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FALLS' VFW POST HAS THREE HAPPY ROOKIE MEMBERS

By Mike Hudson

Our old friend Dick Able nominated Bruce, Staba and me for membership in the Veterans of Foreign Wars Niagara Falls Griffon Post 917 and, to our amazement, we were accepted.

It's not every club that would give the likes of me and my colleagues the nod.

Last year, during its membership drive, two rather naive waifs from the Chamber of Commerce asked us if we'd like to join.

Sure, we said, why not?

We filled out some paperwork and the pair scampered back to the Chamber's inner sanctum, where secret handshakes are exchanged and decisions routinely made that affect the lives of about no one.

About two hours passed before the phone rang. It was one of our recruiters. "Sorry about the misunderstanding, old boy," he said. "When we asked you to join, we didn't really think you would."

Actually, it came as somewhat of a relief. I was under the impression there was a members-only bar located somewhere in the Chamber offices and, when Bruce told me they only served coffee, I started having second thoughts myself.

I have, at various times, been a member of organizations like the Democratic Party, the National Rifle Association and the American Civil Liberties Union, but those guys'll take just about anyone.

The Niagara Falls Country Club is another matter.

Not only haven't we been asked to join, they won't even tell us where it is. On the rare occasions when I've gotten within spitting distance of a known country club member -- at City Hall, the School District building or anywhere else the titans of industry meet -- the looks on their faces tell me that, for them at least, it has been an unpleasant experience.

Things were different back in Pennsylvania where I was once actually threatened in an attempt to get me to join a country club.

Members of that institution were required to spend a certain amount every month in the restaurant there and, when they saw they were falling short of their quotas, any number of them would ask me to lunch.

They were attorneys, politicians, real estate guys, the sorts for whom media exposure is often an important part of doing business. The club, as I called it, was a convenient place to meet, served passable food and had the best-looking waitresses in town. But then things went horribly wrong.

One day, I received a letter.

"Dear Mr. Hudson," it said.

"It has come to our attention that, over the past six months, you have eaten lunch at the country club on 127 occasions. In fact, you have eaten lunch here more than any one of our regular members. This is unacceptable. Unless and until you become a member, your guest privileges are hereby suspended."

I thought about it long and hard.

There was the old Groucho Marx line about not wanting to belong to any club that would have you as a member but, beyond that, there was a more practical consideration. If I became a member, then I'd be the one paying for all those lunches. It would be me scrounging around for some hapless non-member to dine with in order to meet that monthly quota.

Too much like work, I decided, and began taking my lunches elsewhere.

My bookie, Joe Hand, had a joint on Center Street and I could have lived there for all he cared. There was no membership application and, in fact, a lot of the regulars didn't even use their real names.

So, until last week, I had never been a member of a club and I'm proud that the club that made me a member is the Veterans of Foreign Wars.

Their Mary Christian is one heck of a bartender.

Unlike John Fiore, Bob Denno and many others at Post 917, Bruce, Staba and I have never served in any foreign conflict and so have been given the status of "social" members.

But I can tell you one thing.

Every time I hear Dick Able tell the story about charging up San Juan Hill at the side of old Teddy Roosevelt and the rest of the Rough Riders, I feel like I was there myself.

Niagara Falls Reporter www.niagarafallsreporter.com June 25 2002