Who is Lillie Coit?
A woman who chased fire engines, a saloon that stood on this corner for a generation, a set of keys handed over in 2017, and nine years of getting the door open. It is one long story, and we kept the receipts.
The woman
Born in West Point, New York, in 1843, and brought here as a child, in the years when the city burned regularly and volunteer companies fought it with hand-drawn carts.
Lillie Hitchcock Coit ran with Knickerbocker Engine Company No. 5 in a city that burned down regularly and did not expect a girl to do anything about it. They made her an honorary member. She signed her name with the number five after it for the rest of her life.
She smoked cigars in public when women did not. She wore trousers to get into places that would not take her otherwise. She gambled in men’s clubs and in North Beach saloons. She was difficult, generous, and uninterested in what anyone thought.
She married Howard Coit, the caller of the Stock Exchange, and left him in 1880. In 1903 a cousin walked into her rooms at the Palace Hotel with a gun and shot a friend dead in front of her. She spent much of what followed in Europe, and came home to die here in 1929.
When she died she left a third of her estate to the city, for the purpose of adding to its beauty. The city built a tower on Telegraph Hill in 1933 and filled it with paintings of Californians at work — longshoremen, cannery hands, clerks, farmers. The tower is a third of a mile uphill from this corner.
The Washbag
From 1973 to 2010 this was a saloon nobody called by its real name.
Rose Evangelisti sold her bar on this corner in 1973, and that autumn Ed Moose, Mary Etta Moose and Sam Deitsch opened the Washington Square Bar & Grill in it. Herb Caen called it the Washbag in his column and the name stuck, over Moose’s objection, for the rest of its life.
The bar stood at the back, in the far corner away from the windows. Tables ran along the walls and into the windows over the square, and the walls carried thirty years of other people’s photographs. It closed in August 2010, on the day Ed Moose died.
We kept the bones. The Mezzanine was not there — we built it.
The Petite Lil’s years
Everyone thought we would open in 2018.
It did not. Permits, a pandemic, and a refusal to open something half-finished. Nine years is a long time to hold a lease on a building you cannot use.
In February 2023 we opened Petite Lil’s, a precursor to Lillie Coit’s and a preview of it, serving oysters and tinned fish while paint swatches were still on the walls behind the guests. It ran for three years on word of mouth and a nightly oyster deal, and it is the reason the neighborhood already knew us before the sign went up.
Petite Lil’s is finished, not gone. What it taught us about staying open late is the standard now.
Who was here before us
Five names have been over this door, and the Washbag name went up three times under three different sets of owners. They fed this neighborhood long before we did.
One corner, 168 years







