nobody knew where he came from.
but nobody really knew where anybody came from, who was a regular at ma’s diner, or at bob’s bowery bar, or who lived in the flambeau hotel at bleecker and the bowery.
because even if they said where they were from, how did you know it was true?
when he first arrived he just called himself joe, but he quickly became known as american joe.
everybody had to have a name, but they did not have names like david adams marbury, or howard chapman winston iii .
they had names like willie the weeper, or walter the worm, or philosoher dave, or preacher pete… you get the idea…
the first hint for joe’s name probably came from a little run in he had with officer reardon, the regular beat cop in the neighborhood.
officer reardon was also known as “roosevelt” to the regulars. he was not as young as he used to be, and it was widely thought that he was assigned to the bowery because he would have a problem chasing after younger, more athletic miscreants in other neighborhoods. so walter the worm christened him “roosevelt” because he “needed a wheelchair”.
so, one night roosevelt is dragging sammy the schlump out of the street where he had fallen on his face dead drunk - not even arresting him, just getting him out of the street where he night get run over and onto the sidewalk - and joe takes exception to the rough treatment sammy is receiving at roosevelt’s hands.
you don’t have to drag him like that! joe shouted. he’s an american! an american! he probably fought for his country!
no, brother, preacher pete said, sammy has been right here in the old flambeau since ten years before pearl harbor.
then he might have been at belleau wood, joe replied, and nobody had an answer for that.
joe mentioned america not exactly every time he opened his mouth, but pretty close.
one time he was sitting in front of the flambeau on a hot night. it had rained earlier in the day and there were big puddles in the street. some punks came by in a hot rod and splashed joe and some other guys. joe jumped up and started yelling, this is america! this is america! you can’t treat people like peons in argentina or someplace!!
another time he was in ma’s and the coffee was not up to his high standards and he complained to ma, you cant serve stuff like this to an american. ma told him to try the coffee in china or japan.
it was wondered if so patriotic an individual as joe had taken part in the recent hostilities, but if he was asked he always gave some answer like, i would rather not talk about it, or that was a long time ago,
leaving the impression he had seen and done things too terrible, etc, though he never came right out and said so, and nobody cared enough to press the issue.
other times, out of nowhere, he would just blurt out something like, you guys don’t realize how lucky you are to be living here in the u s a.
one night it was pretty quiet at bob’s, and bob let a bunch of the guys hang around even though they were hardly buying anything, and the conversation somehow turned to candy bars.
i was at the newsstand today, willie the weeper said, getting the racing form, and they had a new flavor turkish taffy candy bar.
what do you think, joe? walter the worm said, should they sell a candy bar named turkish taffy in america? why not american taffy, or at least new york or new jersey taffy?
and that isn’t all, seamus mcseamas the poet added, i was in the grocery store the other day and they were selling tea labelled english tea. can you beat that? english tea, right on the label, here in america, after all those guys fought and died at valley forge and yorktown.
joe started to say something, but then suddenly it was like a light went on in his brain, and he realized the guys were ragging on him for being such a patriot, and he got up and walked out of bob’s and nobody ever saw him again, or knew where he went.
maybe he just went over the bridge to brooklyn, or he went to california to pan for gold, or swam across the atlantic to africa to convert the heathen, or went to argentina and became a gaucho.
who knows?
they come and they go.
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