It's an overcast Saturday afternoon, lunch time. I am at my usual spot, the Montana Galley, on Ventura, near Laurel Canyon, I walk in and wave to Helena, owner, who is very bubbly with the customers. I order my usual, a grilled smelt on rye, with Mayo and cheese, and a tall buttermilk. As I sit in a small booth in the back, who walks in but Jose Canseco. He sits in the round booth near me in the back, and orders a T-Bone steak, two baked potatoes, Caesar salad, and coffee. With an idea...
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