The secrets behind the walls of Casanova Lounge

For owners Don and Lanee Alan, the carefully curated kitschiness will never change. Otherwise, it would no longer be the 25-year-old version of the Casanova Lounge that people have come to adore.

“I just keep appreciating it,” Lanee said in an interview in the offices above the bar looking over the hustle and bustle of Valencia Street. “It just keeps giving back love.”

On weeknights, this place is for the regulars — the kind of locals who have deep connections to the bartenders who don’t mind listening to their quarrels and quibbles. On the weekends, Casanova becomes a livelier scene as the decibel levels rise from soft and sexy to a cacophony.

Known for its margarita, which some claim is the strongest in San Francisco, and freshly squeezed grapefruit juice for greyhounds or palomas, it’s a place that caters to all who walk in its front doors. Just don’t steal one of the paintings, as some in the past have, or else you’ll be on the owners’ s—t list.

“We just had a bunch of stuff, you know, and it just all kind of fit,” said Lanee. “And then we just kept adding.”

‘The Wild West of 16th and Valencia’

Don, 68, and Lanee, 60, took over operations at Casanova in the fall of 1997. Before that, it had the same name, but was owned by a restaurateur who was stuck with the bar after his business partner ran off with their money, according to Don.

In the end, the previous proprietor didn’t want a bar and was ready to sell to the Alans when they approached him in the summer of 1997.

At the time, the Alans were running a small cafe called Radio Valencia on the corner of 23rd and Valencia, where Beretta now operates. It was a place for Don to host music gigs in a time where “everyone had a band,” according to Lanee. Don wanted Radio Valencia to be a space for the weird, off-the-wall yet talented acts that were trying to make a name for themselves in the city. A drummer who used to work in community radio in Wisconsin highlighting bluegrass and different kinds of jazz, Don was always looking for great music, no matter where it came from.

In the late ’90s, the Mission was “very sketchy,” according to the Alans. They recalled a lot of gang activity, which kept people alert to avoid any harm. Around the fall of 1997, Don said a lot of bars switched ownership, and the Mission blossomed into a nightlife destination seemingly overnight.

He and Lanee jumped at the chance to open a bar as their second business venture.

“The whole area became really popular, especially with the weekend bridge and tunnel crowd, and the people that came down from the Marina,” Don explained. “There were a ton of different bars that you could go to, so you could bounce around. And they were all different with their own personalities.”

Casanova Lounge was at the forefront of the change in the Mission. It landed on the cover of the San Francisco Chronicle pink section (arts and entertainment) just three months after opening its doors under the Alans.

In a report on the bustling new bar scene at 16th and Valencia, Sam Whiting wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle, “A photographer comes into the Casanova Lounge selling Polaroids. To fill the frame, the bartender in vinyl skirt jumps over the bar and onto a tabletop or a group shot. The moment is frozen, one of a thousand on any night in the Wild West of 16th and Valencia.”

For the first time in their six years in the service industry, the Alans said they were making a profit.

“It was evident that young SF newcomers had discovered the Mission,” wrote Don in a letter for the bar’s recent 25th anniversary party in August. “For better or worse, change was happening.” 

A wild piece of San Francisco

The original vision for the Alans’ latest venture was supposed to be more of a tavern — an old neighborhood corner bar like Don used to frequent back in Wisconsin. But when the couple saw Casanova’s initial layout, the space seemed to evoke more of a provocative lounge vibe on its own.

(Kevin Kelleher/Special to SFGATE)
(Kevin Kelleher/Special to SFGATE)

“Because all of our stuff was vintage stuff, it had personality,” Lanee said. “I just wanted to make a really kind of dive-y bar full of personality, visually, that didn’t feel too fussy or anything.”

There’s one painting that immediately sticks out whenever I visit Casanova. It’s a portrait of a man who looks a bit like Burt Reynolds, but with a perm, a ’70s porn ’stache and a silky, orange collared blouse open halfway down his chest with a bright, silver Jesus piece hanging around his neck. I call him Mr. Casanova as he fits perfectly with the seductive, loungy ambience, though he doesn’t look like that actual famous womanizer Giacomo Casanova, from whom the sultry bar gets its name.

“We actually got him at a garage sale on Bartlett Street for $5,” Lanee said. “He was actually with us at Radio Valencia too.”

“He’s just kind of been our fearless leader ever since,” Don added in agreement.

Almost all of the decor inside Casanova Lounge was picked up by the Alans at garage sales, flea markets and swap meets, and most of it was bought on the cheap. In fact, the low, velvet couches, the grape lantern fixtures behind the bar and all of the nude portraits (actually called “velvets” because they are painted on the soft material), were all owned by the Alans prior to opening Casanova. Over the years, the two learned not to display anything too expensive. It’s a hard lesson they learned running Radio Valencia, with thieves stealing certain items from the former cafe.

“How can you make it all kinds of creative? That was always my [idea of cool],” Don said. “Just taking a bunch of disparate sort of vintagey, interesting, quirky, weird or even ugly things, and put them all together.”

That’s what is special about the Casanova Lounge. Everyone is welcome no matter where you’re from, and if you’re interesting, quirky, weird or even ugly, there’s a seat at the bar for you. John Waters once came in and said, “I love this bar,” according to Don. Rock ’n’ roll stars have even visited the local watering hole after performing in San Francisco.

With the changing landscape of the city, San Francisco needs these pockets of weirdness that beckon to the times of old San Francisco, now more than ever.

“There needs to be this little wild piece running through San Francisco,” Don said.

“Casanova is just kind of cultural, you know?” Lanee said. “A sort of thread keeping [San Francisco] alive because maybe it will blossom again, right?”