She’s No Greenhorn : Annie Dougherty Crowns a Century With Party for St. Pat

Annie Dougherty, who came into the world on March 16, 1885, wore a pink hibiscus and a pink afghan to her 100th birthday party Sunday at the Astoria Convalescent Hospital in Sylmar.

She waited an extra day so the party could be on St. Patrick’s Day, which provided an excuse to have a band and an authentic Irish dunk tank and guaranteed a pretty good turnout.

Things got going about 1 p.m., shortly after the home’s activities director, Lita Parker, hustled into a hallway crowded with elderly strollers.

Parker’s voice, rapid and forceful, soon came over the loudspeaker.

“If you haven’t already gone to the Copa Cabana Room, go there now,” she told the home’s residents.

Parker dashed about energetically in a green coat, a ruffle-front shirt and a green cummerbund and white pants, showing maintenance men where to put the chairs and equipment.

She had Annie’s wheelchair rolled to the front beside a middle-aged couple. They could have been her children. But they said they were just friends.

“We’re the only standby she has,” said the man, Glen Harrison. “We stood by through her son’s terminal illness. We were standing by when her husband passed away. Then her daughter-in-law and her daughter-in-law’s second husband. When she was alone we took care of her house and lawn mowing. When she got to where she couldn’t live alone any more, we took care of her real estate and brought her here.”

Parker called for the attention of about 60 people who filled the room.

“Today is a very special day,” she said into a microphone. “How many people are fortunate enough to live to be 100 years young? And there she is. Raise your hand, Annie.”

Annie raised her hand.

“I’ll share some secrets about Annie,” Parker said. “If you ever want to hear the latest joke, go see Annie. She’s always got one.”

Annie laughed.

Parker announced that the Irish dunk tank, the kind found at fairs but given an Irish twist because of St. Patrick’s Day, hadn’t arrived. But no matter.

“We never let anything get us down,” she said. “We’ve had to improvise our own Astoria dunk tank.”

It consisted of a plastic trash can full of water. About half a dozen youngsters, members of the home’s Adopt-A-Grandparent Program, dipped into it with plastic cups. Then the home’s owner, Bernie Rosensen, stood at attention, waiting to be splashed.

To heighten the suspense, The Dixie Belles, a group of five middle-aged women in white hats, white pants and red-and-white-striped shirts, played “Alexander’s Ragtime Band.”

“How you dunk him is . . . give Annie the ball,” Parker said to one of the maintenance men. He wheeled up a plastic basketball standard with a backboard and net and handed Annie a Nerf ball.

Annie threw the ball several times. When she missed, a child retrieved the ball. When she made two out of three, Parker ordered the dunking to begin.

“This is the most fun I’ve had,” Parker said, laughing again and again.

The band played “Sweet Georgia Brown,” then, “You Gotta See Your Momma Every Night or You Can’t See Your Momma at All.”

One male resident danced with every woman who would accept his offer, leading each of his partners into a twirl every few beats.

Two women danced without partners--until Parker ordered two of the young girls to dance with them.

A maintenance man danced with Annie in her wheelchair, waving her arms gently. Then Annie asked the Harrisons to wheel her back to her room.

“The party was very nice,” she said, but added: “It was a bit long for me.”