Hick in New York City, Part 12-- Patrick's Pub

The Fiddler at the party was an older man, but his appearance was one of a jolly leprachaun.

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 O'Malley came from Danny's office to help with the measurements early that afternoon, remarking that since Paddy had been out to see me, he didn't want to feel 'left out o' things.' He was a merry, fun-loving man who told me that he'd met me that first day, but I'd been too busy to take much notice of him.

"Wait a minute…" I said. "O'Malley-- Chief O'Malley is your brother? He's such a nice man!"

Sean laughed and said, "I'm sure the criminals would agree with you, too!"

"Well, that is an entirely different matter!" I said, "I wasn't 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 Paddy's party, as well, and pleased that I would be there. "Danny puts on a grand party," he said. "He's 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! You'll love it!"

I nodded—it 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 won't be there, don't 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 you're 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 he's sending out another crew at 4, so you'll have some time t' get ready for the party. Here's the address, they'll save a seat for you." I felt Sally's kind hand in this reprieve to have time to dress 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 didn't crack a smile, but I was a polite customer and I wasn't heckled. At 4 o'clock, 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 Patrick's 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 Patrick's 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 doesn't 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! I've got ye a spot!" He was seated at a large table, with Sally on one hand and Chief O'Malley 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 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, "I'm so very glad to meet you!"

Chief O'Malley, 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 O'Malley, 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 us—men in policeman's 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 couldn't understand one word they said. Many of them spoke Gaelic! Those that didn't 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 puddle—my 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 Maker's Mark, nor Jim Beam, nor Very Old Barton, nor Old Grand Dad, etc.. The bartender looked at me in consternation when I asked. I drank a mild Irish whisky 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, but they were 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, heartily, 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 children's songs I had learned in school were Irish!

At one point in the evening, Danny and Chief O'Malley rose to toast one another—a 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 O'Malley, 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 O'Malley responded with a toast to "Danny Laine, the canny Irishman who'll take the coat off your back without your knowing it, one drop 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 O'Malley's wife joined us, as did Sean's 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 a twenty 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 awhile, 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, "I'll sleep in peace until you come to me."

A tear glistened in Danny's eyes as he wrung my hand in thanks. ""Twas a fine song, girrul, a fine song. I'll be thankin' ye, for it, I will!"

"Danny," I told him, "thank you for including me in your party!" Chief O'Malley 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 two 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, we're 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, "Ye've 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 O'Malley 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 nearly 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 a week to go. I climbed into the bed, set the alarm for six am, and fell asleep almost immediately.

*Honey Fitz was Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy's father. Rose was the mother of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

Next Up: The Bluidy Orangemen!

To hear the melodies of some of the Irish songs played that memorable evening, click here:
Irish Music and Lyrics

Links

Part 10, The "Deli on the Green"

Part 11, Doesn't everyone in Kentucky live on a horse farm?

Next Up:

Part 13, The Bluidy Orangemen

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Hick in New York City, Part 13-- The bluidy Orangeman

Dowser

Mon Nov 16

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