Old Joe Yankovec’s Pigeon Grill-out (1960-‘61)
As I walked under the bridge as a young
lad, perhaps thirteen or fourteen (1960-’61) I could hear the cooing of the pigeons
in the iron rafters. It was a summer’s afternoon, sunlight blinded my eyes
some, and I was with several of the Cayuga Street Gang members. We moved on into
the underbelly of the bridge, not far ahead was the underground sewer system of
St. Paul, Minnesota. There about in sections were old wine bottles, beer cans, and
weeds growing out of the bare earth among the bird and dog shit, and human fasces,
flies and mosquitos. I scaled at times the iron and steel looking train tracks,
pacing and waiting for the boys to shoot the pigeons with their slingshots.
All about the walls were written on with colored paints, white chalk or
dark charcoal, some drawings, for the most part just plain old graffiti. Rats
scuttled along the beams, and upper side walls, some squeezed into gnawed-out
holes. I watched it all with an infinite curiosity on my face. The gang wanted
to kill pigeons—as often they did with their slingshots, or just throwing plain
rocks at them for practice, but today it was for a different reason. Old Joe Yankovec
had told the boys, told me and all of us: “Instead
of killing them for fun and leaving them for the rats, bring them back, I’ll
cook them up and we’ll have an outdoor grill…”
Well,
we all knew he was famous throughout the tri-state area as being the top chef,
he was for many years (and
might have been at time) top
chef of the St. Paul, Hotel, a four star hotel, the only four star hotel in St.
Paul. Well who could refuse that offer!
I woke up the next morning, stepped out into
the heat of that summer’s day, —awaiting to help escort the gang with those pigeons—knowing
good and well I couldn’t kill any, but nonetheless, I was an accomplice, I was
apprehensive of what Mr. Yankovec would say. I mean, perhaps he was just
kidding us boys.
To be frank, just killing the birds unnerved me. And so we set off.
I do not exaggerate when I say, that
evening when he grilled all those birds in the backyard of his house, by
whatever means he used, or spices, I can only give applause, for they were
delicious, and each and every one of us, along with my friend, Lorimar, Joe’s
son whom I hung around with, we all ate heartily.
#1209/11-7-2016
