A Place for a Paddy Wagon

On this March 17^th, I, like many Irish Americans, will wear green and celebrate what I suspect to be Irish heritage.  Being skeptical of businesses that can supposedly tell me of my heritage, I instead look into family records and discover my great grandfather William Patrick Justice (May 2, 1858-July 2, 1943).  Good enough for me, I will eat corned beef, cabbage, and red potatoes.

And what of St. Patrick’s Day?  I certainly can’t claim any allegiance to Saint Patrick, the closest connection to Catholicism I have, is having been a resident of South Bend, IN for nine years, “Go Irish!”.

The stereotypical Irish-American has been characterized as a poor, ignorant, hard-drinking, temperamental fighter.

In a 1997 essay for City Journal, a New York-based literary magazine, author William J. Stern wrote about life for Irish Americans during the 19^th Century, including one theory as to the origin of the term "paddy wagon":

Over half the people arrested in New York in the 1840s and 1850s were Irish, so that police vans were dubbed “paddy wagons” and episodes of mob violence in the streets were called “donnybrooks,” after a town in Ireland.

Death was everywhere. In 1854 one out of every 17 people in the sixth ward died. In Sweeney’s Shambles the rate was one out of five in a 22-month period. The death rate among Irish families in New York in the 1850s was 21 percent, while among non-Irish it was 3 percent. Life expectancy for New York’s Irish averaged under 40 years. Tuberculosis, which Bishop Hughes called the “natural death of the Irish immigrants,” was the leading cause of death, along with drink and violence.

So, as I don the green today, our “Paddy Wagon” will remain at Merry Mount as we adhere to the coronavirus quarantine.  But, for a happier note, I leave you with a performance by the great Irish tenor, John McCormack.  Enjoy!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WgQCPifM-p8

There's a tear in your eye,
And I'm wondering why,
For it never should be there at all.
With such pow'r in your smile,
Sure a stone you'd beguile,
So there's never a teardrop should fall.
When your sweet lilting laughter's
Like some fairy song,
And your eyes twinkle bright as can be;
You should laugh all the while
And all other times smile,
And now, smile a smile for me.

When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, 'tis like the morn in Spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, they steal your heart away.

For your smile is a part
Of the love in your heart,
And it makes even sunshine more bright.
Like the linnet's sweet song,
Crooning all the day long,
Comes your laughter and light.
For the springtime of life
Is the sweetest of all
There is ne'er a real care or regret;
And while springtime is ours
Throughout all of youth's hours,
Let us smile each chance we get.

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Ball / Graff / Olcott

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

CPW (Paddy)