When I was a kid St Patrick’s Day was one of the my favorite days of the year.

Like almost every other life experience it seemed so much better in the old days.

I grew up in an almost all Irish neighborhood in Manhattan called Inwood. To be specific I grew up on 213th Street between Broadway and Tenth Avenue. On the corner of the street at Broadway was a Saloon named The Shannon View. That was the center of my St. Patrick’s Day. It was where my folks and their friends would celebrate the feast of the Patron Saint of Ireland.

After Mass of course.

Mostly I remember the music and the laughter and the sweet smell of beer and whiskey. I remember the whole place breaking out in song. Danny Boy would always bring my mother to tears. Tim Finnegan’s Wake would usually have the whole place doing a jig.  The Wild Colonial Boy would have the Republicans in the group shouting out the lyrics.

I loved the music. I loved watching the grown ups be so happy because they weren’t always that way.

One of my most fond memories was a little old lady named Maisie Nolan.  She would get there early in the afternoon to claim her seat at the end of the bar and stay till the sun had long disappeared.  She knew the words to every song and she could dance a jig and a reel with the best of the youngsters. As a matter of fact she was usually the one leading the younger people in song and dance.

Her outfit was the same every year. She wore a green Tam O’ Shanter with a fluffy white ball one top. A long crocheted Kelly green sweater and plus four pants with long green socks.  She always had her small dog with her and the dog wore an identical outfit.

She looked like Barry Fitzgerald in drag

She lived on the bottom of the street and all the kids got a big kick out of her when she would saunter up to the Shannon View. Already singing with a bit of a dance to her step. We’d follow her there like she was leading the Parade up Fifth Avenue.. She would make us all sing a song when we got to the top of the street. Molly Malone was her favorite. She give us a few coins and off we would go to sing the songs of Ireland all day hoping to find others as generous as Maisie.

What a lovely, grand and eccentric lady she was.  She was the first person I ever saw drink green beer.  This was way before it became the fad.  She brought in a little vile of green food dye and would put a drop or two in her glass. She was also the first person I ever saw give green beer to a dog.

The pooch was usually bagged by mid day.  Not Maisie she would last for the duration.

As I got older the experiences would be different. In High School we would all go downtown to the Parade.  I really never liked it much.  The highlite for me was always the NYPD Emerald Society Band.  It was led up Fifth Avenue by a barrel chested Irisman with a great big handle bar mustache.  He would pump his baton with great flourish and he was in total control.  It was a great kick to see him perform.  His name was Finbar Devine and he also grew up on 213th street. Finbar was so highly thought of that after his passing the street outside the First Precint was named  Finbar Devine Place in his honor.

The rest of Parade was fine.  I just didn’t like seeing people drinking in the street and wearing stupid plastic hats and fighting and puking and pretending that they were Irish. It pissed me off.  I stopped going when I was fifteen.  By that time I was tall enough to sneak a beer or two at the Shannon View with my father.

When I hit my twenties my feeling abut St Patrick’s Day did not get any warmer.  At this point I was tending bar and if I had to work that day, and believe me they used to have to make me work, I hated every minute of it.  I hated the Firemen from New Jersey who would come in and for some reason think they did not have to pay for anything.

They also did not feel the obligation to tip.  The cheap bastards.

I will tell you this.  There was not one professional bartender on the East Side of New York who enjoyed working that day.  I am sure it is the same today.

I grew to have a great distaste for the “plastic paddy’s” who would look at this day as an excuse to dress and act like a fool.  That’s not what the day was about and not how I was taught to celebrate it.

In my thirties some of my other friends started to share my feelings.  We wanted to celebrate together but none of us wanted to deal with the loons and hooligans. We found an empty Chinese Restaurant on Second Avenue that had a long bar. At least a long bar for a Chinese Restaurant. For a number of years we would all go there and have some drinks and sing our songs. The owner did not mind since it was usually in the middle of the afternoon and he had no customers. Besides, have you ever seen fifteen people drinking at the bar of a Chinese restaurant?  I didn’t think so.

The owner was a tall thin guy named Jim Chang and we told him that on this day he would be referred to as Seamus Chang.

I think he got a kick out of his new name and I am sure he liked the business. We knew how to drink and we knew how to spend money.  Unlike Firemen from New Jersey we knew how to tip. The third year we did this he told me he had a surprise for us.  About two hours into our celebration he brought out some huge plates of food.

Our new pal Seamus Chang had made us some Moo Shoo Corned Beef.

These days I treat the day with the respect it deserves.  I’ll go to Mass and have some food and drink with friends.  I’ll try not to lecture people about the fact that “Corned Beef and Cabbage” is not the celebratory St Patrick’s dinner in Ireland.

I’ll refrain from explaining that St Patrick’s greatest contribution was not chasing out the imaginary snakes from Ireland but it was he who brought the word of the Lord to the Druid Pagans by using the Shamrock to explain the mystery of the Holy Trinity.

Of course there are some who regret that accomplishment.  My good friend Malachy McCourt feel’s that he and Ireland miss the good old pagan days.

I will forgive the plastic green derby’s and the “ kiss me I’m Irish” pins and tee shirts.

I’ll look the other way when I stumble across some stumbling drunk.

I can do this now because in my mind and my heart I know I have had the best of times on March 17th with my family, my friends, Maisie Nolan and Jim Chang. In places like the Shannon View and an empty Chinese restaurant on Second Avenue.

Slainte everyone, and behave yourselves.

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