In the 1980’s, when I moved to San Francisco, creative souls were everywhere, up and down the city’s hills. Some of them became a permanent part of my life. I’m grateful for time spent with people who love what they do, whatever they do, generous souls who share their talent. I’d like to introduce you to some of of them from time to time.
My friend, Barbara Wetteland, a glorious singer, passed away a few months ago. I miss her awfully. I met her through her husband, Ed, a Bay Area keyboard legend. In the 1980’s I lived on Green Street in San Francisco, a few blocks up from North Beach and I tripped over to Washington Square Bar & Grill (“Washbag” to media folks) so many times a week I ought to be embarrassed about it. Ed played piano there, holding forth from a space that barely contained him. He was a giant of a man with a big booming laugh, a piano-playing genius who could expound on any subject while taking requests, except when he wasn’t in the mood, and then he played what he pleased and didn’t chat.
“Washbag”
Ed and Barbara fell in love and began performing together all over the Bay Area. After every gig they drove away from the city lights, returning to their log cabin in Sebastopol.
Barbara was feisty and restless and loved making things, from soup to needlepoint, embroidery to gardening, quilting to songwriting. She created this for me as a table runner, but then she borrowed it back to enter in the Sonoma County Fair. She took home a ribbon and was as proud of that as any song she ever sang.
Sweet B has now joined Eddie, taking their music to another stage. Please do click the links below the pictures and hear The Wettelands.
Ed at Bohemian Grove playing beautiful music under beautiful redwoods.
Barbara (right) and me at Candlestick Park in the 1990’s waiting for Ed to warm up his keyboard out on the pitcher’s mound where the two of them performed the national anthem.
– – – – –
Barbara and Ed: “But Beautiful”
Ed alone: “Our Love Is Here To Stay”
Boy, those sounds are like a plush, warm quilt on a cold San Francisco night.
I still miss the City and all it meant to me though I am, as Herb Caen would have it, a Sackamenna Kid. I’m told these days I would be heartbroken to see how it has become run down through neglect. I’m told you don’t really feel safe on the streets at night. I hope that’s not true.
Beautifully sketched by your light strokes, richly remembered by your friends, Barbara and Ed.
A lovely piece.
Thank you for these thoughts. I believe talent like the Wettelands were given should be immortal, and thanks to today’s communications they can be. The City’s a different place, but the views from up and down those famous hills are still there.
Anita, Thank you for leaving this beautiful heartfelt description of cherished memories. I sat with Ed’s grandson tonight and we listened to he and Barbara together. I told JD, “He would have loved to have sat with you and played the piano.” To that, JD replied, “He can now in spirit, maybe one day we will play on stage together.”
Thank you for giving this young man, seeking a spiritual connection, this gift. I am forever grateful…
Michele, what a wonderful story. I know both Ed and Barbara believed the power of music is great enough to connect us through the years here and hereafter. At the end of Barbara’s life she spoke of singing with Ed again. She believed everything she accomplished musically owed a huge debt to Ed’s mentoring and support and pure genius. Hugs to you.