RichardHowe.com – Voices from Lowell & Beyond

Making Art in the Nazi Era? by Marjorie Arons-Barron

The entry below is being cross posted from Marjorie Arons-Barron.

The Director by Daniel Kehlmann is a challenging but intriguing work of fiction. Its surreal and expressionistic style focuses on its characters’ dreamlike experiences and emotional journeys. These stylistic elements mix with realism as the narrative develops, prompting this reader to appreciate the author’s stunning talent and creativity.

This historical novel is based mostly on many real-life individuals during WWII. The principal character is Weimar film director G. W. Pabst, who is introduced to us in the beginning by his fictional associate Franz Wilzek. Wilzek has been brought out of what is apparently a memory unit at an American retirement home to be interviewed about Pabst in a live television program. Not surprisingly, Wilzek’s memories are unreliable, and the interview is a bust. But the introduction to these film makers is made. We next meet the German-speaking Pabst back in the early ‘30’s at a Hollywood party where he is hard put to understand the English conversation swirling around him. The effect of his confusion is somewhat surreal.

Cut to Austria just after the Anschluss, when Pabst, his wife Trude and (fictional) son Jakob have returned to visit his dying mother.  The borders close, and they are trapped.  Director Pabst had gotten his start in silent films. He managed a successful transition when the talkies came in.  Among the real-life actors with whom he worked were Louise Brooks, with whom he had an affair, and Greta Garbo. Nazi propaganda film maker Leni Riefenstahl shows up in the novel, as well as actor Werner Krauss, star in horror movie Dr. Caligari and in antisemitic propaganda cinema. All are woven into this story.

Pabst’s work was controlled by a Ministry of Film that was under Joseph Goebbels’ Ministry of Propaganda.  In the fraught environment of his time, he was an accomplished director and screenwriter and a master of modernistic film editing. His decision not to try to escape to the United States led to the tarnishing of his reputation.  Instead, Pabst stayed in Europe, traveling back and forth among Berlin, Vienna, and Prague, with the war all around him and closing in. Author Kehlmann gets into Pabst’s head as the director struggles with Goebbels’ censorship and other compromises required of him if he is to keep working.

When the Soviets push Germany back, Red officers come to arrest Pabst for having created Nazi films. He plies them with vodka, telling them that he had once been a Communist, known as Red Pabst.  They are charmed and persuaded, and they all part as friends. The surrealism continues.

Kehlmann’s fictional Jakob, teenaged son of Pabst and Trude, has learned from boarding school that, to avoid being bullied, he has to become an aggressor. Not surprisingly, he joins a Hitler youth group and later makes it into the German Wehrmacht. He is willing to die for “something greater than ourselves. For the Reich and for our Fuhrer.”

Franz Wilzek, whom we met at the very beginning as an addled old man, returns as a much younger man to play an important role in the twists and turns of the novel, right up to the very end.

This is not an easy book to read, given its style, likely reminiscent of many of Pabst’s films. The narrative voice is omniscient, delving deep into the psyches and interior dialogues of the principal figures. Which characters are fictional, and which are real?  What events are truly happening, and which occur only in the characters’ dreams and nightmares? What is the point at which the characters’ compromises for survival make them complicit in the system of the Third Reich?

W. G. Pabst is asked if it isn’t strange to continue working through the horrors of Nazi Europe. He replies that “times are always strange. Art is always out of place. Always unnecessary when it’s made. And later, when you look back, it’s the only thing that mattered.”

Readers of The Director are left wondering: did these artists make films at that time that really mattered, or did their failure to defy simply validate Hitler and his thugs? What is the responsibility of artists during times like our own to speak out against authoritarianism? Or, are they better off producing art that distracts us and numbs us to the undermining of democracy on the home front?

Lowell Politics: June 28, 2026

There was no Lowell City Council meeting this week, so today’s newsletter contains Part II of my biographical sketches of past mayors of Lowell. Today we start in 1883 with the first mayor of Irish Catholic heritage and go until 1943, with the last mayor elected prior to the city’s adoption of our current Plan E form of government.

For those who missed the first installment of this series, it was published on my website, richardhowe.com, on June 14, 2026.

With that, let’s return to the mayors of Lowell:

John J. Donovan was mayor in 1883 and again in 1884. He was born in Yonkers, New York, on July 28, 1843, and moved to Lowell three years later with his widowed mother. He attended the Washington School and then Lowell High School. While still a student, he worked as a clerk at a grocery store on Central Street, eventually becoming a partner. As an adult, Donovan became associated with several other local businesses and financial institutions including the Lowell Trust Company and Washington Savings Bank. In the early 1880s he was appointed Overseer of the Poor and in 1882 he was elected mayor making him the first person of Irish descent to hold that office. He was reelected the following year. He died at his home at 256 Branch Street on April 21, 1905, at age 61. He is buried in St. Patrick Cemetery.

Edward J. Noyes was mayor in 1885. He was born in Georgetown, Massachusetts, on September 7, 1841. He came to Lowell at age 7, went through the Lowell public schools then graduated from Columbia Law School. During the Civil War, he enlisted in a cavalry company and was eventually promoted to major. He left the military after being wounded in action and returned to Lowell. He was appointed city marshall and was elected mayor in late 1884. After serving as mayor, he became the superintendent of the Lowell Street Railroad Company and then worked for several Lowell textile mills as a detective. He lived at 182 Butman Road and attended St. Anne’s Episcopal Church. He died in Lowell on January 31, 1925, at age 83. He is buried in Lowell Cemetery.

James C. Abbott was mayor in 1886 and again in 1887. He was born in Andover, Massachusetts, on June 30, 1823. He graduated from Phillips Academy, Dartmouth College and Harvard Law School. He moved to Lowell and practiced law here for more than 50 years. He was elected mayor in December 1885 and was reelected in the following election. In addition to his law practice, he was president of the First National Bank and the Lowell Mutual Fire Insurance Company. He died in Lowell on July 9, 1903, at age 80. Funeral services were held at his home at 21 Fairmount Street followed by burial in Lowell Cemetery.

Charles D. Palmer was mayor in 1888, 1889 and 1890. He was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, on November 25, 1845. He graduated from Boston Latin and Harvard College then, aspiring to be a manufacturing executive, moved to Lawrence, Massachusetts, for a management position at the Washington Mills. In 1880, he married Rowena Hildreth and joined her in Lowell. When her father, Fisher Hildreth, passed away, Charles devoted his time to managing the substantial Hildreth Estate. He did that until he was elected mayor in December 1887. During his time as mayor, he led the efforts to construct a new city hall and city library. Besides his political and business pursuits, Palmer was involved in sports serving as the president of the Massachusetts amateur bowling league and as the New England representative on the national board of review for trotting races. Charles Dana Palmer died in Lowell on September 25, 1909, at age 63. He is buried in the Hildreth Family Cemetery.

George W. Fifield was mayor in 1891 and again in 1892. He was born in Belmont, New Hampshire, on April 25, 1848, and came to Lowell at age 18 as an apprentice machinist. He did well in that field, eventually forming his own company, the Fifield Tool Company which manufactured engine lathes at a plant on Marginal Street. He served two terms as mayor but left politics after that due to the demands of his business. He died at his home at 1180 Middlesex Street on January 30, 1911, at age 62. The cause of death was cancer. His funeral was held at his home, and he is buried in Lowell Cemetery.

John J. Pickman was mayor in 1893 and 1894. He was born in Lowell on January 5, 1850. He graduated from Lowell High School then Harvard Law School. He began practicing law in Lowell in 1871. He was elected to the Lowell School Committee, the state legislature, and in December 1892, mayor of Lowell. He was reelected the following year. Prior to being elected mayor, he was made a special justice at the Lowell Police Court and after his time at City Hall he became a full-time district court judge until his retirement. He died on August 17, 1930, at age 80, at the McLean Hospital in Belmont, Massachusetts. The cause of death was pneumonia. His funeral was held at the Eliot Congregational Church, and he is buried in Edson Cemetery.

William F. Courtney was mayor in 1895, 1896 and 1897. He was born in Lowell on December 10, 1855. His family lived in Belvidere but soon moved to Centralville where Courtney lived for the rest of his life. He attended the Lowell public schools and Harvard Law School. He then opened a law office in Lowell and developed a successful legal practice specializing in criminal law. He was active in Democratic politics and served as a state representative and as city solicitor. He was the Democratic nominee for mayor in 1892 and 1893, but he lost both times. He was nominated again in 1894 and won. In 1896, he married Alice Brouillette. Their wedding was the first ceremony held at the newly constructed St. Jean Baptiste Church. Courtney died on April 17, 1899, at age 43. The cause of death was Bright’s Disease, a kidney ailment. His funeral was at St. Michael’s Church, and he is buried in St. Patrick Cemetery.

James W. Bennett was mayor in 1898. He was born in Newmarket, New Hampshire, on March 21, 1833. He came to Lowell at age 14 to learn carpentry with his uncle, who was a successful builder. Bennett eventually had his own business as a contractor and was admired as a ‘shrewd businessman.” He was a longtime water commissioner and was instrumental in establishing the Lowell waterworks. He also served on the common council and in the state legislature. At some point, the governor appointed Bennett the Commonwealth’s assistant adjutant general, which earned him the title Colonel although he never served in the military. He ran for mayor in 1896 and lost but won in the next election. He ran again but failed to be reelected. He died at his home at 205 Branch Street on April 14, 1903, at age 70. He is buried in Lowell Cemetery.

Jeremiah Crowley was mayor in 1899 and 1900. He was born in Lowell on January 12, 1832. At age 13, he went to work in the Lawrence Mills and learned to be a machinist. In 1860, he began studying law with a local attorney. He was also a member of the Sixth Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry Regiment and was involved in the Baltimore Riot on April 19, 1861, that cost Luther Ladd and Addison Whitney their lives. After the war, he was admitted to the bar and had a successful law practice. He also entered politics, serving on the common council, the board of aldermen and as a state senator. He was elected mayor in December 1898 and was reelected the following year. He died in Lowell on September 23, 1901, at age 69. The cause of death was Bright’s Disease, a kidney ailment. He is buried in St. Patrick Cemetery.

Charles A. R. Dimon was mayor in 1901 and 1902. He was born in Fairfield, Connecticut, on April 27, 1841. He enlisted in a volunteer militia regiment at the start of the Civil War and rose rapidly through the ranks. For much of the war, his commander was General Benjamin Butler of Lowell. Dimon served heroically and fought in numerous battles. By the end of the war, he held the rank of Brevet Brigadier General (“Brevet” was a temporary wartime rank). When Butler formed the United States Cartridge Company in Lowell after the war, he hired Dimon to manage the company which he did through the 1870s and 1880s. He ran for public office, serving on the board of alderman and then as a water commissioner. He was elected mayor in December 1900 and was reelected the following year but died in office during that second term on March 21, 1902, at age 60. He is buried in Fairfield East Cemetery, in Fairfield, Connecticut. (William E. Badger served the rest of Dimon’s term as acting mayor but was not subsequently elected to the office.)

Charles E. Howe was mayor in 1903 and 1904. He was born in Gonic, New Hampshire, (now a part of Rochester) on January 28, 1846. He enlisted in the U.S. Army during the Civil War and was wounded in action at the 2nd Battle of Bull Run. He remained in the army after the war, serving for several years on the western frontier. He left the army and worked in Chicago for a time but in 1871 moved to Lowell to work for his brother’s lumber company. (His brother was John F. Howe of Howe & Burnham Lumber Dealers.) In Lowell, Charles was very active socially, holding offices in many clubs and charities. He was elected to the board of alderman and then served two terms as mayor. He died at his home at 45 Varney Street on July 23, 1911, at age 65. The cause of death was heart disease. He is buried in Lowell Cemetery.

James B. Casey was mayor in 1905 and 1906. He was born in Lowell on July 20, 1878. As a young man, he worked in various retail jobs but soon entered politics. After serving two terms as mayor, he founded the Ideal Comb Company which had a factory at 157 Lincoln Street. In the late 1920s, he became the director of public relations for the New England Power Association, a position he held until his retirement. He died in Lowell on December 30, 1946, at age 68. His funeral was at St. Margaret’s Church, and he is buried in St. Patrick Cemetery.

Frederick W. Farnham was mayor in 1907 and 1908. He was born in Lowell on November 30, 1860. After graduating from Lowell High School, Frederick was hired by the Lowell City Engineer’s office and, aside from his two terms as mayor, spent 40 years in the engineering department, including several managing the construction of Lowell’s sewer system. He retired in 1937. He died at his home at 571 Westford Street on December 11, 1943, at age 83. His funeral service was held at Morse Funeral Home at 170 Westford Street, and he is buried in Lowell Cemetery.

George H. Brown was mayor in 1909 and again in 1922. He was born in Waterville, Maine, on May 20, 1877. He came to Lowell as a young man and was hired as a police officer. He served in the military during the Spanish-American War. According to local newspapers, “he had a natural flair for stump speaking that captivated voters” which helped him be elected mayor in December 1908. He lost re-election and returned to the police department. When Lowell adopted the commission form of government in the 1901 – a commissioner being like a city councilor who doubles as a department head – he was elected as a commissioner four times. He was again elected mayor in 1922 but only served one year – mayoral terms were two years long by that point – because a charter change cut his term in half. He continued to run for office, including as a city councilor under Plan E, but was never again elected. He died in Lowell on March 3, 1950, at age 72, and is buried in Edson Cemetery.

John F. Meehan was mayor in 1910 and 1911. He was born in Lowell on November 24, 1872. He attended St. Patrick’s elementary school, Lowell High, and St. Bonaventure College where he earned bachelor and master degrees. Returning to Lowell, he first worked for a big Boston building contractor but was soon elected principal of the Butler School. He was elected to the state legislature in 1906 and continued serving there until he was elected mayor. In 1915, President Woodrow Wilson appointed Meehan postmaster of Lowell, a position he held until 1922. He died in Lowell on December 14, 1947, at age 75. His funeral was at St. Patrick’s Church, and he is buried in St. Patrick Cemetery.

James E. O’Donnell was mayor in 1912-13, and again in 1916-17. He was born in Lowell on September 29, 1875. He grew up in Belvidere, attended the Lowell public schools, then graduated from Boston University Law School and started a law practice in Lowell. He was elected to the state legislature and the governor’s council before being elected mayor to a two-year term. He lost reelection but ran again in 1915 and won, serving another two-year term. In 1929, Governor Alvin Fuller appointed O’Donnell a justice of the Lowell District Court where he served for 20 years. He retired in 1952 and moved to Florida where he died on September 15, 1966. He is buried in Coral Gables, Florida. The city of Lowell dedicated the bridge crossing the Merrimack River at School Street and Mammoth Road after him as the James E. O’Donnell bridge.

Dennis J. Murphy was mayor in 1914-15. He was born in Lowell on May 17, 1870. He attended the Lowell public schools, Holy Cross College, and Boston University Law School. He opened a law practice in Lowell and in 1898 he was elected to the Lowell School Committee for three terms. He was elected mayor in the 1913 city election, but when he ran for a second term in 1915, he lost to former mayor James O’Donnell in what the newspaper described as “one of the bitterest campaigns in the city’s political history.” He resumed practicing law, a profession he continued until he died on March 6, 1950, at age 79. His funeral was at the Immaculate Conception Church, and he is buried in St. Patrick Cemetery.

Perry D. Thompson was mayor in 1918-19 and again in 1920-21. He was born in Billerica on July 4, 1874. As a young man, he worked as a grocer and as a salesman for a local lumber company. Elected mayor in December 1917 and reelected two years later, his second term was cut short when voters adopted the new Plan B charter. Thompson ran for mayor under that system but lost to former mayor George Brown. Thompson was later named to the city election commission and in 1930 was elected city clerk, a position he held until his retirement. He died at a Billerica nursing home on May 26, 1952, at age 77. His funeral was at Grace Universalist Church, and he is buried in Edson Cemetery.

John J. Donovan was mayor in 1923-24 and 1925-26. He was born in New York City in 1864. He came to Lowell as a child but as a young man he played baseball professionally on the west coast and boxed professionally. Returning to Lowell he worked as a motorman for the street railway but was appointed to the Lowell police department in 1901. When World War I began, he tried to enlist, was rejected several times because of his age, but was finally able to join a railway engineer regiment that deployed to France where he saw combat. He ran for mayor in 1918 and 1920, losing both times, but won the office in 1922 and was reelected two years later. He sought a third term but was defeated. He returned to the police department where he remained until his retirement in 1929. He died in Lowell on May 17, 1937, at age 74. He is buried in St. Patrick Cemetery.

Thomas J. Corbett was mayor in 1927-28. He was born in Halifax, England, on May 10, 1883, and came to Lowell as a boy. He became a U.S. citizen at the Lowell Police court in 1904 when he turned 21. He attended Lowell Schools then worked in the mills. In 1914, he was elected to the common council and then to the state legislature. He was elected mayor in December 1926 and served a single two-year term as mayor. After that, he was a city assessor and then superintendent of the local state unemployment office. From 1936 until his retirement in 1953, he was the public relations officer for the Harvard Brewery of Lowell. He died in Lowell on September 24, 1956, at age 73. He is buried in St. Patrick Cemetery.

Thomas J. Braden was mayor in 1929 and then in 1930-31. (Braden’s first term was just one year because the city switched from holding local elections in December of state election years to holding city elections in November of the odd-numbered year between state elections which fell in even-numbered years.) Thomas Braden was born in Mooers, New York (near Lake Champlain, two miles from the Canadian border) on September 11, 1876. He came to Lowell at age 16. His first job was as an elevator operator, however, when automobiles arrived, he founded a taxi company which he operated through most of his life. He was elected to the common council and then to the board of aldermen before being elected mayor. In 1937, he was elected to the state senate. He died in Lowell on May 23, 1950, at age 78. He is buried in Lowell Cemetery. His obituary observed that he was “one of the most colorful figures in the city’s political history” and “a leading expert on the sport of harness racing.”

Charles H. Slowey was mayor in 1932-33. He was born in Lowell on October 27, 1886. As a young man, he was elected to the state legislature, serving five terms interrupted by military service in World War I. While in the legislature, he founded C. H. Slowey Insurance Agency which he operated for 40 years. He was elected mayor in November 1931 and served a single term. In 1935, President Franklin Roosevelt appointed him postmaster of Lowell, an office he held for 21 years until his retirement. He died in Lowell on January 10, 1964, at age 77 and is buried in St. Patrick Cemetery.

James J. Bruin was mayor in 1934-35. He was born in Lowell on October 31, 1898. He worked at the Saco-Lowell Shops while studying law at night, eventually opening his own law office. He was elected to the Lowell School Committee in 1923 and was elected mayor in November 1933. Despite his age, he enlisted in the U.S. Army during World War II and rose to the rank of captain. Although he had been a vocal opponent of the Plan E form of government, in 1947 he ran for and won a seat on the council under that system. The following year, he was elected to the state legislature. However, soon after being sworn in to that office, he died on January 26, 1949, at age 50. He is buried in St. Patrick Cemetery.

Dewey G. Archambault was mayor in 1936-37 and 1938-39. He was born in Lowell on September 3, 1898. He graduated from Lowell High, Boston College and Suffolk Law School. He also became a licensed funeral director, working for the funeral home founded by his father. He was elected mayor in November 1935 and reelected to another term two years later. He enlisted in the U.S. Army during World War II and after the war was appointed the director of employment security by Governor Christian Herter. He died in St. Petersburg, Florida, on January 31, 1969, at age 70. He is buried in St. Joseph Cemetery.

George T. Ashe was mayor in 1940-41 and 1942-43. He was born in Lowell on February 6, 1905. He worked as a laborer as a young man and was then elected to the state legislature. He was elected mayor in November 1939 and reelected two years later. During his second term, a state investigation uncovered contract rigging and financial kickbacks to city employees and Mayor Ashe was ensnared in the investigation. He was found guilty in Middlesex Superior Court and served a short sentence. While on trial, the city held a referendum on whether to change from the strong mayor form of government known as Plan B to the city manager system known as Plan E. The vote to change the system was 16,477 votes for and 14,135 against. Later in life, Ashe worked as the New England sales representative of the Radiator Chemical Corporation of Scottsdale, Arizona. He died on May 8, 1975, at age 70 and is buried in St. Patrick Cemetery.

From the receipt of the city charter in 1836 until 1943, Lowell was governed by a “strong” mayor selected directly by the voters. The Plan E system adopted in 1943 and which is still in place today, made a city manager appointed by the city council the chief executive of the city. The mayor, elected by fellow councilors at the start of each term, serves as the chair of the council and the school committee and as the ceremonial head of the city. In two weeks, I’ll provide biographical sketches of the individuals who have served as mayor under that system.

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This week in my Seen & Heard column on richardhowe.com, I reviewed the novel “Isola” by Allegra Goodman, the reality-based story of a young French noblewoman marooned on a deserted island of the coast of Canada in the 1500s; I commented on the passing of sports radio legend Eddie Andelman; mentioned a NYT review of a big James McNeill Whistler art exhibit in London; mentioned the passing of artist David Hockney; and commented on the latest edition of “Cholla Needles” literary magazine which features poems from Paul Marion and Chath pier Sath; and reviewed the new photo exhibit “LowellScapes” at the Brush Gallery.

Time of the End of the Season Part VI

Time of the End of the Season Part V

By Bob Hodge

Bob Hodge grew up in Lowell and went on to graduate from Lowell High (1973) and University of Lowell (1990). He was (and still is) one the greatest runners to come out of this region. He’s also a writer whose 2020 memoir, Tale of the Times: A Runner’s Story, is available at lala books in downtown Lowell and in Kindle format from Amazon. The following is an excerpt from his novel-in-progress.

Already published:

Time episode 1

Time episode 2

Time episode 3

Time episode 4

Time episode 5

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Street Fighting Man

Over the next few weeks heading into the Nationals everything went according to plan although Sal had been trying to petition the AAU to allow Annie run the five thousand unsuccessfully. Annie had one of the fastest times in the country but no concern of the AAU, her entry was late and they decided not to accept it. It is disheartening and demoralizing when your governing body works against the sport and against the athletes it should be serving.

The Fire Plug added a lot to our little group and she seemed changed by her recent experience living in New Zealand. “Willy, I will be honest with you. I just missed home and you guys too much being way down under. We may get back together someday, he is a great guy and I miss him too. We will just have to wait and see if it was meant to be.”

Sal had each of us in his office before we left for a bit of a strategy talk. It had been decided that I would run the ten k only. “Willy, the forecast is calling for extreme heat. I want you to keep the pace honest but don’t try and go out there and blow this field away or they will make you pay. These guys are the real deal and they are no more than slightly impressed by your 3:55.”

Unfortunately, Sal’s strategy was not lining up with my dreams.

We ended up driving the couple of hundred miles up to Knoxville with the store van full of merchandise we would be selling outside the venue. We would all work after we had completed our events and Annie would man the van for both days since she was not competing.

The ten k was on Friday night at 7 and we arrived at our hotel at noon. I went for a three-mile shakeout run and then had lunch and took a nap. I was nervous and was overloaded with adrenaline. I was thinking that the heat wasn’t so bad and that Sal was being too conservative. “He knows how I love to run, how I must run, why insist that I do it his way? I need to go by feeling that is all I know.”

At 5 I put my gear on and as I was trying to pin my number Annie came in and did it for me and then gave me a hug. “You OK Willy? Sure, Fire Plug I’m doing great for someone who is preparing to die a little.”

I got to the track and put my spikes on and did a few strides on the back straight and I chatted a bit with Hernandez, the NCAA Cross Champ I had met briefly last fall on the starting line of the AAU Cross where I ran with Broken Arrow. “Hey Desmarais, we have to stop meeting like this.”

We were twenty-five strong and they lined us up, me on the outside of the first row. The pistol cracked and I broke for the front, bye, bye Johnny, bye, bye Johnny be goode.

The meet organizers had given the coaches a little seating area near the finish line. I was 65 for the first lap and 2:10 at the half. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sal waving his hands at me. Next lap I ran a 63 and I am now clear of the field and then 4:18 at the mile.

Anyone there who was paying attention sat there with their mouths agape but when I kept pouring it on well they got into it too and a group of high school age kids kept a rhythm clapping going every time I passed them. “Willy’s gone mad! They shouted.” At two I was 8:43 and at 5 k 13:41 a PR. I was on an American Record pace and had a 100-yard lead, maybe more.

I was off somewhere my mind began to wander and drift, my hands started to tingle. I couldn’t remember what lap I was running and was shocked to see a 7 card and I was sinking into the abyss. I was now in survival mode with waves of runners passing me and Jocko patting me on the ass as he went by and I was far away.

The last lap I was wambled and looked like Dorando Pietri in the 1908 Olympic Marathon. The medical crew were already prepared when I finished and collapsed into their waiting arms.

Don’t let the Sun go down on me.

The medical crew put me in a tub of ice and hooked me up for some I.V. fluids. Annie came in to see me and she started weeping it up. “Don’t fret Fire Plug, I’m only partly dead.” “Willy, don’t be an asshole, I was really worried about you.” Sal wouldn’t speak to me, he didn’t even look at me so I just ignored him too.

Jocko finished seventh in the ten k, very respectable and Freddie would wind up finishing fifth in the 1500M in 3:37. He followed Sal’s instructions to the letter. I was super happy for those guys.

Sal took everyone out to dinner but I stayed behind in the room and then went out and got some fast food and a bottle of cheap red wine. I didn’t get drunk though, I just sipped it and contemplated my navel.

The next day we were back in Atlanta and back working in the store when Sal called me into his office. I was happy and I figured we would talk it over and everything would go back to normal but I was wrong.

“Willy I am going to have to let you go. I have other athletes I can coach who are not as stupid, selfish and just plain crazy as you are.” It was a real gut punch.

“Sal, I appreciate everything you have done for me so thank you for that but don’t ever call me crazy, you don’t know nothing about me. I’m just twenty years old trying to figure things out.”

I got up and left and went back to the house and started packing my things. Maybe I was crazy. My Mom died at the State Hospital when I was ten years old though I never found out what she was in for. That was where they sent people with psychological conditions, manic depression etc.

Maybe it’s crazy to try and run yourself into submission but wasn’t that how you became a champion by pushing the boundaries and going where no one was ever willing to go before?

“I beat my body and make it my slave.”

Annie told me that Sal said I could stay as long as I needed but that he had another athlete to take my place coming within the next couple of weeks. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay once I get over the shock.”

I went out for a ten miler mostly on the trails in the State Forest, except I just kept going and ran the loop three times in three hours. Then I bought some beer and pizza and got drunk. Jocko, Freddie and Annie were all out. I think they were as shocked as I was.

When Jocko got back he said “Geezus Willy why don’t you beg for forgiveness or something Sal would keep you on.”

“Willy don’t play that.”

Street Fighting Man

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=BUt0dZXPFoU&pp=0gcJCUACo7VqN5tD&ra=m

‘The Map–Early Days in Dracut’ by Paul Marion

While I was born in Lowell, I grew up next door in the town of Dracut, the only place in America with that name, derived from a Draycot in England. Keeping the “y” in the name would have ensured that people know how to pronounce it. This woodsy land was Native American territory for thousands of years before the European settlers came in the 1640s and then made the place an official town in 1701. My family and thousands more were suburban pioneers in the 1950s. We had the advantage of commercial Lowell being close by for shopping and medical services, but the semi-rural setting was far different than what my parents and ancestors had known since landing in the textile factory city in 1880. I’ve been writing memory pieces about the early years in Dracut and am sharing the following one which gives a sense of what it was like in town when I was young.–PM

“Hildreth Street Garden & Trees” by Richard Marion, (oil on canvas, c. 1962)

The Map

Three old apple trees stood in the Hildreth Street yard. For the sixteen years I lived there, we never picked good fruit. Of course, we didn’t spray or prune the trees. Two trees in the side yard bore a Red Delicious apple; the other tree was a McIntosh. We could pull a few good Macs from the tree in the back if they were picked early. I’d sit in the largest V of limbs and get three bites out of scrawny sour green apples. The Delicious trees gave wormy, blemished fruit. Each fall we raked the drops so that lawnmower blades would not get gummed up with sliced apples. My father tired of picking up the apples and one year dumped them into the back of his vegetable garden, covering them with grass clippings. The rotten apples gave the soil an acid overdose, forcing him to plant tomatoes at the opposite end of the garden the next year. His tomatoes were prizes on stout plants with stalks enriched by sheep manure that he brought home in bags from the wool processing mill in North Chelmsford.

I asked my brother Richard, who is ten years older than me, about moving to the Hildreth Street house from Orleans Street in Lowell’s Centralville neighborhood, and he wrote:

Sandy edges of the inclined driveway, paved in blacktop, accommodated two-foot-high purple- and magenta-blossom zinnias while my castor beans planted as a yard-edge barrier struggled, versus the roadside-grazing finds I’d transplanted at the fieldstone property line in a low-lying zone of vigorous day lilies, which were highly irrigated from the topsoil-depleted sold-acres next door where stood the abandoned elevated turkey pens. The loss of drinking orchard trees and willows due to the land-clearing added to water problems in many of the new ranch cellars. The inexperienced builders had made errors in foundation-siting and grade levels.

     Along the southeast side of the foundation large white hollyhocks seeded themselves and flourished in enormous sunlight. The original ribbed, red-wine wooden shakes were later painted green, matching the broad leaves of the hollyhocks. Around the front cement stair-block, five steps, grew intense red zinnias in a crescent garden, a gift from Mrs. Fournier across the street. The sturdy flowers may have benefited from years of nitrate-rich manure from her animals. On the borders of Dad’s modest vegetable garden, cosmos, marigolds, and petunias thrived in season. The right rear section had the tall ‘dinner plate’ dahlias and staked, sun-drenched beefsteak tomatoes. Some years, zucchini and cucumber tendrils ran between the tomato plants.

     An explorer amidst seemingly untamed overgrowth in surrounding fields and woods, I gathered pieces of tree limbs and roots, unaware of wabi-sabi or bonsai ideas, and arranged them toward the back of the garden. I had seen Mémère Roy’s coffee-table artificial Asian plant, an Easter gift from her sons. In late fall, I harvested fir, laurel, and pine boughs in the woods for Christmas wreaths that I made in the cellar and sold to friends and relatives. The spending money came in handy at the holiday.

He offered an equally detailed survey of the house interior, from closet dimensions and refinished cedar chest to his college-time drafting board positioned at his middle-bedroom window with a view toward the weightless white apple blossoms edged in pink each spring. At one point he rescued a black-leather reclining couch put out for trash down the street and replaced his standard bed. It looked like a psychiatrist’s office in there.

The immediate neighborhood consisted of young families and my grandparents, the old folks of the street. Most of houses were modest in size and built on lots squared out of farmland that was ringed by woods. For my parents, the low-interest mortgage was their war chit from my father’s veteran’s benefits, the so-called G.I. Bill—a ticket out of the declining city. They paid $14,000 for the compact, three-bedroom ranch house in 1956. I found an undated receipt for a five percent down payment written in blue ink on a lined page torn from a pocket-sized, spiral-bound notebook:

Mr. Marion,

     Received from Mr. Marion

$700.00 deposit on House situated

on 1249 Hildreth St.

            Costas G. Psoinas

That’s not the name of a real estate agent. That’s the name of the house builder, the developer in today’s language, but back then the term was “contractor.” I’m pretty sure it was his first house sale or one of his first sales. He built many houses in the neighborhood, an area sometimes referred to as Crosby Heights for Crosby Road. Hildreth Street was the main street at the bottom of the hill. The new Janice Ave. and the venerable Crosby Road ran up the hill on either side. Three new streets linked those two: Christy, Stephen, and Gloria. Another uphill street was started but abandoned. The names are from the contractor’s family—his wife, Janice, and kids. Hildreth and Crosby are named for ancient Dracut families. Later, two small housing tracts were added to the neighborhood: Raven Acres and Cinderella Circle. Other builders developed these. Raven Acres has three streets: Raven Road, Oriole Drive, and Blue Jay Avenue. Cinderella Circle was carved out behind our house in what I knew as Gendreau’s field. Fifteen houses sprang up. I didn’t like the precious Cinderella name.

So many ethnic families from Lowell were moving into Dracut and other towns ringing the city that the Sun newspaper introduced Suburban News. Almost everyone had relatives in Lowell, shopped downtown, used dentists and doctors with offices on Merrimack Street, went to movies at the B. F. Keith and Strand theaters. Dracut offered none of these, but its Lakeview Park and Ballroom had long been popular with Lowell people. The amusement center on Lake Mascuppic, good for swimming and boating, had a dance hall, carousel, and arcade with a floating duck game. Pull a duck from circulating “pond water” at the counter and check to see if the number on the underside matches a prize like a plastic comb or a stuffed bear. Lakeview Park on the edge of town near Tyngsboro had been brought into easy reach by the street trolley company decades earlier. Later, an IGA supermarket opened near the high school and a dentist moved into the Navy Yard business cluster at Lakeview and Pleasant streets.
Here’s the layout:

C         G L O R I A                J

R         S T E P H E N            A

O         C H R I S T Y             N

S                                              I

B                                              C

Y                                              E

D E R

N                          E

I                              L

C                             L

A

                                      X <<<Marion house

<<< H     I     L     D     R     E     T    H>>>

This diagram is not to scale, but it shows the relationships of streets. While growing up, I didn’t know anyone versed in town history. That changed when I was a junior in high school and had a teacher who stressed the importance of local history—her name was Mrs. Norton. My parents were really Lowell people. Many third- and fourth-generation Franco Americans, Greek Americans, Irish Americans, and Polish Americans moved from Lowell to Dracut after World War II. These new suburban dwellers were more wrapped up in their ethnic backgrounds or the city’s history than in the town’s heritage.

Paul Marion (c) 2026