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After landing a job at an equities research firm, I moved from San Jose to San Francisco in the late ’90s.

It was the single-greatest move I’ve ever made.

  • I met my wife
  • I met some wonderful people
  • My eyes were open to city-life
  • I met the. greatest. bartender. ever.

Hobie was that bartender.

For my entire time in San Francisco, I worked in and around Market and Second Streets. From dot-coms to investment banks, I didn’t really ever leave a four-block area for work.

Which was perfect, since I like to walk to/from work.

One of my great Friday memories was stopping at Route 101 on the way home from work for a few Budweisers.

Mike. Ginger. Hobie. All great bartenders.

Each memorable in their very unique way.

Hobie was the kind of bartender that would hold meaningful conversations with everyone at the bar while still ensuring everyone was at their right level (in their glass, in their belly).

Hobie was that bartender.

The cowboy hat. The band. The guitar.

That devilish grin.

Jenn and I were once at the Hemlock Tavern. A new-ish bar with live music not too far from Route 101 (and I don’t think too far into our dating).

We didn’t see Hobie at the bar initially–when we did, that grin was headed our way.

Hobie bought us a round of shots and chatted and laughed with us.

This was one of the coolest things that has ever happened to me.

I was hanging with that bartender!

The shots tasted like the bartender wiped the bar at the end of the night, then wrenched the towel into our glasses.

We still laugh about that.

We learned that Hobie is now playing for a much cooler, much larger audience.


Hobie. Doing Hobie things.

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