Roaming the streets between 87th & 79th...Kedzie to Western...took alot out of you...as a kid...stumbling about, nothing but sheer stupidity on our sides, back then...
And, there were just endless amounts of games of sports, always in high gear, on any given day...up at the park or on any space of land...where a loud clatter and a scramble of bodies, bounced all around, always on the verge of bloody mayhem...
My good buddy, Johnny Fitzpatrick, kept a whole boatload of baseball gloves and bats, strewn about his dusty garage...ready for action. John lived right off of the park, and I was quite envious of his proximity to all things, park-related...
Of course, my sisters & brothers would remind me, we too, lived right off the park, a block north of Johnny Fitz's, on 84th Place, but our house got too cramped with 8 kids...so we moved about 3 blocks south, after I was born, to 86th Street, in 1963...All my sisters & brothers, were big, PARK KIDS, only 6 houses down, from the park...A kid's paradise, just a heartbeat away...
I can remember, one particular baseball game...up at the park, one Spring, when I was 11 years old, I was the pitcher...I seemed to always be the pitcher for our slow-pitch, lob-league action...Well, this big, gangly kid, named Craig, stepped up to the plate, and slammed one, right back at me...whizzing it over my head, almost scraping my baseball cap...Damn, he could get a shot of power outta that bat...
Next time up, everyone is laughing, daring Craig, to do it again, rip it up the middle, and take my head, clean off, this time...All my friends eyes are wide open, awaiting every pitch...
Crack....!!!...
Not only did Craig, get every single ounce of wood on that pitch, but it was a sizzling, blistering guided missle, headed right for my face....We are talking about only a split second, in time, to react, but I did manage, to throw my glove up, in front of my face, as the ball, slammed hard into my mitt, with a thunderous "Smack!"....making me all ghostly & woozy, sending all the rest of the bunch of kids into hysterics.
There I was, completely white as a ghost, opening my mitt, my hand still stinging, trying to pry the baseball wedged into my mitt, stuck in there, like Crazy Glue...Everyone, is falling down laughing, because the knew damn well, Craig, would be taking aim again, sooner or later, in a couple of innings...
I think, at that point, I decided to call in for the bullpen to take over...when everyone on my team, suddenly realized their noggin' was next...So they decided to quit playing for the day...sending anger & outrage throughout our mangy field of dreams...A field dotted with a smashed beer can for 1st base...somebody's little league cap for 2nd base...a crummy left-handed mitt, for 3rd base...and maybe someone's windbreaker crumbled up for Home Plate.
Let's face it, everyone had a crazy hang-out as a kid...a park or gym or empty lot...anywhere was possible...all you needed was your enthusiasm, and your imagination...Kids need places, where they can cut loose and get goofy...
And it was the same for us...up at Carroll Park...
Every single one of my close friends, will tell you how that park, so green & grassy, is truly a part of them, no matter what...what ever happens to them...Whether it be Fitz or Moodo, Bob, Don, Slim, Joe, Murph, Denny, Bar, Kevin, Neil, Duff, Marty Eck & Marty Rogers, Buckets, Bucky, Jimmy "Lemon" Ade, Mike "Mugs" Mulligan, Mike Powers, and lots, lots more...a hush falls over all of us, as a flood of olden times cascade down from our minds...of that wild, ballyhoo bunch of crazies, every single one of us, tearing it up, with reckless abandon...
We just had a ball...every single, day...sleeting snow, monsoon rains, blistering heat, cold beyond cold, you name it...each definitive moment only intensified our whole being, with that giant park's hold on our memories...past and present...exuding a special charm, we felt so deeply, just a captivating, magical feel to it...that brings forth a smile...with any notion...
It was a quiet oasis, amidst the hustle and bustle, all around...It had lots of trees, baseball diamonds, swings & a sandbox for the kiddies...and a big old football field, in the middle, where some rompin', stompin' dynamite heroics were boundlessly displayed...Just a nice, happy atmosphere, all the way around...It seemed every kid in the neighborhood popped in up there, at some point and all us kids from each grade, had a special park bench, designated for us, to call our own...
And one special guy, headed the Park District, up there at Carroll Park, his name was RICH....This guy Rich, in his late 30's/early 40's, commanded our ultimate respect, because he drew the line in the sand, with all the non-sense, we thought we could get away with...Rich had this striking bald head, and an eagle beak-type nose, a true hearty Croatian, thru & thru...and you did not want the wrath of Rich, headed your way...Ohhhh no...
He'd slap you upside the head, real good, for acting goofy and he had this tin whistle, attached to a skinny leather strap, he twirled around as he walked all about...That leather strap, Rich would lash out, at any moment, at any instigator, would only sting for a moment or two, but it left a deep red welt, that let you know, Rich meant business...
But everyone liked to kidd with Rich anyway, as we got older & older, and punkier & punkier. We always had and always will have the upmost respect for Rich...He was the referee, the umpire, the wrestling instructor, softball league organizer...You name it, Rich had it down cold. He was the best damn Park Instructor anywhere, and we were damn lucky we didn't get our lights punched out, if he heard us swear...
So many memories, of so many kids...The P.I.T.A. kids...(Pain In The Ass)...were 2 years older than us...and they were just a monsterous throng of kids, up at the park, led by Scott Clifford...Alot of my future buddies, a year older than us...Eddy Epper, The Funk, Jack McManus, Coon, Gert, Matt Bailey, Dave Scalise, Wally, Mike Murphy, Jack Cusack, Danny Casey, Dirks, Danny Olsen, Kevin Delaney, Bram and Johnny "Hop" Howland...all were crazy nuts...leaving my bunch of friends, thinking we were woefully inferior...and never, ever gonna be as cool as the older guys...
And all the girls were up there, too...hanging out...They had their jean jackets & smokes & wild hair & they all had endless laughs at all the foolishness, happening everywhere...Those were giddy times, full of bright smiles & silly clumsiness, trying to stay cool, almost too darn cool for our own good.
We all thought, all us girls & boys, thought we made hanging out, an art form, bumming smokes, losing lighters, listening to music on boom boxes, calling each other funny names...just an age of silly innocence...rolling on by...quicker than we could ever realize...
All up at this park...a place of refuge, of sports heroics, of first big kisses, of beers endlessly sprayed open, of lolly-gagging, drop-dead, funny laughter....ohhh the laughter...just priceless high-pitched laughter...from silly kids...growing up way, way too fast...but still having a blast...
Back in the day...Carroll Park inevitably became Hayes Park...an evolution of kids from the 60's, 70's, 80's, 90's...yonder years of wild mischief & mayhem, we truly hold so sparkly dear inside our hearts...to this very fleeting moment...and almost every day....in our passing lives...and beyond...
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
A little "Fight" fable, for you...
...looking back...I was kinda lucky, not to have to mix it up, too often...Fighting...
...After all, I hung out with some bruising maulers, growing up, who could take people down, in one punch...Eddie B was the toughest kid in our hood, hands down...and all the takers, that came on, one-by-one, , to go toe-to-toe...with Ed...got the ass-whipping of their life...Yet, I never, ever seen Eddie B start a fight, but you could surely remember him, finishing it...
...So I had a free ride...carousing the neighborhood...only running into a few bullies, now & then.
...I remember one incident, while I was about 11 years old, where I was playing ball out on ths streets of 84th Place, on Eddie's block...as we ended our play for the day...I started walking, towards Washtenaw Ave. and this little weenie of a brat, jumped out...and started calling me...RETARDED...over & over...No one was around, except this little fiendish kid...
His name was Danny Deacy, a wretched little punk, who was only a bit bigger than me...
I did stand there, puzzled, wondering who this fool, was...as he kept echoing his little buzz word, retarded, to tick me off...I knew I was short & slight of build, with my head, tilted, a bit...but I knew I was not retarded...He was the goofy retard...
Eventually, every time, he said, RETARDED, I punched him hard, in the arm...And that went on, for 5 or 6 times...
Somehow, he switched gears, and said something even more wicked, so I wound up, my fist, and sent him to the ground....It was a lucky, yet powerful shot...and I topped things off, by stomping on his head, for good measure, trying to ooze his brains out...for about a good 3o seconds to a minute...
Finally, the taunts ended...as he was curled up on the ground, like a ball, reeling, as I angrily stormed off...
When I got home, that day, my Mom, tried to stop me, as I walked by her, in the kitchen, as she said, "Somebody's Mom just called...Why did you step on that boy's head...Don't you know any better..."
My quick reply was, "He called me Retarded...and he got what he deserved..."....as I briskly made my way downstairs, to watch cartoons...with a little tear in my eye...but I was never haunted by this, at all...
Fast foreward, from the 5th Grade to my college years...I'm down at a wild sorierity party at the Little Red Schoolhouse...at Illinios State University...always a great time...when my old childhood buddy, Johnny Murph, ambles up and says..."Guess who just walked in the door...Danny Deacy!"
There was a little bit of fear, in Murph's message...but I was not even phased...I barely remembered the kid...Murph then went on and said, Deacy, was now an avid, body-builder, cut like a rock, about 6'4'' tall, 22o pounds...
At that point, my jaw dropped, and I understood Murph's fair warning...I quickly looked around for an escape route...No go...I was stuck in a room of kegger revelry, and there was only one way out...past the ominous brute, Danny Deacy...
Well, it only took Deacy, about a minute to spot me...and started to slowly walk up to me...I was expecting the worse, at that point, a crack to the jaw, at least...but as Deacy, got up close to me, a small smile, emerged on his face...
He said..."You're the kid that kicked my ass, and tried to stomp my head, into the ground!."
I nodded and said "Yes"...and waited for a level punch...to send me flying...
He then laughed and said..."What a little obnoxious creep I was, back then...Sorry about that...I deserved it...You need a beer...???..."...
I kinda laughed and let out a huge sigh of relief...and took the beer, and we chatted for about 10 minutes...I think he said he was studying to go into law enforcement...and loved being down at Illinois State U...It was the coolest...
We laughed a bit more...and I edged my way, out of there, a little wobbly, from what had transpired...out of the wild kegger party...and into the night...
The moral of the story is obvious...That kid you beat the crap out of, as a young lad, may grow up to be the biggest, baddest dude, you could ever imagine...so watch out...
Not many fights for me...but surely, a good lesson...from it all...
...After all, I hung out with some bruising maulers, growing up, who could take people down, in one punch...Eddie B was the toughest kid in our hood, hands down...and all the takers, that came on, one-by-one, , to go toe-to-toe...with Ed...got the ass-whipping of their life...Yet, I never, ever seen Eddie B start a fight, but you could surely remember him, finishing it...
...So I had a free ride...carousing the neighborhood...only running into a few bullies, now & then.
...I remember one incident, while I was about 11 years old, where I was playing ball out on ths streets of 84th Place, on Eddie's block...as we ended our play for the day...I started walking, towards Washtenaw Ave. and this little weenie of a brat, jumped out...and started calling me...RETARDED...over & over...No one was around, except this little fiendish kid...
His name was Danny Deacy, a wretched little punk, who was only a bit bigger than me...
I did stand there, puzzled, wondering who this fool, was...as he kept echoing his little buzz word, retarded, to tick me off...I knew I was short & slight of build, with my head, tilted, a bit...but I knew I was not retarded...He was the goofy retard...
Eventually, every time, he said, RETARDED, I punched him hard, in the arm...And that went on, for 5 or 6 times...
Somehow, he switched gears, and said something even more wicked, so I wound up, my fist, and sent him to the ground....It was a lucky, yet powerful shot...and I topped things off, by stomping on his head, for good measure, trying to ooze his brains out...for about a good 3o seconds to a minute...
Finally, the taunts ended...as he was curled up on the ground, like a ball, reeling, as I angrily stormed off...
When I got home, that day, my Mom, tried to stop me, as I walked by her, in the kitchen, as she said, "Somebody's Mom just called...Why did you step on that boy's head...Don't you know any better..."
My quick reply was, "He called me Retarded...and he got what he deserved..."....as I briskly made my way downstairs, to watch cartoons...with a little tear in my eye...but I was never haunted by this, at all...
Fast foreward, from the 5th Grade to my college years...I'm down at a wild sorierity party at the Little Red Schoolhouse...at Illinios State University...always a great time...when my old childhood buddy, Johnny Murph, ambles up and says..."Guess who just walked in the door...Danny Deacy!"
There was a little bit of fear, in Murph's message...but I was not even phased...I barely remembered the kid...Murph then went on and said, Deacy, was now an avid, body-builder, cut like a rock, about 6'4'' tall, 22o pounds...
At that point, my jaw dropped, and I understood Murph's fair warning...I quickly looked around for an escape route...No go...I was stuck in a room of kegger revelry, and there was only one way out...past the ominous brute, Danny Deacy...
Well, it only took Deacy, about a minute to spot me...and started to slowly walk up to me...I was expecting the worse, at that point, a crack to the jaw, at least...but as Deacy, got up close to me, a small smile, emerged on his face...
He said..."You're the kid that kicked my ass, and tried to stomp my head, into the ground!."
I nodded and said "Yes"...and waited for a level punch...to send me flying...
He then laughed and said..."What a little obnoxious creep I was, back then...Sorry about that...I deserved it...You need a beer...???..."...
I kinda laughed and let out a huge sigh of relief...and took the beer, and we chatted for about 10 minutes...I think he said he was studying to go into law enforcement...and loved being down at Illinois State U...It was the coolest...
We laughed a bit more...and I edged my way, out of there, a little wobbly, from what had transpired...out of the wild kegger party...and into the night...
The moral of the story is obvious...That kid you beat the crap out of, as a young lad, may grow up to be the biggest, baddest dude, you could ever imagine...so watch out...
Not many fights for me...but surely, a good lesson...from it all...
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Happy Saint Patrick's Day
"If you're Irish, come into the parlor, there's a welcome mat for you..."...is part of a very giddy, very silly, Irish song, that I'll hear, every March...as I load up on the Irish music, watch the great parades, chow down on some corned beef & cabbage, and throw down some Guinness, of course, even...
That's just a given, because I get Saint Patrick's Day fever, pretty damn bad...come rain or shine, every single year...and right now, in the merry month of March...I'd like to take you back to some of my grand old memories of Saint Paddy's Day past...surely, that will bring a smile or two.
I'll start off, by going way, way, back...the little rambunxious 4 year old tyke, me, sneaking up to my parents bedroom on 86th Street and jumping up and down, on my parents giant bed...It was my spongy-bungy trampoline, of course, and I truly was lucky, I didn't crack open my head, from my flopping all about...
And while I was up there, I'd pry open my Mom's jewelry box, and there would be a whole slew of Irish buttons, you would stick onto your chest, to wear for Paddy's Day...They were all humorous or clever...and I'd always try to figure out, which one, I'd wear, next Paddy's Day. Of course, KISS ME, I'M IRISH was in there...I'M WITH THE F.B.I-FULL BLOODED IRISH another silly one...SURE N' BGORA...and just a dozen or more, buttons with green shamrocks and leprechauns...There had to be a silly one about GREEN BEER, in there, also...
And every single one of us kids, had to be wearing GREEN, no matter what, on Saint Patrick's Day...and absolutely wearing one of those crazy Irish buttons, displaying them proudly, before we were let out that door, by our Mom...on March 17th, back in the day...yes...
My Mom, of course, decorated our house, to the hilt for this big day...and I'd love to see all those funny, funny cardboard signs, of all the silly looking Leprechauns and such, that my Mom had plastered on the walls, all over the place...back then...
Anybody with the GREEN FEVER got it from my MOM in our house...How could you not, with a name like O'Leary...on the hearty South-Side of Chicago...which seemed 50% Irish back then. And that O'Leary name, brought a smile, to quite a many, because the Chicago Fire of 1871, which decimated the city, was caused by Mrs. O'Leary's cow...unfortunately...the legend tells...
And I swear, every time, we stood at a checkout, anywhere in the city, once someone saw the O'Leary name on my Mom's check, they had to ask..."Are you related to the O'Leary's that had the cow...that started the fire"...and they'd always burst out laughing, because my Mom, always came up with a silly, hilarious answer to the question, every time...She wasn't even an O'Leary, she was a Griffin, thru and thru...but it was an endless phenomenon, she had to deal with, on a daily basis...every day...it seemed...
Back to the festivities of March 17th...The day itself...always seemed a bit chilly and mostly wet...which, of course, reflects the weather of Ireland, to some extent...But it did not matter, I never felt one rain drop, or not one single shiver...as I headed down to the parade, in the heart of Downtown Chicago...as a young lad...with my Tommy More buddies...
We'd take the WESTERN AVE. bus at 79th Street, then inevitably hop on the ARCHER EXPRESS, which ran diagonally, deep down, all the way down, to downtown...We'd all be deliriously happy because every Catholic school on the South-Side always gave us that day off, always, and we made the most of every minute...
As we got off the bus, on State Street...we were in awe of this amazing city, Chicago...Gobs of people, everywhere, the buildings just towered way over, our eye's reach...We kinda had to pinch ourselves, that we had a wild day, planned ahead, waiting for us, as we made our way over to DEARBORN Street...where the parade route would assemble and go down...
But first, we'd scamper like fools, all the way up to LAKE Street, to see them, dye the river GREEN for that day...It was cooler than cool, to see that muddy, dank, dark water, suddenly come to life with a bright, lime green glow, as a quick-jetting fishing boat dumped an enormous amount of an ORANGE POWDER, that mixed into the water, and turned it bright green, instantly...
Then we'd visit each float, there, still waiting, to get into place, to take that magical ride down the parade route, amidst the throngs, of wild, screaming people...It was pure, crazed excitement for us kids, the pandemonium of all of this going down...I can remember running up to the Channel 7 float and saying HI to tv newscasters, Fahey Flynn & Joel Daley, wearing green carnations, smiling from ear to ear...And Channel 2 were giving out GREEN FRISBEES that I kept and cherished for years and years and years...
Just a great adventure of nothing-of-its-kind...fun...Alot of those wild guys, loading onto their floats, were already...3-sheets-to-the-wind...(blind drunk)...and all the ladies had a magical glow, wearing their beautiful costumes and such...There were horses, which was a true oddity for us city kids...and just a whole jamboree of unexpected silliness, that people conjoured up, to bring a hearty laugh, to one and all...
We are talking thousands and thousands of people, massed together, during the day, when tipping a few drinks and loud crazy antics were abound, all over...just purely a given, that day...
As we got older, certainly beer, got thrown into the equation, for us maulers, out of Tommy More...and I'll just throw 2 little fun facts out of the many, that unfolded, that special day...
On one, very cold & chilly, wicked wet & frigid, Paddy's Day, me & my friends stumbled past a big RV sporting a huge BUDWEISER logo, on its side...Well, me and a few of my buddies, Moodo, Slim, Fitz and a few others, talked our way, into this RV...to get a look...of this huge monstrosity. As we looked, about, someone, came up, and started handing us beers, Budweiser, of course, (our favorite) and we settled in, and sat, and watched the whole parade, all warm & cozy, thrusting down, free beers, left and right...
You are probably wondering...How old were we...???...
Probably somewhere between 15-16 years old...Hahaha...That's the Irish for you...Never to young to get the youth of tomorrow, off to a good start...on Saint Paddy's Day...
Another funny Paddy's story....was after the parade was over, one time...we wandered over to the newly erected Sears Tower, (1974)...the tallest building in the world...Well, hell, we had to see what that was all about...So, in we fled, onto the elevators, and up we go....
There, inside the elevators, our eardrums begin to pop, from ascending so rapidly upward, all of us in a dizzy-dizzy spin...feeling as if, we were in a rocket ship, headed for the moon...One of my buddies noticed, the sign that read, it cost $5 to get off at the top floor, Sky Deck and look out, the huge, humoungous, panoramic view of the city...
Well, a bunch of my buddies, had no dough left, so they devised this plan, to get off, one floor early, then sneak up the fire escape, to the top floor...Boom...a bunch get off the elevator some one hundred and some stories up...and go on their wicked way...while us fortunate few, went one floor higher...and got off...and felt so totally perplexed by the sparkling view of the city, from every conceivable angle...It was Playboy Club Day, too...or something, and Hugh Hefner's gorgeous bunnies, were all walking about...and us kids, were pretty much, in awe, of this little goldmine, we stumbled upon.
And we waited and waited for our other buddies, to get up that fire escape and enjoy the view or should I say, views, of everything, and anything, all about...It suddenly dawned on me...Those guys probably got caught, and sent away, when they tried to pull off such a stunt, so us lucky ones were roaring with laughter, from our hilarious viewpoint...after about 10 minutes had past...
And after a great time, sadly, we had to leave the Sky Deck, up on top of the tallest building of the world, SEARS TOWER, and went back down and down, rapidly...back to ground level...looking all about for our other buddies, but they were nowhere to be found...
Then, after about 10 minutes more, all of them come stumbling out of the giant skyscraper, exhausted, panting, swearing at us...See, they did get to the top floor entrance to the Sky Deck, but it was locked...as a matter of fact, every single floor below was locked too...so they had to trek down, an endless amount of stairs, pounding and pounding down, every floor, mad as hell, for this little bit of stupidity...that came up and bit them in the ass...
So, we were just bursting out with laughter, at these unfortunate fools, unloading our little tale of good fortune, while they were still aghast, panting away....almost turning blue, from disbelief...All of us there, still wearing green, some had Irish buttons, some had green hats...all of us, with a few beers stuffed into our winter coats...still...reeling in our wild Paddy's Day story, of going to the top of the world, and then some...in our own mischievous, silly way...
Sure, today, the tradition continues, all of my family goes to the South-Side Irish parade, now, on Western Avenue...and my nephew, Eddie Haggerty and his wonderful wife, Meagan, throw together a spectacular early morning bash, before the parade begins...Just a wild hoot, of all of us, drawn together...all of the Great-Grandkids dressed in super-special Paddy's Day, green outfits...dancing all about...as happy as can be...
Just a great deal of fun and merriment...as the Irish music blasts and the beer & Guinness and Irish Whiskey gets cracked open...as soon as the sun comes up...Lots of great food, my sister, Kathy, whips up...too...The Irish Soda Bread...the scones...the scrambled eggs, the corned beef, cut to hot perfection, ready for action...Load on the tangy mustard...the melting meat...onto that fresh baked, rye bread....and wash it all down with some suds...and you are well on your way to heaven...my friend...
And that South-Side parade, gets bigger and bigger every year...The essence of Irish laughter mixed with the essence of Irish pride...are all abound...for all to enjoy...no matter what nationality, you are...Because Saint Patrick's Day, on the South-Side, and all over Chicago, is for, one and all, an experience, you never, ever, ever forget...
So, now, some of you get a sense of that Irish flavor, that seeps out of my soul and down onto paper. For I am an Irish writer, thru and thru...The Irish wit, the Irish silliness and surely a wry Irish way of putting a slant on things...is predominently featured, in every story of my life, and beyond, that I share...with you...
So HAPPY SAINT PATRICK'S DAY...EVERYBODY...I hope it is a great day, a warm day rather than cold...a sunny day rather than downpours...and just a special day, that keeps your minds all a flutter...your hands full of fun...and your hearts soaring with happiness and a joy...you'll always cherish...from year....to year.....to year......
That's just a given, because I get Saint Patrick's Day fever, pretty damn bad...come rain or shine, every single year...and right now, in the merry month of March...I'd like to take you back to some of my grand old memories of Saint Paddy's Day past...surely, that will bring a smile or two.
I'll start off, by going way, way, back...the little rambunxious 4 year old tyke, me, sneaking up to my parents bedroom on 86th Street and jumping up and down, on my parents giant bed...It was my spongy-bungy trampoline, of course, and I truly was lucky, I didn't crack open my head, from my flopping all about...
And while I was up there, I'd pry open my Mom's jewelry box, and there would be a whole slew of Irish buttons, you would stick onto your chest, to wear for Paddy's Day...They were all humorous or clever...and I'd always try to figure out, which one, I'd wear, next Paddy's Day. Of course, KISS ME, I'M IRISH was in there...I'M WITH THE F.B.I-FULL BLOODED IRISH another silly one...SURE N' BGORA...and just a dozen or more, buttons with green shamrocks and leprechauns...There had to be a silly one about GREEN BEER, in there, also...
And every single one of us kids, had to be wearing GREEN, no matter what, on Saint Patrick's Day...and absolutely wearing one of those crazy Irish buttons, displaying them proudly, before we were let out that door, by our Mom...on March 17th, back in the day...yes...
My Mom, of course, decorated our house, to the hilt for this big day...and I'd love to see all those funny, funny cardboard signs, of all the silly looking Leprechauns and such, that my Mom had plastered on the walls, all over the place...back then...
Anybody with the GREEN FEVER got it from my MOM in our house...How could you not, with a name like O'Leary...on the hearty South-Side of Chicago...which seemed 50% Irish back then. And that O'Leary name, brought a smile, to quite a many, because the Chicago Fire of 1871, which decimated the city, was caused by Mrs. O'Leary's cow...unfortunately...the legend tells...
And I swear, every time, we stood at a checkout, anywhere in the city, once someone saw the O'Leary name on my Mom's check, they had to ask..."Are you related to the O'Leary's that had the cow...that started the fire"...and they'd always burst out laughing, because my Mom, always came up with a silly, hilarious answer to the question, every time...She wasn't even an O'Leary, she was a Griffin, thru and thru...but it was an endless phenomenon, she had to deal with, on a daily basis...every day...it seemed...
Back to the festivities of March 17th...The day itself...always seemed a bit chilly and mostly wet...which, of course, reflects the weather of Ireland, to some extent...But it did not matter, I never felt one rain drop, or not one single shiver...as I headed down to the parade, in the heart of Downtown Chicago...as a young lad...with my Tommy More buddies...
We'd take the WESTERN AVE. bus at 79th Street, then inevitably hop on the ARCHER EXPRESS, which ran diagonally, deep down, all the way down, to downtown...We'd all be deliriously happy because every Catholic school on the South-Side always gave us that day off, always, and we made the most of every minute...
As we got off the bus, on State Street...we were in awe of this amazing city, Chicago...Gobs of people, everywhere, the buildings just towered way over, our eye's reach...We kinda had to pinch ourselves, that we had a wild day, planned ahead, waiting for us, as we made our way over to DEARBORN Street...where the parade route would assemble and go down...
But first, we'd scamper like fools, all the way up to LAKE Street, to see them, dye the river GREEN for that day...It was cooler than cool, to see that muddy, dank, dark water, suddenly come to life with a bright, lime green glow, as a quick-jetting fishing boat dumped an enormous amount of an ORANGE POWDER, that mixed into the water, and turned it bright green, instantly...
Then we'd visit each float, there, still waiting, to get into place, to take that magical ride down the parade route, amidst the throngs, of wild, screaming people...It was pure, crazed excitement for us kids, the pandemonium of all of this going down...I can remember running up to the Channel 7 float and saying HI to tv newscasters, Fahey Flynn & Joel Daley, wearing green carnations, smiling from ear to ear...And Channel 2 were giving out GREEN FRISBEES that I kept and cherished for years and years and years...
Just a great adventure of nothing-of-its-kind...fun...Alot of those wild guys, loading onto their floats, were already...3-sheets-to-the-wind...(blind drunk)...and all the ladies had a magical glow, wearing their beautiful costumes and such...There were horses, which was a true oddity for us city kids...and just a whole jamboree of unexpected silliness, that people conjoured up, to bring a hearty laugh, to one and all...
We are talking thousands and thousands of people, massed together, during the day, when tipping a few drinks and loud crazy antics were abound, all over...just purely a given, that day...
As we got older, certainly beer, got thrown into the equation, for us maulers, out of Tommy More...and I'll just throw 2 little fun facts out of the many, that unfolded, that special day...
On one, very cold & chilly, wicked wet & frigid, Paddy's Day, me & my friends stumbled past a big RV sporting a huge BUDWEISER logo, on its side...Well, me and a few of my buddies, Moodo, Slim, Fitz and a few others, talked our way, into this RV...to get a look...of this huge monstrosity. As we looked, about, someone, came up, and started handing us beers, Budweiser, of course, (our favorite) and we settled in, and sat, and watched the whole parade, all warm & cozy, thrusting down, free beers, left and right...
You are probably wondering...How old were we...???...
Probably somewhere between 15-16 years old...Hahaha...That's the Irish for you...Never to young to get the youth of tomorrow, off to a good start...on Saint Paddy's Day...
Another funny Paddy's story....was after the parade was over, one time...we wandered over to the newly erected Sears Tower, (1974)...the tallest building in the world...Well, hell, we had to see what that was all about...So, in we fled, onto the elevators, and up we go....
There, inside the elevators, our eardrums begin to pop, from ascending so rapidly upward, all of us in a dizzy-dizzy spin...feeling as if, we were in a rocket ship, headed for the moon...One of my buddies noticed, the sign that read, it cost $5 to get off at the top floor, Sky Deck and look out, the huge, humoungous, panoramic view of the city...
Well, a bunch of my buddies, had no dough left, so they devised this plan, to get off, one floor early, then sneak up the fire escape, to the top floor...Boom...a bunch get off the elevator some one hundred and some stories up...and go on their wicked way...while us fortunate few, went one floor higher...and got off...and felt so totally perplexed by the sparkling view of the city, from every conceivable angle...It was Playboy Club Day, too...or something, and Hugh Hefner's gorgeous bunnies, were all walking about...and us kids, were pretty much, in awe, of this little goldmine, we stumbled upon.
And we waited and waited for our other buddies, to get up that fire escape and enjoy the view or should I say, views, of everything, and anything, all about...It suddenly dawned on me...Those guys probably got caught, and sent away, when they tried to pull off such a stunt, so us lucky ones were roaring with laughter, from our hilarious viewpoint...after about 10 minutes had past...
And after a great time, sadly, we had to leave the Sky Deck, up on top of the tallest building of the world, SEARS TOWER, and went back down and down, rapidly...back to ground level...looking all about for our other buddies, but they were nowhere to be found...
Then, after about 10 minutes more, all of them come stumbling out of the giant skyscraper, exhausted, panting, swearing at us...See, they did get to the top floor entrance to the Sky Deck, but it was locked...as a matter of fact, every single floor below was locked too...so they had to trek down, an endless amount of stairs, pounding and pounding down, every floor, mad as hell, for this little bit of stupidity...that came up and bit them in the ass...
So, we were just bursting out with laughter, at these unfortunate fools, unloading our little tale of good fortune, while they were still aghast, panting away....almost turning blue, from disbelief...All of us there, still wearing green, some had Irish buttons, some had green hats...all of us, with a few beers stuffed into our winter coats...still...reeling in our wild Paddy's Day story, of going to the top of the world, and then some...in our own mischievous, silly way...
Sure, today, the tradition continues, all of my family goes to the South-Side Irish parade, now, on Western Avenue...and my nephew, Eddie Haggerty and his wonderful wife, Meagan, throw together a spectacular early morning bash, before the parade begins...Just a wild hoot, of all of us, drawn together...all of the Great-Grandkids dressed in super-special Paddy's Day, green outfits...dancing all about...as happy as can be...
Just a great deal of fun and merriment...as the Irish music blasts and the beer & Guinness and Irish Whiskey gets cracked open...as soon as the sun comes up...Lots of great food, my sister, Kathy, whips up...too...The Irish Soda Bread...the scones...the scrambled eggs, the corned beef, cut to hot perfection, ready for action...Load on the tangy mustard...the melting meat...onto that fresh baked, rye bread....and wash it all down with some suds...and you are well on your way to heaven...my friend...
And that South-Side parade, gets bigger and bigger every year...The essence of Irish laughter mixed with the essence of Irish pride...are all abound...for all to enjoy...no matter what nationality, you are...Because Saint Patrick's Day, on the South-Side, and all over Chicago, is for, one and all, an experience, you never, ever, ever forget...
So, now, some of you get a sense of that Irish flavor, that seeps out of my soul and down onto paper. For I am an Irish writer, thru and thru...The Irish wit, the Irish silliness and surely a wry Irish way of putting a slant on things...is predominently featured, in every story of my life, and beyond, that I share...with you...
So HAPPY SAINT PATRICK'S DAY...EVERYBODY...I hope it is a great day, a warm day rather than cold...a sunny day rather than downpours...and just a special day, that keeps your minds all a flutter...your hands full of fun...and your hearts soaring with happiness and a joy...you'll always cherish...from year....to year.....to year......
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