[A Nice Quiet Little Bar]

Richmond, Roaldus

United States, Vermont

1940-09-03

6

wpalh002657

emigration and immigrationnarrativesoccupationsrecreation

Document text

Roaldus Richmond
Writer-' SectionFU
A NICE 4JJIET LITTLE BAR
'-)ATE
They called him Firpo because of his size. There was
nothing of Firpo in his face however, for it was a calm face,
pale and plump from soft -living indoors. Only in the mild
eyes was a hint of restrained fires, danger -lights. Many a
pugnacious drunk had been fooled by his mildness of speech and
appearance. When Firpo went into action it was explosive and
Irresistible. Men flew like sacks of straw before his terrible
hands. laturally pleasant and friendly, Firp never sought
trouble but when it came he was ready. With his left hand
he would hoist the offender half -across the bar, and then un-
leash a right that invariably knocked the victim clear across
the room. Firpo was Spanish.
"Yeah, I been in this town about twenty-five years now,"
he said. "I guess I been tending bar here about twenty years.
Not this same bar, of course. A lot of it was bootleE stuff
you know. It had to be. I was only a kid when I came, and
it was an accident. I went on a bat with some guys, starting
in Boston, and woke up in Barre. I been here ever since. I
was born in C4uincy, Yassachusetts. My old man was a stone-
cutter down there, he wanted me to go in the sheds but I didn't
want to. I wanted to go in the ring. I thought sure as hell
I was a champ until I tried it a couple times. I was lucky
not to get killed. I didn't know nothing except to go in swing-
ing. A kike in South Boston flattened me; a Polack in Prov-

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idence knocked my can off. I quit. I was under twenty then,
just a punk kid.
"itly old man came over from Spain, but I never seen the
country, I wouldn't want to now. Ain't it hell what they're
doing over there? I tried to get in the army in '17. They
wouldn't take me on account of flat feet. What the hell diff-
erence does flat feet make? I had to laugh when I saw some
of the birds they did take. I coulda smeared six of 'em at
once. Mien they did take me it was too late to get across.
I was young enough to be sorry then, like a goddamn fool, but
know better now. I been through a Veterans' Pospital once.
They oughta make everybody go through one of tem.
*Loll, when we came to in that hotel room in Barre we was
a pretty sad bunch. The guy with the car had left us, lammed
out and left us flat. We didn't know what the hell to do.
I didn't dare wire home for money, and neither did Jake. The
other guy wired home, got the dough, and went back to ollaston.
There was nothing for me and Jake to do but go to work. And
when you go to work in Larva it means working in the etoneeheds.
Figure it out. There's a capital investment of twelve million
dollars in the industry. Barre district covers a fifty -mile
radius. It produces one-third of the granite memorials for
this country. Out of Barre's 11,CA40 population, about 4000
are in the granite industry.
"You know it's a funny thing. tack home my old man had
tried to get me into the sheds and I wouldn't go.
see it, I was having too much tun playing around.
father used tc get disgusted with me, and looking
I couldn't
Jesse, my
back on it

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I don't blame him a bit. I Was a no-good kid, all right. Then
as soon as I hit this town I go to work in a shed. My first
job was grunting. The grunts do all the odd Jobs around a shed,
the dirty and heavy work. I was strong enough for that but I
can't say I liked it. Jake's still cutting stone here today.
"When I got my first check I sent a slice of it home. I
bet it was the first time in his life he was ever proud of me.
He wrote back asking me to come home and work there. But I
had got to like Barre by then, and you know how you feel, the
first real money you earn.
"Stonecutting was all right for Jake but not for me. He
liked it. Hell, if I'd stayed there I'd still be lumping or
some stooge job. I didn't stick very long, only a couple years
or so.
"After that I tried a lot of things* I worked in restaurants.
I worked in stores. I even worked on a farm. Onoe I was a
night-watchman* I picked up little extra jack, boxing and
wrestling at carnivals and fairs, in different towns round the
State. I was good enough to get by up here in the sticks.
Then I drove a truck. All the time I was drinking and leading
a hell of a life.
"Then I got to gambling Every night it was poker or dice.
This gang I got in with was running booze, and they ran a blind
pig, too. After they cleaned me out I lost my job wrecked
the truck one day and the boss said I was drunk, but it was
really just a hangover and being up all night. The gang liked
me and they gave me a job driving a booze ear down from Canada.
I got a hundred bucks a week for three trips. When they lost

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some of their cars they took mine away from me. They put me
to serving drinks in their speak then, waiting on trade, you
know. They had an old broken-down bartender that could really
mix tem. Held worked in big hotel bars in New York, Boston,
Montreal, and held worked on big ships crossing the Atlantic.
It was from him I learned to mix tem.
"We get all kinds of trade here,
vet along fine with the stonecutters,
They get a little loud once in awhile
all kinds of people. I
they're my beat customers.
when they're arguing.
But they like me, they'll listen to me. Sometimes they feel
like scrapping and I have to cut in. They have fights of course
but not in here. A couple winters ago there was a stabbing
down the street, put a guy in the hospital awhile. After one
high school football game there was fighting all over town.
This spring one of the Union leaders got his leg broke in a
brawl. Stoneoutters are almost always good guys, regular, you
know what I mean, I don't know why but they are. Like news-
papermen and ball players and guys like that. They're decent
and honest, too. If they're a little wild, who isn't that's
got any blood and guts in him? I get along fine with the stone-
cutters. I like to see tem come in.
"I have more trouble with the country club crowd and
tourists. Punks like that. They get a couple cocktails under
their belt and they got to show off in front of their women.
It's dopes like that that burn me up. They can't drink and
they can't fight, but a few shots and they got to show off.
Another bunch that gets in my hair is this bunch of lollypops
from Norwich. I've served plenty college kids, and some damn

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nice ones, but those dilliest
"One night three of the monkeys were in here showing their
girls what hell -of -a -guys they were. One of them crashed his
glass off the wall. re was reaching in his pocket with one
hand, and reaching for another glass with the other. "Eow much
these glasses cost?" he said. I grabbed his wrist before he got
to the glass. "You ai.e.'t got enough money to pay for 'em,"
said. The other two jumped me, and I threw all three of 'en
out.
"But we don't have much trouble in here. Don't think
things like that happen every night. Maybe a couple times a
year is all. This is a rice quiet bar. A gentleman can enjoy
his drinks in peace and quiet. And a lady, too. No lady is
ever goinc to get insulted In any bar I work.
"The boss gave me hell once, said I was driving some of
his best customers over to the Bike Club. I said that was a
good place for tem. I said: "That you call your best customers
drive more real good busineas outa here, than Hitler has drove
Jews outa Ciermanyt" I seen tLosc Elks Club. They get away
with stuff there that I wouldn't stand for here. Of course
some of the Elks, just like some of the Norwich boys, are o. k.
guys. But take 'em by and large you can have tem.
"I'm a pretty good-natured guy. I can take a lot before
I start burning up. You got to take a lot in this racket, and
can take it. But there's a limit to everything. I try to
be nice to everybody. The stonecutters would go to bat for
Me, I know that. If I was in a jam or something they'd come
through. And they're tough babies too, good ones to have on

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your side.
"It's a nice little bar, cool and quiet. Of course there's
that phonograph, and this jitterbug music drives me nuts. I
like music that's slow and sweet and sad. Wishing, that's a
good number. Let me mix you a real drink. I don't touch it
myself now, I don't touch a drop. I haven't for years."