Maldeckers

Maldecker's was an old German beer garden on 160th Street and Elton Avenue, a bit north of the old South Bronx. The time was the early fifties when we were all just out of the service and with few responsibilities. It's a long time past and my memories of Maldeckers are a bit sketchy now. With all the beer we drank, my memories were often a bit sketchy the very next morning. The beer was draft from the tap, always cold, fresh and delicious. It was served in big glasses, ten ounces, I guess, and only cost fifteen cents. Herman, the owner, like most bartenders those days bought a round after every third round. There was usually three or four of us in a group. We each put a buck on the bar and with the buy-backs we each had at least eight big glasses of beer, enough for a good buzz. Most of us drank Ballantine's beer then; its praises sung constantly by Mel Allen on the TV. "A Ballantine blast", Mel sang out when a Yankee belted a homer. Sundays, after 12 o'clock mass at St. Pete's, we stopped in for a hair of the dog that bit us the night before. We each put a buck on the bar; myself, my brother Joe, Gene McCabe and John Devine. Next thing we knew the afternoon was well underway and we each would have a buzz. On a Saturday or Sunday, the bar was usually filled with different groups that made it a second home. A guy with the hot-dog wagon would come by and sell out his total stock in front of Maldecker's. Soon the phone would start ringing with summons from the anxious wives. I remember especially Jim, an Irish fellow with the brogue to match, calling out loudly across the noisy room, "Tell my wife that I'm NAUGTH here!"

The club had regular meetings with free beer. There were also two great annual events, the dance at the Bronx Winter Garden and the club outing. The outing really upset the wives because it was a men-only affair as well as a major beer blast. The Annual Dance was also a great event. One memorable year we bought the usual book of chances for the Basket of Cheer. My brother-in-law decided that he never won and wouldn't win that night. He tore up all the stubs and threw them under the table. Later when the winning number was announced, no one rose to claim the Basket. We realized that the winning ticket was probably under our table in little pieces. Two of us rushed up and took the mike from the MC to keep him from announcing another number while everybody searched under the table and frantically matched up the torn pieces. Sure enough we put together the winning ticket and claimed the basket. As atonement for my brother-in-law's offense, a party was held at his house a week later to give proper honors to the Basket of Cheer.

The bar, only a short block from the 42nd Precinct, often had cops stopping in while coming on or off shift. There was a much nicer place, the Picadilly, directly across from the station house but I guess it was too close for comfort. Most of the cops were regular guys and many were from the neighborhood. One of the cops was a real character. After a few drinks too many, this guy would take out a giant knife and start carving on the bar. Herman would try to cut him off and he would start pounding his gun on the bar. He never hurt anybody but he was very scary. Another guy, a blond fellow who worked for Correction’s, would take off his clothes and sit bare-ass at the bar when he got drunk. I also remember arguing with one of the cops, a local guy from 157^th Street who had just come out of the police academy. He told me he had shot at someone boosting watermelons at the freight yards. I told him he was nuts and that boosting watermelons was no reason to shoot somebody. He had probably done the same sort of things himself only a year or two earlier, but he was all law and order now that he had the badge. There was a mixed group in Maldeckers. I remember one night while I was taking a break from my own studies, I found John McElligot and John Vaughn with a third fellow, all studying for their tests for St. John's law school where they were attending at night.