Top o' the morning to you. It's grand to celebrate this greatest of holidays with my friends at the G.O.S. As an Irish American raised in Chicago, I was always keenly aware that my heritage had come with a price:
,
Descended from a people who came to this country as starving refugees, only to get the welcome customarily reserved for illegal immigrants (my own great-grandda had to sneak over the border from Canada. Did that make him a "greenback?") who were conscripted into a war over the "right" of one group to mercilessly exploit another, and who, by virtue of education and the availability of grueling but honest work, (whether it was the Erie Canal, the Illinois and Michigan, the transcontinental railroad, coal mining in the east or copper mining in the west, it all seemed to involve one form or another of ditch-digging) the ability to organize and the power of the vote, were able, in just two or three generations, to serve on city councils, in state legislatures, in the Congress and, by 1960, in the White House. That's the American way, and that's why, if there's a group of Americans who should support the working man and woman, surely it's the sons and daughters of Erin. So please join the Shamrock American Kossacks today for an all-day virtual St. Patrick's day parade. Feel free to jump in any time, sharing a song, a family story, a poem or a laugh, and well all enjoy the craic. After all, as the man said "There's not a man alive can't sing a song, recite a poem, play a tin whistle or f*ck."* (and we'll have none o' that!) Oh - and if you think you might be a Shamrock American, by all means, say so - let's see how big a parade we can assemble before the day is up!
If there's a single event that symbolizes what it is to be an Irish American, surely it's the St. Patrick's Day parade, particularly in the industrial North, where Irish immigration has been inextricably tied to the growth of the cities. The events are not only a nod to the sod, but a celebration of new roots in the new world. This is part ethnic, (the Ancient Order of the Hibernians, the Irish American Heritage Center, the Shannon Rovers) part religious (St. Malachy's chapter of the Knights of Columbus, the Legion of Mary, St. Hilary's Altar and Rosary Guild) or irreligious - in the States, St. Patrick's Day is often designated as a day on which the lenten obligations of fast and abstinence are dispensed, part large labor celebration (The Journeyman Plumbers Union, the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers, the International Association of Firefighters, the Fraternal Order of Police, the International Brotherhood of Teamsters, the Ladies Garment Workers Union, the Communication Workers of America, the International Brotherhood of Railway Engineers - the list goes on and on. I myself rode down State Street in a jaunting cart for IBEW #9, I did), and part celebration of political power and aspiration as the streets are filled with ward organizations, candidates and incumbent officeholders and their organizations.
Nowhere is that pride in Irish American assimilation more apparent than in my beloved Chicago. The day begins, as it has for the past fifty years, with the dyeing of the Chicago River, until it turns a glorious emerald green. This tradition dates back to the late Stephen Bailey, business Manager of the Journeyman Plumbers Union, Local #110, and long time chairman of the St. Patrick's Day parade. Step back in time to late 1961, and there's Bailey, sitting behind his huge desk - a conference table, really - at the Plumbers' Hall (which, incidentally, was long the gathering point for the parade, and the site of the after-event as well)
His secretary told him a plumber wanted to see him about something personal. He was ushered into his office. The plumber wore white coveralls and Bailey did a double-take when he noticed they were splotched with green coloring.
“Where have you been?” Bailey asked. The plumber told him he had been trying to locate and disconnect a waste line that was emptying into the Chicago River. That was the year the city began enforcing water pollution controls. A building near the Chicago River had been ordered to discontinue emptying waste materials into the river. In order to find the source of the discharge, the plumber poured green dye into various openings of the waste system and then checked at the river's edge to see whether or not the green appeared.
Bailey's eyes turned to the ceiling and a smile brightened his face.
The first year, 100 pounds of the dye was poured into the river. This was, perhaps, a
wee bit too much, as the river stayed green for a week! The following years led to a bit of trial and error until the correct amount of dye was determined to be just enough to keep the river a bright emerald green from early morn' through the parade. Thereafter, just as
Bailey would have it
(T)he road from Chicago to Ireland is marked in green. From the Chicago River to the Illinois River, then to the Mississippi, up the Gulf Stream and across the Atlantic you can see the beautiful green enter the Irish Sea, clearly marking the way from Chicago to Ireland.
For many years, this task has been carried on by the Butler family, who has received requests to go all over the world to share the tradition. St. Pat's is only a single day, however, and with the addition of Dublin's River Liffey to their task in Chicago, the Butlers' day is full.
And our day will be full as well. But St. Pat's is above all a community celebration, so please share your songs, stories, poems and even recipes (I know, I know, it's not a thick cookbook) It's time for the parade to step off from the curb and begin the great march down the street! Here comes the Emerald Society - Sure and it's grand!
Oh - and I'd be remiss if I didn't remember the most famous of all the Irishmen of Chicago.
Now it's off the curb with ye, and into the parade!
*h/t T. Hynes, Newbridge, Galway