My Father was Irish and married a full blooded Italian woman . After he left his boxing career he became a bodyguard to a Washington D.C. Italian, disorganized crime leader. One night in bars near the Marine Barracks on 8th Street, they proceeded to brawl with three tough Marines. My father sent 3 of the Marines to the hospital, but the man he was protecting had to have some cuts stitched and he took him to the Hospital. Back then ID’s were not required and he gave a false Italian name of this crime figure. He was smart enough to know after outboxing three Marines in a bar fight that put them in the same hospital….the cops would be looking for them.
So with everything taken care of, my pops crawls into bed with my mother and falls asleep. Sometime later, the phone rings and its my Uncle Charlie…..my mother’s brother. He was a lean, maybe a 125 pound Italian Jimmy Stewart type. He proceeds to tell my mother that he’s been locked up for beating up 3 Marines….which of course, even the police knew he couldn’t have done that but he was the only lead and by putting him in jail hoped he would “talk”.
Poor Uncle Charlie , sitting in a jail being grilled by the police , knowing his sister’s husband had something to do with this, telling my mother to get my father to bail him out.
When my mother woke my pops up to ask him if he knew anything about it…..he proceeded to tell the story and said he gave the hospital Charlie’s name for the Italian man he was protecting. “Why didn’t you just make up an Italian name instead of using’s my brother’s last name?” she asked, which of course was her maiden name.
My pops replied; ” It was the only Italian name I knew how to spell.”