Maggie's Farm

Calamari is OK. I have eaten it on both coasts and in other countries and it's all pretty much the same. I wouldn't order it anymore but I would eat if it was served to me. It is perhaps my least favorite seafood. I pretty much feel the same about octopus too.

There was a bar in Lynn, not quite downtown, not quite in West Lynn. A family friend, Louie, hung out there. He worked for the Mob as a bookie. Sometimes my mother would send me down there to bring him something. Yeah she would bet the numbers but that wasn't it I'm not even sure what I was bringing him. Anyway they sold quahogs and pickled eggs in the bar and Louie would often be sitting at the bar eating some while he drank his beer and would offer me some. I could eat the quahogs but the pickled eggs were just gross. It always gave Louie a big laugh when I tried to eat one. Louie was a big fish there so I could hangout with him and all the other daytime drunks.

In the back was a both that was roped off. It had a telephone on the table and when the guy who rented the booth wasn't there the phone had a lock on it. He was a lawyer and that was his office. Typically he was there during the day so I would kind of hang out by him to see what he was doing. He was always smoking a cigar. He would order off the menu and never ate the quahogs or pickled eggs. It was interesting to see what they would bring, it always looked good.

Louie was a character. Big guy, big laugh, big mouth, but he treated me like a son. On Thursdays If I was there at noon he would take me just down the street to a little restaurant for lunch and we had New England boiled dinner. That's what the menu called it, corned beef and cabbage, potatoes and rutabagas and a roll. Loved it. Speaking of rolls, Louie always carried a roll, a big roll. 100s, 20s, 10s, 5s and 1s. He always used slang for money. I remember a 5 was a fin. $150 was a buck fifty. I had never seen a $150 before but his roll was maybe a couple thousand to ten thousand. This was in the early 50's I think my allowance, when I got one, was ten cents. Louie never "gave" me money but every now and then I would run an errand for him and got a quarter.

Louie was good to me, knew him all my life until he passed but he was a good guy to his friends and a bastard if you crossed him. Cops would come in sometimes and talk with Louie like old friends. They would warn him if detectives were "looking at him". The bar tender was a big Italian guy, looked tough but was good to me. If I came in and Louie was busy the bar tender would set my up a coke and I would sit at the bar. Louie had lady friends and they would always talk to me, I was ten or so but I knew a pretty lady when I saw one. Sometimes they would swear at something while I was there but when they talked to me they were like my older sister except prettier. I never could figure out that one thing: A pretty woman, who could talk as sweet as sugar and when she did you would melt, I mean a perfect combination; pretty, talk soft and sweet and smelled good and you would just be smitten. Then down the bar something was said and she began swearing like a sailor. Oh well.