I loved those guys - Social Clubs
© 2005 Edward A. Iannuccilli, MD, FACP, #336
Italian men belonged to clubs, a place outside the home to meet friends, relax,
eat, and drink. I went with Dad one Friday night to a club owned by an elderly
Italian gentleman who lived with his family in the three-decker above.
A large,
heavy green door opened from the street directly into the smoke filled club.
Immediately inside were tall stools surrounding a small semi-circular bar. A
shelf above held a variety of glasses and cups. On a shelf under the bar were
jugs of unlabeled red wine. A small cellar like window on the street side let in
some light, the rest came from tethered bulbs scattered about the room, some
covered with green metal shades. Under each light was a round table circled by
wooden folding chairs. There was a couch in the distance.
“Hey Pete,
how are you?” They knew Dad.
There were
large men everywhere, drinking at the bar, drinking at tables, drinking while
standing around. They wore their work clothes. They were speaking Italian. The
landlord served them dark red wine from the shelf or beer from an old Coca-Cola
cooler. He poured his homemade thick wine into squat, compact, open glasses,
some of them old grape jelly jars.
What
wonderful smells; stogie cigars, beer, wine, sauces and newspapers. There was
also the smell of the workingman, a mixture of sweat, cement, and leather. No
after-shave lotion or deodorant. Although strong and somewhat gruff, they were
kind and eager to help me to soda and food.
“You like-a this
place?”
“Yes.”
“Uwanna somthin’ to drink?’
“Yes.”
“Whata you like?”
“Nehi.”
“Wha?”
“A Coke?”
“Sure, sure.”
“Carlo, Cokafa the boy.”
Later in the evening came the food, large quantities
of pastas, meats, pizza, soffrito, and tripa, all cooked by the owner’s wife in
a small room on a small stove to the rear. The men ate, drank, talked, and
played cards and games like Boss and La Morra. One thing was obvious. They loved
being there in each other’s company. With arms pumping and hands turning, they
spoke with emotion, enthusiasm, passion, and humor. They laughed.
It was what
Italian men did on Friday evenings after a difficult and laborious week. Pleased
that their workweek was over, proud of their accomplishments, they were now
happy to share with friends time and relaxation rightfully and honorably earned.
There are remnants of those clubs; commercial establishments in VFW halls or
church basements. Even upscale restaurants serve the same things, now in good
glasses, on fine china. I smile when I hear that someone has discovered “a place
with great food like my grandmother used to cook,” routine for the social clubs
of yesteryear.
Food, drink
and company nurtured friends who were as important as family. How fortunate.