Above: Hovering over a shot glass of Flaming Emeralds is Northwoods Sauce Boss Joshua Elie. Photos courtesy of the writer.
By Joshua Elie
When I was in high school, all of us “good teenagers” would gather in Cartier Park, a campground on M-116, north of Ludington. I was always invited because I could play guitar and sing wonderful versions of “Kumbaya” and “Michael, Row the Boat Ashore”. Nary a puff of smoke nor a drop of alcohol entered our bodies.
“A fresh approach to storytelling,” right? Truth be told, we really were the good kids, singing around the campfire and camping out, instead of driving.
This is where I met a young man named James (Jake) O’Brien. We were introduced, in a way, by a Dr. Smalley, who was chaperoning because, you know, teenagers.
Jake and I hit it off right away, and I was invited to “play” a campfire party on his dad’s property here in Irons. So, the day arrived, and I showed up and started the fire up the hill at one of their rental cabins. I got a big bonfire going, tuned up my guitar, and nobody showed up but Jim, “The Dad.” He didn’t know anything about me, and there I was with his property on fire and a guitar in my hands. The conversation went kind of like this.
Jim: “Who are you?”
Josh: “I’m the guitar man.” (That was my nickname at the time.)
Jim: “What are you doing on my property?”
Josh: “Jake and Pauly said we were getting together here tonight.”
Jim: “Well, they are not coming, and I suggest you leave now.”
Josh: “OK. I’ll just put the fire out and be on my way.”
Jim: “No, you won’t. You will leave now, and I will take care of the fire.”
Now, Jim had raised a large Irish family. He had a stern voice and a glare that would scare the Devil, himself. I left immediately.
A few years later, the Flea Roast and Ox Market weekend in Irons rolled around. (You read my “Cowboys, Chili Sauce and the Oak Grove Tavern” story in the July 27, 2022 issue of Freshwater Reporter, right?) I was of drinking age by this time, so I can admit to this tale from my youth. The after-party for the roast was in Jim’s front yard. My friend Pauly was being a party pooper by trying to sleep at 3 a.m., so I poured a beer on his head. Unfortunately, he happened to be sleeping in one of Jim’s beds. Then, I drove my 455 Rocket Olds down to the riverside, where it sank. I told Jim I would be back in the morning to retrieve it and heard the same thing: “Time for you to leave, and I will take care of it.”
A few years after that, I was in a car accident. I was not driving, though the police were convinced I was. I ran through the woods in the middle of the night and used Jim’s phone to call my mother to come pick me up. I do not believe I asked his permission.
He never held any of this against me, and after meeting his kids (and getting to know a few of them quite well when we were young), I get it. They all know when to “let things go” or “grab the bull by the horns” ⸺ just like he raised them.
New Year’s Eve, I decided to throw a party. (If you can remember the year, you weren’t there.) Actually, it was my dad’s idea. Parties at the Elies’ are legendary and always in a good way. We set up the band ⸺ my parents are master musicians, too ⸺ in the dining room. To my surprise, Jim and his wife Janet not only showed up, they sat “front row” for the music and had a blast. After a 4-hour set, about 30 of us piled into a wagon for a big hayride. Off through the snow we went, laughing and carrying on as we circled all the other parties. When we got back, we had a fresh drummer ready to go and the party lasted about 24 hours, start to finish.
Jim, his wife Janet, and the whole O’Brien family have a very special place in my heart, so …
Here’s to the “Flaming Emeralds” and to all our Irish traditions.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Sláinte!
Mark Richards’ and Peter Elie’s Flaming Emeralds
In a shot glass, pour crème de menthe to within a quarter inch of the rim. Pour Southern Comfort over the back of a spoon to layer it evenly and gently, so the two do not mix. In dim light, use a long handled lighter and light the Southern Comfort. When the flame goes out, kiss the Blarney Stone.
Joshua Elie is a musician and retired building contractor. He now enjoys life as a homesteader.
