Ride along, sing along in Kabaret Kab
The tap of a finger has replaced the wave of an arm for hailing a cab, thanks to smartphone apps like Uber and Lyft. Humans may also be replaced if driverless cars take over the roads someday. But so far, technology has not found a way to replace crooning cabdrivers, and that’s good news for Buzz Brooks, the Kabaret Kab of San Francisco.
As colorful local characters go, he’s not as well-known as the late Brown twins, or Tom Sweeney, the Sir Francis Drake Hotel’s Beefeater-clad doorman, or David Johnson, the Bushman. But 66-year-old Brooks, who has been singing for most of his life and driving a cab for more than half of it, has an eccentric edge — and a fan club to boot.
“I love him,” says Lorenzo Logoreci, owner of the Allegro Romano restaurant on Nob Hill. “At the end of the night, the customers who need cabs are always asking, ‘Can we please have the
singing taxi guy?’ Even if they’re only going two blocks, they want him to pick them up and drive around the block to sing for them.”
Call it music to the ears of anyone who happens upon him this weekend or any weekend. He drives only Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights, including this New Year’s Eve weekend.
In a digital world, Brooks’ demographics tend to skew older. Repeat customers are the sort who call him directly on his cell phone to book him at (415) 794-BUZZ instead of using an app. They like swing music. And they don’t get worked up about offbeat lyrics. When they hear something funny, they smile.
“He represents San Francisco in the best way,” says former Mayor Willie Brown, an occasional client, “because he makes it a joy to navigate the traffic as he takes you from one iconic location to the next.”
Brooks’ red cab is covered with a Flywheel logo — giving no clue about the surprise within. A small placard in the back seat bears a photo of a man in a red hat, red bow tie and red-rimmed eyeglasses — the spitting image of the driver — along with the words Kabaret Kab.
If a passenger notices, and asks about the photo, Brooks is off and running, starting with small talk. Before you know it, music is swelling from his car’s CD player and he’s singing loudly about a mysterious relative. Like it or not, the traveling show has begun. Oh, why does my Aunt Peg have a mustache on her face? / She doesn’t even know it’s there, it’s such a big disgrace / She used to be quite beautiful and lovely to see / But lately she looks manlier than me!
Robert Lee Brooks is a native of New York’s Long Island, the youngest of three boys. He was raised by his father, an elementary school principal, and mother who taught French. As one brother became an engineer in Michigan, and the other a biochemist in Paris, Brooks’ passions steered him to music.
In high school, he discovered the soulful sounds of Detroit’s Motown and Memphis’ Stax record labels, and with a friend formed an R&B band called 300 Years. Instead of heading to college in 1970, Brooks and the band toured for seven years, opening for headliners Sly Stone, Rufus with Chaka Khan, Kool & the Gang and others. He earned the nickname “Buzz” for his high energy.
When the band broke up in 1977, he and a girlfriend headed west to San Francisco, a place she had visited once and liked. He worked a variety of jobs — as a draftsman at a company that made restrooms for national parks, for a sheet metal company that made gutters and downspouts, and for a Redwood City company that installed cubicle farms, office partitions and computer floors with air conditioning in the days of big mainframe computers that overheated.
Eager for a job with flexible hours and no commute, he began driving a cab in 1980 — Veterans Cab at first, and four years later, for DeSoto, where he’s been ever since. On the side, he’s performed with local bands (the Steamin’ Seamen, Chicago Blues Power), dabbled in solo music writing, and sung with the Skyline College Concert Choir, the City College Gospel Choir and the Oakland Jazz Choir.
In 2003, he caught a bad cold and lost his voice for a month. The experience instilled in him a sense of urgency and led to the recording of his first and only album, “The Oenophile Anthem,” in 2005. Whether it’s a comedy album laced with jazz or a jazz album laced with comedy is open to debate. Among the 15 songs are the “12-Note Samba,” “Madam, I’m Adam” (a song about palindromes) and the title song, “The Oenophile Anthem,” an ode to dozens of Napa Valley wineries.
It’s this album that he has sung along to in his cab since 2006, for an estimated 15,000 to 20,000 passengers to date. He has sold 3,800 albums, in person and on his website, www.buzzbrooks.com. “It keeps me going,” he says, “and wanting to have fun.”
Brooks would like to retire but can’t afford to just yet. There are about 2,000 taxis with medallions in San Francisco and nearly 5,000 taxi drivers, all competing with a reported 45,000 Uber and Lyft drivers in the Bay Area. Brooks says his income has dried up so much that he’s taken out a reverse mortgage on his Daly City home to make ends meet. He plans to keep driving for at least another four years, buoyed by the good in his life, rather than deflated by the bad.
“The best reward I ever get from a Kabaret Kab experience — and this has happened maybe six times in all these years — is when a passenger says, ‘You know, Buzz, I was having a lousy day, but you have turned my whole day around,’ ” he says, his eyes welling up with tears. “Screw the album sale. That supersedes it.”
On a recent Thursday, laughter prevails as three young women pile into the cab at the Hilton Union Square and ask for a ride to Park Tavern in North Beach.
“You know,” he begins, “I wanted to tell you about the Park Tavern. It’s a wonderful restaurant, and it’s right across the street from a park called the Washington Square Park. The only thing is, there are some strange people that sleep around that park at night — and they won’t bother you, but sometimes they come out of the bushes. And you might see them. One of them I wanted to give you a head’s-up on — it’s a strange old woman. And I found out many moons ago that it’s an elderly relative of mine. It’s my Aunt Peg …”
As he breaks into song, the women — initially confused — start to grin. By the time the three-minute ditty comes to a close, they’re ready for more.
“Brilliant!” exclaims Justina Hemperek of London. “What a winner!”
“Who’d have thought?” Brooks asks rhetorically. “Isn’t San Francisco full of some weirdness?”