City Council’s familiar song: Send in the clowns
Dapper, Langone featured big in sideshow
You do understand, don’t you, that this “Pat Payaso” is not the first clown to run for the City Council?
In fact, in past years, the Council was famous for having more clowns than Ringling Bros. Barnum & Bailey. Until 1983, in fact, the Council was a nine-ring circus. Then they increased the number of clowns, I mean councilors, to 13 — nine district clowns and four at-large clowns.
But like the circus itself, the Council has seen better days. The circus shed its elephants and the council lost Dapper O’Neil and Freddie Langone and all the rest — Jim “I’ll Take a Buck” Coffey and Rosaria “Sister Sunshine” Salerno, just to name a couple of hack hall-of-famers.
Political Correctness wrecked the circus, just like it wrecked the Council. These statesmen have less juice than your average town clerk in the suburbs, but they all have a foreign policy. They spend more time fulminating about Donald Trump than about Marty Walsh.
The Council has degenerated into a sad, pathetic halfway house for political wannabes who can never seem to win a “higher” office, or even a different sideways office. But the pay is $100,000, and behind that comes the pension.
Speaking of money, that’s one thing that puzzles me about “Payaso.” You don’t spend a million bucks to get elected to the Council, you get elected to the Council so you can steal a million bucks, or at least a couple of extra parking spaces at City Hall.
Like any good comedian, the old-time city councilor had various comic routines. Spelling, for instance. Freddie Langone once asked, “Who ate at the Parkman House? Who? H-W-O-H? WHOOOO!”
I once heard Pat McDonough thunder, “Anyone who votes for this is dead. D-E-D dead!”
Dapper O’Neil used to wear his revolver to the Wednesday meetings, a .38 Police Special. One day Larry DiCara filed a motion to ban handguns from the Council chambers. Dapper went crazy — well, crazier than usual, let’s say.
“One of these days,” the Dap bellowed, “some nut is gonna come here. Some nut.” He paused for effect. “And I’ll be here to protect you — all of you!” Another pause. “Except for you, DiCara!”
Freddy Langone was almost as funny as Dapper, which is why I told my daughter in Charlestown to vote for his grandson in the City Council fight next week. Forget that tattoo on his wrist, I told her, vote Passacantilli, for old time’s sake.
Langone never liked Chris Iannella, who always got more votes than Freddy. Chris was petrified of making a tough vote, and once, when a roll call started, Chris as usual was fleeing the chambers.
“There he goes, Bill Rodgers!” Freddy yelled at Iannella’s back, referring to the old Marathon runner. “Come back here, you yellow-bellied dog! Ya got a yellow streak down yer back I can see from here!”
Freddie and Dapper weren’t the only comedians. Katherine Craven once threw an ashtray, or maybe it was a shoe, at Bill Foley, whom she called a “baldheaded S.O.B.”
Foley used to be a good name in Boston politics, so good that an Italian guy from the South End named Intraversato got frustrated at how easy it was for a Foley to get elected.
So he went down to the courthouse and changed his name … to William Intraversato Foley.
Kinda like Kevin McCrea has become “Pat Payaso.”
So now this clown has a rainbow fright wig and a fake nose and, for all I know, an exploding cigar and a clown car. But let me tell you, Pat Payaso, you’re no Freddy Langone or Dapper O’Neil. You’re not even William Intraversato Foley.