Lunch With A Private Eye

The Balboa Cafe in the Marina is one of those famous lunch places in San Francisco. Gavin Newsom used to own it. At night, it's full of beautiful women and handsome men, part of what Herb Caen used to call the Bermuda Triangle of romance in the city.

There's an older crowd at lunch, important-looking types, serious. Sitting at a table by the window, eating pasta and drinking iced tea, is Jack Immendorf, the dean of San Francisco's private detectives.

There is no bigger cliche than the San Francisco private investigator: gimlet-eyed, sardonic; there have been dozens of them and writers dream up more all the time. In their mind's eye they look like George Clooney or Matt Damon.

But Immendorf looks more like Broderick Crawford, the old actor: a bit jowly, a wisp of a mustache, small eyes, thinning hair. He wears an open-necked shirt and a vest, has a big belt buckle with a golden star on it. He used to be a city commissioner back when Frank Jordan was the mayor.

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