We had a fish fry one Sunday night at the Blue Room, but the fish were a little rare. The one thing that the Dog had was still kicking when he bit into it. Our chief cook was very much vexed at the manner in which her culinary efforts were received. Mary Ellen Butler said it was the last damn thing she'll ever cook for any of them. (We wonder!)
We have one hell of a time getting cigarettes. You should see the rush to Prinzbach's every Thursday and the same at Dornheggen's on Friday.
Gasoline is still rationed so Shinzo, Willie and Jerk Butler don't ride street cars alone.
The game of "hearts" still holds the floor almost every night with the same amount of cussing and hell raising as of old. Ah, how my thoughts go back to the Monday nights when we held the 500 tournaments. Can you recall all the hell you would get for just one dumb play? How many of you would like to be here right now with a large beer at your side?
Bill Kroner joined the Disabled American Veterans. He might be a veteran, but I doubt like hell if he is very disabled. Ask the gang at the Topper. And I might add that our Willie now drives a Dodge.
Fennessy took the examination for the police force and failed to make the grade. It seems the Civil Service commission looked up his record when he was a motorman. They were afraid it would be too much of a gamble to give him a revolver and turn him loose in a scout car.
Radiotrician 2-C Walter Cooper was trying like hell to dry up the Blue Room while he was home. But no matter how much he would drink, there always seemed to be some left. He was game though, I will say he sure did try.
I want to tip some of you birds off to something. Don't come home thinking you can out-drink Dog Benton. The old Purp has been practicing every Sunday night and he is getting damn good.
Joe Pharo came all the way from the South Pacific to the Blue Room to see what I meant by the regular Sunday night floor show. The first Sunday night he was in the place, along about midnight, the juke box was giving or sending to its utmost. The number was one of the local favorites. Mr. and Mrs. "B" were doing the neatest piece of rug cutting that ever hit the place. Joe remarked that the Dog was listing a little on the port side. I told him not to worry, the old Pup would settle at a pretty even keel. (And he did). But all through the dance the Bee was keeping right in step and singing the number to the Dog, "Straighten Up and Fly Right." Joe said, "who ever picked that number for them to dance to sure had something on the ball."
Then Kroner came in, and in keeping with that old Blue Room custom, he and Joe ordered "one more beer" then they took off. When I saw Joe Monday morn, his "sinus" was bothering him a little, and the only thing that bothered the Dog was his conscience.
There was a hell of a swell party at Butlers the night I was there.
Mary Ellen had a party while Joe Fischer and Joe Pharo were still here. But I was kidnapped and taken from the party and left out in the cold while lunch was served.
It was brought to my attention earlier that a move like that was to be made but I passed on it lightly, in fact too damn lightly. Along about 11:30 AM, Bob Meldon, Frank Benton, and Bill Buerk suggested that we "GO OUT" for a shot. We did, but they left me and WE DID NOT come back together. By the time I got back all the dishes were clean as a whistle. You know I am NOT much of an eater so I figured that someone over estimated my capacity. Anyhow, I did not get a bite to eat. What a hell of a party that was, as far as I was concerned. Oh yes, I did get something to drink.