Snow was general all over Lowell – (PIP #54)

By Louise Peloquin

     These accounts of winter in New England demonstrate the newspaper’s regard for the local community. The reader shares the city’s concern for its citizens and for its public service employees as they pursue daily activities or revel in winter fun. (1)

L’Etoile – December 8, 1924

NO PLACES TO SLED HERE

     Up to now, no arrangement has been made and no place reserved to allow the children of Lowell to sled. The result is that children have been sledding in the streets and one was hurt while others had numerous close calls.

     Deputy superintendent Downey of the Department of Safety declared Saturday that nothing yet has been decided regarding this issue given that there was not enough snow for sledding. Registration Clerk Frank A. Goodwin recently released a statement requesting the cooperation of police officers everywhere in the state to prevent sledding accidents linked to automobile traffic by reserving certain streets for children to sled without difficulty or danger.

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L’Etoile – Front page, January 17, 1925

BIG SNOWFALL

This is the first good snow storm of the winter. – It did not last long and did not do much damage.

     At last, winter has arrived among us with yesterday afternoon’s big snow storm. For several days, the city was threatened with snowfall but the temperatures were either too cold or too mild. The weather turned favorable and the snowfall did not delay. It began to snow gently, gradually. The flakes became bigger, more numerous, and, in a few hours, the ground was covered. The snow was followed by fine hail, then by evening rain. It was not engaging for motorists and even less for pedestrians.

The tramway company did not suffer too much from the storm. At around supper time last night, many tramways were running late.

     But the snowplows went to work and at midnight Manager O’Donoghue could say that the tracks would be cleared for morning.

     There was some irregularity in the telephone and electric light services but not enough to cause trouble. The weather was not inviting enough for people to want to stay out in the streets last night. Most remained at home except for Rotary Club Ball ticket holders

     Undoubtedly, the storm ruined the skating rinks but now is the time for sledding. Amateurs had already taken out their sleds last night in anticipation of practicing this good sport.

     Our friends the postmen arrived with this notice: “People, if you want us to deliver your mail, shovel your sidewalks.”  It is not a mandate. However, taking out one’s shovel to clear a path to the family mail box for the federal employees would be an act of kindness.

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L’Etoile – January 19, 1925

     A SLIDE FOR TOBOGGANS

     They have a good weekend sledding at Fort Hill.

     Hundreds of young people had a great time tobogganing at Fort Hill Park yesterday. The last snowfall had been sufficient enough to put the slide, prepared by the Park Commission, in good condition.

     Consequently, the park was the meeting place of a population of young people yesterday afternoon and Saturday evening. They were there in the hundreds, frolicking, jumping, romping in the snow and tobogganing. Nothing was more beautiful than seeing them rejoice.

     The slide looks very good his year and it is high enough to allow tobogganers to go down quickly, slide a good distance and stop at the Rogers Street sidewalk in front of the park. Despite the large number of tobogganers, no one was hurt in any way yesterday and that was certainly a positive record. (2) 

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(1) PIP #54 title is borrowed from “The Dead,” described by T.S. Eliot as “one of the greatest short stories ever written.”  This is the final piece in James Joyce’s “Dubliners,” published in 1914.

Here is the exquisite last paragraph: 

A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, on the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.

2) Translation by Louise Peloquin.