By Nicholas Fox
Communing with Oakland's greatest writer in the bar he used to call home.
You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club. —Jack LondonHe was a dropout, a hobo, an oyster poacher. He was an excellent sailor, a less excellent rancher, a deeply committed socialist, a boxing fanatic, an early ecologist. He was an alcoholic, a voracious reader, a boat builder, a failed gold miner and, in the language of the day, “a bastard.” He was perhaps the greatest adventure writer America has ever produced.