DS: I understand you were born in Chicago. Will you tell me about some of your experiences growing up there?

WF: Well...it was most certainly an exceptionally bizarre experience for me--but only in retrospect (laughter). I attended nine different grade schools, ranging from Chicago’s near North side to the inner City, and right down to the far South side. I guess the experience of attending all those grade schools turned me into a human chameleon of sorts.

My early teens were exceptionally violent, and to be quite honest--downright criminal. To give you an idea, if you’re familiar at all with Dan Ackroyd’s and the late John Belushi’s, ‘Blues Brothers’ characters--well, I can tell you from personal experience that these people really do exist--and in vast numbers all across Chicago’s south side. At least the last time I bothered to check, anyway. In fact, the shopping mall they destroyed in the Blues Brothers movie is where I initially learned to shoplift. But, hey! Those days are long behind me now. There’s a reason I left Chicago, you know?

DS: Would you care to share that reason?

WF: Suffice to say that somewhere around late 1976 I was hanging around with a lot of bikers--actually I still do--but, well...and ’others’--when these sort of unidentifiable guys in black suits and dark glasses decided to not only rent the house across the street, but to train a telescope from their window onto mine.

DS: Were you working during this time, or--

WF: I worked for the Milwaukee Road railroad for awhile...a number of restaurants...even a dry-cleaners--and then I wound up in the pet business.

DS: Well, I won't press you for details on what the mysterious 'they' were doing in the house across the street--but tell me, did your troublesome youth abruptly end at that point, or did you continue along that path?

WF: I’d say that was pretty much the end of the line for the, ‘leg of the lamb of the law’ phase of my life. I was looking for something new by then--although I probably really didn't understand that myself at the time. California was a start, anyway.

DS: Something new? As in...?

WF: I wound up traveling around the U.S., working odd jobs and pretty much just trying to, ‘figure things out.’ When you’re that age, you pretty much spend most of your time figuring things out. Not that I ever really got anywhere with it.

I traveled around the U.S. with a couple of friends for awhile, and eventually landed in San Francisco. Actually, I mostly landed in an old roadhouse in Marin County, called, ‘Rancho Nicasio.’ It’s still there--in a town called, Nicasio. George Lucas is located right down the road a couple of miles from there--out on Lucas Valley Road. But this was before he moved there, I think. Anyway, I worked for awhile in this old roadhouse, doing anything under the sun to make a living. It was great. I was sort of bummed out about moving on from there.

DS: So, after working at the Ranch, did you stay in the Bay Area?

WF: No. My buddies and I were itching to travel, although, I have to admit that at that point I pretty much could of stayed on in San Francisco. San Francisco really grabbed me in a big way. Much more than any other city I’d ever visited, with the possible exception of New Orleans.

DS: So where did you go from there?

WF: We camped around. After a couple of months, we wound up in Oregon--right up around Crater Lake. Anyway, our truck broke down, and we wound up getting towed to this little town of about 150 people.

The first night we were there, we met a local high school teacher, who offered to have his auto shop class fix the truck. This was a high school where the kids were allowed to bring their rifles to class, in the event that they might be able to bag a deer during their lunch hour. This was all explained to us in the local bar, amidst a series of inexplicable brawls. The highlight of the evening involved an old logger getting his chainsaw out of his truck and cutting a doorway in the wall of the bar. This was to allow for some alleged future expansion of a Luau bar which never did occur.

Anyway, our truck got towed there, and so did we. The long and short of it is, I stayed for three years. Now that’s drifting for you. (laughter)

DS: So, you stayed on there. What did you do during this time? Were you illustrating at that point?

WF: As far as professionally illustrating, or even writing for that matter, that didn’t begin until the early ‘80's. Kind of like of like everything else in those days, it was pure chance.

No...when I lived in Oregon the first time around, thing’s were a tad odd. You see, I was living on unemployment at that point. Well, all things must pass, and so did it. After spending about four months living in this little cabin with no windows or running water--or even electricity, or plumbing facilities of any imaginable sort--my employment counselor put a ring in my nose and got me into this Federally-funded program called, C.E.T.A.

I was having so much fun sitting in the middle of nowhere and discharging weapons at nothing all day, that I really wasn’t paying too much attention to my employment opportunities. I’d always just kind of figured that I’d head back down to San Francisco. The Punk and New Wave scenes were in full swing just then, and I was really into that at the time. Well, what happened was that my counselor got me in for an interview to become a law enforcement officer. I thought the whole thing was pretty bizarre, but then I figured what the heck! Let's see how the other half lives! (laughter)

DS: Wait a minute: A *cop*? Weren't you worried that whatever you were in trouble for in Chicago might catch up with you?

WF: Well, the thought had crossed my mind. But the fact is, whatever I might have been in trouble for in Chicago was never really clear to me. Near as I can tell, I was just under a lot of heavy surveillance for various and well...let’s just say, suspect reasons. But I also figured that nothing had ever really gelled for the law on that front. They were just a bunch of wishful fishermen. Besides, I couldn’t have this thing--whatever this mysterious thing was--hanging over me forever. If nothing else, I’d know soon enough if I was really in some sort of trouble.

In order to become a cop, they run pretty extensive background checks. They ran them on me and I apparently came up clean.

DS: Tell me what happened with your interview for the police officer position.

WF: I went in, got interviewed, and I got the job! And guess what? In those days, anyone could’ve gotten the job! I think they would of hired a skunk if it had bothered to show up. You see, we’re talking Oregon at the height of the 70's, when pot was growing out of everyone’s decorative planters. Nobody wanted to be a cop--not when you could make all that money growing weed--not when you could get shot dead for being a cop by all those people who were growing weed! Besides, as I was being underwritten by the Feds, the agency had nothing to lose.

DS: Is that why you eventually left law-enforcement?

WF: No! (laughter) I hung in there for three and a half years. I only left because they laid me off. Reagan got into office and he immediately killed C.E.T.A. Kinda like the Bushwhacker. Kill it all! Anyway, they couldn’t afford to keep me after that.

While I certainly don't regret the experience, I was probably one of the last people on the planet who should have been a cop. I was just too damned nice about it.

DS: There are these reality television shows, like, 'The World's Dumbest Criminals.' Do you have a "dumbest criminal" experience?

WF: Oh! Plenty! Never a shortage on that front! But, just by virtue of being labeled, ‘criminal’--well, what other kind is there? I mean, the term, ‘dumbest criminal’ is actually an oxymoron, isn’t it?

DS: You went back to San Francisco after you left police work, right?

WF: Yeah... I moved down there pretty quick. I’d already been slipping down to the Bay Area whenever I could as it was. I was really drawn toward the whole Punk and New Wave music scene. Slam-dancing at the fab Mab... Tuxedomoon... The Residents... the late, great, Snakefinger, playing the I-Beam. It was great! Just a terrific time! I could go on and on here.

Back then, lot’s of cool art movements were happening in the Bay Area, too. The 60's hippie thing was still hanging on--I guess it always will, and god bless it--but there was this whole, almost sort of beat scene revival of sorts going on in Northbeach...South of Market--which they now call, ‘Soma.’ I think the day that you have to label something trendy like that, you’ve pretty much rung the death knell for any real originality or life being left in it. Soma is where I got the idea for the Cafe of Lost Souls, by the way.

The city just doesn’t seem that interesting to me now. The place has been completely rolled over by multi-national corporate, and venture capitalist cash. It's become the sell-out of the century. It's like an alternate Disneyland or something. As if we need either. Not too much room for originality, or even real life there, anymore. It's kinda sad.

DS: You were fairly active in the alternative press and culture movements of the 1980's, weren't you?

WF: Yeah...well (laughter), I don’t know. I really sort of focused on my work. I was very busy creating back then. It’s a very time consuming thing, you see? In those days, it was very easy to get drawn into myriad alternate press and culture movements. And these were intriguing movements to get drawn into. That was always a problem for me, though. Keeping enough distance so that I got my work done. Discipline, I guess.

I did move in some interesting circles, though. Mark Pauline's Survival Research Labs was just a few blocks from where I lived. I saw Mark quite a bit for a while there. I also knew Vale and A.J. pretty well. They published RE/Search magazine back in the 80's. I worked with Paul Williams and Andy Watson for a while, in the Philip K. Dick Society. Andy got me into the loop on that one.

My social community has always been rather spread out, though. Matt Howarth, who remains one of my closest friends to this day, lives in Philadelphia. The late Lou Stathis, who I’d met when he was with, ‘Heavy Metal’ lived in New York then. ‘Science Fiction Eye’ publisher, Steve Brown, was in Washington, D.C. when I first met him. Les Escott, another very close friend of mine who lives in England, was my publisher for a long while.

Lots of very intelligent and intriguing folks. I met the writer, Misha, and her husband and music composer, Michael Chocholak, both of whom are like family to me, way back when. We’ve known each other just about forever now, and pretty much share the same philosophies on just about everything. Although, Michael and I always tend to argue--even when we agree--but only because there’s nothing else to do. (laughter)

The 1980's were very productive for me in terms of illustrating, and writing. I was lucky because Matt Howarth really gave me a lot of direction regarding where my style should, or might go. He opened a lot of doors for me, too. Through Matt and Lou, I suddenly found myself moving around in the science fiction arena. That’s where I met a lot of really great writers.

I met and worked with K.W. Jeter on a few projects here and there, and that was a terrific relationship. Through Jeter, I met Tim Powers and Jim Blaylock, both of whom are also wonderful writers and who I’ve also illustrated for. Even though we don’t talk on the phone every day, I still consider them both to be very good friends. Although, I think I’ve been meaning to call Powers for about 4 years now! (laughter) I also met John Shirley, who I’ve always considered a great pal. He’s written a number of truly brilliant novels--a couple of which I was lucky enough to illustrate.

DS: How did you meet Misha and Michael Chocholak?

WF: I met Misha when she contacted me about doing some illustration work for a science fiction fanzine called, ‘New Pathways.’ It was a tidy little zine, that quickly drew a lot of attention. It was kind of cool because, through Misha, I suddenly found myself communicating with J.G. Ballard and Brian Aldiss. Both of whom are absolute heroes to me. As with Phil Dick, I grew up following their work.

DS: You did some work for Whole Earth?

WF: Minor work...yes. I'd met Richard Kadrey, who was working for them at the time. He’s an astounding writer, and just one hell of a nice guy. He hooked me up as a freelancer with Whole Earth, which in turn led to some minor appearances in the San Francisco Chronicle.

DS: You were also writing around this time?

WF: Yeah...I'd just finished writing Alligator Alley, and Morrigan Publications was releasing it as a hardcover in England. Around this time, Richard Kadrey and Pat Murphy introduced me to Ellen Datlow. At the time, Ellen was the fiction editor for Omni magazine. Ellen and I became friends, and while she never actually bought any of my stories--although she often threatened to--she really gave me a lot of direction with my writing. The stuff I was writing back then tended to be rather severe and dark, you see?

DS: Who else have you illustrated for?

WF: Somewhere in the mix I met my long time pal, Marc Laidlaw, who has written a number of really great science fiction novels. In turn, Marc introduced me to Rudy Rucker, William Gibson, and Bruce Sterling--all of whose work I believe I've had the honor of illustrating in some form or another. Rucker's quite possibly one of the funniest people I've ever met. I even got a shot at doing a piece for Jean Baudrillard during this period. That was cool!

DS: How did you wind up in the Duke University press fiction collections?

WF: In maybe 1989, I met the late Kathy Acker and Larry McCaffery. Larry had taken a fancy to my writing and, as I’d just had a novel published, he took on a number of my stories, as well as illustrations, for various Duke University press publications. He also took me on as an illustrator for a collection of John Shirley's short stories. Larry was a great guy. In fact, I'm sure he still is. I just don't know where he is these days.

DS: Was Kathy Acker also editing a fiction collective for Duke at that time?

WF: No. But she had some work that she was contributing which I was lucky enough to provide illustrations for. No...you see, Kathy Acker had a motorcycle, and as she’d just moved to San Francisco, she was looking for someone to ride with. We both also shared a similar sort of a view of the world, so we hit it off instantly. She was one of the best motorcyclists I’ve ever ridden with. Anyway, we spent most weekends touring around Marin County during the summer of 1989. She really loved riding up to Tamales Bay, Point Reyes, Bodega Bay--as do I. Beautiful country up there. After that summer, she just sort of drifted off. Same with me, actually. Oddly enough, the last time I saw her was I believe in 1990. I’m pretty lousy with dates.

I was at this party and Kathy was there--in fact, we rode our bikes there together. It was a strange October night in San Francisco. The streets were all frosted up, and it was late--maybe 1:00 AM. Tim Leary was there, and he was really depressed. I’d met him only once before, but the man was clearly distraught. His daughter had committed suicide about a month before. Lou Stathis was there, too--which was unusual because he rarely came to San Francisco.

Anyway, we all stood out there under this really clear, bright, cold and star-filled sky, and talked for what must have been hours. We were on this hillside at the base of Twin Peaks, looking down on San Francisco, straight up the Market Street corridor. In retrospect, it seems we had a really great time that night. Sadly, I never saw Tim Leary, Kathy Acker, or Lou Stathis again. They all passed away over the next few years. I think I'm still in denial somewhere about all of them.

DS: Do you know any other Bay Area artists?

WF: Not many. Well...I know Paul Maverides. Now there's a guy I haven't talked to in about a century or so. Damn! I really need to get on the horn or something--you know? Thing is...I’m a bit of a lone wolf. I really prefer my own company. I suppose my preferred company--if I have any--is the brief company of other lone wolves. With other lone wolves you know that at the end of the day, they’re moving on, and so are you. It’s just the way that I am. And frankly, as I get older, I don’t seem to be improving much either (laughter).

When I talk about most of these people--these circles that I moved in--you need to realize that like any lone wolf, I generally stayed at the outer radius of the group.

DS: You seem to have a love for motorcycling. Tell me, do you still ride?

WF: Yeah...all the time. There's a bunch of local bikers here that I run with.

DS: What kind of motorcycle do you have?

WF: I have a BMW, 1983 R80 RT. She's quite a wonderful machine.

DS: So, when you moved to San Francisco, did you work professionally as an artist or writer, or were you forced to take a day job?

WF: I worked a day job. I largely worked in downtown San Francisco. In a nutshell, I was in security, then I became a building operations director, then a property manager, and then went over into construction management. Finally I wound up in general contracting. All of that was over the course of about 20 years. There’s nary a tower in town that I haven’t set foot in at one time or another. I'm fascinated by high-rises--and architecture, in general.

DS: Do you have a favorite architect or architectural group?

WF: There are many architects, and architectural groups, whose work I enjoy and appreciate. Perhaps my favorite group, however, is Esherick, Homsey, Dodge and Davis. They’ve designed some of the world’s most amazing aquariums. They designed the Monterey aquarium, in Monterey, California--to name but one of many. I had a lot of experience with exotic animals and reptiles--especially in the 1970's--so I've always had a great love for zoos and aquariums. I also worked with EHDD on a project once, so I guess I'm somewhat biased about their work.

DS: Exotic animals and...reptiles?

WF: In the 70's I worked for what was then the largest pet wholesale and retail chain in the Chicago-land area. I managed the exotic mammal and reptile divisions. I helped the store get their USDA license by establishing a non-profit educational arm for the company. I did that by giving 200 free lectures at various schools and colleges throughout the greater Chicago-land area in the course of something like a year. I’d show up for these lectures with just about anything you might imagine. A cougar, a kangaroo, a 15 foot, Reticulated python--you name it.

I worked with a number of big cats, too. Pretty scary stuff in retrospect--mostly because I had no idea of what I was doing. Remind me to tell you sometime about my first encounter with a Jaguar. The worse for me were monkeys, though. Monkeys and I just never seem to get along. My hands are covered with scars from monkey bites. Hey?! I took care of an Aldabra island tortoise for about 5 years! He was really amazing.

DS: And the reptiles?

WF: Lots of them. In those days there wasn’t much that wasn’t available. I personally sort of leaned toward keeping a venomous private collection. That was one of the reasons for my falling in with a biker crowd, though. Many of them were my customers. The store couldn’t stock venomous reptiles, but I had so many contacts that it was inevitable that I would eventually wind up with them. Things got well out of hand on that front, and I was ultimately forced to get rid of my collection. Most of them wound up at the University of Chicago.

DS: What was the most unusual animal you ever had?

WF: There was a bunch...but right off the cuff I'd have to say this female Wallaby--which is basically a dwarf kangaroo. I can't recall the exact species, just now though. Anyway, she had a joey. He was a really cool little guy. She had all these whistles that the joey knew, and it would follow her whistled instructions whenever she called. Whenever the joey would dive into her pocket, he’d plunge in head first, do a somersault, and then come up head-first --looking around to see what the problem was. They were quite an amazing duo.