In 2000, I was out of work.  I’d been downsized after 31 years.  I’d soon have what proved to be a much better job, but I was doing a number of small pencil works for a possible show.  I wasn’t starving or anything, but I’d been working nearly all my life and the longueurs were killing me.  This restaurant, in the old Nick’s Western Shop building at the corner of Market and Cherokee Streets, was quite popular.  It’s still in business, but under different ownership, I’m told.