Every discipline has its guru. Its Einstein. Its Lennon. Free thinkers have shaped mankind’s process from the dawn of civilization, and the culture of the cocktail is no different. The man who grabbed the world of imbibing by the lapel and tossed it off its barstool right onto its collective ear was Jeremiah “Jerry” P. Thomas. “The Professor,” as he was called, took the art of mixing spirits, juices, and bitters to a level no one before had dared, and he became an American icon in the process.

Although the average drinker doesn’t know who Thomas was, he single-handedly changed the way drinks are prepared and consumed in America. With every finely crafted cocktail, you are partaking of the soul of Jerry Thomas, just as every rock-and-roll song is echoing the blues. He was also much more than a barman. He was a showman. He was an experience. He was larger than life, quite literally according to his membership in the “Fat Man’s Club,” although he was its most svelte member by most accounts.

During the height of the gold rush, when Thomas made his way from his native New York to San Francisco to hold court at the bar inside the Occidental (the newest and nicest hotel in the City at the time), he was pulling down a cool hundred dollars a week — more than Vice President Hannibal Hamlin. He was said to be covered in diamonds and gold. He would light spirits aflame and toss them from cup to cup creating a dazzling light show that culminated in the finest beverage anyone of the time had the pleasure to consume. His signature Blue Blazer cocktail attracted as many, if not more, onlookers than the bearded lady and the strong man combined.

The cocktail to Thomas was more than what went in the glass. It was the entire process, from the shine on his cuff links, to the selection of spirits, bitters, tinctures, and fruits, to the madman’s dance of the mixing itself, to the feeling each patron had as they stumbled back into the Wild West night to rest up for the next day’s search for gold.

The first book of cocktail recipes to ever be published was Thomas’s “How to Mix Drinks, or the Bon Vivant’s Companion” in 1862. It begins:

In all ages of the world, and in all countries, men have indulged in ‘social drinks.’ They have always possessed themselves of some popular beverage apart from water and those of the breakfast and tea table. Whether it is judicious that mankind should continue to indulge in such things, or whether it would be wiser to abstain from all enjoyments of that character, is not our province to decide. We leave that question to the moral philosopher. We simply contend that a relish for ‘social drinks’ is universal; that those drinks exist in greater variety in the United States than any other country in the world; and that he, therefore, who proposes to impart to these drink not only the most palatable but the most wholesome characteristics of which they may be made susceptible, is a genuine public benefactor.”

The Gold Rush brought many things to the San Francisco Bay Area. Peoples of countless diverse cultures, customs, religions, and backgrounds flocked to the Golden Gate, all of them in search of the big strike. One day’s labor could yield enough to secure your future, and the future of generations to come. But what those treasure seekers weren’t counting on was the social wealth that was awaiting them in San Francisco. At the height of the rush, the City itself was merely a conglomeration of shacks and tents set up as close to the nearest bar or brothel as possible and served as little more than a place to rest one’s head between the panning and partying. The Barbary Coast was a place for decadence. Hinton Helper, who visited the City from 1851 to 1854, had this to say about it:

“We find the Governor of the state seated by a table, surrounded by judges of the supreme and superior courts, sipping sherry cobblers, smoking segars [sic], and reveling in the anticipation of the debauch … I have seen purer liquors, better segars [sic], finer tobacco, truer guns and pistols, larger dirks and bowie knives, and prettier courtesans here, than in any other place I’ve visited: and it is my unbiased opinion that California can and does furnish the best bad things that are obtainable in America.”

Jerry Thomas may have hailed from New York and tended many a bar in many other cities, but the mark he left on San Francisco came at exactly the right time. It played a major role in shaping the place that we call home today.

Unfortunately, for all that Thomas did for the cocktail and its culture, much of it was lost to prohibition. With the advent of each new cocktail bar, the art is finally beginning to flourish once again. Bartenders are taking themselves seriously. Some are even taking it a step beyond the clothes and recipes, and are including the flair that made Jerry Thomas the star that he was (and I am most certainly not speaking of flair in the Tom Cruise acrobatics sense).

Scott Baird and Josh Harris of the Bon Vivants (yes, the name is a tribute and French, incidentally, for “good liver” or “one who lives well”) and the soon-to-be-opened Trick Dog in San Francisco are two such men. They understand that the cocktail is a personal and intimate affair. Instead of reaching for the nearest bottle of vodka and the soda gun, these guys take the time to get to know their patron. They inquire of their likes and dislikes, assess their palate, and create something accordingly. Once they know their customer well enough, they only use the finest ingredients and tools to formulate something personal and delicious for each and every person.

“It all starts with the greeting,” says Baird. “Are they confident in what they want, or do they need guidance? Once I have an idea what direction to take them in, I tell them to sit back and relax and let me take care of them. They are guests in my house and I treat them as such.” When their customers leave, they have the same warm and often star-struck feeling that Thomas’s customers must have had.

Jerry Thomas changed our community in many ways. He was not only at the forefront of making San Francisco what it is today, but he also led by example by not settling for the mediocrity of the masses. He taught us to understand our drinks, and not settle for sub-par ingredients. He proved that a cocktail made with finer spirits, juices, and bitters made for a better experience not only for the consumer, but also for the artist charged with creating the drink. He taught us that the treasure we seek isn’t just up in them thar hills. Some of life’s finest things are right under our noses.