Friday, July 15
But it was one thing to threaten force against the South, long regarded as the country’s most benighted region, and quite another to marshal it against the North, home of the nation’s leading banks and corporations, its most powerful media, and the very liberals who most passionately supported the civil rights movement. For more than a decade, the federal government’s legal guns were locked into place, facing south. Only in the late sixties and early seventies did they begin to swivel and train their barrels on the hitherto exempt cities of the North.

J. Anthony Lukas, Common Ground

(And apparently it is yet another thing to incorporate the problems of civil rights in the North into its history education. This whole book is news to me.)

Did you know Ted Kennedy was once chased (~2:00) in Government Center by protestors, throwing tomatoes and breaking windows, for supporting forced busing? The announcer reports with wonderful accent: “The crowd surged toward this once-favored son. It was a strange crowd to surround a Kennedy.” This was one of the moments that inspired Lukas to write his book. He says in an interview:

I remember asking myself, “What in the world is going on when Ted Kennedy is driven to shelter by his ‘own people,’ Boston’s Irish Catholics?” When a reporter asks himself, “What in the world is going on?” that’s generally a pretty good starting place for a story — or a book. In fact, absent that kind of obsessive curiosity, I can’t produce a successful book.

N.B., in the video, tea-bagger at 1:00.

Wednesday, July 6
P1080957

Boston Pops performing somewhere nearby

One thing I have never appreciated about Boston is its zeal for order in the form of multitudes of police; which manifested itself strangely at a totally innocent Boston Pops performance (technically a rehearsal) on the 3rd of July; my friend and I, trying to catch a glimpse from outside the fences, were again and again pushed along, despite once managing to find ourselves a good vantage point behind a Tilla Cordata (and how the small space in which one wedges oneself between a tree and a fence is part of an “emergency exit” is a mystery to me).

Perhaps there is still fear of a Green Day riot of 1994 repeat, when elated Hatch shell concert-goers began tearing up flowerbeds, followed by singer Billy Armstrong, who “jumped off the stage and tore up flowers himself, and the band was cut-off mid-song and the concert canceled.”

Is there a more cowardly, shameful act, than the ripping up of flowerbeds!? I don’t know.

There is at least one case of Boston using a concert to prevent disorder. This is a funny and revealing anecdote from J. Anthony Lukas’s Common Ground: the mayor of Boston in 1968, Kevin White, at the insistence of advisers, reverses the cancellation of a James Brown concert the day after Martin Luther King, Jr. was killed. (Although the mayor apparently had no idea who James Brown was, and “kept referring to him as ‘James Washington.’”) White and his council were justly afraid of more rioting in the city, and correctly thought the concert would help.

Brown demanded the city guarantee the concert — which was poorly attended — for $60,000. White agreed.

(That is — the mayor of Boston agreed to pay James Brown $60,000.)

The night of, White appeared with Brown on stage:


    Dapper in a dark blue suit, button-down shirt, and rep tie, Kevin White ducked into the spotlight. The crowd’s response was—at best—subdued. It was the first time since King’s assassination that the Mayor had confronted a large group of blacks. […]
    Sensing the Mayor’s anxiety and the crowd’s hostility, Brown took the microphone. “Just let me say,” he assured his constituency, “I had the pleasure of meetin’ him and I said, ‘Honorable Mayor,’ and he said, ‘Look man, just call me Kevin.’ And look, this is a swingin’ cat. Okay, yeh, give him a big round of applause, ladies and gentlemen. He’s a swingin’ cat.”


A definitive mayoral testimonial if ever there were one.

P1080957

Boston Pops performing somewhere nearby

One thing I have never appreciated about Boston is its zeal for order in the form of multitudes of police; which manifested itself strangely at a totally innocent Boston Pops performance (technically a rehearsal) on the 3rd of July; my friend and I, trying to catch a glimpse from outside the fences, were again and again pushed along, despite once managing to find ourselves a good vantage point behind a Tilla Cordata (and how the small space in which one wedges oneself between a tree and a fence is part of an “emergency exit” is a mystery to me).

Perhaps there is still fear of a Green Day riot of 1994 repeat, when elated Hatch shell concert-goers began tearing up flowerbeds, followed by singer Billy Armstrong, who “jumped off the stage and tore up flowers himself, and the band was cut-off mid-song and the concert canceled.”

Is there a more cowardly, shameful act, than the ripping up of flowerbeds!? I don’t know.

There is at least one case of Boston using a concert to prevent disorder. This is a funny and revealing anecdote from J. Anthony Lukas’s Common Ground: the mayor of Boston in 1968, Kevin White, at the insistence of advisers, reverses the cancellation of a James Brown concert the day after Martin Luther King, Jr. was killed. (Although the mayor apparently had no idea who James Brown was, and “kept referring to him as ‘James Washington.’”) White and his council were justly afraid of more rioting in the city, and correctly thought the concert would help.

Brown demanded the city guarantee the concert — which was poorly attended — for $60,000. White agreed.

(That is — the mayor of Boston agreed to pay James Brown $60,000.)

The night of, White appeared with Brown on stage:

  Dapper in a dark blue suit, button-down shirt, and rep tie, Kevin White ducked into the spotlight. The crowd’s response was—at best—subdued. It was the first time since King’s assassination that the Mayor had confronted a large group of blacks. […]

  Sensing the Mayor’s anxiety and the crowd’s hostility, Brown took the microphone. “Just let me say,” he assured his constituency, “I had the pleasure of meetin’ him and I said, ‘Honorable Mayor,’ and he said, ‘Look man, just call me Kevin.’ And look, this is a swingin’ cat. Okay, yeh, give him a big round of applause, ladies and gentlemen. He’s a swingin’ cat.”

A definitive mayoral testimonial if ever there were one.

Monday, July 4
P1080994

85817 days ago, at Boston’s old State House, “fellow patriot Sheriff William Greenleaf attempted to read [the Declaration of Independence] from the balcony, but he could only muster a whisper. Col. Crafts then stood next to the sheriff and read it from the balcony in a stentorian tone.”

Boston today continues the tradition of mumbling the Declaration (following closer in spirit the whispering Sheriff than the stentor) — though on the wrong date, and there is a disturbing absence of burning lions and unicorns.

P1080994

85817 days ago, at Boston’s old State House, “fellow patriot Sheriff William Greenleaf attempted to read [the Declaration of Independence] from the balcony, but he could only muster a whisper. Col. Crafts then stood next to the sheriff and read it from the balcony in a stentorian tone.”

Boston today continues the tradition of mumbling the Declaration (following closer in spirit the whispering Sheriff than the stentor) — though on the wrong date, and there is a disturbing absence of burning lions and unicorns.

Saturday, November 14
View of Boston from the banks of the Charles River, 1957 (via Nick DeWolf Photo Archive)

Wow! There’s a hill there.

View of Boston from the banks of the Charles River, 1957 (via Nick DeWolf Photo Archive)

Wow! There’s a hill there.

Tuesday, October 13

  Brutalized in Boston
  
  Boston City Hall
  
  Sledgehammers would be satisfying but it would take a million Red Sox fans swinging a million sledgehammers a million years to erase this building, and then you’d have a vast pile of broken rocks and race of super-strong Red Sox fans on your hands. That’s poured concrete, of course, tough concrete and masonry. It took five years from groundbreaking (September 18, 1963) to dedication (February 10, 1969) to pour this rough-edged concrete, the kind of concrete that shows the rough vertical form-marks on purpose, sweater-snagging Brutalism, concrete not friendly to tender fingertips or to the eye.


I liked this essay by Walt Lockley about one of the ugliest buildings and city spaces I’ve ever seen. How did a design competition go so wrong? How did it get voted, in a poll of historians and architects, the sixth greatest building in American history? (No, these questions aren’t answered.)

Brutalized in Boston

Boston City Hall

Sledgehammers would be satisfying but it would take a million Red Sox fans swinging a million sledgehammers a million years to erase this building, and then you’d have a vast pile of broken rocks and race of super-strong Red Sox fans on your hands. That’s poured concrete, of course, tough concrete and masonry. It took five years from groundbreaking (September 18, 1963) to dedication (February 10, 1969) to pour this rough-edged concrete, the kind of concrete that shows the rough vertical form-marks on purpose, sweater-snagging Brutalism, concrete not friendly to tender fingertips or to the eye.

I liked this essay by Walt Lockley about one of the ugliest buildings and city spaces I’ve ever seen. How did a design competition go so wrong? How did it get voted, in a poll of historians and architects, the sixth greatest building in American history? (No, these questions aren’t answered.)

Thursday, June 11

Things I Wouldn’t Have Guessed About Boston

Ho Chi Minh worked here briefly as a baker.