I NEED TO FOCUS !!!!!! signing waitresses out in the cloak room..making sure everyone has shown up for their shift......adjust the music level to match the intensity of the room as it undulates...unread the log and check in with the floor manager... say hello to PIERRE....(scarey if he is not smiling )..can't let him see my fear .........no room for mistakes..... any drunks roaming the room ?...coke heads...heroine ?...hells angels ??,.....anyone harassing the girls.... where is Ron Mxcannon.. hope he is not here to add craziness to the situation....here comes FRANK AND DIANE...need to welcome them... I know frank will notice the one thing in the room that is out of place,and he will definitely tell me about it !.... PRESSURE but that is what it takes to makes the TRIDENT what it is..one of the most exciting, fun, dynamic restaurants in the world... everyone of us is proud to be part of the event ....working harder than we have ever worked in our lives !!!smiling..buzzed..stoned...most of us keeping our balance..someone usually losing it.....I'm manager, counselor, friend and mentor.....is that a plain clothes policeman in the corner ?....the local police get us...they know!! but they, like the girls appreciate the smiles they get.. they give us space.....the room is calming down.. need to put softer music on to calm the tribe... I get to eat now....o.k. here we go... a full night of spontaneous interactions as the clientele enter our room.. in whatever condition they are in.. and with whatever attitude the choose....keep it flowing.. watch every detail as we interact and present our magic food... time to go into the office and put on the fan and smoke a joint....there that's better.. now I fell more harmonious with the event.. oh oh..BOBBY wants me to 86 a drunk from the bar..stay neutral, be firm...DONE....need a lift.. alittle coke will help.. there now I AM ON TOP OF IT AGAIN...only a few hours to go... time for my first drink...TEQUILA SUNRISE.....relaxed but staying alert.....can never let it down.. things can happen fast... oh no... did that lady just throw the ashtray at her date ??? calm them down or walk them out.....room is starting to empty out...good.....start sending some of the staff home...the clean up crew is beginning to show up for their all night shift... here comes MILTON AND PATRICK..close the doors.. put the money away.....now the big lights come on and they destroy the illusion .. food everywhere, dirty tables, dirty floors, kitchen needs to be deconstructed and cleaned... by morning the guys have brought it back to perfection for the next shift... and here we go again... I DID THIS FOR TEN YEARS WITH THE HELP OF THE MOST DYNAMIC, CREATIVE PEOPLE ON THE PLANET !!!!! LOVE TO YOU ALL..... RICHARD
Richard Lipfield Then:

Leah and Richard

Not sure what the dress code was for this evening, but...

Sue C and Marshall

Carol, Richard, Leah, and unidentified dog

Let them eat cake...

Richard Then:

and now....
Email Richard at: RLipfield@aol.com

Stay tuned for Part Two: Deja Views...a Retrospective
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The Trident Chronicles or "Diaries of a Dish Dog" Part One

2009-11-10T15:36:00Z

I don’t know if this is true with all vocations but I know from personal experience that there comes a time in every struggling musicians career when you just have to say “this is the shits…I’m tired of constantly being broke” and go find a “day gig”. Well….armed with a lofty resume and a great opening interview line..”Hi! I’m a 20 year old struggling musician, high school drop out w/ a grand total 3 yrs. dishwashing experience”……fortunately for me the girlfriend of one of my bands mates had taken note of my situation and said “hey, why don’t you go apply at the Trident in Sausalito where I work. They take applications on Mondays and they’re lookin’ for dishwashers”. So I went the very next Monday and applied & was hired on the spot. Little did I know just how drastically this “career choice” would affect my life’s path…even to this very moment. I learned an incredibly diverse array of skills in a relatively short span of time (and no, it wasn’t the fine art of de-glazing a brandy snifter after some asshole had demanded a “Spanish Coffee” or the art of not actually getting in “The Big Soup Pot” after they cooked up that God awful cold fish soup (I don’t know how to spell it but I’m sure y’all know what I’m referring to) but still getting it spotless and w/o smellin’ like a huge dead tuna. Most of the kitchen staff were pretty cool about showin’ ya the ropes. Especially the sauté (or “hot side”) guys. I think mostly because they wanted their stuff prep’d just so. I got real proficient with an assortment of cutlery. I began to diversify my budding mechanical career fixing “Old Hobart” at least once a week (until that time it had been strictly automotive born of the 16 year old need to drive….Father to son ..”if you can make that POS run I’ll buy it for you….all of $175 for a ’48 Ford F1 flatbed w/ a Chevy 283 V8 in it….what a mutt!) and if you wanted extra work, you could come in on Mondays and work w/ ace handyman Chuck Fallo on all kinds of stuff. (Ron Good/Busperson) All that was and still is useful, but the knowledge gained and experiences I value the most are from the interactions with the people that I worked for & along side during my 8 year career at Trident. Christ! What a character study! Like a Goddamn Fellini flick! From Pierre the chef to Iraj (aka Roger), Terry Lawson, Bobby Lozoff at the bar, Lou Gannapoler & Dagne to Big John, Mike Toomey & the late Jim Sassani to Richard L, Marshall Bloomstock , Dennis Wright & Lisa Sharp……..and the supporting cast in the kitchen and on the floor the names of whom will undoubtedly arise somewhere in the following text. And then of course, there were……the women. Ah yes…the famed “Trident Waitresses”. This, I have to admit, was definitely a new development & addition (and a welcome one boy howdy!) to my food services employee experience. DAMN!

These weren’t just “good lookin’”…no, more like….exquisite……stunning… ….ravishing………….WOW! Needless to say this could be heaven or some sort of cruel torture for a 20 yr old walking hormone. I probably could have made a fortune selling my “dry side” shifts as well! For those of you who didn’t get to experience the dishwashing environment, “dry side” was the dishwashers station parallel with and had a direct view of, the waitress station side of the kitchen. I’ve often wondered if the amount of dry side breakage increased substantially during the warm summer months.

All adolescent hi jinx aside I have to say that their physical attributes not with standing, most of these ladies were and still are some of the sweetest, caring human beings I have ever known.

Post by Evan Palmerston and Images by Jiro/Melvin

Evan's email: psyckn@sbcglobal.net

Jiro's email: bookofshadows4@yahoo.com

The Trident Chronicles or the Dish Dog Diaries Part 2

2009-11-09T14:54:00Z

As it seems to be a natural evolution of sorts, as one gets more proficient and confident with the task at hand, suddenly (well…maybe not too suddenly) you get the itch to advance, try different and more challenging tasks & skills…..hang out in the dinning room where the real action is. By this time I had become the lead “dish maintenance tech” aka King dish dog on whatever shift I pulled. This had definite advantages over being the “new boy”. The most useful was being able to delegate any number of the “not so desirable tasks” to the newer (but not yet wiser) dish cadets. The more significant fact at this juncture was that Pierre & most of the cooks had decided they wanted to groom you for either prep, cold side, and possibly even “hot side”….but that was a stretch ‘cuz the guys they had back there were institutions, they were like fighter jocks with sauté pans instead of machine guns, micro wave ovens instead of airplanes (and in top dog Pierre’s case the Enola Gay aka big soup pot) with all the “attitude” and “swagger” one would expect from someone in the ah…restaurant business. So one day I was told that they thought I was doin’ an outstanding job and would I like to “train” to do cold side……but I had already been beckoned by the lure of “the floor” with it’s promise of actual interaction with the “Trident Waitresses” (as in actual verbal communication instead of the looks of pity you get as a “dish dog”) interaction with consumers, better tips, etc., etc., So yes, I went the way of the college drop out turned pro athlete (a figurative analogy here folks) and turned them down to be a “busboy”. I must declare here & now that my experience working in an industrial kitchen, especially this one, is directly responsible for solidifying my work ethic (originally instilled in my psyche by my mom). These people worked their asses off! And expected no less from anyone else at the establishment and it rubbed off on me permanently for which I am eternally grateful. But none the less I accepted the offer to get “on the floor” and put that work ethic to use as a Trident busboy! Whoa! I was actually there…….and this job turned out to be just as jammin’ as doin’ wet side or anything else for that matter. But it was different. You were treated different, not better or worse, just different. If the hot side guys were fighter pilots, the busboys & dish dawgs were ground support. The waitresses were Vegas showgirls & the bartenders gunslingers! It was a stage, a show case that people came in droves to witness while dining, drinking or just “hangin’ out” (which there was a lot of) and just when you thought you could catch your breath and take in some of this spectacle, the unmistakable sound of “carry out” would find you at the very deepest recesses of the dining room. I could even detect the faintest hint of a “carry out” at the farthest ends of “the deck”. These requests would invariably come when your hands were full and your momentum was carrying you in the exact opposite direction but hey you just dropped what you were doing and did the carry out….that was the gig. When there were 4 and I think once in a great while (I may be wrong here about numbers) 5 busboy’s on the floor and they were all hustler’s, the room ran like a well oiled machine. You worked your tail off but it was rewarding when you knew you had kicked ass and “run the room”. I think that is one of the main factors the made working at the Trident so unique. Instead of just going through the motions and waiting for that pay check at some funky greasy spoon, you actually strived to make it easier on the waitresses & bar crew (this is my opinion of course). Of course I’d be full of BS if I claimed that I looked forward to going to work at the “Dent” everyday I was scheduled but I never felt that it was boring or useless. And I think the diversity of the staff was what kept things interesting. All walks of life, with lots of different takes on the whole scene. And low and behold if you were an artist….of any type you were openly accepted and even encouraged to pursue your art. I never felt I had to conceal the fact that I was carving out a life as a musician and that the “Dent” was just a stepping stone for a lot of us. So if you “got hot” as the saying went and did your job everything was cool. Though every now and then there would be someone who would test the strength of that institution but that was fairly rare.

Post by Evan Palmerston: email: psyckn@sbcglobal.net

Photos by Jiro Yoneshige: email: bookofshadows4@yahoo.com

The Trident Chronicles or the Dish Dog Diaries Part 3

2009-11-08T14:57:00Z

You Want Me to What?!!!

      Bussing was not without it’s hazards though. There were a lot of “events” that occurred on my watch but there are but 4 that really stand out in my mind. One: Picture a summer Sunday brunch with beautiful weather……place is packed, we’re slammin’ and all of a sudden a manager beckons me over to the phone booth (popular rendezvous spot for secret conversations…among other things) and in a slightly shaken whisper announces “I need you to go look for a bomb”…….Well, you can imagine the multitude of questions running through my head not the least of which was “you want me to what?!?” which I asked in no such whisper. But when asked again I had grasped the situation and like a trained robot went off and looked for what I thought a bomb might look like (visualize Wiley Coyote here). As I was walking around all the places I thought someone could possibly put such a device the police had been summoned and the restaurant cleared and no bomb found by either yours truly or the police. This happened one more time in the same year I think which made it obvious that it was some disgruntled former employee calling in these threats to wreak havoc during the rush. Not funny! (Photo late seventies)
   Two: One year, I forget what triggered the idea, it was decided that someone had too “streak” through the restaurant at the height of the rush. I think it was the opening day of yacht season and possibly to compliment our annual topless woman in an Indian headdress buzzing the deck on a very expensive looking yacht. Anyway I’m not sure how it came about but Eric Shuggar was to be the “streaker”. The plan was for him to bolt from behind the cashiers box run to about mid room, execute some complimentary pirouettes & and exit to the bench at mid deck where myself and I think two other streaking assistants were waiting to toss old Eric off the deck into the bay. This was all fine and very trendy until I realized that I hadn’t really thought about how we were gonna grab a naked dude with enough grip in a place where we wouldn’t hurt either him or his pride, to “toss him up and over the bench … clearing the deck railing and the flag poles that stuck out every few feet or so. As he came racing out and towards us I just kept saying to myself…”self, if ever there was a time for you to be extremely accurate this is it”……..and so into the drink, went Eric… maybe not as gracefully as he could have but to our relief all hand prints were accounted for on his back and lower legs and his voice retained the lower register…….whew!      Three: There were just everyday type hazards associated with this type of work as well. Cuts, burns, etc,. and even if you’re as careful as can be there will be something that gets ya sooner or later. One of the most feared hazards were the ever present “black holes”. These were small pools of water on the floor from spills or plants draining, any number of causes. Because the floor was wood and coated with an incredibly hard thick plastic finish you couldn’t always detect them. One fine summer day I happened to find one of these little buggers as I was coming out of the kitchen doing the “One handed goblet tray balancing while running act” passing just in front of a packed dinning table. Of course it it was the height of the rush….and I did not see the large, multi pronged “black hole” directly in my path. The table referenced here is one of two very large tables capable of seating at least 10… anyway, down I went. It was so fast that I didn’t remember the trip down, just that one moment I was cruisin’ the next I was on the floor with my right arm buried in a pile of broken glass. The goblets I was carrying were big heavy glass mugs on stems. I think you could only get 12 on a tray but they were heavy so when you were carrying them to any specific place, you wanted to pick ‘em up transport and deliver in as few moves as possible…..which I did…just minus the third or delivery phase. The sound was as though a bomb had gone off. It literally froze the room. You could hear a pin drop and I’ll never forget the look on the faces of my direct audience seated ring side. Picture this: the audience reaction to the number at the end of the first act in Mel Brooks “The Producers” called “Spring Time for Hitler” same look, but some were terrified because apparently it looked by the way I was holding my arm when I got up, as though it were broken and I was bleeding pretty good from all the chards of glass stuck in my forearm.

Gary/ Espresso Bar

Jan McDonald Sue C.

Post by Evan Palmerston: email: psyckn@sbcglobal.net

Photos by Jiro Yoneshige: email: bookofshadows4@yahoo.com

The Trident Chronicles or the Dish Dog Diaries Part 4

2009-11-07T15:04:00Z

I’ll never forget my final shift as a Trident busboy. I had already advanced to the “espresso bar” & been there for almost a year (I think) and was still doin’ some bus shifts when the “Dent” had to close for repairs to the deck or more importantly the pilings that held the whole place up. This was December of 1975 I think and there was a closing party that they need people work. Well nobody wanted to work that shift of course because there was just too much partyin’ to be had. I don’t remember if I volunteered or they asked me to bus but I wound up working that night which in and of itself was odd because I usually only worked days due to my musical commitments. Now that I think of it I believe it was the bar crew that asked specifically for me to bus. I had always hustled extra hard for the bar guys because the better you took care of them the faster they got the drink orders out and the happier the waitresses were. I would appreciate that myself I would come to learn a few years down the line. Anyway, long story short, it was mayhem. The place was absolutely packed. Busier and more crowded than I certainly had ever witnessed. We were just slammin’ all night long..no let up (until it was over) The kitchen & bar staff were trying to empty the place of inventory and it was pretty evident they were going to be successful. The trick was getting to the areas where the stock was when all access across the floor was blocked by increasingly well lubricated party goer’s.

Evan Palmerston's email: psyckn@sbcglobal.net

Photos by: Jiro Yoneshige / Jiro's/ Melvin's email is: bookofshadows4@yahoo.com

One of Evan's posts was edited here, for his transcript in it's entirety, it's posted just above the "Photo Gallery" on this site...and, more of Jiro's photos can be found in the photo gallery....more will filter in there over time...only have so many images scanned at this time....sorry, this process takes time....

The Trident Jazz Memories

2009-11-06T15:46:00Z

Classic Vintage Photo of the Trident when it was a Jazz Club...photo courtesy of the Richard Lipfield Collection

RLipfield@aol.com