Giuliana Savini
Editor-in-Chief
My mom and I took on Beantown for two days, and due to the time constraints, we planned our journey around the sites which best illustrated the city’s personality and culture.
Brattle Book Shop, 1825
Hidden in an alleyway, the Brattle Book Shop afforded me an opportunity that no other Boston site could do. It was a link to the past not through history of the location, but through what was sprawled across the pages of the 250,000 books.
I walked into the store only to be surprised by the extremely casual setup- there were books strewn in a mess everywhere, but not just any books, ones that fit the cliche of having dust fall from the pages and the edges torn and yellowed. I thought, what could be so important about something so unprotected, right? This was right after I traveled to the Museum of Fine Arts, where importance was signified by a glass casing.
But the treasure of Brattle Book Shop was discovery. If you picked up any book, you could find messages from previous holders hidden between the pages. For example, I bought a book (a whopping $10 for such an ancient item) from 1844 titled, “Counsel to Young Ladies and Young Men” by Matthew Hale Smith. It is beautiful in its outdated adages, as it gave me a sense of what it was like to be a young lady in the 19th century, “I entreat you to avoid card playing, even as a pastime. It is an amusement decidedly low” (48). Hilarious, I admit. But even more delightful was what was scrawled in faint pencil on page one,
“From my lovely father.
A.
September 10, 1844”
Tracing my fingers across the words that young girl wrote on that September day made history real for me. Up until that point, the history of Boston was distant and impersonal, and this message reminded me of the human experience, which is what really illuminates the different aspects of our history.
Even though this girl lived in 1844, I believe her base traits to be fairly similar to mine. She lived in a time where transcendental writers like Emerson were producing ideas unheard of before. Only a couple years before this message was written, Emerson produced “Self Reliance,” an essay about individuality and false consistency. I smile as I re-read this message, as I believe there to be a trace of sarcasm in her address to her “lovely father,” as no young woman wants to be stifled and domesticated as this book instructs! Maybe I am imposing my thoughts onto the girl, maybe not. My imagination with this sort of thing is how I create joy. Anyway, the threadbare texts of Brattle Book Shop showed me personality, and the fact that Boston holds this unique link to the past only makes it more enchanting in my eyes.
***If you want to feel like Nicholas Cage in “National Treasure,” venture to the third floor. Tucked into one of the shelves are two shoeboxes full of postcards from ye olde days. For only $5, you can carry away the priceless record of those past, as their full messages are written on the backs.****
Freedom Trail: Now and Then
The lives of those past are present along the Freedom Trail, which consists of 16 stopping points of American Revolutionary history. There is a brick path/red line that streaks along the sidewalks for 2.5 miles, and for a native Bostonian taking her daily walk to work, it is a constant reminder of the important action that occurred in this town over 200 years ago.
It was interesting to see how this modern city coexisted with its history. In some cases, Boston’s growth did not heed the existing landmarks, and in others, it simply continued around them without harm. For example, stop #7 was the Old Corner Book Store, which was Boston’s flourishing literary center in the mid-1800s. The works of Dickens, Tennyson, Hawthorne, Longfellow and many others were once published here. Now, it is a Mexican grill.
American capitalism at its finest. If it wasn’t for the Freedom Trail map I was following, I never would’ve noticed the green plaque representing what this building once was. Another notable loss of priceless history is the destruction of John Hancock’s house. After a series of failures to preserve monuments like these, preservation societies began to appear such as the Bostonian Society, which is responsible for saving and maintaining my favorite piece of Boston Revolutionary history, the Old State House
This building withstood the test of time by serving many different purposes. It began as a governmental building, embodying the powder keg disposition of Boston at the time. It was from that very balcony that the Declaration of Independence was read to the common mass. What I love about this building is the story it tells. The unicorn and lion statues on the top of the building represent British rule, and were burned in a riot by the people (the ones atop are replicas). And on the opposite end of the building, a gilded eagle is perched to represent American freedom and democracy. It’s architecture remains antiquated, amidst the skyscrapers it is surrounded by. A beautiful nugget of the past.
The Old State house transformed into a city hall, then a commerce center for buying and selling, then a subway station, until its final purpose was declared and preserved by the Bostonian Society– to educate and remind us of the events and people that brought about our independence.
The Freedom Trail lived up to the hype, especially at Paul Revere’s house where a live reenactment took place…
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SiUpeHAG7Zw&feature=youtu.be
Video by Giuliana Savini
Thanks mom.
Mike’s Pastry
Growing up in an Italian family in the suburbs of NYC, I’ve spent many summer evenings on Arthur Ave. Men gather on sidewalks smoking their cubans, faint accordion music travels down every alley and street, and the presence of good food and wine is everywhere. In desire for familiarity, we traveled to the North End to experience Boston’s Italian culture.
Just like on Arthur Ave, getting a dinner reservation at the local spot is virtually impossible if you don’t have the clout. Luckily we worked something out…but that’s not important…what’s important was the familiar tradition I noticed in this end. Rigid old men in black suits sat at the entrances of every restaurant, looking for paisano to converse with in Italian. Every trattoria had slabs of cured
meat hanging in the window. And there was a certain warmth to being inside a community of like-minded people. But most importantly, even on a Tuesday evening, in bitter cold and rain, the line for cannolis at Mike’s Pastry was wrapping around the block. Seeing the community gather around this cultural landmark to celebrate great people and great pastry was a beautiful thing, and it is traditions like these that give neighborhoods such a strong personality. After about 45 minutes of waiting in line, my mom and I ended the day of touring with a pair of freshly piped cannolis. Not a bad way to end a trip to Beantown.
All photos by Giuliana Savini
