HUNU recalls Part 2 of his nightmare
"Excelsior!" continued
Previous pageThe Foggy has been around just off the hill since the 1940s.
A returning B-17 bombardier had picked it up for a song. John Fogg was his name. “Foggy” had been a young-boots-on-the-streets for a guy with a nickname of “Legs”. If you haven’t read William Kennedy, you should.
The Foggy Duck was actually the second thing he did when he got back to Vliet Street in Cohoes. First thing was to propose to Della Wanonger–a curly haired copperhead of a girl, a competition dancer and a great one. Remember “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?” Now, word was she would wag her finger at John Fogg and remonstrate with him about the Foggy Duck’s name. John Fogg would just tuck his unlit cigar back further into his jaws, hiding a wide grin that this movement causes, and would then say with shrugging shoulders and a hurt expression on his face, “whaaaat, Della? Oh. OH!….Oooo, Della! YOU got a doity mind!” He’d then recoil to protect from the swipe she would throw at him.
Fogg’s roots were long in the Renssalaer area. Dutch on his mother’s side, English on Dad’s side. Mom’s family legend included an ancient romance with Washington Irving that inspired Rip Van Winkle. Stories like that run on down State Street to the Hudson from the capitol complex like tears down the face of a homeless drunk who had just forgotten what he had been sad about.
John Fogg’s daddy Asa was a politico, a Democrat wardheeler. As you’d expect would naturally follow, also, infamously, a bouncer. The Fogg men were broad-shouldered, blue-eyed and unafraid of fisticuffs. Asa was brought up in Brooklyn. “Johnny boy, I sees a lot, see? Here’s what you gotta loin. What ya see? What ya hear? That is woyth money. Now, here’s what I do…”
John Fogg is old now. But his unspoken motto was an oft seen high-sign–a smile held together with an erect forefinger and a wink of an eye.
So when I looked over and saw the Empire State’s chief executive hiding beneath a dark rain-repellent shawl, throwing an eye my way, I was only surprised once. The Foggy Duck is that kind of place.
She held my gaze with an askance cant to her chin, stuck a finger in her drink and tapped the bar with her free hand. “Hey, there, drinking alone?”
Well, G– I started.
The governor hushed me, waving her hands below her shoulders, whispering harshly. “No names! No titles! Shhhh!”
I laughed. Ok. I was going to ask you the same thing.Next page
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