The 1630 Club

Every neighborhood has an American Legion. The one in Blissville is called the John E. Wallace, whoever he is.

For this resident, exclusivity is just an invitation. So she went down the stairs.


She heard voices from inside.

They let her in even though she wasn't a member.

We let in boosters, said the 80-year old bartender.


What's a booster?

Anyone who will pay for a drink.

Kelly Ripa was a booster, said the bartender as he waited for the resident to order a drink.


Instead another customer asked for a refill. The bartender opened and pushed another bottle of beer towards him.

We don't serve no food here, the bartender said as he watched the resident walk around.

Remember when we skunked the UPS guys?
When was that, anyways?
Oh, ten, twenty years ago, I figure.

There's not a hit song after 1955, bragged the bartender. The two other customers slurped in agreement.

Before the war, this here was a tailor's shop. Sewing machines sat down its length.

After the War, they made it into an American Legion. Back then there were a lot of us veterans in the neighborhood. But they all moved out.

Joseph Klein is the Commander of the Post.

At Christmas he dresses up as Santa Claus.

I'm the only one still alive, said the bartender.

He was pointing to the wall of former Post Commanders.

On top there is the first Commander, Francis X. Corrigan, 1946-1948.
That's me underneath. Stanley Jenchowski, 1957-1958.

It's still an active Post, with meetings the first Friday of the month.

Even so, over 90% of its members are dead.

That day the bartender was the only one who had served in a war. He was based in the Pacific.

As for Iraq? No one talks about it. The bartender thought it was because no one in the neighborhood was over there.

But there are no young men left living in Blissville.