Rowdy cribbage and cheap beer

Looking for new blood at Legion #106 in NDG

by CHRIS BARRY

As Marshall McLuhan used to say, there ain't nothing quite like a night at the Legion. Cribbage, bingo, line dancing, beer, spirits and more beer, who could ask for more?

My father-in-law loved the Legion so much that he couldn't wait till noon to get there when it opened. He passionately resented the insensitive government bureaucrats who passed the oppressive laws that kept the joint shut in the a.m. hours. Some mornings he would be slouched with his head on the kitchen table, a case of Molson Ex nearby, when out of nowhere he would raise his head and scream, at the top of his lungs, "Bastards!" And we all knew who he was referring to. After all, what was he fighting for over in Europe if not the right to be able to drink in the morning?

Yup, old Johnny liked his Legion. And the Legion was good to Johnny. When he died from alcohol abuse a few years ago, the Legion donated some cash to the family so Johnny could have a decent burial. All of the Legion gang were there, and we whooped it up and had a hell of a time together.

But that was in the good, bad old days of the Legion. Back when the average age of its members was a spry 62, and not the 70-something that it is today. In those days, you had to have spent time in the service for the privilege of stepping foot inside the hallowed halls of the Legion. Not just anybody could walk in off the street and get pissed to the gills on bargain alcohol--as I did last Friday night at Legion #106 in NDG.

It's true, I did inform them at the door that I had come to hang out for the purposes of this article, but I don't think they really believed me, and it didn't really matter. With so many veterans having passed away, and with no mass influx of new blood to pick up the slack, the Legion is hurting.

And that kind of sucks because, all jokes aside, they do a lot of good work for the neighborhood. Most of those pennies you see them collecting during their annual poppy drive go straight back into the community they came from, by way of food baskets, senior care and all that kind of do-gooder stuff.

And be thankful children, because if nothing else, the Legion keeps a lot of old-timers off the street, so you don't have to look at them all the time and be reminded of your own mortality. Still, even with all these contributions to the greater good, most young-uns don't even know where or what the NDG Legion is--let alone that it's a great spot to get drunk on the cheap.

My host and sponsor last Friday night, a pleasant enough gentleman named Gene, tells me that the MUC Police came by a few months ago to investigate a particularly rowdy Legion cribbage game/party. Apparently the cops, who had been patrolling the district for over three years, were shocked to discover that the Legion was, in fact, a private club/drinking establishment.

"They had no idea what goes on in here," he tells me. "They thought we were a convalescent home or something."

Main: Legion hopping

Sidebar: Bingo battles and a shot of Bailey's in Verdun

Sidebar #2: The secret lives of Legionnaires

Sidebar #3: An encounter with Popeye, the downtown Legion Man

Sidebar #4: Looking for new blood at Legion #106 in NDG

Sidebar #5: I love a girl in uniform