Charles McCabe (1915–1983) was a columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle from the mid-1950s until his death May 1, 1983 at the age of 68.

He was born and raised in New York's "Hells Kitchen" and was educated by the Jesuits.

McCabe started as a police reporter for the New York American in 1936 and later worked for the Puerto Rico World-Journal, United Press and The San Francisco Examiner before joining the Chronicle in the mid-1950s. ^[1]

McCabe wrote a book called Tall Girls are Grateful which humorously reflected upon his love/hate relationship with women, and another called The Good Man's Weakness recording his wry thoughts on drinking, the other love/hate relationship in his life. Another book was a biography of his grandfather-in-law, the newspaper man, E. W. Scripps, who was also principal founder and supporter of the Scripps Institution of Oceanography and the Scripps Foundation. There is also a compilation of his essays put together in the book The Fearless Spectator by Chronicle Books (1970)

McCabe was renowned in San Francisco for his satirical newspaper column in the Chronicle under the byline "The Fearless Spectator", and for his robust social life centered on the many "watering holes" he frequented.^[2]

While at the Chronicle, his boss Scott Newhall assigned him to do a column for the sports section of the newspaper. McCabe knew little about sports and had virtually no interest in the subject. Newhall dubbed him the "fearless spectator" and took publicity photographs of McCabe perched on a shooting stick, wearing a derby and looking bored.^[3] Initially the column was placed in the sports section but having little if anything to do with sports it was eventually moved to the features section. A black and white icon of McCabe in the bowler hat always sat next to the title of his column "The Fearless Spectator".

McCabe would arrive at the Chronicle offices at 5th and Mission at what his colleagues called the "ungodly hour" of 8AM. He would feverishly type up his column and then leave before 9AM to get his breakfast of five or six "Green Deaths" at Gino and Carlo, a bar in San Francisco's North Beach neighborhood.^[3]

McCabe was a frequent imbiber at his favorite bar Gino and Carlo,^[5] in North Beach, where he enjoyed his Rainer ale (AKA "Green Death"); at Mooney's Irish Pub for the Irish whiskey and conversation; and sometimes at Deno and Carlo's bar, also in North Beach, for the dark beer, music, and a monthly get together with his friend Ron Small.^[6]

McCabe had four children with Peggy Scripps McCabe: Margaret Ellen "Nini" McCabe, Charles K. McCabe, Peter McCabe, and Mary Pierce.^[9]

Charles McCabe was found dead on May 1, 1983, in his San Francisco apartment by his daughter. He had apparently tripped and hit his head while falling. He died of a severe concussion^[10]

More than 400 friends, colleagues and faithful readers gathered at St. Francis of Assisi Church in North Beach on May 4 for a final farewell to Charles McCabe, the stylish essayist who wrote a popular column for the Chronicle for nearly 25 years. The Mass of Resurrection was celebrated by his friend John M. Ring, pastor of Our Lady of Carmel Church in Mill Valley, who praised the writer for having "a restless heart and mind and spirit, which were his greatest gifts." "Charles couldn't stand anything phony, whether it be presidents, governors, oily-tongued clergymen or razor blades," the priest told a group that included socialites, journalists and many blue-collar drinking buddies. The Mass was planned in accordance with McCabe's will, in which he asked that the music at his funeral include Bach's "Sheep May Safely Graze" and that three Shakespeare sonnets be read by his friend and attorney, Carlos Bea.^[11]

McCabe was also known for his satirical sayings. One of his more notable quotes was "Any clod can have the facts, but having opinions is an art."
Another was "McCabe's Law: Nobody has to do anything."