Day Five - Link gets an eyeful

Day five - Saturday

Early AOP. It's amazing that a good's night sleep can erase 80 miles of wear and tear. No shade cast on either the condo from night one or the campground for the last two nights, but this was the way to do it. Duly noted for next time (Like there would actually be a next time).

*SIDE NOTE*

-This happened earlier in the trip, but for the life of me can't remember when. Maybe end of day one, beginning of day two? We had lot of local media coverage in Maine leading up to the walk. Just before leaving, Joe's hometown paper (Joe lives in New Jersey) did an article about him and the walk. Joe told us about the coverage. Went something like this. Article started of with...."Bob McHugh of...". Joe became Bob off and on for the rest of the trip, Good stuff. -

Huddle in the parking lot then we were off to the city line of Danvers. Would like to make it to the Boston town line - just about 14 miles.

John brings us to the exact spot we stopped during our walk with Elsa the day before - The Boston Sports Club. Still a very hilly climb, now I know how the Hilltop restaurant got it's name, never actually dawned on me before.

First half of the day was straight along route 1 in Saugus. This must be one of the heaviest trafficked roads in New England. As a kid going down to Red Sox games I still remember the excitement driving in the back of a car (sometimes facing backwards in a rear facing seat of a station wagon) on this stretch of divided two lane highway of cars on each side, whizzing by, bumper to bumper, usually being ably driven by my Dad or Norm Payette (Denise's dad - one of the original four), what a thrill as a kid.

Here's a prior post where I pay homage to this road and a particular memory I have of it.

https://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2021/06/the-day-we-all-grew-up-little-bit.html

Bit of a recap of this stretch -

• Decent weather compared to the 90 degree days and tropical storm we had experienced thus far. Maybe low eighties?
• Still a lot of water in the breakdown (or for us, the walking) lane
• At the top of the second or third hill we had a break for a photo op

• The Cabaret is a strip club. Don't know if it's more or less seedy than the strip club across the street - The Golden Banana. Probably splitting hairs here.
• That's me and Joe tipping Denise as she makes her best non stripper pose. Note that they are hiring dancers.
• Cars whizzing by, we are passing all of the landmarks I remember as a kid.
• Here's one you might recognize

• The aforementioned Hilltop. Alas, it is no longer a restaurant. Super busy place back in the day. Always a long wait. Place was huge, Their rooms were named after old time Western towns like Dodge City or Kansas City. My wife's family breaks into a verbal rendition of how the hosts or hostesses used to make the announcements when your table was ready (cup your hands together around your mouth and say "Pandora - table of seven in Sioux City. Actually it was more like " Pandora - table of seven in Soooooo City"). Or something like that. They do it much better.
• Miles and miles of being sandwiched between fast moving traffic and every form of retail establishments imaginable.
• Hopping puddles, sometimes walking on sidewalks, sometimes breakdown lanes, sometimes just the grass or gravel.
• Admittedly some traffic dodging.
• Did you know the nickname of the Saugus High School mascot is the Sachems.
• One - Surprised that is still being used as the mascot (look at the Cleveland Indians, Washington Redskins, etc,)
• Two - Maybe the next best choice would be the Saugus Strip Clubs.
• Three - Saying Sachems make me giggle like the teen age boy I think I still am.

                            

• We're close to the point where we get off of Route 1 for the final leg into Boston - this was the recommendation from Dave and Maria the night before . Their advice -
• Stopping at Kane's Donuts was a must do. We got a few. Ok, maybe one or two more than a few. Handsome Joe opted for a slice of pizza. Even Denise partook in the donut haul.

• The second piece of advice was that this is where we would veer off of Route 1, onto Route 99. This was the way to get to Boston if you were walking, Coincidentally, that's just what we were doing.
• This is actually the spot where we hung a right on to 99.

• This guy used to be in a miniature golf course we used to pass by when we were flying by in the car back in the 1970's. Now he sits atop and behind an enormous wall, maybe in the same location? Right about here there used to be batting cages we would some times visit on our way through, Bob , I mean, Joe and I remembered the cages being built into a natural granite wall so all of your line drives and homeruns would careen off of that granite mountainside. Good stuff when you're twelve years old,
• Route 99- less traffic, more sidewalks. Interesting part of the walk. We are now on Broadway, This is our straight shot into Boston.
• We no longer have the traffic, but we do have neighborhoods, Lots and lots of neighborhoods. And sidewalks, Sidewalks are good,
• Saugus into Melrose into Malden into Everett. Lot's of ethnicity. Asian markets, Italian food stores, Barber shops with names like Zip Zap hair salon or Razzle Dazzle Barbershop or Style Cave.
• This should give you an idea of the density of this area

• A combination of blocks of apartment buildings, cemeteries that are the only green space for blocks and the occasional plantings between the sidewalk and the side of the road.

• Not far from this idyllic shot the five of us walk past a bus stop. In it was a veteran. Perhaps homeless, sitting alone with a newspaper in his lap.
• Denise walks by, no eye contact from him. Then Pete, Joe, and Tom.
• When Link walks by, he had moved the newspaper off his lap and , let's say, gotten a little more comfortable.
• So comfortable that his, I don't know the best way to say this, his member, or penis, or rumpleforeskin, or ding dong, or tiny tim, or frank 'n beans, or flagpole (need I say more? Didn't think so), had found its way out from behind the safety of his zipper and into the fresh air of a brave new world.
• He was happy to show Link, I don't know how happy Link was to see it. Link did say he was only flying at half staff.
• Why he picked Link to do the show and tell, we don't know, but he was the chosen one.
• We tried to get Denise to go back to snap a pic, but she opted to pass. Good call.
• Walked for blocks with a few of us needing a pit stop. Popped into a few establishments, none with a public restroom.
• Things were starting to get serious.
• Finally, a sub shop , DiBlasi's, had one, but we had to go around the back and use the rear entrance in a back alley. Very grateful.
• This picture of the back door does not do justice to possibly the filthiest bathroom I've ever had the displeasure of stepping into. Not as grateful.

• A few blocks up we did a pit stop on the side of Broadway. Building we stopped in front of was the Everett Masonic Hall. Tom is a Mason. The Masons were very generous to our fundraising effort. Held a pancake breakfast with the proceeds going to us...Tom went from lodge to lodge in Greater Portland spreading the word and raising money for the cause. I think this was Tom's favorite stop of the entire trip.

• John informed us that we were five miles from the Boston city limits. We pressed on.
• Joe or John (forget which) had been speaking with WBZ (I think it was WBZ) and they wanted to do an on the road interview with us. We decided to take a break at the Encore Boston Hotel and Casino. Good spot for an interview. Huge complex just before the Mystic River which is the border of Boston.

• Made friendly with the doorman, let five sweaty walkers and one non sweaty driver hang on the benches at the entrance while we waited for the camera man to show up to do our interview. We thanked him by giving him two of our custom made koozies
• Moved away from the entrance to do the interview. We had done so much media coverage over the past week, it was getting old hat. Group always seemed to have Pete be the spokesman, which is odd because, if you remember, I've got a great face for radio. TV, not so much.
• Check this out...

• Just had a bridge to cross then another mile or so and we'd end the day. Bridge we walked over was either the Malden bridge or the Alford Street bridge. Either way, it was a drawbridge, and guess what?

• Yep. Bridge was up. Slight delay.
• Get across the bridge, over the river and we were now in Boston, Charlestown to be exact.
• Spent a minute or two discussing what the Schrafft's building was all about. Joe voted for brewery (makes sense with a name like that) I was hoping for a candy factory. Turns out it did indeed used to be a candy factory, but not for the last 35 years or so, Still, I'm claiming victory on that one. 

• Finished our walk in the shadow of Bunker Hill Community College, For those of you with any movie trivia interest, this is where Good Will Hunting was filmed.

• Done for the day. We were just about four miles from Fenway. For the first time the end actually was in sight. We were feeling good. Extremely good. Almost celebratory. But not yet. We still had one more day.
• Brief recap of the rest of our day
• John brings us back to the Champions Pub. Remember John and I went there the night before with our friends Dave and Maria? Now we had to share our favorite spot in Peabody with the other walkers. Another one of the good choices for the trip. Some version of steak tips all around (straight tips, tips subs, tips salad, tips shake - well maybe not a tips shake - and so forth and so on). We looked relieved, right?

• During our meal Joe gets a call from his older brother, David. Dave wants to know where we are, says he and his wife are in town early for tomorrow's game, maybe they can meet up with us there. Joe gives him the deets.
• David and his wife never show up, but when we go to pay our bill, we find it's already been covered. Joe's brother. Well played you sneaky bastard , well played. Another random act of kindness we were blessed with on our journey.
• Back to the hotel, showered up, and head to the lobby.
• Turns out David and his wife actually were planning on meeting up with us and do so here.
• Denise's sister Donna (who was also a big part of our pre trip planning process) also pays us a visit. Donna brought candy. Divvied amongst the six of us, just in case we felt like having a snack in our rooms. Just in case.
• There is a wedding reception going on in the hotel (yes , it was a nice place... not Tidewater Campgrounds nice but nice enough for a wedding reception).

• Pete, a little slow on the download (and I'm not blaming it on our pre-celebratory drinks we were partaking in) sees a captive audience and dispatches someone to get the Fenway for Our Fathers sign and a Jimmy Fund donation canister out on a table to see if there might be some takers.
• Turns out there were, but if we had been about an hour quicker - pre reception - we would have been raking in the dough.
• Talked to a couple of the party goers that were interested in our story, Gave them our website info, and got a few donations that way as well.
• Only John and I felt like getting some dinner so we ordered pizzas to be delivered to the lounge of the hotel. Funny, when the pizza showed up, turns out it wasn't only Pete and John that wanted dinner. We made quick work of those pizzas.
• We each headed back to our rooms, one day left, we were feeling good, Very good.
• Pete was the last one in the elevator and when he got on, rode up with two women that had some interesting pastries with them. Making small talk up in the elevator, seems these were available for the asking, if you knew who to ask.
• So...Pete rides back down, gets a platter of creme brulee and brownies, and delivers them to Tom and Joe's room, Denise either wasn't interested or I didn't think she'd be interested, so Link and I made sure the extras didn't go to waste.
• One day left. The culmination of over a year and a half of planning was upon us.

• Up next - Final day. Papa gets to get back on the field 48 years later.

The day we all grew up a little bit

 

The day we all grew up a little bit.

This is how I recall that day. Could have been 1973, or 74, or no later than 75. It was the era of our Dad’s original walk to Fenway to raise money for the Jimmy Fund.

   Some of these memories might not represent the best parenting decisions, but those were different times. Our Dads were solid guys…. upstanding citizens, and good family men. We (as kids) did not wear seatbelts…we sat in the beds of pick-up trucks…rode hundreds of miles backwards in station wagons…played outside unsupervised by our parents …ran loose in the streets, on ballfields, in the woods, and in dozens of backyards, on our own and free until the streetlights came on. Bicycles (with no helmets), skateboards, firecrackers and caps, jarts (yes, jarts - you kids can google it.), metal playgrounds – built on either asphalt or crushed rock - that would scorch you in the Summer time…it was, essentially the Wild West. And we loved it.

                       

So, picture this - 

·       Every year the Sunset Park Little League would take a bus full of Little Leaguers and coaches to a Red Sox game at Fenway Park.

o   Here is a real life photo of one of those teams, from that approximate era. I am sure a few of these kids were on this trip. I know one was for sure…and if he reads this, he should remember what is to follow in this story as well. If this picture doesn’t scream this is the 70’s, then nothing does.

·       We always sat in the left field blue wooden grandstand seats – probably section 32 or 33. The seats closest to the green Monster and the farthest from the field. Whichever one it was it was where the Red Sox drunkest (and most loyal) fans congregated. Lots of swearing and singing and colorful language was in the air in those sections. It was the most Boston”est” place in all of Boston. It was terribly thrilling for a ten- or eleven-year-old.

              

·       So, after a game that I do not remember who the Sox played, or if they won or lost, we piled in the bus for the long ride home. When you are 10 or 11, two hours is a awfully long time.

·       This is where I start remembering some of the details of the day a little clearer. Still, I cannot guarantee this is 100% accurate, but it is how I remember it.

o   First – the bus stops at the Golden Banana. If you have never heard of it, google (again with the google) the Golden Banana, it still exists. I’m sure it is a far seedier version than it was in the early 70’s…but then again, maybe not. Like I said before, different times. The Golden Banana was along a super exciting (once again, for a ten or eleven year old) stretch of Route 1 in Peabody and Saugus with famous landmarks such as the Giant cactus sign in front of the Hilltop Steakhouse restaurant, the leaning tower of “pizza” replica entrance to Prince Pizzeria , and the infamous orange dinosaur that was the showcase of the miniature golf course that you sped by on your entry into Boston. This gives you a bit of the flavor of the neighborhood.

 

o   This is where it gets a little fuzzy. Somehow, while the Dads went in to enjoy some of Boston’s Best Adult Entertainment, the kids were set free.

§  Now, we could have had a chaperone, but I am betting the chaperone was just the biggest 12-year-old on the bus.

o   The Dads must have given us some spending money because we somehow found the Bel-Aire Diner. Maybe a quarter mile down, as I’ve already mentioned, a very busy Route 1 in Saugus or Peabody MA. I do not remember any fatherly advice being dispensed, like, “We’ll meet back here in an hour” or “listen to so and so and do whatever he says” or “Don’t go across the highway”, but I am sure some must have been dispensed. This was decades before cell phones so there was no, “Give us a call if you need anything”.

 

            

o   Now picture tables full of preteen boys with some spending money at this diner. I am sure we did not have a ton of cash, but, being the early seventies, I am betting a hamburger, fries, chocolate milkshake, and a piece of pie probably would have run us about $3.00. If I did not say before, I will now, good times.

o   After our meal and feeling a little inspired by our freedom, we ambled out onto the street, I am picturing a side street that sort of runs alongside Route 1. Oh, by ambled, I mean in the opposite direction of the Golden Banana parking lot, where the bus back to Maine was parked and our Dads were being entertained. Quite an image…a pack of boys from the suburbs of Maine, all wearing their Service Oil, A & W, Haverty Buick, or Gill’s Pharmacy baseball caps (those might not be exact, but I got a few of them right).

o   I cannot swear to this but I’m picturing walking past things like junkyards with guard dogs tied up with metal chains, or piles of scrap metal behind chain link fences, or the loading docks of heavy equipment repair shops. Am I painting the picture for you?

                                

o   Anyhow, being pre-teen baseball players, we somehow sniffed out a baseball field with a game in progress. So, like moths to a flame, we went and watched. Did we ever watch. This was Boston little league baseball. Fans in the stands, players in uniform, but I will not swear I remember any grass on the field. Picture the Bad News Bears movie set in Boston and not in Southern California.

                

o   Sizing up the crowd, I’d be willing to bet that some of the fans that we were sitting with in the grandstands at Fenway were now at this game as well, or maybe it was just a coincidence that we were surrounded by Sully’s, Timmy’s, Smitty's, Mickey’s, Billy’s, and Matty’s in both places. Maybe it was also a coincidence that a lot of the language we heard at Fenway was the same language we were hearing here…and maybe it is customary to drink in the stands at little league games in Boston. Who knows, but it was the best place to be if you were looking for some excitement on a Sunday in the early seventies.

o   This is where the details blur, but I swear this happened. There was some excitement on the field, I’m sure instigated with a perceived a bad call by the ump, and things started to get a little heated. Coaches arguing with the umps, the umps arguing with the other coaches, players arguing with the other players, bat boys hollering at the other bat boys, kids sitting unattended in station wagons arguing with other unattended kids in the backs of station wagons, groups of kids and adults in clusters on the infield in one loud dispute with anyone they could get in front of, all with that awesome Boston accent…”That was a wicked bad call”…”Are you numb, he was bookin’ it to first and was safe by a mile”...”You can’t bang a U-ie on second base, that ain’t right”…”Hey ump, is that a grinder in your cup?” and other hostile type expressions that my Maine ears had never had the pleasure of hearing being strung together out loud before.

o   This was not just on the field; the crowd was getting into it as well. At that point someone, and then everyone, decided they were not letting no six-foot-high cyclone fence around the field get in the way of where the action was. Before our little South Portland eyes could believe it, anyone over the age of five was out of the stands and on the field. I did not know it had a name at the time, but this was the first time I ever saw an honest to God donnybrook. Pushing, shoving, fists flying, pig piling, shirts getting pulled over the heads, bats getting thrown, coolers used as weapons, bloody scrum. It was a bona fide melee.

                                                    

o   This was some big stuff for a bunch of kids a mile away from any adult they knew and over 100 miles from home. If anyone had told them when they were climbing on the bus on that fine Sunday morning, that this was how they were going to end their day, they would not have believed you, but not one of them would have said no thanks and not stepped on that bus.

       

o   Sorry, there is no grand finale on this, that is the last I remember of the day. A little anti climatic I know.  I don't remember how the skirmish ended, if there was an ambulance involved, or if and how many police showed up. Wish I did. Somehow, we made it back to our fathers, or perhaps they found us. None of that is important. We had survived the Great Peabody Little League Battle Royale and lived to tell all our classmates the next day, and probably the rest of the week, if not the entire Summer. As well as creating a somewhat foggy memory that I still can't shake nearly fifty years later. Thanks for allowing me the opportunity to get it in writing so now it can live on in perpetuity....or at least until the internet is still a thing.

o   Now, doesn’t that make you miss, or wish you grew up in, the 70’s?

   

                  (I had that exact same yellow bike. Probably rode it the school the day after the bus trip).