The Year Was 1961

Hurricane Esther caused extensive damage in Rocky Point on the north shore of Long Island, especially in the the business district. The post office, the supermarket and the laundromat were levelled. There was serious flooding everywhere else except Russo’s Bar& Grill.

It was owned by the brother of one of the priests from Saint Anthony’s Roman Catholic Church, where the roof collapsed.

For the month it took to repair the church roof, Sunday mass was served at a saloon.

We called it “Saint Russo’s Roaming Catholic Church.”

The neon Budweiser signs on the walls of the saloon were temporarily covered with posters depicting the Stations of the Cross, except for Station #8. That is where Jesus met "The Women of Jerusalem." It was actually three Budweiser girls in bikinis.

Parishioners sat in folding chairs imprinted with the Seagrams’ 7 logo. A sheet of plywood placed over the pool table served as the altar. The bar was covered with a hastily painted dropcloth mural of the Last Supper in which Jesus Christ appears to be snickering at an inside joke. Everybody at his table was drinking Budweiser.

Most of the Catholic fathers of Rocky Point attended the twelve o’clock mass because an hour later, Saint Russo’s forsook its sainthood and started serving alcohol to all paying customers.

Our lucky parents were vacationing in California when Hurricane Esther struck.
Therefore, my sister and I were entrusted to Aunt Betty. A splendid time was guaranteed for all except when she cooked dinner. She took Linda and me to the “high noon” mass. But Aunt Betty
made us vow to keep a secret from our parents.

“I only want to stay for one drink.”
“What are Paul and I going to do while you're at the bar?”
“You can play checkers in the back room.”
“Can you get me a beer, Aunt?”
“Absolutely not, Nephew. That would be truly sacrilegious. I will not let you drink beer until your thirteenth birthday.”

She was true to her word about the one drink. That is, Aunt Betty had one drink for each man at the bar. Linda and I played a dozen games of checkers while feasting on potato chips and pickles. I lost every game.
When we heard Aunt Betty singing along to the Isley Brothers Twist & Shout, we knew it was time to leave. She sang horribly offkey but the men didn't mind notice because she was stripping off her clothes.

Linda and I were ready to carry her home but three guys on motorcycles gave us rides. Aunt Betty had to be strapped down to the backseat of a Harley Davidson. I don’t remember their names but one of those guys cooked us a delicious bowl of spaghetti while his buddy juggled a bunch of meatballs.