Boston: My Favorite American City

As a child I was obsessed with the historical period of the Revolutionary War, I was particularly fond of fictional books set during the Revolutionary War. At the age of about 8 or 9 I began reading a series of books the "Little Maid" series, published between about 1910 and 1940 by a writer named Alice Turner Curtis. These books all had a little girl between 8 and 12 as the central figure, a little girl who in some small way was able to assist the cause of American freedom. Each book focused on a community that saw some  significant action in the Revolution, and they had titles like: A Little Maid of Massachusetts Colony, A Little Maid of Lexington, A Little Maid of Boston, A Little Maid of Bunker Hill. Not all the books were set in Massachusetts, there were several in other New England colonies and towns like New Hampshire, Philadelphia, Narragansett Bay and Providence and one or two set in southern colonies. But the ones I love the best (and often re-read) were set in Massachusetts in or around Boston. As I got older I exchanged the fictional children's books for serious revolutionary history, and my interest still was mostly focused on the people and events from Massachusetts. 

In college I had a half dozen friends who all hailed from eastern Massachusetts, either from one of Boston's suburbs or Boston itself. One friend in particular, Charlie was full of wonderful stories about growing up in and around Boston. He talked about the city, the history, the architecture, but a lot of his stories dealt with the Red Sox and Fenway Park.  Perhaps some of you remember the movie Fever Pitch (Drew Barrymore and Jimmy Fallon, 2005)? Charlie wasn't quite as obsessed as the character of Ben in that movie, but he was definitely a Red Sox fan. Between my life long interest in Revolutionary history and especially the events in western Massachusetts, as well as all of Charlie's stories, Boston had become something of a mythical place that I really wanted to visit. 

It was May of 1975. My first semester as a graduate student in the Department of Higher Education at the University of Kentucky had been interesting, even pleasurable, and had come to an end. There were at least two weeks until the summer session was to start, so there was time for some vacation. Several very close friends from college were in Boston, or very close to Boston so I would have places to stay for free, and hosts to show me around. I did not yet have a car, but I could still get very cheap (not free like when I lived at home) stand-by tickets on United Airlines from my parents. So I contacted my parents and my friends and off I went. 

This was my first trip to Boston, so I was in high anticipation. My very first impression of Boston was a positive one: the Massachusetts Bay Transit Authority had a terminal right there at the airport, an easy walk even with a large suitcase, from the arrivals baggage claim. I'd heard a lot about the MTA (or MBTA depending on who you talk to), from my friend Charlie. There's a folk song he taught me, about a man named Charlie who "rides forever 'neath the streets of Boston" for lack of a nickel to get off the train.  

 

So I came prepared with plenty of change. At that time, the fare to get on was just 35 cents, but my destination point, out on Commonwealth Avenue after the train emerged from underground was one of those places where you had to pay an extra dime to get off the train. I really came to love the MTA over the next five days, as I rode it all over Boston to see all kinds of things. Unlike many cities with which I was familiar the MTA wasn't just used by poor and low income people. Everyone, doctors, lawyers, legislators, housewives, college students, school kids, used the MTA. It was busy and bustling and vibrant transportation system in 1975. 

My hosts for this trip were my friends Carol and Stuart both Oberlin grads, married and in medical school. It was the end of their first year, and they had lived out near Boston College, near the Commonwealth Avenue MTA line in an apartment that they realized after one year of med school was not big enough for both of them to have space to study effectively, so they were hunting for a new apartment, and I got to participate in some of that search. My silent presence actually made it easier for them to get the real estate agents to accept they needed a 2 bedroom apartment.  

Over the years I'd heard many parodies of the Boston accent, but despite knowing many people from Boston had never heard one, until that real estate agent that Carol and Stuart and I met with, she actually said that she had "paht [parked] her cah [car] at the Gahden" (it not clear what "Garden" she meant since the Boston Garden was some distance away). Hers was of course not the last Boston accent I heard over the next six days and I loved it. 

Aside from the apartment hunting, Carol had a number of fun things planned for us. The two most memorable were Boston Pops concert and a trip to the Museum of Fine Arts. I remember the Pops venue, lined with drapes and the floor level with little tables, we sat in a balcony above the floor, and enjoyed the music. I could not tell you any specific piece that the Pops played, only that all of them were familiar and almost certainly at least one was by Gershwin. I just remember loving the sensation of being buoyed by brilliant, bouncing music, a smile on my face the entire time. Afterwards we treated ourselves to hot fudge sundaes at Brigham's - very decadent! 

The stand out memory from the trip to the Museum of Fine Arts is of course the Sargent portraits, especially the portrait of Madam X, so beautiful in that amazing black gown. But I spent most of my time with the impressionists, especially Monet. The MFA has one of the largest collections of works by Monet outside of France, many of which it acquired before and at the time of Monet's death. No one paints light quite like Monet. [Monet Grainstack (Sunset) from MFA]

 

After a few days, the demands of medical school occupied most of Carol and Stuart's attention, so they provided me with a home base and I contacted other friends who helped show me more of Boston's treasures. First up was my friend Charlie who had just graduated from Oberlin a little behind the rest of us, because he interrupted his four years to engage in good works. He would be heading off to graduate school at University of Michigan in the fall in biology or ecology.  Charlie had me meet him at the Boston Commons, where we enjoyed a leisurely walk and lots of talk, and a ride on one of the swan boats. 

Charlie took me to Bailey's for a hot fudge sundae. It was in an old, elegant ice cream parlor just half a block off the Common on West Street. I don't think it still exists today. Everything in the shop was white and silver. There were small marble topped tables with wrought iron legs and chairs. The ice cream sundaes were served in silver pedestal bowls, on top of silver plates with long-handled silver spoons. The fudge sauce was thick and exquisite, so very dark chocolate. It was one of those rare sundaes where the sauce was abundant enough to last through every bite of ice cream. 

After the Sunday we went back to the Commons to the Freedom Trail and walked a ways, our first stop was the Granary Burial Ground where we looked at the famous graves, including "Mother Goose." Then we walked on to Kings Chapel, then down School St. to the Old South Meeting House where the Boston Tea Party was planned. We also checked out the Old State House and the Boston Massacre site, before ending our day with a wander through the wonders of the Faneuil Hall Marketplace (lots of Boston accents heard there!). We went back to the Commons to the MTA, he headed back home to Wellesley and I found the line back to Commonwealth Avenue. I was in love with the old Boston, all the trees, and the old buildings of warm red brick. Everything was so easy to reach by walking or on the MTA. 

My last full day in Boston, I spent the afternoon with another Oberlin friend, Katherine, she was in graduate school in Boston. Katherine was one of the most widely educated people I've ever known, she had studied geology, French literature, religion, and was extraordinarily creative and funny. Unfortunately she was one of the victims of Covid in December of 2020, before vaccines became available. Knowing how much I loved art and books as well as she did, she arranged for us to visit the private library, art museum called the Athenaeum.  The Boston Athenaeum was founded in 1807 to contain great works of learning and science in many languages. The building the Athenaeum is currently in was built between 1847 and 1849, it opened in 1849. The building is architecturally gorgeous, here's a recent photo (I did not have a camera in 1975 nor were cameras allowed for visitors then). 

 Through out the library there are amazing paintings on the walls and sculptures punctuating the space. It felt both warm and cozy and visually breathtaking. [For more information about the Boston Athenaeum click  https://bostonathenaeum.org/visit/ ] One of the charming aspects of the library is that its windows (those shown in this photo), look out over the Old Granary Burial Ground - the one I had visited the previous day with my friend Charlie. Katherine and my afternoon at the Athenaeum was the perfect end to my first (but hardly last) visit to Boston. 

The next morning, I once again used the MTA to get to the Boston South Terminal where I boarded an Amtrak train for New York City, to visit another set of friends. But Boston was stuck in my soul and I would come back again and again. Sometimes the visits would be to friends (although different ones) and quite a few times I would come to Boston for Sociology conferences, sometimes to present a paper, others just to hear what others had to say. The lure of the old streets of Boston and its old brick buildings never really faded.