It must have been in the early 1960’s when I was a campaign manager (technically I was his legislative analyst) for Assemblyman Milton Marks. Milton gave me a ticket and sent me to a dinner at the Fairmont Hotel. The Fairmont was the most distinguished site for memorials at the time. Owned by powerhouse Ben Swig. I don’t remember who the memorial was for.
I was seated at a table for four. Someone with an outrageous sense of macabre must have made the seating assignments. The four of us were: Harry Bridges, the Australian communist head of the Longshoremen’s Union, Benny Bufano a Maoist artist known for his pro communist marble statues, one of the Crocker matrons (an old rich and powerful San Francisco family) and me.
Harry had a face like an eagle, narrow with a large nose. He was quiet as one would expect for an activist who shaped the San Francisco waterfront for the next century. Benny was small and skinny. He focused on the Crocker matron; she wasn’t sexy but she was a potential patron. He talked to her about his studio and how he worked. She listened attentively.
The subject of the day at our table was Vincent Hallinan’s lawsuit against the Catholic Church for fraud for misleading a man into believing in heaven so he would leave his inheritance to the Church. Nobody at the table believed the case had legal merit but Harry and Benny believed the intention of the suit was honorable and just.
I was the only person at the table who knew what the suit was all about. So I explained.
The man who died and left his estate to the Church, was a judge who had ruled against Vincent in a case Vincent brought against the powerful Market St. Railway Line on behalf of a man who lost his legs in a streetcar accident. The Railway was owned by the most powerful railroad interests in town. Vincent's father had worked for the streetcar company. Vincent was a prominent Lefty radical.
A grandfather of the Crocker matron was one of the 'big four' who founded the railroad industry.
The lawsuit was Vincent’s postmortem revenge for the judges decision. He knew it would not win in court but he was determined to use up all the estate money in legal fees. Revenge served cold.
I wish I could describe the fascinating conversation. But nobody said anything after my little presentation, and they were all happy when the speaker commenced.
This would be a great start for a good fiction writer. I wish I could add more.
(The sculpture was one of Benny's with the background at the SFO airport. It was later moved to some obscure location when his work fell out of favor.)