Back in the old days, when I still drank, I’d finish up a bartending shift on 6th Street, by which I mean throw back a few cocktails. Then I’d float, heavily buzzed, on down to the 311 Club to see CJ. The 311 was not really “my” kind of place. Except for CJ, a bartender so amazingly skilled I would go just to watch him. Okay, well that and get a little drunker. The thing about CJ was that he could make any customer—big, small, young, old, stupid, suave—feel like his one true love in the few moments it took him to mix a drink, run a charge card, and wink like he meant it. Maybe it was an act, all this showmanship, but I had the feeling that CJ genuinely liked people and wasn’t just shaking it for tips....