LIFE UP THE EDDY(15): SATURDAY NIGHT AT THE STATE HOSPITAL

It was in the 1950s. I was in junior high school. It was a Friday night, sometime during winter. Snow lay deep in the Eddy and on the hills. After a quick stop at the vet’s club, Dad came home on time for supper at five, the time my mother had it ready every workday. After he had changed out of his work clothes and cleaned up, we sat down to eat. Sister and I were in our usual places.

It was quiet for a few minutes as mom put the food on the table for us to pass around. When we were relaxed and taking our first bites of venison chops and scalloped potatoes, Dad asked us how school went that day. He didn’t usually ask that question, so it put me a little on guard.

He went on, looking in my direction, “The VFW is hosting this month’s party for the vets up the state. I asked Frank D’Angelo if he could sing. He will and he said he could get his niece Cecelia to sing too.”

Frank was my dad’s friend from the VFW. He had a great, Italian-tenor voice and sang with the Olson dance band. Cecelia was in my class at school. She had a beautiful soprano voice and was in all the music activities in school. She even sang solo in school assemblies. We rode the school bus together. She was a pretty Italian girl, and I liked her a lot.

Dad went on, still focusing on me, “Do you think you could be ready and play a couple numbers on your accordion tomorrow night?”

He had me. He knew I could be ready. I just nodded and said, “OK. What time do we go?”

*******

After supper the next night, I put on my good school clothes and got in the car with Mom and Dad. Sister went to my Aunt’s house up the road.

We drove into town and then north, back out of town, to the State Hospital. When we got there, we drove in through the tall gates. All the hospital grounds were surrounded by a high, black, wrought-iron fence. All the many brick buildings looked cold and unfriendly. When we drove up the approach to the tall center building, I noticed that the top floor had bars on the windows. Some of the smaller brick buildings had bars on the windows too.

We went to the building that housed the gymnasium where there was a stage. I lugged my accordion with me when we walked in. It was cold inside and dark until someone from the hospital staff switched on the lights. When I went to the stage and looked out over the gym, it was silent. The wooden bleacher seats across the gym floor were folded up against the wall. The gym was cold and empty.

*******

One of the guys from the vets club brought out a microphone and put it near the front of the stage. He was smiling like he was happy to be there. I noticed he walked with a limp. He tapped the mic with his finger and spoke into it, “Testing, one, two, three.”

My dad said, “That’s Gebhardt, he is going to be the master of ceremonies. He’s got the ‘gift of gab’.”

At about that time, Cecelia and her uncle Frank walked out from back stage. I said, “Hi, Ci Ci” to her and she smiled back at me.

Just then a loud “clunk” echoed across the gym where two large doors opened. The people on stage stopped what they were doing and watched as the hospital patients began to come in. They came in single file, led by an attendant in white pants and shirt.

They were all men, some quite old. Some very young looking. They were all veterans of war. Many from WWI, more from WWII, and some from the Korean War. They were all dressed in Army Navy surplus clothes. Each man carried a folding chair out onto the gym floor. They were silent as they walked in. The hospital attendant lined them up in straight rows across the gym floor. The long line of men kept coming through the doors until the gym floor was completely full. Then someone slammed the big doors behind them, and it was quiet. Nobody was talking.

I saw Elmer in the middle of the crowd. He was the oldest son of the farmer who lived up the hill from us. He and everyone there had been broken by war. I saw my mom on the opposite side of the gym. She was in a place up above the bleachers with some other wives from the local VFW. She was talking to a young man we knew. He was a Korean War vet. My dad said he drank too much. He died a short time later in a head-on crash.

*******

But then, the MC stepped up to the mic and greeted the vets in a loud and cheerful voice, “Gentlemen. Welcome to your Saturday night party brought to you by your local VFW.”

All of a sudden, it got noisy. The vets on the gym floor shouted and whistled and clapped their hands.

The MC wasted no time calling out the first act. He shouted into the mic, “Some of you know Frankie D’Angelo. For our first act, he will sing with the Gail Olson dance band. C’mon out Frankie.”

The band played an introduction, and Frankie sang “The Wayward Wind”.

Loud applause. Then Ci Ci came out and was introduced by the MC. She sang “That’s Amore” accompanied by the band. More applause.

Then it was my turn. The MC introduced me and I played alone the two songs that I had played for Ladies Auxiliary at the VFW. Part of that group were the “Cootiettes” who were wives or widows of WWI vets. That night at the State, when I played “Over There” and “Hinky Dinky Parlez Vou”, the WWI vets stood up and sang along while the entire group clapped their hands and cheered.

When it quieted down, and the band was coming back on stage, Gebhardt got the crowd laughing with a couple jokes.

Then Frankie stepped up to the mic again and sang “This ‘Ol House” with the band. Quieter applause. It might have made the vets think about home.

Then Ci Ci and I stepped up to the mic to play together. I played and she sang the old WWI song “Smiles”.

There are smiles that make us happy

There are smiles that make us blue

There are smiles that steal away the teardrops

As the sunbeams steal away the dew

There was a polite applause. The crowd seemed more reserve now.

The band returned and played a rousing version of Benny Goodman’s “Sing Sing Sing” to get the crowd’s spirits back up. Loud applause and cheers.

The attendant stepped to the rear of the crowd to ready the vets for exit. Frankie joined the band again to end the program with the soothing pop song “Vaya Con Dios”.

There was quiet applause as the MC took the mic and ended the program with a pleasant, “Good night everybody. We’ll see you again next month!”

The attendant stood up the vets and, in single file, they carried their chairs back out of the gym, down into the tunnels, and back to the other buildings. The MC put the mic away, and I said good night to Ci Ci. We were walking out as the lights were switched off.