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THE BLIZZARD OF 63

The January snow storm attacked Charlottetown with a vengeance. The weather became serious by noon. Cars were unable to get through the drifts. Windshield wipers were useless and vehicles were stuck everywhere. The snow plows were pulled off the streets by mid afternoon. People were cautioned to stay at home.
The Sportsman's club opened its door at 11 AM. as usual. Richard, the manager had walked there from home. He was well dressed for the storm with a heavy parka, sheep lined boots and mitts.

A lot of businesses had closed at noon and business at the club was surprisingly good. There was a good mix of customers who came to the club. They came not only for a glass of beer but to listen to the stories and friendly bantering. The first patron that day was Lester, a lawyer bundled up with a scarf tied under his chin, holding his hat on. a, next was jack, a plumber friend of mine and then a man who was too honest for his occupation as a used car salesman. Maritime Electric, the firm that supplied power on P.E.I. had three trucks stuck near the club and the crews came to visit. They couldn't move their vehicles anyway. An irate neighbor whose husband's bootlegging business was being cramped by the clubs, called the Telephone Company reporting that all their men in the club drinking.
The dispatcher called Richard. When he relayed the news to the linesmen, they figured that was hilarious. "Thank God for the good old telephone company. Now the old bitch will think she's got us and we can relax."
By noon the phone began ringing. Wives would call and ask if their husband was there. "It's pretty busy. I'll try to find out." Richard often looked straight at the person being paged loudly calling out the name and usually the man would wave wildly and shake his head. "No ma'am, I called out the name no answer here." Thus is the life of a bartender.
It was impossible to keep the snow away from inside the front door. The visitors simply plowed through it. There were two mops and a bucket with a squeezer to attempt to keep the floor relatively dry. Bobby, a young man who was usually unemployed, happily mopped the floor the floors. Everyone liked Bobby. He was a small man, about 32 years old, slim and about 5 feet 6. He smiled a lot, showing a tooth gapped mouth. He had some experience as a boxer but with little success. The boys would kid him. "How ya doing canvas back?" Bobby would smile and go into his boxer's crouch. The crowd would laugh and

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