The Saga, Part 12 -- Patrick's Pub
After Danny drove away, it was very quiet in the well field, but for the HMMMMMMMM of Well #3. I parked the monster car down by Well #1, near the main road, where I could watch for guests, and continued with the measuring schedule. I hoped that Fred was resting, and that the man on the hill did not get bored and leave his post. It was strangely comforting to know that he was there. Every hour, relentlessly, my watch beeped and off I went to take yet another round of measurements and to collect and analyze samples.
A lovely man named Sean OMalley came from Dannys office to help with the measurements early that afternoon, remarking that since Paddy had been out to see me, he didnt want to feel left out o things. He was a merry, fun-loving man who told me that hed met me that first day, but Id been too busy to take much notice of him.
Wait a minute I said. OMalley-- Chief OMalley is your brother? Hes such a nice man!
Sean laughed and said, Im sure the criminals would agree with you, too!
Well, that is an entirely different matter! I said, I wasnt too pleased to be on the wrong end of that gun that first night here, either!
We laughed and soon had an easy-going friendship. He was, of course, attending Paddys party, as well, and pleased that I would be there. Danny puts on a grand party, he said. Hes hired The Fiddler!
Is that a band or a musician? I asked.
Sean smiled in anticipation, Oh, The Fiddler is a great man! He has a couple of boys with him, and they make the grandest music! Youll love it!
I noddedit sounded like a wonderful time would be had by all! Danny was making sure that the Chief would help him the next election. Who else from the office is coming to the party? I asked.
Sean laughed and said, Dennis wont be there, dont worry about that! He laughed again, and said, Dennis was sent off in shame this morning to clean Filter #4, and will not be heard from for about three weeks. The other guys are worried that youre mad at them.
No, I said, of course not. But they know better.
That they do, Sean agreed. Danny told me to tell you that hes sending out another crew at 4, so youll have some time t get ready for the party. Heres the address, theyll save a seat for you. I felt Sallys kind hand in this reprieve to have time to clean up for the party.
Sean measured while I scouted around for some lunch, ending up at the same Deli on the Green. This time, I was armed and ready to go with an order at the counter. I tried something new and different, got my sandwich, paid my money, and was out of there with a minimum of fuss and bewilderment. The same counterman didnt crack a smile, but I was a polite, smart-ordering customer and I wasnt heckled. At 4 oclock, another crew came out, and I stayed with them through the measurements and samples to be sure they knew what to do. Then, I must confess, I left without a backward glance! A party! What fun!
Fortunately, in anticipation of at least one night out and about, I had packed some suitable clothing. Otherwise, I would have been pounding the streets looking for a clothing shop. After prying directions out of the hotel manager, and driving in circles for a bit, I found Patricks Pub not far from my hotel. Then, after more circling, I managed to find a place to park the monster car in a bank parking lot, yet another miracle.
I rounded the corner of the bank to see Patricks Pub, and the place was HOPPING! I made my way into wall-to-wall Irishmen, all laughing and dancing to the music of a fine band, and screaming fluent Gaelic. Sally found me, and pounded Danny on the shoulder, Look Danny, there she is! Oh, the poor thing, she doesnt know me, go and get her!
Danny stood and motioned me toward a seat he had saved by evicting a large Irishman out of it, Come here, girrul! Ive got ye a spot! He was seated at a large table, with Sally on one hand and Chief OMalley on the other, Sean was sitting beside his brother and next to Sally, there was a place for me. The room was packed, and over the din, you could see other police officers and their wives, calling to one another and laughing. Several of the officers were the ones that had come out to sit with me at the well field, and they waved in greetings.
Sally stood as I got to the table, and hugged me to her heart, Welcome to Great Neck, my dear! Sally was just about the age I am, now, but she had beautiful, dark red hair, and bright green eyes, and I could see, without ever having to be told, that she had been a stunning beauty. She still was. I found her to be a truly beautiful person, kind-hearted and warm.
Sally, I said, hugging her close, Im so very glad to meet you!
Chief OMalley, full of Irish blarney, asked, Surely this lovely lady is not the same urchin we pulled out of the well field two nights ago?
I smiled at him and said, Dear Chief OMalley, it was the by the grace of God you came and got me! Thank you again, for your kind care! I shook hands with Danny, the Chief, and Sean and sat with them. The party swirled around usmen in policemans uniforms, men in suits, beautiful women in brightly colored clothing, all singing at the top of the voices, dancing, and calling out to one another. The din was deafening, and I couldnt understand one word they said. Many of them spoke Gaelic! Those that didnt seem to speak a combination of English/Gaelic that was completely foreign to my ears, especially in the general din.
Listening to Gaelic is a very frustrating experience. It sounds like liquid English, almost as if you had poured the English language around a worn stone, allowed it splash a little, and caught it in a puddlemy mind almost had it, and then, Flash! It was gone. A forgotten pattern that was just almost, almost, there. But not quite. It is a beautiful language, a poetry of sounds and inflections that I only wish I could speak.
They had no Kentucky bourbons, not even Old Fitzgerald, made by the Kennedy family in Owensboro, no less, which I found to be shocking! Absolutely Shocking! Nor Makers Mark, nor Jim Beam, nor Very Old Barton, nor Old Grand Dad, nor Rebel Yell, nor Old Crow, etc.. The bartender looked at me in consternation when I asked. I drank a mild Irish whiskey that went down with flashing lights like a pinball machine, but it was very good, and I took my time with it, sipping it slowly.
The band was wonderful! The Fiddler was a small man with bright red hair, dressed as a leprechaun, wiry and strong. His face had a merry, devil-may-care look, and a twinkle in his eye, but, when he played slower songs, the look in his eyes made me shiver with sadness. The man was a musician, an actor, a mime, and a very gifted artist. He danced upon the small stage, and danced upon the table and chairs, he danced through the crowd, fiddling his heart out, playing the songs that I knew best from childhood.
The songs that he played were songs that my parents and grandparents had sung when I was a child-- recognizable and familiar favorites! Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ye, The Irish Washerwoman, The Rose of Tralee, The Rakes of Mallow, and The Minstrel Boy. In some of the songs, the crowd sang along with The Fiddler, skipping lightly through the notes, but in Gaelic. I sang along, in English, since that was all I knew, and no one seemed to mind. At least the music was familiar, and I wondered about my Irish roots, and how deeply they had been buried. I was surprised at how many of the childrens songs I had learned in school were Irish!
At one point in the evening, Danny and Chief OMalley rose to toast one anothera masterpiece of political maneuvering that Old Honey Fitz* would have enjoyed himself! Danny made sure everyone had a drink, and raising his glass proposed a toast to Chief OMalley, whose service for 25 years has brought the City of Great Neck through many a storm, and who will continue to serve and protect all of us!
Everyone drank and roared their congratulations and approval. Chief OMalley responded with a toast to Danny Laine, the canny Irishman wholl take the coat off your back without your knowing it, one sip at a time! Thanks for the fine celebration! Again the crowd roared approvals and congratulations. Then the party was back on! The Fiddler resumed his dancing, fiddling, the guitar players continued their backup and the crowd danced and had a marvelous time. Chief OMalleys wife joined us, as did Seans and the crowd became a little more frenzied.
At one point, I got up to find the ladies room in the crowd and on the way back, located the bass guitar player, May I request a song? I asked, dropping some money in the cup. I shouted a favorite and For Danny Laine, and thanked him, slowly picking my way back to the table in the crowd.
After a while, The Fiddler announced We have a special request for our fine host this evening! and the band broke into Danny Boy. The place came to a standstill, as The Fiddler played the plaintive refrain to the song. Everyone sang at the top of the their lungs, wiping tears from their eyes, and toasting my friend, Danny, as the verse of the song came to its sweet conclusion, Ill sleep in peace until you come to me.
A tear glistened in Dannys eyes as he wrung my hand in thanks. Twas a fine song, girrul, a fine song. Ill be thankin ye, for it, I will!
Danny, I told him, thank you for including me in your party! Chief OMalley tightly smiled, and I wondered if I had done a political service for Danny, all unaware
Danny Boy was the last song from The Fiddler that evening. He had danced and played and mimed for three long hours, but he was not done. Oh no! The Fiddler passed his green top hat around, For the orphanage in Ulster! he declared. For the orphanage in Ulster!
Everyone was contributing money to the orphans, so, of course I reached in my purse and threw a ten into the pile. When I did, The Fiddler, stopped, bowed, waved his hat, and said, This fine girrul has been lost to the old country for far too long, tis time we welcomed her home! And with that leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek, and lifted me to my feet. Welcome home, girrul, were glad t see ye again! The crowd roared, the few people I knew raised their glasses in friendship, toasting me, as well. I slightly bowed my thanks, and quickly sat back down, the limelight too bright. The Fiddler nodded at me, Yeve got friends here, miss, good friends!
The Fiddler lightly walked behind the stage and disappeared behind the bar, his band following him. The crowd found seats, laughing and drinking, and traditional Irish music began to play over the loud speaker. Slowly, the crowd dispersed. Chief OMalley and his wife left, and I followed shortly thereafter, thanking my hosts, climbing back into the monster car, and driving through the dark streets to my hotel. My head rang from the noise of the crowd.
In my room, as much fun as it was, I was almost glad to get back to the cockroaches. I had begun to think of the cockroaches as my little friends, who watched over the room during the day. My dog was at home, safe with my family. My cats were watching my house, and I was lonely for them. It was only the third day of the pumping test, and I had more than two weeks to go. I climbed into the bed, set the alarm for six am, and fell asleep almost immediately.
Thanks for coming by!
*Honey Fitz was Rose Fitzgerald Kennedys father. Rose was the mother of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Links below video!
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This was the MOST fun! Sally was a wonderful person! Very kind and loving. I know that she and Danny are quite old now, but both are still alive... And that is about all I know.
Thanks for coming by!
This is tooincredible! You finally made it into NYC (Queen's to be exact) and ended up at my old haunt. Some of my best times of my youth were spent at Patrick's Pub. We toasted our first home and my husband had is 40th birthday there! Back in the day, it was whispered to be an IRA meeting spot.
And of course you could only find an Irish whisky there. Me, I'm aGuinnessgirl.
And here is the great irony of them all. We might have been there at the exact same time! That was my pub of choice. And I even know the fiddler who you are referring to in the story.
You just brought some of the best memories for me, Dowser! For that I thank you!
And I see that I stopped by at just the right time, yet again. Seems to me that your great respect for people combined with your charm and backbone would make friends just about anywhere.
When in the fields we sew and reap, the seasons changes we closely keep.
When in the day we work and toil, good are the resting places, and the soil.
To go afield, to stray along, to find our way, to sing a song.
To find the hours to pause and see what different people see in thee.
That is all my muse gave me.
Great Story.
Oh my gosh, Perrie!
Back in the day, it WAS an IRA meeting spot! Or so I learned, later on...
Oh my, Perrie, you could have been there too???? What a small world. Tell me, if you can: Is the fiddler dead? There is more about him in the later stories... Is he still alive, or has he died?
I'm so glad that you remember all this-- you are helping me immensely, confirming and explaining things that I found so puzzling, and have tried so hard to remember!
Patrick's Pub was Wonderful! I had such a wonderful, fun time there! I was never able to go back there at night, because I was out at the well field-- but it was really a great experience!
I'm still in shock, dear Perrie, that our lives are so intertwined-- and we both may have been there that evening!
How little we know, of the twists and turns of fate... and how everything all comes right in the end.
What a BEAUTIFUL poem! Thank you for sharing that with us!
Thanks, so much, for coming by!
OMG I can't believe that it was an actual IRA meeting place. There was a room upstairs that was off limits and that is where people whispered that "business" went on.
The fiddler has long passed. The business was passed on to the owners sons and now is closed. It was a very sad thing to hear about.
It is funny about the twists of fate that lead people in, out and back into each others lives. Matt and I figured out that we had been at no less than 7 concerts at the same time, and never met. How odd, right?
Yes, it's odd. Downright 'meant to be'.
I'm sorry it is closed. And I can't tell you why, but for the first time in a long time, I can rest easy. You'll find out in Part 15 or 16 why I say that...
Oh my gosh, Perrie. I know it was. Fred told me-- that isn't in the story, because all these years later, I was still afraid.
Frankly, between that bunch, and The Mob, I would have preferred the Mob. They were scary, but they left me alone. At the time, there wasn't all this going after relatives of people, or 'civilians'. I'll have to tell you later, privately, what I learned... but until Part 15 or 16, I can't say...
I love you, Perrie. I'm so grateful that you're reading these. You see, I fell in love with Fred. (In the chapters to come...) There is so much more to all this.