IRISH STEW ADDS ZEST TO MELTING POT.

Byline: Bridget Johnson Local View

FOR the third straight year, those with a hankering for all things Eire flocked to the Fairplex in Pomona the weekend before St. Patrick's Day to chomp on bangers and mash, listen to Celtic rock and drink copious amounts of beer - not necessarily in that order.

As an Irish-American, events such as the Los Angeles County Irish Fair & Music Festival serve as a cultural touchstone on a Hallmarkized holiday that's become more about green milkshakes and tinted brew than a Roman Catholic feast day.

Another cultural touchstone is Tom Bergin's on Fairfax Avenue - or any number of pubs that welcome with their worn, wooden warmth. I've wondered why I feel so comforted at these places, other than the surreal experience of being surrounded by fellow pale-faced, freckled, auburn-haired brethren. If nothing else, we're bound by burning easily in the sun and turbulent temperaments.

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, 34 million Americans claim Irish ancestry. In every state but Hawaii and New Mexico, Irish is among the top five ancestries. Many Irish-Americans trace their roots back to the exodus caused by the Irish potato famine. Since potatoes are now plentiful, just 148,000 foreign-born U.S. residents hail from the Emerald Isle. Since 1820, 4.8 million Irish immigrants have been made residents. And although Irish hard labor helped build the country - railroads, bridges, canals, roads - Irish-American Heritage Month was not decreed by Congress until 1995.

Though Germany, Italy, the United Kingdom and Mexico all have sent more immigrants to the United States, St. Patrick's Day enjoys a broad, commercial following across the country that makes more than just the Careys, Gillespies and Finnigans don green top hats and wind shamrock garlands around their offices. There is certainly a love affair with the fun aspects associated with being Irish, such as the worldwide Guinness toast held annually at bars.

But there is culture beyond the black-and-tan.

In 2003, I went to the Irish festival at the Fairplex with a Hispanic friend. After we wandered around the musical acts, did lots of shopping, watched some dancing, and grabbed some fish and chips, she expressed her shock and surprise that white people had, well, culture. No doubt that misunderstanding is fostered by years of government forms that list boxes for all sorts of wonderful ethnicities, but the ethnic flavor ends with the box that says ``white'' - the people of macaroni and cheese, polkas and Polo.

And Irish culture does exist the other 364 days of the year as well, carried on by groups such as the Ancient Order of Hibernians - the Los Angeles County Board goes back to 1875 - and at places such as the Irish Import Shop at Melrose and Vine, where you catch the lilt of Irish accents while shopping for soda bread or Chieftains music.

But perhaps recent immigrants are so eager to hold on to their cultures and languages because they fear what they see in the rest of us - the melting pot come to fruition.

For decades, Irish immigrants vehemently stuck together in defense of the culture, drawing strength in the face of adversity from these bonds, but eventually gave in to America's pull of assimilation. Now Italians marry Irish marry Jews marry Hispanics marry Germans marry Asian-Americans marry African-Americans, and soon there are fewer boxes on the government forms in which to classify oneself.

We expend so much effort on drawing up distinctions between immigrant and ethnic groups without realizing that in 100 years it won't matter. Everybody will become like the Irish, appreciative of their ethnic traditions and culture, maybe feeling comfort in knowing and addressing where you came from, feeling pride on ``your'' holidays, but being American first and foremost. A nation of immigrants embraces the ``Heinz 57'' fate.

So as much as Irish-Americans enjoy the camaraderie of the pub, we're also swapping pico de gallo recipes, listening to hip-hop or soul, or enjoying Asian cinema.

So maybe in a way it's true when people say, ``Everybody's Irish on St. Patrick's Day.'' That's really no more true than saying everybody's Mexican on Cinco de Mayo, but except for native peoples nearly everyone comes from immigrants. And we gave up something of our past to become part of something greater.

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Photo:

Don Sanelli, dressed as St. Patrick, sings an Irish tune with a mariachi band outside the Madrid Theatre on March 17, 2004.

David Sprague/Staff Photographer