Situated in an old building that was reputed to be a brothel at one time, the Fat Lady rests on a corner just a few blocks from the water in Oakland’s Jack London Square. Named after a painting of a plump pro that had taken up residence there in the late 1800’s, today the place is a bustling bar and restaurant packed with a different kind of professionals.

Larry the daytime bartender – an Oakland legend with over thirty years behind the wood – is proud and poised to talk about the Pride and Poise boys – the Oakland Raiders – at any time. He is also keen at keeping me apprised of family members and friends. “Seen my uncle?” “Not in about two months.” “How about Jack?” “Saw him yesterday.”

Drinks are as stiff as those visiting the coroner’s office around the corner. Most patrons there have a penchant for the clear stuff, either up or on the rocks. A small cooler behind the bar houses a few bottled beers.

Food is excellent with mainstays being a Grilled Crab Sandwich, Crab Cakes, Shrimp Louie, and a New York Steak Sandwich on Sourdough with crispy onion rings. No dinner is served on Sunday and Monday nights.

Opened in 1970 by a family that still runs the bar and restaurant today, parking is fairly easy with the street metered and a large multi-level lot across the street. A movie theatre also across the street makes the Fat Lady a good call before or after a film.

Some weekdays there is the bizarre ritual of a lingerie show, something I have never understood as a part of bar tradition. But it does seem to bring out the old-timers and their thirst for the clear spirit, and with the building’s history of ill repute I guess it kind of works.

Normally decked out in Barbary Coast décor with tiffany lamps, beveled and stained glass, old brewery art, and a big turn of the century oak bar that is fitting of its heritage and location, no bar celebrates the holidays like the Fat Lady. Always dressed up, the Fat Lady becomes even gaudier at Halloween, Christmas, Mardi Gras or any major drinking holiday with a huge array of decorative items.

Any day can be a holiday at this lively bar, but it is during a holiday when the Fat Lady sings.

D. M.

Club Mallard has gone through quite a transformation over the last 25 years, much like the town it resides in. Despite the changes, the first rate establishment remains one of the East Bay’s great watering hole-in-the-walls.

Albany, California was basically known for three things: being next to Berkeley, small, affordable stucco homes for blue collar workers and Golden Gate Fields, the Northern California horseracing venue. We would laugh that the best view in Albany was from the men’s urinals at GGF, which faced out toward a breathtaking view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Seats at the racetrack face traffic clogged interstate 880.

As has happened in the Bay Area, those small, affordable stucco homes are, well, still small. But with the now outlandish housing prices comes a new retail culture catering to the affluent in Albany of high end shops, book stores, coffee houses and café’s. What would become of the sweet, old Club Mallard – the corner bar on San Pablo Avenue so near and dear to my heart?

While at the University of California – Berkeley, a bunch of Cal students worked at a meat warehouse in Richmond at night to have some spending money in our faded jeans. We punched out was at 12:30 a.m., meaning we had less than 1 and ½ hours to rush to a drinking establishment to wind down. Bars in the immediate area were scary, and other bars stopped serving before the 2 a. m. California cut-off, so we had to go back toward Berkeley in search of a place that could handle our young thirsts.

I don’t know who discovered it first – I’ll take credit – but we began to frequent the Club Mallard – respectfully known as the MAH–lard – because of the pool table, juke box and venerable old bartender Don Lucey. Don was one of the best bartenders ever, a consummate professional. He was a tall, thick man, and his hands swung low behind the bar causing us to nickname him “Grandfather Clock.”

He would serve until 1:59, but at 2:00 all drinks were off of the bar. He made the best Manhattan I have ever had, and maybe the only Manhattan I have ever had. A splash of cherry juice was his signature. What were guys in their early ‘20’s doing drinking Manhattans at one o’clock in the morning anyway?

Don left us for the big bar in the sky and the Mallard took on new ownership. The place has been updated with a patio that is affectionately called the “lanai,” and the upstairs apartment has been converted into a pool room with the addition of three more tables. The clientele is distinctively younger, especially at night, with body art and piercing popular on both sides of the bar.

The updating has actually made the bar better and more popular. But the spirit of Don remains, if not the want for a Manhattan. An excellent selection of beers would be the better choice now if so inclined to duck into the Mallard. – D.M.

When most people think of Oakland, they refer to the sprawling flatlands, where most of the crime and industrial commerce takes place, and the Coliseum Complex where the Raiders, A’s and Golden State Warriors call home. Those in the know, however, realize that there is a charming district of hills, trees, expensive homes and small proprietorships in the Oakland Hills called Montclair. The anchor bar/restaurant of Montclair is a place called Crogan’s.

Bob Gattis ran Crogan’s since its inception over 25 years ago. On the popular corner of LaSalle Avenue and Mountain Boulevard, Crogan’s has served the community well becoming a key watering hole for the sports minded and political minded of the area. It has a mix of A’s and Giants fans, Raiders and 49ers fans. But the team of choice is the University of California Golden Bears. Gattis graduated from Cal in 1970.

Pictures of great Golden Bear players and teams spruce up the bar on the right of the entrance. The restaurant is on the left. The bar windows open out to LaSalle which provides for a cooling breeze on many evenings. This is a different layout after a fire gutted the restaurant several years ago.

Despite the fire and consequential lost revenue, Gattis continued to pay his staff. An ice chest of beer was full for friends during reconstruction, although the Chinese food restaurant across the street became a temporary bar for the Crogan’s needy.

It is difficult to go into Crogan’s and not be greeted warmly by the staff, or by Gattis who would shove a shot of Bushmill’s Malt in my hand upon arrival. “Well Mullen’s in town, guess we gotta’ have a Malt!” We would then talk Cal sports or local political issues. He was always in the middle of the bar at Happy Hour, when many of his numerous friends would stop in for a chat.

The bar is always active with the restaurant a little more laid back. The beer selection is solid and the place makes a great Irish Coffee. Food is moderately priced and well prepared. Lunch and dinner are available. The sandwiches are outstanding, with burgers and crab sandwiches a highlight. Depending upon who is behind the bar, your clam chowder may get a splashing of sherry that makes for a nice touch.

Gattis and I met in Arizona one year for the Insight.com Bowl in which the Cal Bears beat Virginia Tech in a very exciting game. We partied at Jackson’s in Phoenix with other Cal alumni, and when the Cal band played on the street outside of the patio, Gattis beamed.

Gattis always bugged me about why Crogan’s wasn’t on GreatJoints.com when it was the first place that I would always visit when I came to Oakland (and sometimes the last). There isn’t always enough time to cover the vast array of worthy places. So finally, Bob, this review is for you. But alas, he will never see it.

Bob Gattis died of a heart attack at age 55 on March 26, 2004. On April 2, hundreds turned out for a celebration of his life with stories of his habitually tardiness, his love for the University of California, and his love of people.

Luckily, the great tradition of the bar and restaurant in the Oakland Hills remains because of a loyal and professional staff and Bob’s family. But my next Bushmill’s Malt at Crogan’s will not be the same. – D.M.

There is a small bar and restaurant in the Oakland hills that may be the only of its kind in America. It is a place that actually encourages drinking and driving.

Montclair Golf Course is located in a canyon off of the top of Park Boulevard in the central part of the Oakland Hills. Just east of the Montclair district and west of the Mormon Temple, Montclair Golf Course has been somewhat of an institution for Oakland’s young and old for years.

The place is owned by the city making it a bit dilapidated, which should come as no surprise. The steep narrow driveway – hard to find by those not in the know – empties into a large parking area. To the left is a nine-hole pitch and putt course, where many of Oakland’s youth took their first golf swing. An old school putt-putt course has been replaced with, well, nothing but the memories of one’s first hole in one. A pro shop offers great deals on clubs and balls for bargain conscience golfers.

Straight ahead is a double-decked driving range that is always busy, despite the fact that many of the range balls have not been replaced since Julius Boros won a golf tournament. By the way, what is it that makes aiming at the guy in the cart scooping up range balls so irresistible?

A bar, affectionately known as “The Hole,” overlooks the driving range with hackers in full view. The bartenders are friendly and the California Lotto’s Hot Spot game is available for play at the bar for those looking for other forms of entertainment. Sports are always on the numerous TV’s.

A few draft beers are featured along with a full complement of liquor, accessible to the swingers by a sliding window behind the bar. A tap on the window and a cold Red Hook is close at hand to those slicing on the practice range.

The restaurant makes very serviceable fare, with breakfast on weekends particularly popular. Try the Joe’s Special with sourdough toast and any of the previous night misgivings are quickly eliminated.

The joint is truly a local hangout. Only people from Oakland would know it was there, which seems to be just how the faithful throng of neighbors like it. But, what the heck? They paid for it with their tax dollars. -D.M.

“THERE IS A PLACE in Oakland that leans into the water like the bourbon leans in my glass, occasionally stirring but primarily standing if not tall, upright. A bright sun pleases as it peaks through the fog that clouds the sky and my thoughts.”

Okay, so I am no Jack London. But Heinhold’s First and Last Chance in Oakland’s Jack London Square is tribute to an American classic, while it has become a classic onto itself.

Opening in 1883, Heinhold’s First and Last Chance is reported to be the oldest continuously operating bar in California. Not only has the bar survived Jack London’s infamous drinking bouts – he died at 40 of liver failure – but the 1906 Great San Francisco Earthquake has given the bar a dramatic list that requires glasses on the bar to be held with one hand.

Originally a bunkhouse, Johnny Heinhold bought the place for $100 and turned it into a bar for the men of the sea. Young Jack London, living in the Oakland waterfront, did odd jobs for the bar until later when he would make notes for his literary works under the light of the gas lamps inside. A cabin where London once lived in has been relocated to just a few paces from the saloon’s front door.

A small wooden shack that has been expanded by providing patio seating outside, the First and Last Chance is a must see on any visit to the East Bay. At the east end of Jack London Square, the First and Last Chance is not a local hangout but more of a stop where tourists mingle with bartenders well versed in the area’s history. Usually a few degrees warmer than the other side of the bay, Jack London Square is a pleasant place to walk, admire the boats and possibly stop for a bite at one of the many restaurants.

As part of the renovation of the Square, parking is easy and a Barnes and Noble is now an anchor tenant. After tasting the signature Bloody Mary or hoisting an Anchor Steam beer at Heinhold’s First and Last Chance, one may be inspired to walk over and pick a copy of the Call of the Wild or White Fang. – D.M.

Normalcy and Berkeley go together like morals and Bill Clinton. Or elegance and Roseanne Barr. Let’s face it. Berkeley is wackier than Paul Rubens at an adult movie theater. But there is something strangely normal about Brennan’s, a popular Berkeley hangout for over 40 years at the foot of University Avenue.

Brennan’s is located in the Berkeley that few can identify. This is not the “burn your bra or draft card,” “give peace a chance,” “make love not war,” “F*** the pigs” kind of place that you would expect of Berkeley. Due south of the University of California toward the bay, Brennan’s is more blue-collar than Cal Blue. Heck, even the cops are welcome here and can drink coffee for free.

Run by the third generation of the Brennan family, little has changed since the bar and restaurant was born in 1959. Including some of the characters that drink there.

West Berkeley is the neighborhood where popular, longtime bartender Jimmy “The Float” Agrusa grew up. Where Billy Martin used to get into fights after ballgames. Where tips are exchanged by those in the know heading over to Golden Gate Fields in Albany, located about a mile and an eighth away.

An updating inside Brennan’s a couple of years ago brought some life into a look that had become a bit listless. However, some things did not change. The large rectangular shaped island bar in the middle of the dining room. The “slide your tray” hof brau style counter that serves up delicious carved sandwiches like turkey, ham, roast beef and corned beef. And the picture on the wall of old man Brennan posing with a prized steer out in front of the Cow Palace in Daly City.

Draft beer and Irish Coffees are the staples of Brennan’s. St. Patrick’s Day is easily the busiest day of the year.

Brennan’s is a reliable, convenient, almost normal place frequented by folks that earn an honest living. Except for those that may have just hit Beetlebaum in the sixth at Golden Gate Fields. – D.M.

Richmond, California is often thought of as the scariest part of the San Francisco Bay Area. Scarier than Hunter’s Point. Scarier than East Palo Alto. Scarier than the Black Hole at a Raiders game. Even scarier than a Men’s Bathroom in the Castro District.

Yet somehow, in this charming, hidden bayside enclave known as Point Richmond sits the Hotel Mac. It is a place that time, and today crime, seems to have forgotten.

Allegedly an old bordello back in the fishing and trading days of East San Francisco Bay and South San Pablo Bay, long before the bridges were built, the Hotel Mac is a throwback to the Barbary Coast. The hotel survived a fire in 1971, but has not lost any of its charm. Still ornate on the inside, a small but lively bar is to the right as you walk in and is the focal point of the dining tables. Downstairs provides a great view for people watching. Upstairs provide more of the heritage of the place; in fact you expect the Madam to walk out at any moment.

The food is excellent and very reasonable by fine dining standards. You can’t help but crave oysters or crab cakes when you enter the place, and either selection will not disappoint. Nor does the reasonably priced wine list. And, as any great (Point) joint should have, full menu dining is available at the bar.

Point Richmond is only 20 minutes from Oakland and 10 minutes from Berkeley off of the Eastshore Freeway. Stay to the left past Golden Gate Fields racetrack. Do not go into Downtown Richmond on your right, if you cherish your life.

A great place to take a date or visit with friends, the Hotel Mac is in the middle of approximately a half a mile of bars, shops, Victorian houses and an old firehouse. The place still maintains five rooms for lodging. To this day, despite all of the modern conveniences, the Hotel Mac is a testament to the discovery days of early California. You expect to see a patron to belly up to the bar and pay their tab in gold nuggets. – D.M.

The local was a term used for the neighborhood pub where locals go and swap opinions on politics, sports, or neighborhood issues almost always with pint in hand. Few places like that exist today, primarily because there are so few neighborhoods left. McNally’s remains a local.
Named for Bill McNally, the original owner, this nearly seventy-year old pub serves the people of the Rockridge and Broadway Terrace areas of North Oakland. Established on College Avenue long before this street became the trendiest street in the East Bay, McNally’s is Oakland’s home of the Irish Coffee. An excellent beer and single malt scotch selection exists as well.

Now in it’s third ownership, the cheery Sean Cahill runs an accommodating staff of characters of various ages and sizes. And even previous owner, the legendary Pat Bermingham, still works a shift or two.

Oakland is a city of great ethnic diversity and McNally’s clientele represents the diversity…of the British Isles. Scots, English, Welsh and Irish all coexist in this charming spot with nary a rock thrown. People actually seem to enjoy each other’s company there.

Once a smoky den, McNally’s (or Mac’s as the regulars call it) has benefited greatly from California’s smoking ban in bars and restaurants. The place is much cleaner though still dark in an inviting way. Smoking patrons are graciously given two options: benches outside the front of the bar or a smoking room with television in the back past the beer cooler.

People shuttle in and out during the day and night. A lot of people at McNally’s drink the usual, meaning they are frequent customers, although the crowd does get decidedly younger later at night.

Like a good local should, a Day at the Races, trips to A’s or Raider games and golf outings are littered throughout the bar’s activity calendar. A longtime mainstay of the bar is the small bumper pool table near the washrooms that invites a friendly game. An occasional live band will play on a weekend night, although the smallish bar size is less than ideal for loud music and big crowds. Parking on College Avenue is metered, so make sure that you mind your watch and have plenty of quarters.

McNally’s is the perfect bar on a crisp, foggy day. A large fireplace is the centerpiece of the bar, with a hearth as big as the hearts of the people that regularly head to Oakland best local. – D.M.

Billy Wilder’s Lost Weekend is a dark film based on a five day bender by a struggling writer. The Lost Weekend Lounge may be a place to lose a few hours, but hardly takes itself as seriously as the classic movie.

Located across the estuary from Oakland in the heart of Alameda, or “on the Island” as locals refer to it, the Lost Weekend Lounge has a retro feel. Old televisions from the 50’s, a lava lamp collection, and nostalgic beer point-of sale including a Lucky Lager Beer sign reminding us that it is “lucky if you live out west,” are part of the bar decor.

Framed album covers featuring Waylon Jennings, Johnnie Cash, Merle Haggard and others grace the walls. A picture of Patsy Cline is a centerpiece. A bandstand in the back of the bar is occupied on weekends, although the bar is small with just five table tops. The lights typically remain off during the day, adding to the ambiance although it is more out of practicality. The lack of lighting keeps the bar’s temperature down on warm days.

Because of the convenient location in the middle of a busy block, a constant flow of people pop in and out of the bar from its 2pm opening. The local shoeshine guy comes in for a cigarette, and pays $.25 to a patron. Young and old make up the customer mix and the inventory of beers and liquor rivals bars twice the size.

One of the funniest sights in the bar is a picture of John Wayne in military garb on the door of the Men’s urinal with the caption “A man has to do what a man has to do.” When in Alameda, a must do is a visit to the Lost Weekend Lounge. – D.M.