Jail on St Patrick's Day

Jail on St Patrick's Day

(This story is true and only works if I left in the racist remarks. It is the way we spoke back then and it took a while to unlearn it)

In 1962 St Patrick's day came on Saturday. I was 20 and just got out of the navy and four of us decided to go to Buffalo for the weekend. We had lots of beer and I taught them a couple of songs I learned in the Navy.(SONGS BELOW)

So Mike, Hans Orville, and I get Buffalo and get a couple of hotel rooms, and head for Santisaro's for a famous pizza and a bottle of chianti in a basket bottle. Pizza was a rare commodity in those days.

We had a few drinks and a case of beer and went back to the hotel had a few drinks and went to bed.

We went for breakfast and then 10-pin bowling.

As the day wore on and since it was St Patrick's Day we decided to get serious and started to hit the bars 1 drinking in each bar.

At one Irish bar, a pretty lass talked into some buying regalia and we soon had our shamrock buttons and were having a good time.

We hit the street and Mike decides to swing on a sign pole.

I guess a car had hit it because it snapped off at the bottom and came down on Mike's head and it knocked him out for a minute and he fell on the pavement.

I looked back at him just as it happened and went rushing back to help him. Before I could pick him up a buffalo policeman hauled him to his feet.

'where are you from ?" He demanded.

"Canada" mumbles slightly stunned Mike.

"Do you do that in Canada"

"yeah," but the poles are stronger."

"Oh, a smart guy."Says the cop.

I say "Come on officer it must have been a weak pole.'

"Oh, another smart guy."Says the cop and whistles.

A police paddy wagon k9 division pulls up and takes us off to jail.

"What are we charged with?"

"Him with drunk and you Drunk and disorderly

"How was I disorderly? I asked, "I did everything you asked of me."

"You were still standing." laughed the cop.

Mike was drunk but I really wasn't.

they took away our Irish ribbons and buttons AND We are put in the drunk tank, the usual large dank cell with 3 Irish drunks and about 20 black guys and one toilet, etc.

Mike starts singing

Oh the Eri-e was a risin' and the

Gin was a gettin' low

And I did not think we'd get a drink

Till we got to Buffaolo ho ho

Till we got to  Buffa lo

the Irishmen join in.

Mike fumbles the words and switches to

Sambo was a lazy coon,  Who used to sleep in the afternoon,

I managed to choke him quietly before the black guys heard it.    

After a terrible night, we are taken to Sunday court. We now have half a dozen more Irish drunks and they all got to keep their buttons and ribbons. It is an Irish judge and he has about half a dozen grandchildren in the first row dressed in green and white. they are all going to church after court.

The judge is in a hurry. Every drunk with a St.Patrick button is released. They come to us  Mike pleaded guilty $25.00 or seven days. me Not guilty, remand $100.00. what I don't have time for that I have to go back to Canada and my job. "Canadians? says the judge, "I'm tired of you undesirables coming down here and..

"Who the fuck are you calling an undesirable," I say,

"We come down here as visitors we spend our money caused no trouble started no fights, We weren't drunk, My buddy grabbed a pole and it snapped off and hit him. I don't believe you fucking people.

The judge went apoplectic, he could believe his ears he sent his grandkids out.

"Get them out of here" he fumed

"Not in my court." he could hardly speak"You can't talk like that here." Take them to Canada! Take them to the border. Get them out of here!"

That was it, no money, no fines, We were put in a cruiser and taken to immigration.

it was Sunday and this guy was filling in. He couldn't figure out how to fingerprint us so he took us to the border where Hans and Orville were waiting.

'This doesn't mean anything" he says "you come right back if you want to."

Note:

Over 40 years later I only once got stopped at the border and that was still on my record and they almost didn't let me in"

We were forty miles from Albany and

Forget it I  never  shall

What a hell of a storm we  had one night

On the Er-i-e Canal

On The Er-i-e Canal

Our Captain He came up on deck

With a spyglass in his hand

And the fog it was so fuckin thick

That he could not spy the land

That he could not spy the land

chorus

Oh the Eri-e was a risin' and the

Gin was a gettin' low

And I did not think we'd get a drink

Till we got to Buffaolo ho ho

Till we got to  Buffa lo

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Two days out of Syracuse

Our vessel struck a shoal

We foundered when we hit a chunk

Of Lackawanna Coal ho ho

Of Lackawanna coal lo



Chorus





Our cook she was a grand old gal

She wore a ragged dress

We hoisted her upon a pole

As a signal of distress

As a signal of distress



chorus



When we got to Syracuse

The off mule he was dead

The night mule had blind staggers

So we cracked him on the head

And we cracked him on the head



the captain he got married

and the crew was tossed in jail

And I'm the only Son of a bitch

That is left to tell the tale

That's left to tell the tale



And unfortunately this one too.





Sambo was a lazy coon,         

Who used to sleep in the afternoon,        

 So tired was he, so tired was he.         

Off to the forest he would go,         

Swinging his bollocks too and fro,         

When along came a bee, a fucking great  bee,        

 Buzz, buzz, ubzz,

fuck Off you bumble bee,

I ain't no fucking rose,         

get off my fucking nose.                           

Arseholes rule the Navy,

 arseholes rule the Sea        

If you want a bit of bum, 

 better get it from chum,         

Cause you'll get no bum from me.