Saturday, August 4, 2012

This Week Playing in Boston August 8, 1955 Marie Cord Sabby Lewis Barbara Lee

One of my side projects is selling vintage items both online and at flea markets around New England. This brings me in contact with many collectors and sellers of all sorts of vintage stuff and a couple of weeks ago I made a great connection at a local flea market; I purchaced some Playbills from right on the spot from this new friend and I met with him again today and made another great purchace of a lot of vintage Playbills and other ephemera.

   This is one of the items I purchaced today and I absolutely LOVE the articles and advertising contained on it's pages:







 Boston's Favorite Band Leader & Disk Jockey, Station WBMS, I can't wait to look up more about him and that station!


 Barbara Lee, "Interprative Dancer", what on earth does that mean?


 "Marie Cord, Boston's Pin Up Girl" sounded really interesting but I can't find anything about her on line:



 What a fun piece of history! 

I am going to enjoy the hours of looking up the performers and the places advertised within. It's not the super stars that make any city really interesting, it's who hides in the nooks and crannies of history that really define a place and time.

Monday, May 28, 2012

Chris Trapper Club Passim 5-31-12

Eons ago in a galaxy far far away (Providence, RI to be exact),
a small group of friends ventured from thier home port of Boston to see Chris Trapper perform.
   We had heard of his pervious band The Push Stars and enjoyed that music well enough but would never have traveled quite so far on a 'school night' (a night where one of us, me in fact, had to work early the next day) if not for the fact that another friend had happened to mention on the board for another band that she had at some point in space and time baked fresh cookies for The Push Stars.
   
      Good music on CD is one thing but musicians so spectacular that they inspire a woman to bake fresh cookies?!? That's a musician you travel over state lines on a 'school night' to see.

    So we get there and the place is familiar, (I forget the name of it but we had seen Black47 there before, another band well worth travelling to see but I digress...) we're comfortable enough, order drinks, order food and enjoy the opener imensely (Jim's Big Ego).

    We enjoy ourselves enough that T shirts are purchaced. Good times indeed.
  
 Eventually the main event comes on and he's just delightful in a charming "Aw shucks" kind of way, like he's just some guy playing songs he wrote in his spare time and not a world class songwriter far too skilled in his trade to be playing a Providence, RI basement to a weak crowd on a weeknight.
   The songs are wonderful and the music is well executed but it's getting later and later and I know I still have quite a bit of driving to do and no matter how good the music is, I have to be up at 6am to work a whole state and at least 3 metropolitan areas away early the next day. I stay til the last possible minute that I can possibly stay and then inform my friends that it is time to go, now.
   Good buddies that they are,
      all rise and follow me out to the street where I am duely chastised for behaving in an incomprehensibly rude and down right dasterdly manner. The worst sting comes from my friend George who is a musician (yes, a drummer counts),
    "I can't believe we did that! That was so rude! You do not just up and leave in the middle of a song!!!"
   To which everyone else replied,
    "Yeah, did you see how everyone else there glared at us?"
        The answer being, no. Actually I did not.
 But I have very easily imagined the horrified looks of indignation every time I have enjoyed a Push Stars and/or Chris Trapper tune and have felt wicked bad about it ever since.
     So much so that when informed through facebook by Mr. Trapper himself (what a smart marketing/promoting cookie he is!) that he would be performing in Cambridge at Club Passim this week (5-31-12) I thought,
    "Here's a great opportunity to wash my karma and hang it up to dry as well! I can go enjoy this show and clap myself silly to make up for my past indiscression!"
    Probably make an *ss of myself in the process but who cares? Clean karma trumps all embarassment in my book!
   Alas!
     I work far to much (having been told this by many, and having far to little time for the things I really like to do, I am now inclined to actually believe it) and am unable to make this awesome show (2 in fact on the same night, one at 7pm-ish and one at 9pm-ish) but I did buy the lastest album so singing along in the car on my way to work is a consolation prize that I look forward to.
      I also sent a long rambling note to Mr. Trapper who very graciously replied that even tho he had no idea just what on earth I was rambling on about, all was forgiven, so my karma is clean and when the new disk arrives at my house I can enjoy it with a clean concience.
   Delightful.
        : )
     Anyhoo....
           The whole point of this ramble is that this super nice guy who happens to write absolutely amazing songs is totally worth getting out to see this coming Thurs night in Cambridge at Club Passim, if you possibly can.
    If my driving to RI on the eve of a long work day and the fact that some chick somewhere was so moved by this mans music to bake him fresh cookies doesn't move ya, I don't know what will....

Perhaps a little hometown pride might be just the ticket :


Chris Trapper - Boston Girls


Seriously, go see this dude and/or visit his website and buy a disk, he'll folk rock yer socks off.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Old Essex T stop and surrounding construction.

This old unused T stop is located a block or so from where I work.
I was surprised to stumble across it a couple of weeks ago as I never knew it was there.
 I'm not sure when this stop was discontinued but I can't recall ever seeing it until recently
 and I certainly never remember it being in use... 









Link to Forgotten-Boston.com, other great pics of the Essex stop and other Chinatown area T stops.

Friday, February 24, 2012

End of the line, Red Line blues...

   On any given day you can find my sorry self slumped over and snoozing somewhere on the Red Line either coming or going to or from work at one of my 2 jobs. It is a vast understatement to say I am tired most of the time and a total truth to say, I really do not pay all that much attention to anything going on around me because of this simple fact. I'm not totally out of it when I snooze on the train, I have some small sense of self preservation and I tend to perk up when it's almost my stop or something/someone invades my personal space.

  Like the couple that got on the Red Line at Broadway tonight and jumped up an down on my personal tranquility and then for good measure kicked it across the platform. They seemed at first quick glance to be a run of the mill couple high as kites on their way to who knows what kind of torrid downfall of an evening and I really didn't want to know any more, I just didn't want them to sit anywhere near me and my quiet ride home.

     That's just not my kind of luck tho and of course, the woman plops her bone thin frame into the seat beside me and bids her parner to sit in a vacant seat across the way. Incidentally, a seat right next to a guy who is so seriously down for the count, he is not snoozing but full on sleeping, half laying across 2 seats. To all outward appearences this man showed no signs of waking anytime before spring. Next to slumped over guy, the gentleman of this charming duo sat.
  
   As the train rumbled on, the couple talked very animatedly with the man kind of egging the woman on as she told a highly implausible tale of woe that befell her before she ran into him tonight. She was mugged and beaten and left for dead in an alley by some people of mumbled ethnicity and apparently a very nice little old lady she was friends with was murdered somewhere along the way. I lost track of the story as I tried to figure out how to get away from these people without drawing attention to myself. I imagined some kind of "What do you think? You're better than us?!?" scream following me down the car and was not in the mood for it at all, so I stayed put.

   I thought about getting off at the next stop, and waiting for the next train but on the Red Line you have to wait for the time it takes 2 trains to come into the station because 2 lines run on the same track and they wind up at 2 very different places at the end of the line. I was tired and wanted to go home. I worked all day, it was so unfair that I should have to get off and wait for the next Braintree train just to escape these drugged out nut jobs so I tried to make the best of it and squished myself to the wall beside me. I snuggled my backpack close on my lap and tried to doze off and block them out.
    After a stop or so, even with my eyes closed I realized, this woman next to me is now falling over, onto me.
   Arg.

    I open my eyes and give her a little nudge with a friendly as I can muster comment "Hey, I think you're falling asleep..." She snaps up and looks at her "friend" who is now standing in front of her, as she tries to focus in on where she is and what is happening, he's on the phone and I look at him and realize, there is a major age discrepency between these two.
   She's somewhere between 45 and 65 and he's about 23-25. Not totally unusual for folks on drugs I think, they tend to buddy up with other users no matter what thier ages, but this largish gap strikes me as a little odd.
  The train rumbles on and she starts to nod off again but she's doing it upright so I'm not paying too much attention to her, he's got my attention now. He's talking on the phone as she slips away, calling a friend and asking if it's ok if he comes over to watch the end of the game with the rest of the fellas tonight. He's happy and tells his friend he'll call him when he gets to Ashmont but first he has to make sure his Mom gets home ok.

     Then I get it, and it hits me. Hard.

  The kid is completely clean, he's not on drugs and he's not 25 but about maybe about 20 and he's egging the woman on in her nutty paranoid ramble so he can keep her awake, he knows as bone thin as she is, he's not going to be able to get her home unless he keeps her awake. He's done this many times before.

   I figured out that it really wouldn't matter if I got up and moved seats, neither of them were going to hassle me for clearly wanting to be away from them, they were paying attention to no one else and would probably not even notice me at all.
    Probably, except the woman was leaning on me again and if I moved she would hit the floor like the ton of bricks that hit me when I realized what was actually going on.
     I looked up at the young man and asked if he would like to sit in my seat. He was incredibly fresh faced with bright eyes and a smile that is almost genuine except I know this act, I've seen this play before. It's just a different touring cast this time.
That makes his sincere seeming smile a little creepy but I'm over my own feelings now. No, he doesn't want to inconvienince me, he has clearly been raised a gentleman and would never do something so horridly ill mannered as request the seat where a lady was already sitting.  
    It's his "Everything is just fine" act and he brightly tells me that his mother has had a long day. She's nodding over again and he nudges her.
 "Hey Mom, we gotta get off at the next stop, we got on the wrong train." She wakes and stares at him once again as if she's at home in bed, been asleep for hours and was just woken up by some strange happenstance beyond her comprehension.
    "Where is your Father?!?"
   He's very patient with her, "He's home Ma, I'm gonna take you home."
   To me, he's very polite,
     "Um, if you would be more comfortable over there..."
        he gestures across the car to the now empty seat next to the slumped over guy.
   "Um yeah, thanks..." I smile gratefully and slip across the way. As he sits next to his Mother and I sit across the way he leans forward again to say, his mother has had a long day and he starts to say more but I stop him.
    "It's ok."
  He looks at me, I look at him and I say it again, "It's ok." He doesn't have to explain anything, I'm not judging him or his Mother, I know what the situation is and "It's ok."
   I don't know why I also told him, "You have a good night now, ok?" It seems in hindsight a very odd thing to say except I think he understood, I hope he understood, I was really telling him,
 "You're a good son and I hope the rest of your life doesn't totally suck."
   I sincerely hope this one night doesn't toally suck for him, I hope he gets to watch the game with his friends. I hope he meets a nice girl at the gathering and gets to forget about his burdens for a while.
    It's all hope until they get off at the next station, the car pulls away and I watch the way he moves helping his mother to the stairs.
   He's not 23-25, he's maybe 17 and he's being such a good son.
        By the time I pull into my stop, I'm no longer hoping for him, I'm praying.

 Slumped over guy stays on the train at Braintree, he hasn't moved the whole trip. He's not going anywhere having clearly already hit the end of the line.
       I wonder if he isn't the luckiest dude on the whole train...
        

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Old Franklin Park Zoo

Poking around on the internet tonight I ran across this link with some great pics of the old Franklin Park Zoo located in Jamaica Plain.


A book published as part of the Images of America series "Franklin Park" also contains some great images of this old zoo when it was actually a functioning city attraction. 

Some other great pictures (including architectural drawings for zoo buildings) can also be found by searching Franklin Park on the Library of Congress' American Memory web site.

It's also interesting to note that parts of the old zoo were used in the film Mystic River based on Dennis Lehane's best selling novel. I remember watching that movie and thinking, "Wait a minute, they just jumped from a generic street in South Boston to JP?!?" A bit of film making magic, I guess but the way the old zoo has over grown does lend itself to the sort of place a villian would perform eveil deeds.
  There is a walk of approx 1/4 to 1/2 mile that spans the old cages with the sounds of heavy traffic on Blue Hill Ave right behind on the other side. There are many deep pits along that walk that used to house smaller animals. Those pits are now full of old tires, growling trees and other brambles and human junk. (I even found an old torn apart heavy duty safe in a revine in that area. It's a beautiful park but those pits really lent themselves to being a great place for folks over the decades to dump unwanted stuff of all sorts.         


From the mid 1990's to about 2000 I lived just down the street from this location and frequenyly walked my dogs in the large sprawling park and around the zoo ruins.  I took these pictures on one of those walks and wrote the poem beneath them around the same time.

  I'm not sure with all the activity of the latest Kevin James movie shooting at the new Zoo a block or so away that these old cages are still in the same condition that I last saw them around summer 2000 but I kind of like to think they are.
 Looking at these ruins reminds us just how far public zoos have come in their care and housing of wild animals since the old bear cage was opened 100 years ago. Having both the old and the new Franklin Park Zoo so close in location to each other is a great physical illustration on just how far we have come. 

  I wonder what the next 100 year will bring for Franklin Park, I wonder what the next 100 years will bring for public zoos everywhere, Hmmm....   
  





Leave a scent on the soil
pound through the night
with the heavy footfalls of full grown deer,
the pull of wet dog,
or the pressure of the migrating sun.


Midnight pulse points
push blankets
dripping slowly to the floor,
lazy curtains
turn slowly
in the heat.

I am having trouble sleeping tonight.


The city skin is breeched,
it's weather weary boards
violated
pulled back
splintered
and left in pieces on the ground.

Someone else has been here,
left behind
indelible
black ink
on the stone cage.

A soft weak man
marks his territory
this way
with the carelessness of an afterthought,
with as much effort
as it takes to pull the trigger
of a tranquilizer.

The night moves with plentiful noise,
the wounded cries of lonely beasts
pulse
with the flow of traffic not far away.

These cages no longer have doors.

The entire wild night
is free to roam
past the protection
and the hinderance
of heavy iron bars.

The big cats no longer pace here,

I do.



Sunday, December 25, 2011

Larz Anderson Park Christmas Day 2011

    Every year sometime on Christmas day I find the time to stop by the top of the hill at Larz Anderson Park in Brookline. It's a nice place to take a contemplative view of the city and the year that has just passed.
    Even tho I had to work at the Booklink bookstore out at Logan Airport today, I still managed to squeeze in a quick visit to one of my favorite places to view the city.


No snow this year, ok actually maybe there was a 15 minute dusting of flakes that never actually hit the ground but no snow that accumulated to add anything to the scenery. I guess instead, this year the powers that be decided to toss a small white dog into my scenery just to shake things up. 
I was driving up the hill and a little white thing came bounding on it's tiny little legs into the roadway. I got out of the car and asked a lady a little further up the hill if it was her dog. She said it wasn't but she thought the owner was nearby as there was a small tied up bag of poop about 5 yards behind her. Obviously someone nearby owned this little ball of love and my over active imagination had that person going wild with worry searching the hill for thier four legged friend. 
So, of course I left my car by the side of the road and chased this happy, foolish, tail wagging, leash dragging snowy mutt up the hill, all around the ice rink and back again in seach of someone also searching. 
   The dog found her first and I came huffing and puffing behind to encounter a totally unconcerned lady holding the leash and yapping into her cell without a care in the world. 

I guess I'd done the same thing with my Lucy many times years in the past but my Lucy was a husky mix who although she was prone to running off in Brighton where we lived, she always stayed on the grassy part of 'Larzzy's' and was unlikely to be found wandering in the road. 

All things said and done tho, I guess there are worse places one could have a carefree frolic, I just wonder if the woman on the phone remembered to go back and pick up her baggie of poop...                      


 

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Scenes from Quincy Adams T stop...

I snapped this pic a couple of weeks ago at the Quincy Adams Red Line T stop after hearing for the second time a kid telling his parent how nice the station is.

Quincy Adams is not a nice station, the garage is falling apart one gaping pot hole at a time and I would not be surprised at all if the next time I park on the top at level 5, I return to my car and find it has slipped down through the cracks to level 2.
The station also proudly houses some of the ugliest outdated ceiling art I have ever seen at any public facility,(ever), but somehow, I have witnessed 2 totally unrelated kids on two seperate occasions burst with excitement to tell their parents how beautiful the station is.

The first time I kind of ignored the comment, "This place is fancy!" along with the father who asured his son there was nothing at all "fancy" about the delapitated, seriously outdated cold and drafty station but, the second time I paid attention.

What on earth was it that these kids saw that no one else did?

After the second kid commented on the lovliness of the station, I spared the time to look up, clearly these kids were seeing somthing I was missing.

I finally figured it out, the beauty they saw was what grown ups could only see as a flaw, nature bleedding into the station uninvited, kind of like the way plants decoratively overgrow in nice restuarants.





The kids knew what they were seeing was "pretty" and "fancy" even if the adults had a hard time figuring it out at first glance.
Smart kids for looking up.
I've got to try that point of view more often....