Ground Zero, A Midnight Ride, and Three Obelisks

June 17, 2021 steveboilard3 Comments

Today covered a lot of ground (literally). We began our day by leaving modern-day Salem and heading out to the nearby town of Danvers (pop: 27,000). Back in the day Danvers was known as “Salem Village” (to distinguish it from the larger town of Salem which holds that name to this day). Are you following me so far?

Danvers (nee Salem Village) gave birth to the Salem witch trials. For it was here in 1692 that the daughter (Betty) and niece (Abigail) of the village minister (Samuel Parris) accused the household’s slave of witchcraft. Accusations and counter-accusations flew, until some 19 people were hanged as witches. The hysteria eventually died down, and the village did its best to leave the whole ordeal behind it. Little was spoken about the events, and after Samuel Parris died in the 1780s, his home was torn down.

Then, in 1970, a young historian in town sought permission to do an archaeological dig at the site of Samuel Parris’ home. The foundation of the original home, where Betty and Abigail made those initial accusations that set into motion the witch hysteria, was uncovered in a field. The site was purchased by the city and today is preserved as a (not-well-marked) historic site. After some Google searches and a number of passes down the same stretch of a leafy, suburban street, we eventually found a narrow path leading to the archaeological site. Soon we were standing at Ground Zero of the Salem witch trials. There, in a shaded corner of the neighborhood, obscured by trees, we could almost feel the dread and fear that had sprung from that house.

Not far from the Parris site is a slightly more accessible memorial to the victims of the witch trials. But still, unlike the witch-obsessed Salem, Danvers seems not to want to call a lot of attention to those past events.

After paying our respects, we left Danvers and headed out toward Boston (pop: 684,000). Boston is of course known for many things, but today’s focus was on Paul Revere. This reminds me of an incident when I was about 7 years old: My brother Dave and I decided (for no discernible reason) to sneak out of the house at 1 or 2 in the morning, and walk the sidewalks of our suburban neighborhood with a bedspread draped around our shoulders. We didn’t go very far and we didn’t engage in any kind of skullduggery, but it was exhilarating to be out when the entire city was asleep. After an hour of aimless wandering, we returned to our house and our beds.

The next day the neighbor girl, Jeanine, ratted us out. We were getting out of the family sedan with Mom and Dad when Jeanine scampered up our driveway. “Oh, it was so funny to see Steve and Dave outside last night!” she exclaimed. “I happened to be up and looking through the window when I saw them. They looked so funny with that bedspread! I don’t mean to get them in trouble or anything, but boy was that a sight!” Dad wasn’t quite as amused as Jeanine, and I recall that some kind of punishment was meted out.

The next day I was talking to my grandma on the phone. “I heard about your Midnight Ride of Paul Revere,” said she. I asked her what she was talking about. “The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere! You know, ‘Listen my children and you shall hear/Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere.” I still didn’t know what she was talking about. This triggered a five-minute remonstrance about how kids these days don’t get instructed in the classics.

I say all this because today, finally, I developed a decent understanding of Paul Revere’s ride while visiting his home in Boston’s North End. As my readers no doubt know, Paul Revere was a very accomplished and respected native son of Boston, and it was from this house that he made his “midnight ride” to warn of the approaching British troops in 1775.

*“The meter-maid’s coming! The meter-maid’s coming!”*

Apparently Henry Wadsworth Longfellow exercised some literary license when he wrote his ode to the event that later was quoted by my grandmother. For example, there were several riders that night, not just Revere riding alone, and Revere was actually captured before he reached Concord. And the placing of the lanterns (“one if by land, two if by sea”) was not to meant as a signal to Revere, but rather was used by him to signal others. Still, I found it moving later today when we visited the Old Church where the lanterns had indeed been hung.

After taking a lunch break at a local trattoria (this neighborhood is wonderfully full of Italian restaurants), we made our way across the Charles River to visit the USS Constitution. That wooden frigate was commissioned a few years after Paul Revere’s ride, and fought nobly in a number of sea battles. Over the centuries it has of course become obsolete, and a few times it’s come close to being scrapped. But each time it’s been saved, and today it’s a carefully-restored and well-preserved floating museum at Boston’s Charlestown Naval Yard. It’s said to be the oldest ship of any type that is still afloat.

Sadly, Constitution wasn’t open to the public today. While we stood there looking at the ship from the shore, I noticed a structure that looked surprisingly like the Washington Monument. Let’s do a quick review:

Here’s the Washington Monument

Facts About Washington Monument | DK Find Out — Stock photo stolen from the Internet

And here’s the obelisk I saw in the distance behind the USS Constitution:

I asked a docent near the USS Constitution about the structure that “looks like the Washington Monument.” You’d think I insulted his family. He sharply informed me that it’s the Washington Monument that copied Boston’s memorial, and not the other way around. Boston’s memorial is the Bunker Hill Monument, erected between 1825 and 1843. (Construction of the Washington Monument didn’t begin until 1848.) We took a hike to get a closer look at the Bunker Hill version.

*That’s Bunker Hill hero William Prescott at the base.*

For good measure, let me share with you a picture I took in 2019 at the Devil’s Gate Dam in Pasadena. Seems that the “Bunker Hill” obelisk has a lot of company.

Tomorrow will be our last day in Massachusetts before we head back west.

BEER OF THE DAY

After close to ten miles of walking today, we felt we earned a refreshing beer at the Night Shift Brewing (est. 2012). I had the 2020 Darkling — an imperial stout aged in bourbon barrels. This is what I’ve been pining for since I left California. It’s dark as coal, rich as Midas, and big as Topsy. It has flavorful notes of toffee, coffee, caramel, and even butterscotch. The flavors constantly shift as it washes over your tongue, and they keep mixing a bit between sips. It’s balanced with a decent amount of hops bitterness and medium carbonation. At 12.8 percent ABV, this is not a beer to be trifled with. But I had two glasses anyway. I give it 5 well-earned points.

Father and Great-Great-Grandson

June 16, 2021 steveboilard5 Comments

Today we made one more foray into Salem’s witch-infested past, this time at the Salem Witch Museum.The museum is housed in a Gothic Revival church originally constructed in the 1840s. The church closed in 1902, and after being used for a few other purposes (including an auto museum), it was transformed into the Witch Museum in 1972.

Paging Maleficent, party of one — Your table is ready

It’s an impressive structure, and the multimedia presentation of the Salem witch trials was entertaining. Still, Vic and I realized that by now we knew Salem’s witch story pretty well, so we didn’t learn much that was new. What’s more, the museum’s message is overly tendentious, hammering on the point, over and over, that our society still engages in forms of witch hunts. (I seem to remember a recent president making this claim…)

After the museum, we took the rental car on a leisurely trip along the Essex Coastal Scenic Byway. It was a breathtaking drive, with sweeping views of the Atlantic from Massachusetts’ north coast. The towns along the way are idyllic, and the homes are right out of the pages of Better Homes and Gardens. The weather was perfect, with temperatures in the mid-70s and a slight breeze.

Being a native Californian, I don’t know much at all about the eastern seaboard. I did, however, recognize the Gorton’s Seafood fisherman in Gloucester. Gorton’s was founded in Gloucester in 1849, but their iconic fisherman didn’t appear in advertising until 1975.

*“Churning out soggy, breaded chunks of cod for over 150 years”*

We also passed a bronze statue of a mariner at the wheel that looked suspiciously like the Gorton’s fisherman. The statue is part of a memorial to sailors lost at sea since 1716, with an array of plaques listing their names. The memorial statute was installed in 1925, so clearly it was Gorton’s (with their 1975 character) that copied the memorial, and not the other way around.

:…Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses.”

Upon returning to Salem, we continued with our witch-free diversions with a visit to The House of the Seven Gables. This, of course, is the mansion that Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote of in his 1851 novel of the same name. The house was originally constructed in 1668, and by the time Hawthorne visited it in the mid-19th century, it had been remodeled so that it only had only three gables. Hawthorne thought the idea of a house of seven gables sounded more interesting than “the house of the three gables,” so he envisioned its original form when he wrote his book.

“Halfway down a by-street of one of our New England towns stands a rusty wooden house, with seven acutely peaked gables, facing towards various points of the compass, and a huge, clustered chimney in the midst.”

“*A man will commit almost any wrong … to build a great, gloomy, dark-chambered mansion, for himself to die in.*“

By the way, our Seven Gables diversion was not entirely witch-free. Nathaniel Hawthorne’s great-great-grandfather was John Hathorne (no “W”), who was a key, influential judges in the Salem witch trials. Nathaniel changed his last name from Hathorne to Hawthorne, in part to disassociate himself from his ancestor.

One final Hawthorne reference from today: The sight of this sign reminded me of Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter. Doesn’t it evoke a ledger of one’s offenses and wrongdoings?

*What have you got to say for yourself?*

And finally, speaking of signs, this local liquor store certainly sports a colorful moniker.

The place was a funeral home in the early 20th century, and during Prohibition the owner surreptitiously served liquor out of the basement. Such establishments at that time were sometimes called “bungholes” (a term related to wine barrels). After the 21st amendment was passed in 1933, the owner converted the funeral parlor to a full-scale liquor store. The nickname became the official name, providing endless amusement for visitors. (There’s also a line of tasteless merch.)

And so ends our third day in Salem. Tomorrow morning we’re off to historic “Salem Village,” aka Danvers.

BREW OF THE DAY

We found a local brewpub called East Regiment Beer Company. Established in 2014, it resides in what used to be Salem’s first fire station.The name references colonial Massachusetts’ militia, which is claimed to be the origin of the National Guard. This is a small (three-barrel) brewery, with a handful of their own beers on tap at any given time. I selected the BAF Porter.

*Puritans, witches and militias, all in one logo!*

This is a mahogany-colored brew with just the slightest hint of lacy foam at the top. On the first sip, you’re greeted with roasty and nutty flavor that washes over your tongue. You notice a mild carbonation, which is just enough to keep things interesting. It’s not a thick or heavy beer — but it’s not watery either. It strikes that ideal viscosity that a porter should have.

The finish is slightly bitter, as you’d expect from a lightly hopped beer. Overall, I’d have to say the beer is balanced. But after a few sips, it becomes clear that this beer lacks complexity. There is no play of flavors, no grace notes. Just a big glass of roasty sameness, sip after sip after sip. By the time you’re drinking the second half, you’re tired of it. Let’s give it 3.5 stars.

PS: As I was settling our account, the barkeep (Mike) pointed out a beer on tap that shares my name. “Steve’s Quality Saison” is a paean to the local “Steve’s Quality Market,” and the tap handle even has the same neon script as the signage on the store (which happens to be across the street from our hotel.) I wish I’d been aware of it when I ordered my porter!

*When was the last time you saw a neon-lighted tap handle?*

*Presumably beats Ralph’s Pretty Good Grocery in Lake Wobegon.*

Road trips · Uncategorized

A Restless Spirit on an Endless Flight

June 15, 2021June 15, 2021 steveboilard3 Comments

Yesterday’s post, in which I anticipated what today held in store, was prescient, if I do say so myself. We were indeed beset on all sides by witch imagery, and our tour guide was in fact a local college student in a period costume with a flair for hystrionics. But let’s start at the beginning.

Salem seems to have a conflicted, love-hate relationship with its witch history. On the one hand, the witch trials are understandably seen as, well, witch trials. One wonders if 300 years ago an accused witch would have decried the whole thing as a “communist hunt.” On the other hand, and in saying this I mean no ill will, Salem doesn’t really have a lot else to attract tourists. And so it is that witch imagery is omnipresent. Even the local constabulary sports the silhouette of a flying crone.

“Sweeping the streets of crime since 1692”

We started off at the Salem Witch Museum, which is as straightforward of a name as you’re going to find. We were the only two people on the tour (evidently June is their slow season). Our guide was the aforementioned young woman inclined to stagecraft who’s getting her master’s in Salem history. As she took us past barely-animated tableaux of witch trials and suchlike, she explained the sordid history, which I’ll summarize here:

In 1692, the two daughters of Salem’s new minister were found cavorting in the woods. This was frowned upon in Puritan society, so the girls offered an excuse which would become a pop culture phrase in the 1970s: “The Devil made me do it.” Indeed, they claimed that one (or sometimes a few) local witches had cast spells on them. To strengthen their case, the girls would occasionally fall into catatonic states or writhe uncontrollably. Now, in those days, witches were very much considered a thing, and the townsfolk set about the business of discovering who these witches were, and putting an end to them.

In the year and a half that followed, accusations and counter-accusations flew, and some 200 people were arrested as witches. Nineteen of them were hanged. The hysteria came to an end only when the Governor’s wife was accused of witchcraft, and the Governor decided it was time to grow up and enter the (then-dawning) 18th Century.

We then went to Salem’s Witch Dungeon Museum, which is a recreation of one of the jails (or, in the local vernacular, “gaols” where accused witches were held. They were not pleasant accommodations. And even if you were lucky enough to be acquitted, you then had to pay off your debt for the cost of food, shackles, and other provisions you had used before you could be released.

That Giles Cory was one “impressive” guy.

For a somewhat less lurid, even somber meditation on the events of 1692, we visited the (presumed) site of the hangings. For years no one was really sure where this storied “Gallows Hill” was located, but recent scholarship says it’s at a place known as Proctor’s Ledge, which sits behind the local Walgreens. A memorial was erected on the site in 2017, with the names of each of the 19 victims. (Excluded are the names of two dogs that also were hanged as witches.) (I am not making this up.)

But not all of modern Salem’s witch infrastructure is quite so gloomy. There is, for example, this brass statue of Samantha Stephens from the 1960s sitcom, “Bewitched.”

The statue was erected by TV Land in 2005, and it caused a bit of controversy. Some residents felt it showed an insensitivity towards witches…or at least toward those who were accused of being witches. “It’s a distortion of what went on,” harumphed one resident to NPR when the statue was unveiled. You think? A pretty blond witch living as a housewife in suburban 1960s America, with Paul Lynde as her wisecracking, campy uncle? Yeah, I guess that’s a distortion of what actually happened in a 17th-century Puritan community.

By the way, TV Land has erected statutes of other fictional characters in their hometowns, including Bob Hartley (Bob Newhart) in Chicago, Ralph Kramden (Jackie Gleason) at a New York bus station, Mary Richards (Mary Tyler Moore) at the same downtown Minneapolis corner where she throws her hat in the opening titles, and Andy and Opie Taylor (Andy Griffith and Ron Howard) in Raleigh, North Carolina. Sadly, Ron Howard is the only surviving member of this entire entourage.

Finally, as we were getting a little saturated with witchy things, we decided to have a fresh, cleansing experience at Salem’s….wait for it….pirate museum! After a day of witch gaols and hangings and men being crushed to death, nothing restores your faith in humanity like a bunch of displays about bloodthirsty marauders on the high seas.

Brew of the Day

It turns out most of Salem’s brew pubs are closed on Tuesday. So we tried a restaurant that was supposed to have a good beer menu. Here is said menu:

You’ll note that it’s all IPAs and lagers. Not a manly beer to be had. And for some reason, every single place we’ve been to over the past two days has PBR.

I had a margarita.

The devil made me do it.

Road trips · Uncategorized

Witch and Famous

June 14, 2021 steveboilard2 Comments

My good friend Vic and I have engaged in our share of aimless and/or pointless activities. Such as the time we had a hankering for a greasy meal from the Cracker Barrel restaurant, and we made the 550-mile drive from Sacramento to the nearest Cracker Barrel, which was in Boise, Idaho. After enjoying our meals we immediately got back in the car and returned home that same day. Vic and I have also visited the unofficial McDonald’s museum which resides inside the Juan Pollo Chicken headquarters in San Bernardino, and we flirted with the cowgirl waitress in a ten-gallon bra at the Big Texan Steak Ranch in Amarillo.

So when Vic recently observed that we were overdue for another “stupid trip,” I was all ears. (Those of you who have seen me in profile can attest to that fact.) Vic suggested that we make a pilgrimage (if you’ll pardon the expression) out to Salem, Massachusetts, home of the storied Salem Witch trials, to see what all the fuss was about. Admittedly, the fuss ended rather abruptly about 300 years ago, but growing up in California, our formal education studiously avoided any mention of events occurring before 1849. So we figured we’d correct for that oversight by listening to theater majors from North Shore Community College spin lurid, embellished tales about “The Troubles of 1692” while restlessly standing in reconstructed Colonial buildings next to a family of tourists from Minnesota wearing matching “WITCH WAY TO SALEM” shirts.

Which is why this morning we found ourselves at Sacramento Intergalactic Airport at Zero Dark Thirty. Vic and I took separate flights. This is not because we wanted to minimize the risk that the world might lose both of us in a plane crash, but because we each have frequent flier miles with different airlines.

After a day of flying, we were reunited at Boston Logan Airport (motto: “You Think Your Flight Was Long? Just Wait Til You Experience Our Rental Car Shuttles!”) just in time for a relaxing, pub-inspired dinner and a couple of brews at the Village Tavern.

Now, the thing you should know about Salem is that, like most historic towns, they really try to capitalize on their cliches. Judging from the Chamber of Commerce literature, nothing significant has happened in Salem since the late 17th century. Most businesses proudly play up their historic link with sorcery and black magic.

Anyway, we arrived too late to explore much this evening. But tomorrow I’ll be able to report on Salem’s unholy history.

BREW OF THE DAY

The Village Tavern has an extensive beer menu, but a significant portion is dedicated to the likes of Coors and PBR. However, I selected the intriguingly-named Lord Hobo Boom Sauce. (Disappointingly, it was served in a Michelob Ultra glass.)

My LHBS is a double IPA with an ABV of 7.8 percent. Lord Hobo Brewing was established in Woburn Massachusetts in 2015. It’s a decent brew, if you like IPAs. It’s piney and a little sweet, but it has almost no nose. (Those of you who have seen me in profile know that this does NOT apply to me.) It’s rather one-dimensional, uninteresting in color, and and has an aftertaste of straw. On the other hand, it has decent carbonation.

I give it 1 out of 5 stars.