October 18, 2010
Come to think of it, where was that most important of all Italian-American fraternities, the Mafia? I would like to have seen a contingent from the Bergin Hunt and Fish Club”dapper Dons in patent shoes and snappy custom suits with subtle bulges concealing the hardware. A flipped-brim cream fedora would be too much to ask, I suppose.
The parade was all downhill from there. Yes, there was a ceremonial unit representing the “Garibaldi Guard,” the 39th New York Volunteer Infantry Regiment who fought in the Civil War. There were some dudes in civvies with those raven-feathered Pinocchio hats that distinguish the Alpini mountain infantry, one of the world’s outstanding elite combat units. But it looked like the veterans had packed away plenty of pasta since demobilization, perhaps right before the parade, as they meandered up the Avenue. Better the Italians send over an active regiment next year.
But the first and the best were our Marines. A Marine officer always refers to “my Marines.” Marines are not tough; they”re “hard,” which is tougher than tough. Marines are taught to be always courteous but never friendly. Of course, you have your blood-and-guts stereotypes such as Generals Chesty Puller and Holland “Howlin” Mad” Smith, but then there are the sensitive, eccentric gentlemen such as General Smedley “Old Gimlet Eye” Butler (a pacifist who was twice awarded the Medal of Honor) and the serene musician John Philip Sousa.
When the 2nd Marine Aircraft Wing Band reached the parade route’s end at 72nd Street, they didn”t just fall out in a mob. To sharp commands they did some column and oblique maneuvers in crack military fashion. Our Marines”never better!
