We were sitting at a round table in the back, 7 or 8 guys and Pat was there.
As we usually did, we were ripping the hell out of one another, laughing and jerking around. Pat was having a great time. Then we started in on him. We killed him, his long hair,tough guy appearance, cloths, everything. Nothing was sacred. I remember him laughing so hard his eyes were tearing. You could sense his joy of being just one of the guys. Inthe old neighborhood the only thing that really mattered was who you were as a person,nothing else.
As time went on, Pat had a number of operations, taking layers of skin from other parts of his body to reconstruct his face. I remember going to Rockaway Beach with him, hitting the bars, drinking beer and having fun.
Inthe summer of 59, when Pat was 21, he bought a new car and drove to Florida with Owen Freuling. Somewhere in Georgia, his car was hit by a train at a railroad crossing. Both were killed instantly.
What more is there to say. I have thought about him many times over the years. God bless Pat Clancy.