My Kind of Town

One of the nicest compliments that I have received with respect to my new book entitled, “Was That a Name I Dropped?,” came from my childhood best friend, Kevin.

We attended St. Peter’s Grammar School together.  The school building, which now houses the Association for the Blind, is located on Walker and Bradley streets in Concord.

Like a lot of people in the late 1960s and early 1970s, Kevin fled Concord as soon as he could. The general consensus among young people in those days was that Concord was a bore with nothing for a person to do and offering no future for anyone with a dream.

In his e-mail, however, Kevin noted: 

"Among the many gifts in the book, for me one of the highlights was your love affair with Concord.  Having run away, for all intents and purposes, at 18, and never really allowing myself to be a part of Concord even before that, it was a revelation to me to see it through your eyes -- both as an adult and as a child.  I had no idea all of that life was going on there.”

The city of Concord, N.H., is certainly a lot more than a supporting player in my 536 page book. In fact, it almost warrants co-star billing.

I am very frank in my book about the role that Concord has played in my life. I don’t believe I have veiled it in a warm and unrealistic glow of nostalgia. The city helped form the bedrock that sustained me through some often horrendous times. Concord and its residents taught me much throughout the many years in which I was a part of the community. I couldn’t imagine having any other hometown.

While a great many individuals carped about the lack of opportunity in Concord, I found everything I could possibly want and then some. True, I knew that some of my career goals, if they were to be realized, might require me to venture outside the immediate area. My dream of working in the entertainment industry was one of those. I was not, however, someone who boasted that, “Once I leave I am never coming back to this dead-end nothing again!”

I found a sense of satisfaction on virtually every level in the city and made the most of every opportunity presented.

As a musician, I found great piano teachers, long before there were community music schools. The public library was a veritable stronghold of information and data that I carefully stored away in my mind. There were movies, a great community theatre group, free Walker Lectures, Gile Concerts that featured some of the world’s greatest performers and a veritable cornucopia of treats to be found just blocks away from our home.

“Going downstreet,” as locals referred to a trip to Main Street and environs, brought hours of unadulterated people watching, visits with neighbors and friends and stores that were filled with everything imaginable.

Whatever you craved you could find “downstreet.”

Woolworth’s had the best selection of comic books that my mind could grasp while J.J. Newberry’s had the best movie magazines as well as a luncheon counter that boasted Maude and Millie and their homemade French fries.

Fannie Farmer’s fudge helped me to expand my 12-year-old waistline to an eye-popping 39 inches and you could find great hot dogs at Robert’s Pharmacy’s luncheon counter if you were tall enough to climb onto one of their swivel seats, as well as at Star Hot Dog.

Howard Johnson’s was too far to walk to so I could choose a good breakfast at either the Puritan or the Endicott Grille.

If I went to the Endicott Grille I was always advised to avert my eyes and not directly look into the eyes of any lingering “Ladies of the Night” who hung around the Endicott Hotel – sometimes in daylight.  They almost warrant their own blog!!

I attended a cross section of schools – both public and parochial, and with the exception of a dismal two years spent at Rundlett Junior High School, which I nicknamed “The Gulag,” I found my learning experiences to be nothing short of exhilarating.

For 27 years, I had an affiliation with the Concord Theatre, the now shuttered movie house at 18 1/2 South Main Street. I watched hundreds of thousands of people walk through its doors and settle down in seats that might have been comfortable in 1934 when they were installed but had long since lost any right to be deemed comfortable by the late 1960s and 70s. Despite that, more than 6,000 paid $1.25 to watch “The Valley of the Dolls” during the first week of its 1968 engagement.

Often while waiting for the 8:25 show to let out, I would stand by the front door and watch the cars race up and down Main Street. It was amusing to watch the same vehicles make the trek.  More often than not they would turn around in the Howdy Beefburger parking lot on South Main Street and be back driving by the theatre within three or four minutes.

Howdy’s was the first “fast food” chain to land in Concord.  I found that no matter how much ketchup, mustard, or relish I put on the paper thin burger, it still tasted as I imagined cardboard to taste.  The other chains followed quickly enough.

Maybe I liked Concord so much because I found opportunities that suited my likes and dislikes when it came to employment.

After a less than stellar run as a delivery boy for the New Hampshire Sunday News, I found a great position, after school, at the N.H. State Library. I found nirvana amidst the books, magazines and newspapers that provided an historical landscape of New Hampshire’s amazing history.

At 15, my job was to retrieve and return requested items from the “bowels of the building.”

A very old and slow elevator helped me descend to that seeming netherworld. My imagination would sometimes run wild as I waited for the door to open and allow me to exit to the second basement. An overdose of Hammer horror films shown at the Capital Theatre made me sometimes fear what might be awaiting me in the dark until I could reach for the sometimes elusive light switch.

In the years that followed, I spent time at the Endicott Hotel as a front desk clerk, at Big John’s Restaurant on Storrs Street as manager, at Super-X, Department of Motor Vehicles, Council for the Aging, N.H. Legal Assistance, Concord Group Insurance, and 7 1/2 years at Blue Cross and Blue Shield.

It might have been my insatiable desire to try everything and not be content to settle into a rut that made Concord seem like a city filled with endless opportunity.

Whenever I would leave for an extended period of time, I was always glad to return for either a visit or to settle down for a while. The city and its residents seemed to always welcome you back and to make any adjustment almost seamless.

I’ve watched progress envelop the city but never change the core that makes it unique.

Change is good although even as a very young child I recognized that something wasn’t right about tearing down the magnificent edifice that was the city’s railroad station. Other change has helped reinvent Concord and bring to it people who are unafraid to voice their opinions and fight for what they believe will make the city better in the end.

In the waning summer days of 2010, I once again moved back to Concord. I had been away for 3 1/2 years living in Portsmouth, a city often held up as what some would like Concord to be. To me Portsmouth was like the Universal Studio Tour – a picture perfect representation of bucolic wonder but lacking some of the essence that gives Concord that indefinable edge as far as I am concerned.  I was born in Portsmouth and have good memories of the city but Concord cannot be compared to any other place and stands alone.

As I returned to my familiar walks throughout the city in the fall of last year, I felt as though I’d never been away. Concord wrapped me in her lovingly familiar arms and if some familiar faces were starting to look a little wan, that was fine too.

I applaud the efforts of all who are fighting to keep Concord relevant and support some of the plans but to those of us who have been a part of this amazing place for half a century or more, we will always answer your call.