Bytes from the Bean by Joe Manning 1-1-0112:00AM / Monday, January 01, 2001
“One thing about the Army. You could do pretty much anything you wanted, as long as you didn’t get caught.”
-Tony Talarico, at The Bean
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
On the Thursday before Christmas, I went into Papyri Books to pass on my holiday greetings. Karen Kane was there, and she was playing Vince Guaraldi’s “A Charlie Brown Christmas” soundtrack. Most of us are familiar with this delightful music, especially “Linus and Lucy” and “Christmas Time Is Here.” This album is my favorite among all my holiday CD’s and tapes. I mentioned that to Karen, and she said it’s among here favorites, too. I wondered out loud, “Why do we like it so much?”
Karen said (I am paraphrasing), “The music is not overly joyous, but it’s not sad either. Christmas is a mix of emotions. I think we all have a little of Charlie Brown in us. The music captures that.”
Even though Christmas will be over by the time you read this, I wanted to share her comments with you, which I found quite moving and insightful. Thanks, Karen.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
One of the most exciting things going on in North Adams this new year is the plan by the North Adams Historical Society to move its museum to a larger building at Heritage Park and expand its exhibitions and programs. On the heels of several very productive years under Lorraine Maloney’s leadership, Robert Campanile is guiding the NAHS toward an increased visibility in the area through many educational programs and a variety of exhibits, including one on natural history.
The NAHS is currently in the midst of a fundraising drive to obtain the financial resources to complete this project. With the increased attention that North Adams is getting, by and large because of MASS MoCA, it is vitally important not only to direct some of that attention to our city’s rich history, but also to collect and preserve the treasures of our ancestry while we have the opportunity. Please donate what you can.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
And now, for my third and final installment of the diary I kept during the time I discovered North Adams and started to write “Steeples.” If you haven’t seen the other two installments, you may want to check out my November and December columns before reading the one below. I hope you have enjoyed them. Next month, I will include some small excerpts from my new book, “Disappearing Into North Adams,” which will be published soon.
I started getting the Transcript in the mail. The first day I got it, I noticed a schedule of shows on the cable access station. I thought it might be a good idea to see if I could get on one of the shows, so I could tell people what I was doing, solicit information, and line up some more interviews. I called the station and was referred to Maryanne Santelli, who hosted a program called “Bone Soup.” I was also advised to call Paul Marino, who was described as the city’s “unofficial historian.” Maryanne was interested when I called her. “I’ve got a slot open to tape it on Veteran’s Day. If that’s okay, I’ll see you at 6:00 in the evening.”
Then I called Paul Marino. His dry wit threw me off a little, but he invited me to come on a private tour, so we scheduled it for Wednesday, October 16. The plan was to meet him for lunch at the Freightyard Pub, after which he would take me on a walk. My calendar was getting pretty full, and my boss was getting used to one-day vacation requests nearly every week.
The night before my visit on Thursday, October 3, I got out my tape recorder for my first two scheduled interviews. It was just a little boom box. I was worried. I had never done a taped personal interview or oral history, and I was nervous. I said to my wife Carole, “What if Julia White doesn’t say anything? What will I do then?” Carole said, “Don’t worry, she’ll talk.”
I also got a call from Terry at Milltown Studios. “How would you like to come up Friday night, October 11, and read your North Adams poems? We’ll serve some refreshments and advertise it.” By that time, I had about eight or nine poems, so I eagerly agreed.
The next morning, I was having my customary bagel and coffee at The Bean, when I saw the old man with his dog again. This time, he was wheeling the dog in a shopping basket. The dog looked embarrassed. I turned to the man sitting near me and said, “I think I’ve seen everything now.” He told me the old man was called the "Hunter,” and the dog was called Rascal. “I hear the man is eighty years old and goes up in the woods and walks five or ten miles sometimes.”
He introduced himself as Peter May, a chiropractor, who had moved to the city about six years ago. I told him I was writing a book about his town, and he recommended I interview Mr. Kaare Bolgen, an eighty-eight-year-old musician and artist, who had also recently moved to North Adams. “He’s quite a brilliant guy. Call him up. You’ll like him.” I enjoyed talking to Peter, who said he moved to North Adams from New Jersey, because he liked the area and was excited about the idea of MASS MoCA.
Then it was time to interview Julia. Carole was right. I couldn’t get her to shut up. Frequently, she leaned toward me, grabbed my arm, whispered a sharp comment, and laughed loudly. At one point, I showed her my J.J. Newberry’s picture, thinking it might elicit some nostalgic comments.
Joe: Did you like Newberry’s?
Julia: What was there to like about it?
I had a great time, and so did she. When I said goodbye, she asked me if I was married. I told her I was, and she replied, “Shucks, I wanted to elope to California with you.”
During the interview, Mr. and Mrs. Pedrin waited impatiently for their turn. In fact, they came into the lounge three times wanting to know if we were done. Julio and Rita were soft-spoken and had nice things to say about everyone. Like Julia, they were happy to be living at St. Joseph’s Court and satisfied with their long life in North Adams.
When I was leaving, Rose introduced me to Lou Siciliano, who was checking his mail. He told me an old vaudeville joke, and I invited him to be my next subject. “I don’t know if I’ll remember anything,” he said. I told Rose I would call later and line up an appointment.
A curious couple were watching, and I smiled and said hello. Rose told me they were Theresa and Victor Aubin. When I asked them about doing an interview, they seemed shy and a little suspicious, so I said, “Well, maybe later. Thanks anyway.” A week later, Rose called and told me the Aubins were eager to be interviewed because, “They heard that all the other folks at St. Joe’s are being interviewed, too.”
At lunch, I picked up a weekly newspaper called the Advocate. It was free. There were a lot of good articles about the area, so I decided to drive over to their office in Williamstown to see if I could get some publicity. Their crowded office, which looked like a bunch of overstuffed closets, was on the second floor above a greeting card store.
I caught the attention of a woman who was very busy running back and forth between two rooms and answering the phone. When I said I was writing a book about North Adams, she remarked, “You should see our editor Mark Rondeau. He’s from North Adams, and he’s crazy about his hometown; but he’s probably tied up now.” I pleaded, “Please see if he’s available for just a couple of minutes.” She disappeared into a back office, and I overheard, “Who? A book about North Adams? I’m pretty busy, but tell him I’ll be out shortly.”
I was surprised at how young he looked. He summoned me into his office, asked a few questions, and pulled out his tape recorder. “This sounds pretty interesting. Let’s get it down on tape, and I’ll see what I can do with it.” We had a nice conversation. At one point, he took my picture ( I was wearing a MASS MoCA T-shirt).
After a while, I started asking him some questions, too. He told me he moved away when he was a kid, because his father was transferred to Florida by Sprague Electric, but he returned to North Adams in 1993 to become a newspaperman. I suddenly said, “I’ve got my tape recorder in the car. Can I interview you right now?” He agreed.
I went home, happy that I already had three interviews on tape, a few poems and photos, someone to help me design the book, and a city I was beginning to fall in love with.
Carole and I came up for the Fall Foliage Parade on Sunday, October 6. We stood across the street from Newberry’s. There was a huge crowd, and we were lucky to have arrived early. I was pointing out something to Carole, when an elderly man wearing an American Legion hat interrupted and started talking about what Main Street used to look like. He went on and on enthusiastically, throwing out names and dates too quickly for me to write them down, but I tried. When he noticed my notepad, he said, “I’m Tony Sacco. I can tell you a lot more. Call me up sometime.” I got his phone number. Tony excused himself and hurried over to the reviewing stand to watch the parade, which could be heard in the distance as it approached the Hadley Overpass.
I called Tony on Monday night and arranged an interview on Columbus Day, the 14th. “Meet me at McDonald’s at nine o’clock. That’s where we old-timers hang out every morning.” I got a call from Mark Rondeau, who said there was going to be an article in the Advocate about me coming out Wednesday, and that he would mail me a copy. I found a note I had written about Kaare Bolgen, the man Peter May had recommended, so I called and talked to his wife Patrice. She agreed to an interview on Columbus Day afternoon.
On Friday, the 11th, I took off from work after lunch and drove up for my poetry reading at Milltown Studios, which started at 7:00. When I arrived, I took a walk and peeked into the lobby of the former Mohawk Theater. There was a lot of litter on the concrete floor of the entrance way. I reached down to pick up a piece of newspaper and saw a photo of me staring back. It was an eerie experience. Above the photo was the headline: “Connecticut man working on book about North Adams.” “How odd to find it here,” I thought. “Is it some sort of an omen?”
Right away, I headed to The Bean and picked up about six copies of the Advocate and read the article. There was a lot in there. It mentioned that I planned to have the book out by next summer. I thought, “I’ve got a lot of work to do, and I don’t even know what I’m doing yet.”
After dinner, I stood on the south side of Main Street across from Newberry’s for about forty-five minutes and watched the day wind down. It was chilly, and the street was almost empty. Every so often, a car would pull up at the bank and someone would jump out and hit the ATM. I wondered where they were planning to spend their money. “Not downtown,” I guessed.
Over at Milltown Studios, there were only a couple of cars parked out front. It was fifteen minutes till “showtime.” When I walked in, the only persons there were Terry and Jeff and Terry’s mother. “I guess this is it,” someone remarked. “Why don’t you start? Maybe somebody will show up.”
So I got out my poems, stood on the stage, and Terry gave me a formal introduction. All three applauded, and I did the show. I was playfully called back for an encore, and then we had refreshments. “Sorry,” Jeff said, “it isn’t always like this. Just a bad night I guess.” On my way home, I remembered an English teacher at the First Wednesday poetry group telling me, “Whenever something bad happens, write a poem about it.” So I wrote “Open Mike in Milltown” somewhere between Pittsfield and Great Barrington. The poem, which appeared in “Steeples,” included the lines:
Three cars are parked carelessly
in front of the art cafe
inside
standing near the Picasso
the poet recites to the empty chairs
On Columbus Day, I got into town at the usual time, only to find that The Bean was closed for the holiday. So I had to settle for Dunkin’ Donuts, which was right next to McDonald’s, where I had my appointment with Tony Sacco at 9:00. When Tony showed up, he had another elderly man with him. “Joe, this is my friend, another Tony, and he’s going to join us. So we grabbed a booth, and I got out my tape recorder. There were a lot of old-timers chatting at the other booths over coffee and Egg McMuffins.
The other Tony was Talarico, and he and Tony Sacco had been buddies for a long time. I didn’t have to ask many questions. They talked as if I wasn’t there, often finishing each other’s sentences like a vaudeville act. At one point, we were interrupted by a man who asked Tony Talarico, “What’s your email address? I lost it.” He was introduced to me as Ben Apkin, a retired judge. I chuckled at the thought that these old folks were communicating on computers. At 11:45, I had an empty stomach and what was to be a full week of information to transcribe.
In the afternoon, I visited Mr. and Mrs. Bolgen, who lived in a charming Victorian near the library. Although Kaare (nicknamed Kay) was nearly ninety years old, his hobby was speed skating. Born in Norway, he had been a concert pianist and violinist, a teacher, and a painter. His wife Patrice was a artist and a retired teacher. It turned out that they had moved to North Adams a few years ago, because they fell in love with the city. Their vivid descriptions of the city’s visual assets coincided with mine, and I was surprised. The interview persuaded me that I needed to interview newer residents and younger people as well. It was a turning point in the creation of “Steeples.”
On Wednesday, the 16th, I went to St. Joseph’s Court to chat with Rose. Gwen Cohen, who worked in the office, suggested that I interview her mother Marjorie Rynkowski, who lived there. We lined up an appointment for November 7. On the way out, I was introduced to Alice Rowley, a friendly lady who got around handily in an electric wheelchair. My intuition told me that she would be an interesting interview. Despite her initial reluctance, I talked her into it, and we scheduled it, also for November 7.
I met Paul Marino for lunch at the Freightyard Pub. Besides being very tall, he possessed a booming voice; and he was an imposing figure. An hour later, he took me on a three-hour tour around the city. Paul was armed with all sorts of archival photos and documents, and I got my first taste of what things looked like before urban renewal. I remember sitting with him at Colegrove Park and wondering if it would ever end. But I learned an awful lot, and Paul was obviously thrilled that he had an interested listener.
I hurried over to The Bean for some relaxation. Audrey was taking a break and chatting with some of her staff. I went over and said, “Hi, I’m Joe Manning. I’m writing a book about North Adams, and you're going to be in it. When can I interview you?” She blushed and said she had seen me coming in a lot and wondered who I was. “Not now, but keeping checking with me. Maybe next month.”
When I got home, I told Carole that I was thinking of having some business cards made, so I could let people know who I was and that I was looking for information. She came up with a great idea: bookmarks. So I fooled around with my computer and came up with these sturdy construction-paper bookmarks with my poem, “Elderly Housing,” on it, and an announcement of my forthcoming book. It turned out to be a winner. I started giving them out to everyone I met. Pretty soon, people were asking for them.
On Thursday, November 7, I interviewed Marjorie and Alice. Both of them had interesting stories. What struck me about Alice was that she had been born with spina bifida and was never able to go anywhere, because there were few places that were accessible to the handicapped. Ironically, now that she finally had an electric wheelchair, and there were some handicapped-accessible buildings, there was very little left in the city to go to.
Rose told me that Julia White was in the hospital with a case of shingles, so I drove up to pay her a visit. I was worried that she wouldn’t remember me. When I got to her room, she was sitting up in bed reading. I waited at the door momentarily, because I didn’t want to startle her. She glanced over and said, “When are we going to elope to California?”
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
See you at The Bean,
Joe Manning
Visit Joe's website at: www.sevensteeples.com.
Email Joe at: manningfamily@rcn.com
|
