Yee-Haw!

Ropin 'n' riding, bulls 'n' broncs in Vermont's Green Mountains

By Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent | August 13, 2006

CASTLETON, Vt. -- Handmade road signs for the day's big event greeted us as we turned off Route 4: ``Hubbardton Battlefield -- 7 miles," they read.

It was what you might expect to find in a small New England town: rich Colonial history in the form of a Revolutionary War re enactment. But we hadn't driven four hours to watch muskets being fired in mock anger.

Heck no -- we were going to the rodeo!

Specifically, the Pond Hill Pro Rodeo, the only weekly rodeo in New England, complete with bucking broncos, bull riding, calf roping, barrel races, and plenty of cowboys crying ``Yee-haw !"

At least that's what I imagined they would yell .

In truth, we didn't know what to expect from a Vermont rodeo. It's not as if you hear about fall foliage tours in Oklahoma, after all.

And we had our doubts. ``Does anyone go to this thing?" my companion, Laura, asked as we snaked up a long, desolate, dirt road just beyond Castleton center on our way to Pond Hill Ranch. ``I guess we'll find out," I shrugged.

But Pond Hill, a 2,000-acre working ranch surrounded by the Green Mountain National Forest in west central Vermont, did not disappoint us. Harry and Josephine O'Rourke started hosting Saturday night rodeos during the summer 35 years ago at the suggestion of a friend. Today, their five children -- Harry, Colleen, Judy, Debbie, and Dickie -- run the show, a 2-hour extravaganza with lots of cowboys, nearly 100 riders, prize money, rodeo clowns, cotton candy, and colorful calls by announcer Don Martin as bull riders get tossed with great regularity.

``The sport of bull riding -- I call it eight seconds of sheer terror!" Martin exclaimed over the loudspeaker system as a 1,500-pound bull raced out of the gate, his rider flailing atop him, briefly. ``One point eight. One point eight seconds for that cowboy! Let's give him a nice hand anyway!"

Pickup trucks start pouring into the parking lot around 6:30 each Saturday night from July through Labor Day. Lights perched on scrawny poles blink on, and by the 8 p.m. starting time, anywhere from 500 to 1,500 spectators, mostly blue-collar locals, take their seats on metal bleachers alongside the rectangular dirt ring.

The scene is reminiscent of a high school football field on a Friday night, except for the country music blaring from the speakers, the omnipresent smell of manure, and the fact that just about everyone is dressed in sequined, Western-style shirts, leather boots, and/or cowboy hats.

I looked at Laura's summer dress while she glanced at my cargo shorts and sneakers. We sure didn't look like we belonged.

But New England cowboys are an inviting crowd. Harry O'Rourke explained the seven traditional rodeo events on the program; Pond Hill's rodeo is sanctioned by both the American Professional Rodeo Association and the International Professional Rodeo Association and is one of the oldest weekly events in the country. Then he walked us over to the bull holding pen.

``Bulls are judged on their bucking ability," he said, looking over the herd. ``You may have a bull that may be the orneriest or the meanest one in the pen, but if he don't perform as a bucking bull, he don't score that well. The harder they are to ride, the more valuable they are to us."

Martin, a former rodeo rider who turned to announcing 17 years ago, asked if I knew where the first unionized professional rodeo was held. He surprised me with the answer: Boston Garden, 1936. He talked about just how hard the life of a rodeo cowboy can be. They spend months traveling a circuit, often stopping in a town for a single night before traveling hundreds of miles to their next competition. The top finishers in each event at Pond Hill share a few hundred dollars in prize money, while the rest get nothing but bumps and bruises.

It's a low-pay, physically grinding, and, sometimes glorious profession, said bull rider Robby Shriver, of Georgia, an old man in the sport at 29.

``If you've got the wrong bull, it's like flying in an airplane and someone shoving a ton of bricks out the plane, with a 40-foot cord attached to you. When it [pulls] that cord, you're out the plane, too," Shriver said. ``But when you've got the right bull and the right timing, there's no better feeling than having little babies to grandmothers just laughing. That's how I get high. And it don't cost nothing, other than my body."

It wasn't long before we got to see what Shriver was talking about. As a glowing peach moon began setting over the panoramic Adirondacks to the west -- and I wondered whether we were closer to Montpelier or Montana -- Martin took his spot in the announcer's booth and called forth the traditional ``Grand Entry."

As twangy music played, a cavalcade of nearly 90 riders on horseback emerged from an open gate. Led by Harry and Dickie O'Rourke, the finely dressed men and women (you could see the ironed creases on their shirts) circled the dirt ring in various patterns, tipping their hats to the crowd. The last to emerge was Judy O'Rourke, a Miss America on a horse, with a sparkling red, white, and blue outfit and a staff with a giant American flag in her hand.

The opening event was bull riding, with Shriver leading off. Having drawn bull No. 60 -- bulls are assigned to contestants at random, and if you get a bad one, yep, you've drawn a bum steer -- Shriver climbed into Gate 2 at the end of the ring. His goal? Stay on top of the beast for eight seconds, the length of an official qualifying ride.

The gate burst open and out leaped big No. 60, thrashing up, down, back and forth, his massive head jerking about as Shriver held on with a single hand. One second passed. Two seconds. The crowd began to roar. Three seconds. Four. The bull ricocheted left, then right, then left again, with Shriver somehow staying on. Five. Six. ``Come on , Robby! Come on!" I yelled. Seven! Eight! Buzzer!

Shriver slid off as fast as he could and scampered away as Harry O'Rourke and a pair of clowns stepped in to corral the raging bull.

``I tell you what, ladies and gentlemen. That was a double hard bull to ride," called Martin. ``That bull made more moves than I've ever seen one make. I don't know how a man can keep his composure and stay on. But Robby Shriver did that."

Over the course of the next few hours, we were hooked. We cheered with the crowd, soaked in the smell of fried dough , and joked about how much money it would take for us to climb aboard a raging bull. Shriver's ride seemed all the more impressive as a succession of other bull riders were thrown after just two or three seconds. One bull rammed his rider into the chain link fence as he bucked him off. Holding his arm as if it were broken, the cowboy jogged to the ambulance parked outside the gate as we nervously applauded his effort.

Another bull was so wild it leaped up while still in the pen, its front hooves pushing on the gate as if it were dog pushing a door. The cowboys inside appeared to get out safely.

With nearly 100 contestants to fit in, there were few breaks in the action. Calf roping came next, followed by steer wrestling, women's barrel racing, women's break away roping, team roping, and bareback bronc riding.

At half time, a synchronized riding drill team took the ring. By the end of the night, we had watched so many riders that, even from our city slicker perspective, we could tell a good ride from a bad one.

Unlike many of the fans in the stands, we didn't know the rodeo was a BYOB event. But that was just as well. The ride up and the length of the rodeo (it ended at 10:45 p.m.) made for a long, but entertaining, day.

``We get just about more bull riders here on a Saturday night than just about anywhere in the country," Martin told the crowd as another unlucky contestant was sent flying. ``This cowboy came all the way out of Mississippi, and all he's going to take back is a little bit of this Castleton sand."

Contact Peter DeMarco at demarco@globe.com.

Red right arrows

Who taught YOU to drive?
The red arrow blues
By Peter DeMarco

Reader Cynthia Finney (cq) of Brookline wrote to us last week with this plea: “Can you please inform the reading public that a red arrow does not mean that you can turn on red.”

“When one is stopped on Commonwealth Avenue outbound turning right onto the B.U. Bridge, there is a red arrow indicating a stop. Drivers behind me honk and curse because I wait for the green arrow,” she wrote.

“This also happens on the other side of Commonwealth (inbound) where one turns to loop over the Pike to cross the B.U. Bridge into Cambridge as well,” read her letter. “In both cases there are pedestrians to be considered, and in the first case, other traffic that has the right of way. Isn’t a red arrow another way of saying no turn on red?”

Well, that’s what I would have said, Cynthia. Whether I stop at those lights, or another red arrow traffic light, I wait it out. But it’s my job to interview the traffic experts, not necessarily to be one. And so I called Sgt. Larry Fitzgerald, (cq) traffic supervisor for the Brookline Police Department, for the definitive answer.

THE LAW SAYS …

Surprise, Cynthia: we’re both wrong.

“The bottom line answer is that unless there’s a sign prohibiting a turn, it’s just another red light,” Fitzgerald said. “We have one on Brookline Ave. There’s a lot of people who think they have to stay stopped. They don’t proceed because they don’t realize it’s no different from a regular right on red.”

The Registry of Motor Vehicle’s driver’s handbook says as much.

“A steady red arrow means the same as a steady red, circular signal,” the manual says. “The same rules for ‘turning on red’ apply.”

Fitzgerald said red arrows are often found at intersections that see heavy pedestrian traffic, such as those near the B.U. Bridge. Pedestrians still have the right of way at those intersections, but turns are allowed when the roadway is clear.

Red arrows became prevalent in the 1960s and 1970s after state officials gave up on the old “steady red and yellow” traffic light combination, which also required drivers to stop for pedestrians before making a right-hand turn.

“People didn’t stop for red and yellow because they weren’t afraid of pedestrians,” Fitzgerald said.

The red arrow, by contrast, has been so effective that it often results in the other extreme: drivers refuse to turn at all, even when being honked at.

As straight-forward as the red arrow rules are (now that we know them!), two caveats still apply.

You can’t turn right if a sign is posted forbidding you to do so. When I drove through the intersections Cynthia mentioned in her letter, I noticed a “No turn on red” sign where Commonwealth Avenue meets the B.U. Bridge. (To be fair, I can see how she might have missed it, as the sign appears on just one of the two traffic signals at that intersection.)

The other caveat? “The law says drivers may turn. It doesn’t say shall. It says may,” Fitzgerald says. So if you don’t feel it’s prudent to turn right at a red arrow, just wait until you see green.

- 30

The Moon, the stars, but no electricity

Inside Scoop: For the first time in about a year I had some real errors in a story. They weren't huge ones but put together, all four of them sure make me feel like I had egg on my face. Two of them were the result of a bad phone connection during an interview. I thought the guy said fox tail, not "box turtle", and baby trail, not "Bay View" trail. But I still should have doubled checked these things with the sanctuary. The errors in mileage are still baffling to me, as I did a Mapquest for Alexandria and I was just there in April. Just careless reporting. A reader sent me a pretty nasty e-mail, asking me for proof of this exotic "fox tail turtle" species. He had every right to blast me, but he was really condescending in his letter. Live and learn - and pay closer attention.

Camping on the Cape

By Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent | June 4, 2006

(Correction: Because of reporting errors, a story about camping on Cape Cod in Sunday's Explore New England section gave incorrect distances from North Truro to East Falmouth and Alexandria, Va. The distances are 60 miles and approximately 520 miles, respectively. Also, a quotation about Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary by Rick Longley should have read that box turtles inhabit the sanctuary and that the Bay View trail is less used.)

TRURO -- The entrance road to North of Highland campground is rutty, barren , and very, very dark at night. Were you to pull over in your car and shut off every light, the stars in the sky are all you would see.

Which is just what Jacqueline and John Ford do when they arrive.

The Fords carve out a week each summer to go camping on Cape Cod with their teenage sons, Matthew and Michael. Leisurely hours spent reading under a favorite pine, jogs along dune-strewn beaches, and foosball showdowns in the camp recreation room fill their days. But the moments spent sitting in silence watching the stars are the most peaceful, by far.

``It's incredibly dark. Darker than anywhere else you would see in New England," said Jacqueline, a Milford native who now lives in Virginia. ``If we're coming in late at night, we just sit there and say, `Let's see how dark it gets.' "

Crowded clam shacks, even more crowded beaches, and endless traffic delays are the norm for multitudes of Cape Cod vacationers who accept that scenery and sun come with a price. But for others, escaping to the Cape truly does mean escaping it all -- electricity included.

From Sandwich to Wellfleet, thousands of campers pitch their tents on sandy bluffs and forested grounds each summer. Are there mosquitoes? Sure. Rain? Always a chance. But the flip side, campers say, is grand: less hassle, less hustle, and all at a cost far less than what hotel and motel dwellers pay .

Giant Nickerson State Park, with 420 sites, is perhaps the best-known campground on the Cape. (Badly damaged by a fierce wind storm in December, it reopened May 22.) But look further and you'll find campsites in wildlife sanctuaries, on islands, and, while not directly on beaches, just steps away from them.

Alexandra Lancaster and her husband have kayaked to Washburn Island off East Falmouth for some 20 years, setting up camp in one of a dozen sites maintained by the Department of Conservation and Recreation that are accessible only by boat.

Some of them are so secluded you can't see anyone else , Lancaster says. Most of them sit up on bluffs overlooking the shore, with private paths to the beach.

``No matter what site you're at, the moon comes up just for you," said Lancaster, who digs clams from the island's beach for dinner stews. ``One summer we went in early June and there was not a soul out there. The sun came up in the morning and it was shining right in our tent. We looked out and the water was as flat as can be. You're like, `Man, people pay a lot of money to do this.' "

How much do the Lancasters actually pay to camp on Washburn? Eight dollars a night.

Rick Longley's camping heaven is located about 10 miles farther out on the Cape, where deer, foxtail turtles, and fiddler crabs roam inside the Massachusetts Audubon Society's Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary.

Longley's father, an avid bird -watcher, began taking the family camping there in the early 1960s. They returned almost annually for the next 30 years .

``It's a sanctuary in every sense of the word," Longley said. ``When you go down the trails you go through three or four coastal environments -- ponds, a hardwood forest, traditional beachfront. They're very careful about keeping it wild. If the public does come in, they tend to use one set of trails. Even now, the one new trail, the baby trail, you almost never see anyone on it. "

Nickerson and North of Highland campgrounds can't match Washburn or Wellfleet's tranquillity. But they are homey, rustic, relaxing places nonetheless, with fresh water ponds, hiking trails, bicycle paths, and hundreds of campsites .

``I'm a medical intensive -care nurse and educator at Brigham and Women's Hospital. Nickerson State Park has always been a place I go to kind of fill my cup," said Barbara Grady, who hangs a hammock at her campsite overlooking Flax Pond .

Grady's family embraced Cape camping decades ago. Her mother, Barbara MacLeod, 83, still camps with her every summer; Grady's granddaughter, Meghan Grady, now works in Nickerson's front office.

``There's a group of campers who go every year. You get to know each other. It becomes your summer home," Grady said. ``A lot of people use the park as the starting point to go to Monomoy Island, the Audubon sanctuary, Provincetown. I get a sticker so I can drive out in the dunes in Orleans."

North of Highland was built by owner Steve Currier's parents, Malcolm and Evelyn, who were regular tent campers at Nickerson before opening their own park just a half mile from Head of the Meadow Beach in 1954. Seven years later, President Kennedy established the 43,608-acre Cape Cod National Seashore, which surrounds the campground.

``You can't actually tell where they begin and where we end, which is beautiful," said Currier, pointing to brown picnic tables scattered among pine trees, some of which are his, others, the federal government's. ``You'd be surprised at how many campers tell me, `Don't asphalt the roads.' They like an old dirt road so they can play boccie or whatever on it."

The Fords drive about 1,500 miles from their home in Alexandria, Va., to camp at the park, but even that doesn't quite explain their passion for the place.

Jacqueline, a country and western singer, is so enamored by Currier's campground she's written a song about being there. (``The children awake, and the place is abuzz / And the rain disappears, as the sun comes up / And the bikes are rolling, down a sandy path / On the playground, you can hear the children laugh / On a campground in Truro, Cape Cod.")

Once inside the park, John hates to leave.

``There are days there when I don't want to venture out of the park. I know we need food, but gosh, I don't want to do it," he said. ``It really is that peaceful."

Contact Peter DeMarco, a freelance writer in Somerville, at demarco@globe.com.

Brace yourself for a toothsome treat

Inside Scoop: I had tons of fun with this one, except for the ribs,
which I just don't like no matter who makes them. Laura helped
me out there. I'm still craving another Bukowski burger. How can
that not have been written about before?
Next hop: another healthy one - French Fries!

Table Hopping, City Weekly

For 15 months , I'd been one of those adults with braces (I had a bad grinding problem ). But now that they're off, I can sink my teeth into any food I want -- the stickier and chewier, the better. No more cutting my pizza with a knife and fork; no more passing on the salt water taffy; no more forsaking a thick sub for the soup de jour. And so, this week we turn to foods that give your pearly whites a workout. If only caramel apples were in season.

Bukowski's Tavern
1281 Cambridge St.
Inman Square, Cambridge
617-497-7077 and
50 Dalton St., Boston
617-437-9999

Bukowski's peanut butter burger sounds like something Homer Simpson might dream of, but it's a real menu item -- and shockingly good. ``We sell about a dozen a week. It's very, very rich," says bar manager Max Toste. ``We have a few diehards that add bacon. It's kind of like an Elvis burger then." Bukowski's chefs lather up a 6-ounce burger with chunky peanut butter just before taking it off the grill, so the peanut butter is gooey, not runny. Lettuce, tomato, and onion go on top. I was a bit afraid taking my first bite -- a normal reaction, Toste assured me -- but the reward was instant, as the peanut butter's creaminess melded wonderfully with the juicy beef. I might even try one on the grill at home. ($8)

Big Moe's BBQ Ribs
200 Geneva Ave.,
Dorchester
617-306-0788

When I asked my orthodontist what food I should now tear into, he shot back, ``Ribs, of course," as if there could be no other answer. So I made my way to Big Moe's rib truck, a Columbia Avenue institution for 23 years. Big Moe Maurice Hill now parks his silver kitchen-on-wheels in a vacant lot on Geneva Avenue. His wife, Marian, has also retired from the business, handing over her duties to their daughter, Leona, and grandson, Giovanni. But they turn out the same juicy, not-quite-lean pork and beef ribs, served in aluminum containers with Big Moe's own special, tangy sauce. The collard greens, candied yams , and sweet potato pies are all homemade too.

Fornax Bread Company27 Corinth St., Roslindale617-325-8852My grandmother chewed crusty Italian bread to keep her teeth strong (she still has them at 94), so fresh bakery bread was high on my hit list. Fornax didn't disappoint. I took home a thin, crusty white bread called sfilatino, which was shaped like a baguette but, to my pleasure, was so tough I had to flex muscles to rip it apart. Fornax's sandwiches looked so good I also ordered a roasted veggie on multigrain bread. Brimming with caramelized onions, bell peppers, roasted eggplant, and hummus, it was as chewy and flavorful as I'd hoped. ($7)

Café Nicholas
1632 Beacon St.
Washington Square, Brookline
617-739-1114

Chicago-style deep-dish pizza is no longer listed on the menu at Café Nicholas. It's all about thin crusts these days, says owner Nick Chicos , but you can still ask for it. However, you'd better be hungry. For the café's version, the cooks top a layer of dough with sauce, cheese, and toppings, such as mushrooms or shaved sirloin steak. Then they add another layer of dough, another layer of sauce, and another layer of cheese. ``It's really almost like eating a pizza sandwich," says Chicos, who runs his homey pizzeria with his mother, Christina. I ordered the smallest size, a 8-inch personal pie with a golden-brown crust, and still took half of it home. But oh, was it good. ($5.50, with topping )

Dairy Fresh Candies
57 Salem St., North End
800-336-5536

With hundreds of hand-packed half-pound bags of candy and nuts at your fingertips -- from peanut brittle to pine nuts to Mary Jane s -- Dairy Fresh Candies is the place to go if you're craving something sticky and sweet. Like I wasn't going to eat a chocolate-covered pecan caramel turtle the minute I got my braces off. ``It's probably our most popular item," says owner Danny DiMare, who's worked at the store since he was 11 years old. A true North End shop, Dairy Fresh caters to local tastes, stocking chewy Italian ``torrone" nougat squares, imported black licorice, and dried, crunchy chickpeas.

Jasper White's Summer Shack
50 Dalton St.
Boston
617-867-9955 and
149 Alewife Brook Parkway
Cambridge
617-520-9500

I saved the best for last -- that ultimate summer treat, corn on the cob. Trouble is, this early in the season, it's next to impossible to find an ear. Enter Jasper's, which serves steamed corn with its traditional clambake dinners even on the coldest January day. Florida and California growers meet the demand in the winter, but starting this month , Jasp er's corn will be local again, with Verrill Farm in Concord sending over more than 100 ears a day. Last summer, with my braces on, I had to trim the kernels off with a knife. Settling into a seat at Jasp er's bar last week, I suffered no such indignity, gobbling a lightly buttered ear, type writer style, with unrestrained joy. ($3)

PETER DeMARCO

If you have a tip about a restaurant, bakery, or other eatery, contact us at tablehopping@globe.com

Driving Col. No. 3

Who taught YOU to drive?

“Tailgating”

By Peter DeMarco

If the person in front of you is driving too slowly, well, God help them.

That’s the punch line, more or less, for every joke about Boston drivers who tailgate. And the jokes are endless.

“’The Push’ is a simple maneuver that kindly tells the snail in front of you: "Hey, get out of the way,” reads the driving humor website www.Masshole.net. “To utilize The Push, drive up behind the offending vehicle and apply pressure. Your distance should be such that you can hear what radio station they are listening to. The Push can be accompanied by flashing headlights during night driving to increase effectiveness.”

Statistics on tailgating are hard to come by. But Charles McGowan, (cq) a former hearings officer for the Registry of Motor Vehicles who’s spent the past 20 years as an attorney specializing in motor-vehicle related law, says tailgating-related accidents are commonplace. “It’s a Boston sport,” he says. “I think most people do it subconsciously.”

But what, exactly, constitutes tailgating? Is it enough to stay a full car length behind someone? Two car lengths? What if you’re in heavy traffic? And what’s the punishment if you’re caught?

THE LAW SAYS …

Tailgating is both unsafe and illegal, says Officer Michael McCarthy, (cq) a Boston Police Department spokesman. But it’s also highly subjective.

“There’s not an exact definition. Like, here’s the law that says you have to be X amount of feet behind someone,” he says. “It depends on the road conditions, speed. If you’re bumper to bumper in traffic, you’re going to be up close to someone. The general rule of thumb in the city is that you should be able to see the bottom of the tires of the car in front of you. Even in traffic.”

The AARP tells members to abide by the “Three-Second Rule.” Pick a landmark – a building, street sign or telephone pole. When the car in front of you passes the landmark, start counting. If you reach the landmark in your car before counting to three, you’re driving too closely.

Another guideline says you should allow a car length’s distance for every 10 miles of speed. For example, if you’re driving 50 M.P.H., the gap between you and the next car should be five car lengths long.

The experienced Boston driver, no doubt, will find flaws with such guidelines. People tailgate to prevent other drivers from pulling in front of them. By staying back, what’s to stop others from filling the gap and slowing you down?

The answer, McGowan says, is nothing. But the consequences of tailgating are serious – especially road rage - and if you rear-end someone, you are almost always at fault. The police, meanwhile, can charge you with a number of violations, from the rather innocuous “Following too Closely”, which carries a $35 fine, to criminal charges of driving to endanger.

- 30

Banging a U-ie

The Inside Scoop: Well, you learn something every day. Like, I break the law just about every time I turn the ignition key. U-turns are more illegal than I ever dreamed. At least my shortcut through the Korner Konvenience parking lot (got to love the use of the "K") is legal. Though I do feel guilty about never, ever buying anything from there.

Who taught YOU to drive?

U-Turns

By Peter DeMarco

Like a lot of Boston drivers I don’t think twice about making a U-turn. Whether I’ve missed my street, or I’m stuck in traffic with a clear escape route in sight, I just bang a U-ie and all is well again.

Even on Massachusetts Avenue, where signs clearly state that U-turns are not allowed, I’ve figured out a way. Spotting my favorite convenience store, I put on my left turning signal and pull into the parking lot. But instead of continuing into a parking space, I make a semi-circle and scoot out the parking lot’s second curb cut, putting my car back on Mass Ave. in the direction I want to be.

The best part about my little convenience store U-turn? It’s totally legal.

Well, I think it is.

In truth, I always check to see whether a police cruiser is parked in the church across the street before I make my move. If I’m feeling particularly paranoid, I might even pull into a parking spot for 10 seconds, then back out, as if I’ve thought better about buying a Herald.

Which leads us to this week’s topic: Just when is a U-turn legal? The law is pretty clear when “No U-Turn” signs are posted, but does that mean they’re legal at all other times? Can you cross a double yellow line while making a U-turn? Can you use a convenience store parking lot as an accessory?

And if you’re hopelessly stuck in traffic – gee, when does that ever happen? - do the same rules apply?

THE LAW SAYS …

For answers I headed straight to the Registry of Motor Vehicles’ driver’s handbook, where the section on U-turns contains the following sentence:

“Unless a NO U-TURN sign is posted, you are allowed to make a U-turn as long as your path is clear and it is safe to do so.” (cq)

Case closed, right? Not exactly, I soon found out.

Unfortunately, the RMV driver’s handbook isn’t accurate, said Lieutentant Jack Albert, (cq) traffic commander for the Cambridge Police Department.

According to Massachusetts General Law, regardless of the situation, you CAN NOT make a U-turn over a single or double yellow line. The thinking is that it’s often dangerous to do so. And while a U-turn saves you time, other drivers may have to slow down or stop to allow you to turn, which isn’t fair to them.

Albert couldn’t explain why the RMV handbook doesn’t say this. “It’s bizarre,” he said. But confusion is pretty much a given when it comes to U-turns, he added.

“When you stop people (for making a U-turn) they definitely have that look on their face – ‘What did I do?’” he said. “They say, ‘I wasn’t aware of it. I thought it was only illegal when it a sign was posted.’ So I would say a lot of people aren’t aware of the law.”

Amie O’Hearn, (cq) director of public relations for the Registry of Motor Vehicles, said that the driver’s handbook is an evolving document and agreed that the section on U-turns might need to be rewritten to make the rules more clear.

“That’s interesting that you bring this up,” she said. “The U-turn is something that drivers are always worried about. You’re out there driving – should I do it? Should I not? It is something that leaves a doubt in your mind. I will definitely mention this to the driver’s manual committee.”

The fine for an illegal U-turn, Albert says, depends upon what offense the officer decides to charge you with. Failure to yield to oncoming traffic carries a $35 fine; a U-turn violation on a state highway such as Mass. Ave, which is also Route 2A, is a $20 penalty; making a U-turn in a business district in Cambridge violates a city bylaw and will cost you $50.

As for my convenience store U-turn - “The Boston Driver’s Handbook: Wild in the Streets,” by Ira Gershkoff (cq) and Richard Trachtman, (cq) says my maneuver works just as well at gas stations – Albert just shrugged.

“You’re not impeding the flow of traffic,” he said. “I don’t think anybody is going to fault you for that.”

- 30

Dark chocolate - yeah, it's a tough job

The Inside Scoop: To set the record straight, I did work for this story. Though eating chocolate is pretty much the easiest work there is. Anyway, the Gelateria was awesome. Reminded me so much of Florence, when I was 20 and could eat gelato three times a day without ever thinking twice. (Ah, to be young again.) Cardullo's was really neat. I had no idea so many chocolate bars even existed. My buddy Mark, fresh back from Iraq, downed bakalava with me. Always good to share the sweets. But Laura made out by getting the chocolate lab, which to my knowledge she still hasn't eaten because it's too cute.

By Peter DeMarco

Globe Correspondent

Chocolate is the safest of standbys when it comes to Mother’s Day gifts. But what if, this year, you got Mom dark chocolate? More pure and bitter than milk chocolate, dark chocolate is soaring in popularity based on reports of its positive health effects. (A certain antioxidant in cocoa may help lower blood pressure, studies say.) Found in everything from ice cream to dark chocolate baklava (see below!), dark chocolate’s unique, rich taste stands out no matter where it’s found. But don’t just take our word for it – find out what Mom thinks.

Cardullo’s
6 Brattle St.
Harvard Square
617-491-8888

For a primer on the vast world of dark chocolate I headed to Cardullo’s, home to 1,000 different chocolate bars, the widest selection in the city. “It’s what we’re best known for,” says head buyer Jamie Kubik. I began with Chocolat Bonnat, (cq) an expensive ($7.49) French bar whose high percentage (75 percent) of cocoa yields a nice bitter taste. Next came a rich-smelling Dolfin brand Belgium chocolate bar infused with – surprise - Earl Grey tea. My favorite, however, was the “Black Pearl Bar,” a wild combination of ginger, wasabi, black sesame seed and dark chocolate made by Vosges of Belgium. For those who can’t decide, Kubik designs dark chocolate bar gift baskets with enough variety to suit any mother’s craving. ($50)

Gelateria
272 Hanover St
Boston
617-720-4243

Fashioned after a traditional Italian gelateria, Frank DePasquale’s hip gelato shop is breezy, bright and modern, with video screens on a wall showing clips of gelato being made. Glass counter cases are filled with a rainbow of varieties – 50 in all - including cioccolato, a pure dark-chocolate creation, and bacio, a yummy, slightly crunchy hazelnut and dark chocolate mixture. “Our gelatos have between 3 and 6 percent butterfat,” says head gelato maker Giovanni Gagliotta. “We make them without eggs. No heavy cream. No butter. They’re not like ice cream. They’re much lighter.” Try three flavors for $3.75, or, for an extra dollar, have your gelato served Sicilian style in a brioche bun.

Café Nation
380 Washington St.
Brighton
617-783-4514

I love watching crepes being made, so I hovered near the counter at Café Nation as my server ladled three scoops of Ghirardelli dark chocolate bits onto the batter and scattered sliced strawberries on top. “It’s very simple,” says co-owner Alvin Tsang about his popular dark chocolate and fresh strawberry crepe. “Just the two flavors melted together.” Café Nation serves a host of crepes for breakfast, lunch and snacking, with ingredients ranging from crab to California barbeque chicken to, of course, dark chocolate. Chocoholics on the run can also grab an iced mint chip latte, iced mocha or iced black and white mocha, all made with a Ghirardelli dark chocolate sauce.

Beacon Hill Chocolates
92 B Pinkney St.
Beacon Hill
617-725-1900

If chocolate makes you smile, wait until you see Beacon Hill Chocolates’ dark chocolate lab truffles. Shaped like tiny Labrador puppies, they have ears and tails made of almonds and miniature chocolate snouts and feet. They are, in my girlfriend’s estimation, “the cutest things ever.” Paula Barth opened her old-world-style chocolate shop on the corner of Charles Street just last month. She’s already built a following with her high-end imports, which include both fun shapes (dogs, cats, dominos, ice cream cones) and catchy flavors (chili pepper, champagne, peanut butter) from Belgium and Oregon chocolatiers. Individual pieces are $2.25 to $2.75, or by the pound for $49.95.

Athan's European Bakery
1621 Beacon St.
Brookline
617-734-7028

And

407 Washington St.
Brighton
617-783-0313

I almost can’t recall all of Athan’s dark chocolate offerings, from cookies to gelato to dark chocolate-covered candied figs to homemade Jamaica dark chocolate sponge cake layered with sweet dark cherries. But the bakery’s dark chocolate baklava had to be my favorite. Made the traditional way with buttered filo dough and syrup, each piece is rolled into a cigar-size tube with a strip of melted Belgium Callebaut dark chocolate in the center. Do I really need to tell you how good it is? No mother should have to settle for one heavenly vice when she can have two in every bite. ($9 a pound, or about 80 cents per piece.)

The Independent
75 Union Square
Somerville
617-440-6022

Head chef Paul Oberhauser keeps a bar of super fine dark chocolate in the kitchen just for himself, so his desserts are bound to be dark chocolate extravaganzas. “Dark chocolate adds more of a purity to the flavor,” says Oberhauser, an admitted addict. “When you start with a more pure chocolate, you have more control with your food.” His Callebaut dark chocolate pudding cup, topped with a spoonful of creamy dolce con leche and served with a butter cookie (his grandmother’s recipe) will arguably satisfy Mom’s most dire dark chocolate craving. She’ll be surprised at how sweet it tastes, too. Oberhauser’s flourless chocolate raspberry torte, meanwhile, makes a fine backup choice. ($7 each)

The Boston Left - Driving Col. No. 1

This week’s Traffic Stumper is the infamous “Boston Left.” Or should we say, the ambiguous Boston Left. Depending whom you ask, the Boston Left is one of two driving maneuvers.

According to “The Boston Driver’s Handbook: Wild in the Streets,” you’re making a Boston Left when you come to a T-intersection and you pull out into the right-bound side, thereby blocking traffic, while waiting for an opening in the traffic on the left-bound side. This move often involves crossing a yellow line of some sort as well as angering the drivers you’ve cut off.

Others say you’re making a Boston Left when you’re the first car in line at a red light and you gun the engine to turn left as soon as the light turns green. If you’re cutting off oncoming traffic in the process – or narrowly avoiding an accident - so be it.

No matter how you define it, you’re breaking the law, says Lt. Jack Albert, (cq) traffic commander for the Cambridge Police Department.

“The rule of thumb is you can’t block the free flow of traffic. You’re failing to yield to the oncoming vehicle, which has the right of way,” Albert says. “You should yield until you’re either signaled by the oncoming driver that he’s letting you go, or you wait until the intersection is clear.”

Albert says his officers routinely cite drivers for making Boston Lefts at the intersection of Prospect Street and Massachusetts Avenue. The fine? $35, according to state law.

Traffic column begins

The Inside Scoop: So I got recruited to write this traffic tips column. I wasn't quite sure it would work but, writing this post a few weeks after this story ran, I'm pleasantly surprised how many people are writing in with comments about their traffic hang-ups. The key is getting the police to talk, which as always takes about 10 phone calls, depending on which department you try. (Some are better than others, though with such as easy topic as this, I shouldn't have to jump through hoops.) Whatever. They're helping and it's working out.

It's a jungle on Boston's mean streets.

Care to play by the actual rules?

By Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent | May 14, 2006

The first rule of the road in Boston couldn't be more clear: Get there as fast as possible.

Rule two: Blow by as many people and cars as you can. Rule three: Ignore everything -- yield signs, bumbling pedestrians, cracks in the earth's crust releasing molten lava -- that gets in the way of rules one and two.

Which is -- all together now -- to get there as fast as possible.

OK, OK. Aggressive driving isn't an actual rule, but it does describe, with embarrassing accuracy, how Bostonians often act behind the wheel.

Which is precisely why City Weekly is herewith launching, for your amusement and possible edification, a weekly column exploring the age-old mysteries of driving in the Athens of America.

Have we forgotten the real rules, as found in the Registry of Motor Vehicles' driver's handbook or Chapter 89 of the Massachusetts General Laws, the ''Law of the Road"?

Did we know them in the first place?

''The rules of the road say who should do what in a given situation," says Mark Raisman, proprietor of Colonial Auto School in Jamaica Plain. ''The question is, who will follow them? You've got a population that thinks they've got the right of way all the time."

Count this writer among the masses. After 15 years of Boston driving, I've developed my own little mantra: Everyone else on the road is a jerk. Depending on just how badly I've been cut off while merging onto Storrow Drive, I've been known to replace the word jerk with a far more unpleasant term.

The sociologist in all of us might ask, ''Why have we become this way?" After all, we weren't born knowing how to drive a car, let alone drive one aggressively. The students who graduate from Raisman's school are courteous drivers. They respect the rules. Rumor has it, they even use their directionals.

Some blame the cows who wandered around Boston centuries ago, carving out the city's crooked and thus difficult-to-drive streets in the process.

Art Kinsman, spokesman for AAA Southern New England, says the problem is of more recent creation.

''Over the past 25 years, there has only been approximately a 5 percent increase in lane miles, where there has been probably a 125 percent increase in the number of autos on the road," he says. ''That's a national stat, but it can apply here. Even with the new Central Artery, for the most part, we're driving on a functionally obsolete road system that was built in the '50s or '60s and is trying to handle 2006 traffic."

Ira Gershkoff, coauthor of the humor book ''The Boston Driver's Handbook: Wild in the Streets," says that Boston drivers are so conditioned to witnessing bad driving that it becomes the norm.

''If something is illegal, or a bad practice, do we know it? Probably so," he says. ''One time in traffic I went to the breakdown lane, zoomed to the front, and sort of weaseled my way back into the front of the line. I said to the person sitting next to me, 'Don't you hate people who do this?' I think we do know it's wrong, but it becomes second nature after a while."

Of course, many drivers embrace the stereotype of the bad Boston driver, claiming no one in the country is crazier than we are at navigating cars from Point A to Point B. This column, and the ones that will succeed it each week, won't promote that belief. In fact, based on recent driving statistics, it's not at all clear that we're as bad on the roads as we're cracked up to be.

According to the Registry of Motor Vehicles, the number of citations issued in Boston for failing to stop has dived from 27,000 in 2000 to 14,000 in 2005. Speeding violations dropped from 21,000 to about 6,000, though it's unclear whether that means fewer drivers were speeding, or whether police were de-emphasizing traffic enforcement.

Massachusetts leads the nation in car accidents per 100 drivers. The national average is 3.97 a year; we're at 7.33, according to 2003 data collected by the Insurance Research Council. But Chris Goetcheus, spokesman for the state's Division of Insurance, argues that a small number of drivers are to blame.

''In June of 2004 we found that 54.1 percent of Boston residents had no accidents or moving violations on their record in the previous six years," he says, citing his most recent figures. ''That's pretty good."

But pretty good isn't good enough. And it certainly isn't great. Which brings us back to the purpose of this column: a week-by-week review of the rules as they're actually written, explained to us by driving instructors, police officers, crossing guards, and the like.

Why review the rules now? Well, for the past few months, state legislators have been debating the merits of increasing the minimum driving age to 17 1/2, thinking that our youngest drivers may be too reckless.

Our own view: A lot of us drive too aggressively for our own good. Clarifying the rules couldn't hurt, right?

I'd be a hypocrite if I told you I obey all the rules we'll be covering in upcoming weeks, dealing with everything from U-turns to jaywalking to funeral procession etiquette.

In fact, I'm sure that on some of them, I'll be the first to be enlightened.

Now, if I can just remember to use my directionals.

Dark chocolate madness

I can't publish my dark chocolate column here until Sunday, but it's a goodie. Three words to nibble on: dark chocolate baklava!

Hitting the links

Like I said, the joggling stories made national and even international headlines. Here are a few links, mostly to copycat stories.

Pittsburgh Post Gazette: http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/06113/684347-139.stm

Charleston Daily Mail (nice, original reporting): http://dailymail.com/news/News/2006042031/

NPR (Host Debbie Elliott says "Now I've heard one of you is the better runner and one of you is the better juggler." Gee, wonder where she heard that?) http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5345156

Columbus Dispatch (they used my story. Does that mean I get a royalty?)
http://www.columbusdispatch.com/sports-story.php?story
=dispatch/2006/04/17/20060417-D2-01.html

Laura's blog
http://www.bostonist.com/archives/2006/04/18/
a_view_of_the_marathon.php

CNN (Kapral gave the Globe a shout-out)
http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/0604/20/lol.03.html

SI's Pete McEntegart, a buddy, linked my story to the 10 spot
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2006/writers/pete_
mcentegart/04/13/ten.spot/index.html

Harvard Crimson, with some nice original reporting
http://www.marathonguide.com/news/newsviewer.cfm?src=
http%3A%2F%2Fwww%2Ethecrimson
%2Ecom%2Farticle%2Easpx%3Fref%3D512893

I love history

The Inside Scoop: Like I said, I love these kinds of stories. Civil War diary discovered in the family attic. Written by a thoughtful, ex-slave-turned-soldier. Unfortunately, I had a tough time writing the piece, mainly because it could have been twice as long as it is. (A Globe South version I wrote was longer.) Also, I was spent after coming back from California and just didn't have the energy for this one. Still, the deadline didn't wait. It came out fine. The inside story on this one is that the Globe photo desk rejected the photo assignment to shoot the guy at the ceremony. It was the day after the marathon and apparently lots of photogs took the day off. That's understandable. What I still can't fathom is why they wouldn't accept the photos I took. I was kind of miffed they cancelled the assignment (how can you have a feature without a photo!) so I took my camera and shot photos like I did at Salem and Malden. Not boasting, but the photo here of Bill Gould is a lot better than the one the historical society took. But we had to use THEIR photo, because freelancers can't take photos. I dunno. It was just rotten journalism. Don't use the better photo. I'm still miffed, as you can tell.

Freedom and glory: The diary of an ex-slave
Descendant gives Union sailor's entries to historical society

By Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent | April 23, 2006

The voice, clear and commanding, was Boston-born Bill Gould's. But the words he spoke were those of his great-grandfather, William Benjamin Gould, an escaped African-American slave who joined the Union Navy and kept a daily diary of his incredible passage to freedom.

''The next cruise that she makes will be for Uncle Samuel," Gould read aloud, intimating Petty Officer Gould's pride upon commandeering a Confederate vessel in 1864.

''Came to anchor at four bells," he continued, from an 1863 passage. ''Read the Articles of War. Also the Proclamation of Emancipation. Very good."

''This is a passage that I like in particular," Gould said before donating the 144-year-old diary, possibly the only one of its kind, to the Massachusetts Historical Society on Tuesday. The date was April 15, 1865. The war, and slavery, were about to end.

''On my return on board I heard the glad tidings," he read, ''that the Stars and Stripes had been planted over the capitol of the defeated confederacy by the invincible Grant. While we honor the living soldiers who have done so much, we must not forget to whisper for fear of disturbing the glorious sleep of the many who have fallen, martyrs to the cause of right and equality."

The diary, begun in 1862, was discovered in 1958, when Bill Gould's father, William B. Gould III, stumbled upon it while cleaning out the attic of the family's home in East Dedham, where William Benjamin Gould became a building contractor and community pillar after the Civil War.

Some chapters, unfortunately, were thrown out by accident. But the sections that remain -- hundreds of pages detailing Gould's wartime adventures to the day of his discharge at the Charlestown Navy Yard in 1865 -- provide an invaluable account of an African-American who joined the Union military months before Colonel Robert Gould Shaw recruited blacks for his fabled 54th Massachusetts Infantry.

The ex-slave's words are eloquent; his thoughts, considerate; his penmanship, extraordinary. On top of that, he had quite a life.

Bill Gould, a Stanford law professor who headed the National Labor Relations Board in the Clinton administration, has made researching the yellowed journal his life's passion. In 2002 he published a detailed book about the diary, ''Diary of a Contraband: The Civil War Passage of a Black Sailor." Wanting to share the diary with even more readers, he contacted the historical society.

Gould, whose full name is William Benjamin Gould IV, returned to Boston to throw out the first pitch at Fenway Park during ''Jackie Robinson Day" last weekend. (Though Gould grew up in New Jersey he is a life-long Red Sox fan.) On Tuesday he officially gifted the diary to the society, which will have portions on public display throughout the summer.

''The diary has taught me that I really got a lucky chance in life," he said. ''He was able to persevere under the most adverse circumstances. Escaping from slavery, serving under difficult circumstances during the war at sea, facing real bullets, then forging his own way on the basis of a craft. Hero is an overused term these days, particularly since 2001. But it seems to me that he fits this word very well."

Zach rules!

THE JUGGLERS

Record-setter Warren had a ball with this one

By Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent | April 18, 2006

Juggling three yellow balls each step of the way, Harvard Divinity School student Zach Warren shattered his world record in the obscure sport of joggling -- running while juggling -- with a sub-three-hour finish in yesterday's Boston Marathon.

Eliciting cheers of ''Jog-gler, Jog-gler," some laughter, and his share of quizzical looks as he ran, Warren crossed the finish line in 2 hours 58 minutes and 23 seconds. His time was nearly nine minutes faster than the record he set in November at the Philadelphia Marathon of 3:07:05.

Warren bested his only competition, Canadian Michal Kapral, who held the record in marathon joggling before Warren. Kapral set a personal best of 3:06:45 while juggling three red balls.

The jogglers ran side by side until Warren pulled ahead around Mile 15. He literally never looked back.

''I wanted to turn my head and look, but I couldn't," said Warren. ''I had to just focus on the balls."

Jim Brusstar, a representative of the International Sport Juggling Federation, said the jogglers appeared to run clean races, meaning they took no more than two steps at any time without juggling. Still, his group plans on reviewing race video to verify the results.

Warren finished 911th overall, and Kapral finished 1,761st.

It was the first marathon on record in which two jogglers competed head to head, according to sport officials.

''I was happy with my time, but Zach just took off at the hills," said the 33-year-old Kapral. ''That guy is incredible."

''Having Michal there with me was such a blessing," said Warren, 24. ''It made it so much more fun for those first few miles. Toward the end I got lonely, to be honest."

Warren and Kapral were running to raise money for children's charities (unicycle4kids.org and rememberliane.com). They plan on a rematch in September's Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon.

The Inside Scoop: So, he did it. Kind of unbelievable, if you stop to think about it. And the best part is Zach smiled the entire way. Laura and I caught him around mile 17, where he was about 5 steps in front of Michal. Then we hopped the subway and literally raced Zach to the finish line. As we slogged on the Green Line, he ran 10 miles. We beat him by 3 minutes! He almost beat us while joggling! He cruised in faster than I couldn't get to the media viewing area, so Laura and I ran through the crowd to Copley to catch a glimpse of him along the sidelines. Good thing I saw those yellow balls in the air. Of course, we had no idea whether Kapral had finished. We hung around and he showed up about 9 minutes later. I met him right after the finish line (thanks to my media pass) and he jabbed away for like 20 minutes with me. This after running a marathon in almost 3 hours. Zach was in pretty good shape - not great, but pretty good - when he met us at the family waiting area, where Kapral's wife Dianne was hanging out. Zach had no one waiting for him -- no family or friends -- except for me. But at least they got to see him in the paper the next day. The sports editors apparently liked the first story because they gave "The Jugglers" a nice corner page. Again, very proud to get this kind of story in the paper. And this time, I got their charity websites, too. (Matthew J. Lee photo)

A Joggling Breakthrough!

The Inside Scoop: This story came out great on so many levels. One, it put Zach on the national map. Appearing on the cover of the Sports section (my first section front there), it got picked up by more than 500 newspapers worldwide and probably hundreds of TV stations. CNN, NPR, CBS, ESPN and others interviewed Zach and Michal about their joggling showdown. It appears that this may be the first legitmate joggling story to appear in a major newspaper (that's what the joggling folks intimated, at least.) That, of course, makes me estatic. I love breaking new ground and shedding light on people/topics that never, never, never see the light of day in the mainstream media. I guess the only bummer is that I didn't get much credit. Amazingly, more than a dozen websites I've read quote my story verbatim and DON'T credit the Boston Globe, let alone me. Just how they have the scruples to do this, I don't know. Even when I worked for the Daily News Express in NYC, we credited our sources, even if it was just to say "wire reports." But we really did use wire reports! In this case, people - hundreds - just stole from the Globe. And me. Which wouldn't matter except that I don't get paid anything more. Is this what Limewire feels like to musicians? Anyway, the other bummer, which in the grand scheme is the greater bummer, is that few media outlets even mentioned the charities these guys are running for. I was so upset with myself for not getting in the websites for the charities. Had I, maybe more donations would have come in. I spoke with Kapral before the race: despite all the publicity, he'd only raised $1,000 for the race. That is so sad. PS - speaking of giving credit, it's Domenic Chavez's photo.













110TH BOSTON MARATHON

Juggling for 26.2 miles -- it 'joggles' the mind

By Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent | April 12, 2006

Michal Kapral is the better runner. Pushing his 20-month-old daughter, Annika, in a stroller, he ran the Toronto marathon in 2 hours 49 minutes. With no baby in tow, his personal best is 2:32.

Zach Warren is the better juggler. Bowling pins, knives, and torches are all child's play to him. He can juggle while riding a unicycle; he can juggle while blindfolded.

On Marathon Monday, the two men will take their positions at the starting line in Hopkinton in what may prove to be one of the most curious showdowns in race history. Warren, a Harvard Divinity School student, is the current world record-holder in the obscure sport of marathon ''joggling," the official term for juggling while running. The man he stole the title from? That would be Kapral.

In the 20-odd-year history of joggling, two jogglers have never run the same marathon -- until now.

Warren, 24, and Kapral, 33, of Toronto, plan on running side by side, each juggling three bean-filled balls, for 20 or even 25 miles of the Boston race. From that point on, it'll be a sprint to the finish. May the best joggler win.

''It was a sort of a joke when I first started doing it," says Kapral, an editor for Westford-based Captivate Network, which operates electronic news boards found in elevators. ''But after doing it for hours and hours and miles and miles, I appreciate it as a truly beautiful sport. There's something poetic about it. When you get into a good groove and you see the balls flying in front of you, it really is poetry. You're a little moving circus."

''The way I figure," says Warren, a West Virginia native, ''if you're running a marathon, you're already in pain. Why not have a little fun while you're doing it? After all, laughter is an antidote."

Warren eclipsed Kapral's record by 41 seconds at the Philadelphia Marathon in November, finishing in 3:07:05. Competing head-to-head, the two hope to break three hours in Boston -- assuming Kapral doesn't lose a ball in the jostle at the starting line, or a bug doesn't fly into Warren's eye, as happened in his last race.

''It's not that people haven't joggled marathons before," says Bill Giduz, who helped coin the term ''joggling" in the early 1980s and is one of the sport's leading advocates. ''But these guys are the fastest yet. It would be wonderful if we have a photo finish. One could win by a ball."

The official story

According to joggling rules, Warren and Kapral can't take more than two steps without juggling. If someone drops a ball, he has to stop, go to the spot where he dropped it, and resume running from there.

About 800 runners in the United States identify themselves as jogglers, says Albert Lucas, co-founder of the Tampa-based International Sport Juggling Federation. Fewer than 100 of those runners are marathoners, Lucas says, making Monday's competition the most anticipated joggling event of the year.

''We'll have officials there," says Lucas, who himself holds the record for joggling the most marathons (12) without dropping a ball. ''Whoever crosses the finish line, we'll be able to certify them on the spot."

Jack Fleming, communications director for the Boston Athletic Association, says there are no rules against juggling during the race, just as there are no restrictions against running it backwards, in bare feet, wearing military gear, or dressed as Elvis.

''For some, the marathon is not enough," says Fleming. ''It needs to be more. 'How can we add a layer?' Some people might purely add that layer by trying to run as fast as possible. These guys are trying to add a layer by adding complexity."

While juggling and running may appear to have little in common, a juggler's arms sway back and forth almost exactly like a runner's. When throws are timed correctly, the motion is practically seamless, jogglers say.

''As long as you see where the ball peaks, you can usually position your hand to catch it; after a while it becomes natural," says Warren, who first tinkered with the sport in college, when he would relax before a big track meet by juggling on the sidelines.

Kapral, one of Canada's best marathoners, began joggling a little more than a year ago, after setting the Guinness world record for ''fastest marathon for pushing a baby in a stroller" in 2004.

''Everyone was asking me what I was going to do the next year," to top that," says Kapral. ''I'm not a juggler. I was dropping balls every three seconds at the beginning. Eventually, I could run an hour without dropping them. It's amazing what you can train yourself to do."

Kapral shattered the old world record by 13 minutes in the first marathon he ever joggled, the 2005 Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon. Warren broke that record two months later while joggling his first marathon, the Philadelphia Marathon.

The challenge of Boston

The elements likely will play a large role in determining which man will take Boston. Kapral, the weaker juggler, says he struggled during the Toronto marathon because it was so humid.

''Toward the end of it, I was just covered in stickiness and was dropping the balls," he said ''Once I kicked it, too, by accident."

Kapral's juggling skills will also be tested while he fights his way through the sea of runners at the beginning of the race.

''When you're in a pack, you slow down because you're worried about dropping them," says Gil Pontius, 41, a Clark University professor who joggled the 1998 Boston Marathon in 4:35. ''I was in a close pack in the first 10 miles. I didn't want to lose a ball and have someone fall on it and trip and break an ankle."

But should Monday be a dry and windless day, the odds will favor the stronger runner, jogglers say. In this case, that is clearly Kapral, who won Toronto's marathon in 2002 and was the top Canadian finisher in the Boston Marathon that same year.

Warren, the local favorite, acknowledges that his competition will be stiff and that he is less prepared than he could be.

''I've been training for a unicycle record, not a running record," said the second-year graduate student, who two weeks ago attempted to ride the most miles on a unicycle in a single hour, only to fall short when a wheel bolt broke during his attempt in Fargo, N.D.

''We'll be running cooperatively for a certain period of time -- maybe 20 miles, maybe 25," Warren says. ''Then at some point, someone's going to turn on the fire. Mostly likely it's going to be him. So make sure you take your pictures before that point."

Kapral says it's anyone's race.

''Zach is incredibly talented, obviously," says Kapral. ''He broke my record. I'm certainly not going to brush him aside."

Beyond setting a world record, the two jogglers will be running to raise money for children's charities. Kapral is raising donations for the Toronto charity ''A Run For Liane," whose goal is to build a cancer research center, while Warren is trying to raise $10,000 for the Afghan Mobile Mini-Circus for Children, a Kabul-based group for which he volunteers as a juggling and unicycle instructor.

By sticking together most of the way, Kapral and Warren figure to attract twice as much attention to their causes.

They'll certainly turn twice as many heads.

''With joggling, I get a whole variety of reactions," says Warren. ''Complete laughter. Sometimes, like, absurd laughter. I hear people say, 'You know, if you drop one, you have to go back to the starting line.' Or 'Don't blink!' Some people say 'You're absurd,' or 'I wish I could do that.' And some say, 'Now, you're just showing off.' "

What's up, doc? Carrot-centric dishes

The Inside Scoop: Keeping up with my tradition of picking the absolutely hardest foods on the planet to find, I picked carrots this week. The Indian dish was really, really good. But I had to go to two restaurants to find a good one, as the first restaurant's version tasted like shoe leather. The chocolate carrot cake was really a disappointment, though I didn't write that. The problem was you could barely even see the carrot shards, let alone taste them. But I really liked the baker and his tiny shop, so I kept it in there. Plus, it was different, albeit only in name. Common Ground was out there - something out of Lord of the Rings. I had no idea it was run by a religious group. Their pizza looked good. Alas, no carrot pizza.

TABLE HOPPING, April 9, 2006

In honor of the Easter Bunny, this week's Table Hopping is all about -- you guessed it -- carrots. Sure, they make your eyesight better. But carrots are also an extremely versatile cooking ingredient, present in soups, sweets, salads, stir-frys, breads and many more dishes. Bushy tail or not, the following carrot-centric dishes should impress.

Gandhi Restaurant
704 Mass Ave., Cambridge
617-491-1104

Natives of India's Panjab region refer to gajaar ka halwa as carrot cake, but it's really more like a warm and moist carrot brownie. The dessert is hard to find in Boston, but Jarnel Singh, head cook at Gandhi in Central Square for more than 20 years, makes it just right. Pouring shredded carrots, spices, and milk into a saucepan, he adds in minced pistachios, almonds, cashews, and Indian pistachios (they're long and brown) for a nutty flavor. Sugar and ghee make the brownies sweet and almost creamy. I might have ordered seconds were it not so rich ($2.50).

Well, Well, Well . . .
23 Dartmouth St., Boston
617-945-3500

''An experiment that worked" is how Well, Well, Well . . . owner Cornelia Hoskin describes organic carrots marsala, one of a few dozen gourmet frozen meals available at her South End takeout store. Cooking up fresh carrots from Busa Farm in Lexington, she drenches them in marsala wine, adds fresh black pepper, kosher salt, and a bit of onion and sugar, then flash freezes them. ''It just sort of sprung from chicken marsala," she says about her sweet side dish. ''You're wondering, 'Hmm . . . what would marsala go well with?' " Regulars pair an order ($9.99) with lemon broccoli chicken, lime cilantro swordfish kebabs, or veggie Barcelona, another homemade, carrot-laden dish.

New England Soup Factory
2-4 Brookline Place, Brookline Village
617-739-1899

Marjorie Druker likes lots of foods, but she worships carrots. ''Some people may think of them as a mundane, everyday vegetable. But really, they're like royalty," says the Soup Factory's head chef and owner. Her carrot, honey, and ginger soup, introduced Friday, is simply regal. Made with crème fresh, ''the jaguar of sour cream," she says, the dish is zesty, almost like a yellow curry, but far smoother. Druker makes several carrot soups throughout the year, including carrot and roasted leek, but this one's her favorite. ''Carrots and honey together -- it's like saying peanut butter and jelly," she gushes ($5.50/pint).

Sweet Finnish
761 Centre St., Jamaica Plain
617-522-5200

Flecks of carrots add both color and taste to Sweet Finnish's ''porkkanaleipa," the tongue-twisting Finnish name for carrot bread. ''We're big on big words," jokes Ulla Monestime, a Finnish native who opened her Internet bakery café on bustling Centre Street two years ago. Made with oats and wheat flour, porkkanaleipa is a hardy but tasty bread, and, well, slightly unusual. Monestime credits her mother with the recipe, noting that carrot bread is common across Finland. Request it in one of Sweet Finnish's turkey or ham sandwiches, or, for $5, try a loaf.

Blue Frog Bakery
3 Green St., Jamaica Plain
617-983-3764

Brad Brown bakes a classic carrot cake in his tiny side-street bakery, but his chocolate carrot cake is what turns heads. ''We're the only people I know of who make it," says the Toronto native, who brought the recipe with him from Canada. ''People have been making chocolate cake with (a variety of) things for a long time. My mom made chocolate zucchini cake. Anything to make the cake more moist." Brown's triple-layer chocolate carrot cake is heavy on the chocolate and light on the carrots. Still, the little orange shreds leave a nice carrot aftertaste.

Common Ground
2243 Dorchester Ave.,Dorchester Lower Mills
617-298-1020

Vitamins practically coursed through my veins as I slurped a glass of freshly squeezed carrot juice from Common Ground's juice bar one afternoon last week. The yummy frosted carrot cake I had for dessert wasn't nearly as nutritious, but, seeing as how it was made with organic carrots, organic flour and honey instead of sugar, my guilt was kept to a minimum. ''We serve things that are wholesome," says manager Nezer Aldokhi. Even Common Ground's pizzas, made with easy-to-digest spelt crust, have a healthy flair to them.

PETER DEMARCO

A mighty sticky wicket

The Inside Scoop: Flashback to the summer of 2000. Me. In Bed-Sty. The coach looks down the bench and waves me in. But it's not a baseball game: it's cricket. And I am the only non-Jamaican on the field. I wrote about my cricket tryout for the New York Times' Weekend Warrior section, not my best work but a great lead. So when Thomasine Berg pitched this story to me, I knew the subject cold. The main character was very very talkative -- any other reporter wouldn't have been as patient. But I'm glad he took me seriously and this was his moment in the sun. So I listened. And transcribed. And transcribed. And transcribed...

A cricket player takes his place serving the Red Sox faithful

By Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent | April 9, 2006

On his first evening in Boston as a freshman at Boston University, Marty Ray looked out the window of his Warren Towers dormitory room and saw the light.

It came from across the Massachusetts Turnpike, and it glowed above the rooftops.

''Is that some sort of stadium?" he asked the resident assistant on his floor.

She told him it was Fenway Park, where the Red Sox play, of course.

Ray looked at her. ''Who are the Red Sox?" he asked.

Eight years later, as Ray tells the tale, he mindlessly fidgets with the giant gold and diamond-studded ring on his finger. It's one of those Red Sox World Series Championship rings that all the players and Sox staffers got after the 2004 season. His last name is engraved on it.

As meteoric rises go, this one is up there. When Amartya ''Marty" Ray, an ace cricket player from Calcutta, moved here in 1998 to attend college, he didn't even know what a home run was. Today, at age 26, he is coordinator of fan and neighborhood services for the Red Sox.

For the past week he's been on overdrive, attending to 100 or so details for Tuesday's home Opening Day ceremonies, from the jet flyover to the proper placement of flags to the proofreading of public address announcer Carl Beane's script.

In 2003, he manned the phones the day after the Red Sox fell to the Yankees, logging complaint after complaint. The following year he drove the World Series trophy to towns across the Commonwealth, strapped safely next to him in the passenger's seat.

He knows how late into the night general manager Theo Epstein works because Ray usually works 60, 70, or 80 hours a week, too.

''Growing up in India I knew baseball was a sport," he says. ''I knew the Yankees were 'the best team.' Cal Ripken Jr. and Ken Griffey Jr. -- those were the players who were most famous. But I didn't even know what teams they played for. I didn't even know who the Red Sox were."

Like other boys in India, Ray grew up addicted to cricket, the British game in which batters hit bounced pitches with flat bats and run back and forth between two posts to tally runs.

In high school, Ray started for Calcutta's all-city junior team, one of 40 boys in a city of 8 million to make the squad. He had serious hopes of a professional career until a rotator cuff injury forced him to quit the sport his senior year. With cricket no longer an option, Ray opted for college in Boston, returning to America for the first time since he was a young child. (Ray's parents moved from Philadelphia to their native India when Ray was 4.)

That first night on campus, he wandered to Fenway Park, bought a standing-room-only ticket, and found a spot behind the third base grandstands. But he had no idea what he was watching.

''The natural tendency was to compare it to cricket," he says. ''My first thought was, 'This is odd. This is very odd.' The field has weird dimensions. The foul balls didn't make any sense to me. Then I thought, 'What's up with the gloves? They can't catch a ball with their bare hands?' "

But with Sox fans everywhere he turned, at school and in Kenmore Square, Ray couldn't help but start to pick up the sport.

He learned the rules, learned the lore -- by the time he attended his next game, Ray knew who Ted Williams was and ''that the Red Sox had sold Babe Ruth" -- and fell in love with baseball's strategies, which, though different from those of cricket, felt familiar.

His transformation from baseball foreigner to fan became complete in October 1999, when the Red Sox beat the Cleveland Indians in a must-win playoff game.

''Pedro Martinez came out of the bullpen and pitched six innings of shutout ball. It was one of those life-changing games," he says. By 5 the next morning Ray was in line outside Fenway Park with hundreds more crazed fans desperate for tickets. ''I was hooked."

The next summer Ray spotted an advertisement looking for Red Sox ''Fan Ambassadors," and sent in his resume. He was one of 25 people, from a pool of 3,800 candidates, picked for the job.

Working nights and weekends, he did everything, from helping first-time fans find their way to the park to forwarding autograph requests to ushering fans through the park during Williams's memorial service.

By 2003 he was working full time at Fenway, assisting team president/CEO Larry Lucchino and other Sox brass when called upon. The following summer he was put in charge of writing the daily pregame script, the one that begins ''Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls . . ."

''I was talking to the Major League Baseball guys during the World Series and they were like, 'When has an Indian guy ever written a script for the World Series?' " Ray says with pride.

''It's the biggest stage of anything. It's like writing scripts for the Super Bowl. They were like 'Well, even if it has happened, it hasn't happened that much.' "

The Sox victory and parade -- which Ray helped plan -- were whirlwind experiences, he says.

By the time he finished the trophy tour, accompanying the hardware to 79 communities, Ray was a full-fledged member of Red Sox Nation. He now dreams of one day becoming the first Indian CEO of a baseball team.

So, after all Ray's seen and done, which would he choose: cricket or baseball?

Ray laughs when asked the question. Cricket will always be his first love, he says. But baseball, it turns out, is his life.

''I think I have to spend as many years in baseball as I did in cricket -- at least 18 years -- to really answer that," he says.

''Then we'll see what happens."

As funny as his captions

The Inside Scoop: Bob Mancoff was terrific to talk to for the sidebar. I wish I could have snuck more of his quotes into the story, especially his quip about the one caption that always works no matter what the cartoon: "He's an asshole." Funny stuff

The road to victory comes with a twist

What separates a winning New Yorker cartoon caption from thousands of also-rans?

Originality is important, but great captions go beyond that, says Bob Mankoff, the magazine's cartoon editor for nearly a decade.

Diction, tone, quirkiness, and pacing all play their part; the ideal caption shouldn't be too wordy or make the reader work too hard to get the joke.

Above all, the caption has to surprise.

If you can cover the last few words of the caption with your hand and guess them anyway, the joke's commonplace, Mankoff says.

''The Far Side" nature of a number of the New Yorker's contest cartoons -- dogs speak, accountants fly like Superman, and monster-wheel trucks squash string orchestras -- requires a dash of twisted thinking as well.

''What's interesting is there are many, many smart people who look at these pictures which need captions. People who I'm sure scored, especially in the Boston area, high on their SATs, who for the life of them couldn't come up with something," Mankoff said. ''You really have to tap into some sort of fantasy -- not logical, but having its own logic -- to come up with the caption."

The New Yorker's cartoons, he says, are ''little artificial wind-up toys that create some tension that is resolved in the punch line or the caption. 'A secretary in a pool of her own blood.' It's just a play frame. We don't have to put a lot together to understand it."

As for who wins the weekly contests, however, Mankoff can't offer much.

Entrants submit only their names and hometowns along with their captions (''We do get complete criminal records on them," he joked.)

But in this age of blogs and reality television, where participation in the media is greater than ever before, Mankoff assumes they're from all walks of life.

''There's not that bright a line sometimes between people who choose, unfortunately, a career in medicine rather than cartooning," he quipped.

''Maybe we'll do something at some point with the winners," he said. ''My people could invite the winners and have them divide into teams and have a contest. The ultimate cartoon contest smackdown!"

For everyone else, look for the New Yorker cartoon caption contest board game in stores by Christmas.

PETER DEMARCO

New Yorker Toons

The Inside Scoop: I give kudos to some good editing on this one (esp. Tom Sheehan and Tom Coakley). A decent story-turned-centerpiece, which is always good for my wallet. I'm not sure it deserved that much play but what do I know? The people who won the cartoon contest were really great sports. I penned a three versions (Northwest and North ran the other two) but this was the best.

FRAME THAT 'TOON . . . CONTEST

Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent

April 2, 2006 Page: 1 Section: City Weekly

None of the three local winners is a comic. In Lou Rubino's case, his own adult sons don't even think he's that funny.

But at some point during the past year, while lounging on the couch, lying sick in bed, or perusing The New Yorker magazine's website, comedic inspiration of the highest order struck them all. They jotted down their pithiest punch lines and entered the magazine's weekly cartoon caption contest. And they won.

Now, music librarian Andrew Wilson has a standing offer to write for a greeting card company. Fifth-grade teacher Miriam Steinberg gets congratulated by her pupils' parents. Sarah Bell, a fund-raising assistant from Cambridge, has strangers recognize her name months after it appeared in the magazine.

"My friend's uncle was joking I should just go around captioning things in the house," said Bell, 23. "People who are diehard New Yorker readers thought it was really great. It was just fun to see someone they knew win. Like my grandmother. But people didn't look at me like I was any smarter. My friends probably know better."

Famous for its erudite and clever cartoons, The New Yorker let readers join in the fun by introducing the weekly caption contest a year ago. A cartoon depicting an odd or impossible scenario a business meeting aboard a subway train, a minotaur sipping martinis at a bar appears on the last page of the magazine. It's up to readers to come up with their wittiest take on the scene.

As many as 8,000 captions are sent in each week. The magazine's staff, including cartoon editor Bob Mankoff and editor-in-chief David Remnick, choose three finalists, and readers vote in the eventual winner. With 60,000 subscribers, Greater Boston is the New Yorker's fourth-largest market. New York and California readers have sent in the most cartoon captions, with Massachusetts a distant third, Mankoff says. But considering how large the other two states are, it's clear that Bostonians love the contest as much as anyone. Maybe more so.

And Boston has flexed its creative prowess, with three winners to date Bell, Steinberg and Wilson, all with Cambridge ties. (As if Nobel Prize winners, Harvard, and MIT weren't enough for the city.) Rubino, an executive recruiter from Burlington, was one of three finalists in an early-March contest.

In his contest, the cartoon featured a woman speaking with a partner in bed. The twist? He is a huge snow globe resembling Frosty the Snowman. To come up with a quirky enough caption, Rubino says, he had to create a quirky enough back story to explain the cartoon. The two weren't just lovers they were adulterers. Who was she cheating on? Another snow globe, of course.

His final caption: "I think the Manhattan skyline is getting suspicious."

Pitted against a pair of strong entries, Rubino came up short when the top vote-getter was announced Monday. He proved to be Carl Gable of Norcross, Ga. His caption: "Well, that was abominable."

Rubino, gracious in defeat, says he was shocked just to make the finals. Boston's other caption champions, likewise, never figured they would win. Bell, Wilson, and Steinberg had never submitted an entry before (or entered any comedic writing contest, for that matter). And while some New Yorker readers agonize hours or days over their entries, Boston's winners say they didn't exactly slave over theirs.

Steinberg, a teacher at Brighton's Conservatory Lab Charter School, was sick in bed in her Cambridge apartment when she came upon a captionless cartoon of a beaten man crawling toward an "Emergency Hotline" phone bank. A woman leans over to speak to him. Steinberg's entry: "Neither the time nor the place, Doug!"

"I thought, `That's it,' " she recalled. " `How could there possibly be another answer for this one?' "

The New Yorker's Mankoff agreed, calling her offering "really nicely phrased." "You understand the whole back story," he said. "And then, of course, there's the correct choice of `Doug.' You wanted a simple name, a one-syllable name. You definitely wouldn't want `Stephen,' you know? It sort of has that final little thing that ends that caption. `Doug.' "

Wilson, a string bass player who lives in Ayer and works at Harvard University's Loeb Music Library, said he'd forgotten about the contest by the time a New Yorker intern called him to let him know he was a finalist. "He actually had to remind me I had entered," he said.

Wilson won for a November cartoon in which a nebbish-looking businessman hails down a savage barbarian on a horse. A pair of villagers are in the background, whispering to each other. His caption: "Dibs on the briefcase."

Morbid humor? Sure. But Wilson says he was going for something a bit smarter like something co-workers from "The Office" might crack if their boss was about to get his comeuppance.

Mankoff said the caption, aside from being funny, was "elegant" in its diction and tone. "There were a lot of ones about the briefcase. `Dibs' was funny," he said. "Look how short that is. It's four words. That's sort of nice."

Bell was just trying to write something that would make her friend, a fellow New Yorker reader, laugh. "We live in different cities, so it was kind of fun to think of a caption and see what the other person comes up with," she said. Her cartoon was of a pair of businessmen one of them a wolf in a suit and tie walking down the street. The wolf appeared to be grumbling about something.

"Oh, sure, they find one secretary in a pool of her own blood and everybody wants to blame the werewolf," wrote Bell.

Mankoff said many entrants played with a werewolf theme in their submissions, but no one nailed the tone quite like Bell. "We thought it sort of had a bouncy line," he said. "I think it was strange and funny, which is usually a category we're looking for."

Readers love the contest because they get the chance to impress the magazine's editors with their wit, as opposed to the other way around, Mankoff said. But in the end, Mankoff stressed, it's still the readers who decide the winner. "Just like `American Idol'," he said. "And then, of course, they go on to fame and glory and no money at all."

Indeed, as Mankoff muses, the contest is really just for fun. And the winners clearly know that.

Bell says she's hung her prize an autographed print of the cartoon signed by artist Tom Cheney on her bedroom wall, "and hired someone to stand security." Wilson got an unsolicited invitation from a California company to write greeting card sentiments for $50 each. ("My ship has come in!" he joked.) Steinberg says it's just cool to get asked about the contest at parties once in a while by envious fellow Cantabrigians.

Perhaps Rubino has reaped the greatest reward for getting his name in print. Finally, no less a comedic authority than The New Yorker has determined that he really is funny.

"Both my sons always say to me, `Dad, you have no sense of humor,' " said Rubino. After his choice as a comedic finalist, he said, "I rubbed it in, in a nice way."

One big flap, Jack

TABLE HOPPING

March 12, 2006

You learn something new every day. Like, pancakes have their own holiday. It's true. In olden days, Catholics weren't allowed to eat eggs and butter (or fat) during the Lenten season, so they'd clear out their cupboards by cooking plenty of pancakes before Ash Wednesday. The day became known as Fat Tuesday; the French term is mardi gras. In other circles, Shrove Tuesday became known as ''pancake day." I gobbled hotcakes on Fat Tuesday a few weeks ago after my roommate told me the tale, but for those who missed their flapjack fix, we suggest the following.

The Neighborhood Restaurant& Bakery
25 Bow St., Union Square
Somerville
617-623-9710

With restaurants such as Johnny D's, Sound Bites, and the Rosebud Diner, Somerville is a hotcake hotbed. But for a healthy pancake, I headed to Union Square, where The Neighborhood Restaurant serves a whole-wheat variety. ''You go with what the customers like. Everybody's trying to be healthier," says co-owner and cook Sheila Borges. I ordered plain wheat pancakes -- served with a fruit cup, home fries, toast, and muffin for a reasonable $6.99 -- because that's all I could find on the menu. But Borges says customers can spruce up their wheat cakes with berries, bananas, walnuts, and even strawberries and whipped cream. ''You ask for it, you get it," Borges says. ''We're easy."

Zoe's
1105 Mass. Ave., Cambridge
617-495-0055

Zoe's sweet potato pancakes were supposed to be a fall-only special, but they've been so popular that owner Theophilos Vallas dared not take them off the menu. ''You see a lot of pumpkin or sweet potato pancakes for a month or two in the fall, but in the spring you kind of miss them," he reasons. ''I keep them year-round. I like to be different." Zoe's used to be Johnny's Luncheonette, which was known for serving light and tasty pancakes. Vallas's sweet potato pancakes live up to that reputation, and then some.

Moogy's
154 Chestnut Hill Ave., Brighton
617-254-8114 If you've got a sweet tooth, Moogy's has the pancake for you: a buttermilk flapjack brimming with blueberries, bananas, and dark chocolate chips sold under the funky name ''The Rude Awakening." ''It's kind of like a sweet, mushy thing," says co-owner Scott Shaffer, trying to describe his most popular pancake dish, served on a paper plate.

Zaftigs Delicatessen
335 Harvard St.Coolidge Corner, Brookline
617-975-0075

I've loved potato pancakes ever since David Goldberg's mother made latkes for my third-grade class, so I had to order Zaftigs's version. Deep fried to a rusty brown color, they're served three to a plate with applesauce and sour cream ($6.75). While not quite as traditional as Mrs. Goldberg's -- she used matzo meal as an ingredient -- they're addictive nevertheless. Zaftigs -- the name is Yiddish for ''pleasingly plump" -- has the feel of a bustling New York City delicatessen, albeit with a modern flair.

The Paramount
44 Charles St., Beacon Hill
Boston
617-720-1152

Line cooks Henry Gomez and Luis Perez put on a show behind Paramount's grill every Saturday and Sunday morning, pumping out omelets, pancakes, fruit bowls, and the like at the rate of 100 orders per hour. The waiting line usually extends out the door, but no one seems to mind. Great meals are the other reason people flock here, and I'll attest that my apple cinnamon pancakes were simply divine. I watched as Gomez sprinkled bits of granny-smith apples with the skins still on into circles of batter bubbling on the grill. Light, with just enough cinnamon, they might supplant blueberry as my pancake of choice ($4.95).

Charlie's Sandwich Shoppe
429 Columbus Ave., South End
617-536-7669

The stories pour out of Arthur Manjourides like coffee from a pot. There was the time a live turkey flew across the restaurant. How the lost-and-found bin was filled with guns from the cops and criminals who dined together. Gas explosions, exotic fish tanks, famous patrons. Charlie's, a South End institution since 1927, has shed much of its eccentricity over the years. But the food is as solid as ever, including co-owner Manjourides's griddle cakes. My fresh raspberry cakes were thick and full of berries -- more than I could eat. ''In the early 1930s we used to cook pancakes in a frying pan in the window. People could walk by and see them being made," Manjourides said.

PETER DeMARCO

Dr. Mandell

Physician builds young connections

By Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent | February 27, 2006

It was not the kind of note a Children's Hospital pediatrician normally gets. But, then again, Dr. Fred Mandell is no ordinary pediatrician.

And so, at 3 a.m., Mandell climbed into a rental car and pulled out of his Billings, Mont., motel. Arriving at the Native American reservation at dawn, just as the note said to do, Mandell found Austin Two Moons's cabin and knocked on the door.

''There was a voice that said come in," Mandell remembered. ''I see this elderly gentleman sitting on this long chair. He has white hair and a ponytail and a plaid shirt on. He says, 'Who are you, white man?' It wasn't, like, 'What's your name?' It was the deeper question: 'Who are you?' "

''I said, 'I am the same as you, Indian. I am a human being,' " Mandell said, '' 'and I am here because your children aren't growing up to be tall trees. If we can speak as one human being to another, I'll stay. If not, I'll leave.' "

He was told to stay.

To understand who Mandell is you could read his 21-page resume, filled with hundreds of professional accomplishments, from his work with Mother Teresa, to his lifetime community service award from Harvard Medical School, to his once being named one of the city's best pediatricians by Boston Magazine.

You could speak with his co-workers and family, who tell how Mandell has a ''sixth sense" with his patients, often knowing what's wrong before reaching for his stethoscope. How he uses his ''signature" funny faces -- like putting his hands behind his ears -- and litany of magic tricks to make even the saddest patient smile. (That he resembles comic actor Gene Wilder only helps.) And how, in the middle of the night, Mandell can often be found in a lonely hospital ward, just keeping a patient company.

You could read his first novel, ''The One-Foot Waterfall," filled with anecdotes from Mandell's experiences as a young doctor in Japan, his work with leukemia patients, and his honorary induction into the Oglala Sioux tribe last summer.

Or you could simply ask Mandell why he has dedicated 35 years of his career to educating parents about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, not only in Massachusetts, but also on Native American reservations across the West, including Austin Two Moons's.

''When I was an intern at Bellevue Hospital [in New York] a woman came into the emergency room carrying her baby. And her baby had died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome," Mandell explained. ''We tried to resuscitate the baby and we couldn't. I remember the woman sitting in an examining room crying all by herself. We in the emergency room were going back and forth, doing all kinds of busy things. And she was there crying. And the cleaning woman put down her mop, and walked in there, and put her arms around that baby. Right around that mother."

''To me," he said, ''she was the doctor. She did what I should have done."

He learned his lesson well. Mandell now puts children at ease not only with his calm demeanor and slow, calculated motions, but also by getting to know them: It's not unusual for him to take phone calls from teenagers about life's problems, or for him to spend coffee breaks in his own waiting room, bouncing a baby on his lap.

He puts parents at ease by being, as Joan Lynch of Wayland put it, ''a bellwether. You knew if he was worried about something, it was important. He wouldn't sweat the small things."

Mandell's father, a tailor, once told him that he belonged to a family of menders. With that in his heart, helping thousands of children lead healthier lives hasn't been a labor at all, he said.

''When we touch the lives of other people we leave footprints," he said. ''When we touch the lives of children, the footprints are very deep."

FACT SHEET

Hometown: Brookline.

Family: Wife, Eileen, and three adult children: Aaron, Jennifer, and Josh.

Hobbies: ''I spend a lot of time writing. I spend a lot of time with my kids. I think if I had to choose something it would be with my children. I think that's what I've done over the years."

His humor: At a Celtics game he was mistaken for Gene Wilder and asked by a fan for his autograph. Mandell played along and gave him one.

Secret ambition: To meet the Dalai Lama's physician. ''Because of the way he thinks about medicine. The way they look at the body -- and the way the winds are passing through the body. It's just a whole different way at looking at medicine. I feel that I want to know that."

Most famous patient: The 28-inch-tall Katie Lynch, who gained fame for ''running" the first 26.2 feet of the 2001 Boston Marathon. Mandell was Lynch's doctor from birth, until her death at age 27. After Lynch's mother, Joan, delivered a second -- perfectly healthy -- child, Wyeth, at 8 pounds, 9 ounces, she showed him to Mandell with a look of concern. ''I wasn't used to a [normal-size baby], so I said to Dr. Mandell, 'He just doesn't look right,' " Lynch said. ''He told me, 'It's just, well, Mrs. Lynch, you go to extremes.' "

The Inside Scoop: Once again, as my editor Karen Weintraub pointed out, I "overreported" a story. Dr. Mandell was a truly great guy. But when I called him to set up our interview he told me I had to read his book before I showed up. Now, that's a lot to ask, considering how little I read and how much time it was going to add to my assignment (4 hours or so, plus the hour it took to find the book at a bookstore.) But I did it anyway. In truth, I'm very glad I read his book because it shed so much light on his life. It wasn't autobiographical, but there was plenty of him in it. And it made it tremendously easier when I met him at his Newton office. I could have written 2,000 words about him - I skipped just about all of the book, his Eagle feather ceremony, his kids' tales, etc. - but my dictate was for a measly 650. I turned in 740, which to me was a personal victory. Karen made it work, as usual. Mandell's a pediatrician, and he got me thinking about my pediatrician, Dr. Glines, who had an office just outside Melrose-Wakefield hospital. Everything in his office was old, including the doctor, who was bald with white side hair as far back as I could remember him. And I remember him vividly. I wonder if that's the norm. Anyway, he was gentle and moved slowly. He wasn't at all funny like Mandell, but I felt safe around him. The photo, by the way, is of Mandell and Katie Lynch at her college graduation. The story says he was her doctor "since birth," but that's an editing mistake. I think she was a few years old when she first saw him. No biggie. Mandell's touched a lot of lives, I should add. His story got e-mailed 22 times today, which is significant considering it's placement inside a section. It even tied the story about the a fake penis being microwaved as a gas mart, which says, well, I don't know what that says. But I'll take it.

Remembering my first A1

Hard to believe it was four years ago today that I got on Page 1 for the first time, just two months into my freelancing career for the Globe. I remember seeing the story on the rack in a Maplewood Square convenience story and doing a double take because it was above the fold. Boy, I was walking on air that day.

The story was about how health insurance companies were passing along a portion of ambulance bills to patients. Exciting, huh? Neil Swidey was my editor and he did a helluva job boiling down the story from a feature to hard news. This was my first lesson in how, at a major newspaper, the top editors do whatever they want to page 1 stories. I was told to write it as a feature, and at the last minute the bosses decided to put in on page 1, which meant it had to be written as a hard news story. I think have it one shot before Neil just reworked it. I'm a lot wiser now, but I'll probably never see page 1 again. For a long time I had a copy hanging on the wall, but it's since been put away. Oh well. It was fun while it lasted -- and plenty stressful. That part, I haven't forgotten.


A quick archive search shows that I've been part of 61 page 1 (A1) stories in four years, but the archive system is really spotty, so I'm going to go with 50 stories. My last was Dec. 8, 2004. (The molasass road salt story, which became a pawn in a battle between editors. But I'm not up for telling the tale.) I grabbed about 10 solo bylines, but some of my best work came working with Jenna Russell on the collapse of the Old Man in the Mountain and a Fall River boat drowning. There were also the Molly Bish stories, Red Sox World Series victory stories - my quote from 93-year-old Leonard Iannaronne of Winthrop made the historical front page - and The Station fire in West Warwick. In a parallel universe, some of my feature stories would have made the cover, too. Like "Dairy of a Death," "Mommy, take me to my chiropractor," "Tear-downs on the rise," the Marliave Sisters, and Molly Bish's funeral.

Four years. Seems like a lifetime. At this moment I feel like a shell of the former writer I was. How did I do all that? Where has my motivation gone? My part-time job plowing snow has really become my full-time occupation. Yet, I haven't given up on writing entirely. Though deep inside, I'm yearning more and more for a sabbatical from reporting. I don't know if that will help me recharge or refocus, or whether I'll ever really take it. But I'm thinking of it more and more. More to come.

Sneak peek - Sushi!

The Inside Scoop: I owe Laura for introducing me to sushi, which I grew to like by the end of my sushi-eating marathon. Seven restaurants in one week is a lot of sushi. Too much sushi. But I got a real feel for what's good and what's average, both in terms of taste and presentation. Brookline has 13 sushi restaurants, which is nuts, and maybe a seperate story on its own. Tsumani was pretty great, though crowded. We waited about an hour on a Friday night, and that was even after we'd called ahead. Super Fusion was maybe the coolest because the head guy Sam was so confident that he was the shit. And he was. His stuff was even better than Tsunami's. (I blew it by leaving my camera in the car.) Though I also liked the shino express setup. In & out, very casual - almost like a taqueria. Cool music, too. And not once did I get sick! Though that eel wasn't my thing. I can't believe people eat that!


City Weekly (comes out Sunday, 2-12-06)
Table Hopping: Rookie sushi

By Peter DeMarco

As hip as sushi is, the thought of eating raw fish always made my stomach queasy. Turns out all I needed was a good coach. With my girlfriend Laura’s encouragement, I mixed my first wasabi-and-soy-sauce dip and dunked my first fatty tuna roll. And that was just the beginning. So here’s this week’s Table Hopping: Sushi through a beginner’s taste buds.

1. Blue Fin (cq)
1815 Massachusetts Ave.
Porter Square, Cambridge
617-497-8022

No fewer than eight Japanese, Korean and Chinese eateries inhabit Porter Square’s old Sears building, but none are as popular as Blue Fin, my coach’s favorite local sushi joint. “It’s the only place here that has a lot of ambiance,” she says. We grabbed a wooden table alongside a few other young couples and ordered the basics: a couple pieces (called nigiri) of tuna, fatty tuna and yellowtail. Closing my eyes as I took my first bite, I was surprised by how mild and even flavorful the fish was. The fatty tuna, colored like red beets, was even savory. Blue Fin is known for combining moderate prices with good quality, and such was the case for my first visit. Business has been so good, the restaurant expanded this month, adding another 20 seats.

2. Yoshi’s Japanese Cuisine (cq)
132 College Ave.
Somerville
617-623-9263

I had jogged past Yoshi’s probably a hundred times since moving to Somerville. At long last, I have stepped inside. Sanggi “James” Na (cq) and his wife, Sunmi, (cq) run a simple but neat restaurant featuring traditional dishes from their Korean homeland, as well as plenty of sushi. At Laura’s suggestion we sidled up to the sushi bar, where I watched with childlike curiosity as our chef pressed, rolled and chopped our order of Boston maki, a zesty 6-piece entrée made with salmon, lettuce, cucumber, avocado and mayonnaise. Neighboring Tufts University students also eat up Yoshi’s Lobster maki ($10.95), made with deep-fried lobster, and naruto, a cucumber roll with salmon, crab, avocado, and tobiko on the inside. ($5.95)

3. Village Sushi and Grill (cq)
14 Corinth St.
Roslindale
617-363-7874

James Paik’s (cq) bright and tranquil establishment is Roslindale’s lone sushi option in a neighborhood dominated by Italian and Greek restaurants. As a result, barely a day goes by when a sushi rookie like me doesn’t walk in. “Usually we recommend salmon or tuna,” to a beginner, he says. “For the adventurer, saba, or mackerel, which is very flavorful.” Unfortunately Paik’s sushi chef was fresh out – leaving me no choice but to try the cooked eel. (Not my favorite, but I’m told it’s an acquired taste.) Paik left the popular J.P. Seafood Cafe, which his brother Phil runs, to open his own place four years ago. His prices are reasonable ($5-$6 for standard maki rolls), and on warmer days, customers can nibble sushi outside on a small veranda.

4. Tsunami Japanese Cuisine (cq)

10 Pleasant St.

Brookline

617-277-8008

“Look at the boat! Look at the boat!” Laura exclaims as a vessel-shaped wooden tray sails by us, sushi and maki rolls piled high aboard its top deck. Presentation is taken seriously at Tsunami, one of Brookline’s hippest sushi hangouts, as are, of all things, tropical fruits. “Banana and eel is a very weird one, but lots of people love that dish,” says owner and Brookline native Yen-Hsien “John” Wu (cq). “We have one dish with pineapple and salmon; one with cantaloupe and salmon. They catch people off guard.” Following a friend’s advice we ordered the very fun pineapple maki (smoked salmon, pineapple and cream cheese) and the sensational torched spicy tuna maki ($14.95), a crunchy fried tempura roll that our chef heated with, yes, a blowtorch. Tsunami’s prices are a bit high, but the quality, particularly the Alaskan king salmon, is tops.

5. Super Fusion Cuisine (cq)
690A Washington St.
Brookline
617-277-8221

To judge Super Fusion by its diminutive size – a small counter and four, 2-seat tables – would be a grave mistake. Co-owner Kevin Zheng (cq) studied under Masaharu Morimoto, (cq) the famed Japanese “Iron Chef,” and the dishes he and partner Sam Huang (cq) whip up are at times electrifying. We liked the black widow maki, made with fried sweet potato, cucumber and avocado. But we absolutely loved the exquisite sake papaya maki ($10), a roll of fried papaya and cream cheese topped with a layer of smoked salmon, lemon sauce and wasabi tobiko. More than any dish, it spoke to what I’d been missing out on all these years.

6. Shino Express Sushi (cq)
144 Newbury St
Boston
617-262-4530

I barely had time before the Super Bowl for my last review, so Shino fit the bill perfectly. A tiny but cool basement hideout a block from Copley Square, it serves up some of the cheapest sushi around - $1 nigiri, $2 and $3 rolls – despite its posh locale. Like a pro, I ordered a piece of tuna, salmon, a fried tofu wrapper and a roll of natto - fermented soy bean. Though if I’d had a bigger appetite, I might have tried some of Shino’s offbeat offerings, such as the beef and onion roll or portabella and basil roll. ($6.50 each) Next time, for sure.

- 30

Dr. Hawk

A cut-to-the-chase animal doctor
By Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent
Health/Science, Feb. 6, 2006

When Dr. Larry Hawk became president of Boston's largest animal hospital and animal welfare agency three years ago, he could have picked any number of things to fix -- CAT scan machines were outdated, exam rooms were overbooked, and aesthetically, the animal shelter looked a bit like a bomb shelter. But in Hawk's mind, there was an even higher priority: changing the organization's 88-year-old name.

''We were called the MSPCA/AHES -- The American Humane Education Society. The business cards had little books on them. What was that?" said Hawk, who in 2003 became president of the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and its sister nonprofit organization, then called Angell Memorial Animal Hospital.

Within weeks of taking over, Hawk led the charge to change the hospital's familiar but somewhat confusing name. Some people thought it sounded more like a cemetery than a health clinic -- to its more straightforward present name: Angell Animal Medical Center. He also branded every clinic, shelter, and branch hospital within the network as an Angell property under a simple-to-remember, ''MSPCA-Angell" umbrella.

''At the end of the day, what do I want people to know Angell as? Just Angell," Hawk says, answering his own question. ''I take my dog to the Angell. I take my cat to the Angell. When you want the best care, you go to the Angell."

If Hawk sounds more like a marketing guru than a veterinarian, that's because he used to be one. Yes, he's an animal doctor. In fact, he was a prodigy of sorts, graduating with a doctor of veterinary medicine degree from Michigan State University at the age of 21.

But the business side of caring for animals was more appealing to him than dog and cat appointments. Leaving behind a successful private practice in 1985, Hawk became a traveling pet food salesman for Palmolive/Hill's pet nutrition. It was hardly a glamorous job, but Hawk saw it as a vital learning experience. One particular sales call, to a veterinarian in Florida, changed his entire approach to business, he says.

''The veterinarian wanted to know something specific about one of the diets that solved bladder stones. So we went through all that. That was about the first five minutes of the call," Hawks says. ''He wanted to know more about me and what I was doing, and he had the time, so I kept talking. At the end of the hour he said, 'Now, take me through that again,' " referring to the pet food. An hour of conversation, and still no sale.

I should have gone over the product ''in the first five minutes," he said. ''I should have repeated it over the second five minutes, and then I should have left," Hawk says. ''It's called focus. Deliver your message. Deliver the need. Make sure they understand it. Have them repeat it to you. And leave."

Hawk's ability to focus is perhaps his defining trait. And it's more than just rebranding MSCPA-Angell, or waking up at 3 or 4 a.m. to start his day's work when he's too jazzed to sleep. Hawk's older sister, Kathy Nicosia, was a flight attendant on American Airlines Flight 11, the first plane to strike the World Trade Center during the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001.

Putting his own need to grieve aside, Hawk, who at the time was president of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals in New York, spent the next few weeks helping people retrieve their pets from homes near Ground Zero.

''He grieved at home and certainly showed those emotions," said Hawk's wife, Patti. ''For his staff, he was very focused. . . . He did what he needed to do to get things done, to get those animals out." Hawk's dedication to animal welfare was one reason MSCPA-Angell's board of trustees picked him to lead the organization. His knowledge of veterinary medicine was another. But his business acumen and track record as a change agent were equally, if not more, important.

''He's definitely a cut-to-the-chase guy," says Dr. Peter Theran, a former Angell vice president. ''He's not particularly warm and fuzzy, but he does listen, and he does like to get down to the basics and get decisions made and move forward." Hawk's serious nature hardly stops him from being an effective salesman, though.

Leading a reporter on a tour of Angell's new $16 million addition -- under Hawk's leadership, the backside of the hospital is being transformed into a more user-friendly entrance -- Hawk turns showman, pointing out a dozen new improvements that will finally bring the aged facility into the 21st century.

With another $2 million to go in fund-raising, he doesn't waste any opportunities. ''With the Globe's help," he says, motioning to an empty corner, ''this will all be turned into a physical therapy operation. We'll name it after the Globe. The Globe Animal Treatment Center." Adjusting his hard hat, Hawk laughs and walks on. But if my bosses are reading, he meant it.

FACT SHEET

Age: 50

Home: Millis

Family: Wife, Patti Hawk. Children: Carl, 21, and Jennifer, 20, from a previous marriage.

He'd rather be . . . : Flying his single-engine Cessna 182. ''That's what I do on weekends. I fly out of Mansfield. I use it to visit our facilities on the Vineyard and Nantucket. A little bit of business, but mostly I do it for fun."

Latest challenge: Earning his MBA from Northeastern. He's been going to school part time and expects to graduate this summer. ''When you've been doing something for a long time, you need something to rock you off your center. It's done that."

Pets: Tucker, a 9-year-old yellow lab who often joined Hawk at work, died of lymphoma two weeks ago.

The Inside Scoop: We had to cut some stuff because I ran long, again, on a meeting the minds piece. (Next one, one Dr. Fred Mandell, will be 750 words or I'll shoot myself.) The stuff we cut had to do with Hawk's firing of some long-time employees, as related to my by Diane. I feel badly that stuff wasn't in here, though her view of Hawk, which was fairly negative, wasn't exactly what I encountered. Not to say he doesn't have his bad side, but he seems to know what he's doing in regards to building and marketing the place. I am curious to see whether Diane will be right: that he's gutted his development office, a move that will come back to bite him. This was a tough one for sure. Plus, his pooch had to be put to sleep just hours after our photographer, Susanne, shot him. Still, Hawk said it was Ok to run the picture, which we did. (The dog above is just one up for adoption. Easy, Laura. Easy!)

One slammin-to-the-ground story

Slick and sick: Custom bikes rule this weekend's Motorcycle Expo

By Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent | February 1, 2006

Conventional wisdom says that if you build it, they will come.

But if you build it with an obscenely powerful monster tri-engine, fenders inspired by a 1935 Bugatti race car, handlebars so high you have to do a pull-up just to reach them, a kickin’ paint job, and 100 pounds or so of various aluminum bling, not only will they come, but they’ll also gawk slack-jawed at how cool you are.

This is the theory, at least, behind this weekend’s fourth annual Northeast Motorcycle Expo at South Boston’s World Trade Center, where some of the world’s best custom bike builders will be on hand to show off what $100,000 or so can buy on two wheels.

Or, as organizers say, why watch another ‘‘Biker Build-Off’’ repeat on television when you can don your West Coast Choppers T-shirt and meet the beasts in person?

‘‘Some of these bikes have never seen the East Coast,’’ says event organizer Kevin Clement, boasting how more than 100 machines — featuring everything from $35,000 paint jobs to built-in DVD players — will be on display. ‘‘I guarantee you, you’re going to look at something and say, ‘I’ve never seen anything like that before.’ I say that, and I see bikes all the time.’’

The Expo will also feature a custom motorcycle contest for local builders, nearly 2,000 motorcycles for sale by area dealerships, clothing and accessories vendors, food by ‘‘motorcycling chef’’ Biker Billy, and more.x

The big draw, though, will be the high-end custom-built bikes by nationally known builders such as Arlen and Cory Ness, Ron Finch, Eric Gorges, Alan Lee, and Bridgewater-based Dave ‘‘King of Flames’’ Perewitz. The Nesses’ over-the-top creations will include ‘‘Smooth-Ness,’’ a bike as slick and sexy as a black Bugatti, and ‘‘Ness-Talgia,’’ a yellow 1957 Chevy look-alike with an original car headlight.

Perewitz, arguably the best biker artist in the country, will bring his ‘‘Joe Pro’s Shaguar,’’ a slammed-on-the-ground, ’60s throwback bike that looks like something either Austin Powers or Sgt. Pepper might ride.

‘‘It’s bright orange with a dozen colors worked through,’’ explains Perewitz. ‘‘Everyone has the same comment when they see it — ‘How much acid were you doing when you made this?’’’

The answer is none, of course. The hell-raising biker may still exist, but rarely in the world of high-end custom bikes. Ness, the Bill Gates of the industry, was customizing bikes in his home garage even before the chopper classic ‘‘Easy Rider’’ was released in 1969; he now presides over a $20 million custom parts business based in Dublin, Calif.

Perewitz, who just opened a new showroom and workshop, sells his bikes to clients such as professional football players and high-powered executives.

In recent years, mainstream media have boosted the custom bike movement like nothing else, elevating Ness and other builders to celebrity status. The Discovery Channel’s ‘‘Biker Build-Off’’ series, in which rival builders try to outdo one another, as well as the ‘‘American Chopper’’ reality television series, have made motorcycle fans out of millions of Americans who don’t know the first thing about piloting such a machine down the street. T-shirts, video games, and other related merchandise abound. Biker Billy, the motorcycle-inspired chef, is working on his first Podcast.

Still, self-expression, not commercialism, remains the custom bike movement’s main appeal. Almost every motorcycle owner in the country does something — adding a seat, a flashy mirror, or a new paint job — to customize his bike, Clement says. High-end bikes like the ones created by master builders are more than just machines: the Guggenheim and Smithsonian have exhibited them as modern art.

‘‘The attraction is to build your dream,’’ says Clement. ‘‘You can sit there at your desk and doodle with your pencil — ‘If I ever got to build a bike, this would be it.’ Cory Ness has a bike with three motors on it. Who could ever dream that up?’’

The Inside Scoop: Scott Sutherland did a really nice job editing this one, taking a sidebox I'd written and weaving it in seamlessly. He also chopped my quotes from Biker Billy about his vegetarianism, which were cutable, of course. Also, Scott is really skilled at properly couching overarching statements. For instance, my lead was "If you build it, they will come." He added the part about conventional wisdom. Also, in the 3rd or 4th graph he inserted the clause that says event organizers think the expo is better than tv reruns. I'd just made the statement without the attribution. Actutally, I don't know if they really said that, but it works better and it's kosher. Now if Scott would only pay me more. He quoted me $200 for the piece, which is dirt for the cover story of the Calendar section. But the check in the mail was for $250, which is a bit better. When I meet him for coffee I've got to hold the line at $300 for a cover story. I'm poor! (PS - the photo is of Arlen Ness on his Top Banana bike. He was so nice on the phone.)

Crosses, crucifixes priced to go

Store for the soul, Sheehan's packs up earthly possessions
By Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent | January 29, 2006

The Matthew F. Sheehan Co. always shunned holding sales, never put sexy swimsuits in the window, and featured product lines that were hopelessly dated -- 2,000 years old, give or take.

But for generations of Boston-area Catholics and, later on, Protestants, too, there was no place like it for that special First Communion gift, Italian-made crucifix, or King James Bible.

Sheehan's, Boston's largest religious goods store, turns 100 this year. But instead of basking in the milestone, its owners are closing its doors.

Done in by mail-order suppliers, increasingly high rent, and, to some degree, a loss of customers due to crises within the Catholic Church, Sheehan's will be closing its Chauncy Street storefront in early February, according to employees. (Sheehan's owner, James C. Dow, deferred all comment to his employees.)

After that, everything goes to a Roslindale warehouse, where Sheehan's will live on as an Internet retailer, the only way to match the competition, employees say.

Filene's has attracted the most attention as the next Downtown Crossing landmark preparing to fade into oblivion. But Sheehan's shelves will be missed just as much, faithful customers say.

''It's steeped in spirituality. I think that's why people feel so sad, because the other shops don't provide that," said Sheila Cavanaugh, a Fidelity Investments executive from Belmont, admiring hand-crafted nativity scenes from Italy and West Germany on a recent afternoon. ''I've been shopping here since I began working downtown. It's a place of refuge for me."

With its rich old wooden cases and walls of crucifixes, Sheehan's has always felt more like a small chapel than a store. The sales staff, most of whom have worked there for decades, are as familiar to customers as parish priests. Employee David O'Malley's white beard is so long, some say he looks like a prophet.

But Sheehan's was first a business, and its selection was enormous. Rosaries, statues, medals, altar clothes, crucifixes, plaques, candles, paintings, books, prayer cards, Bibles, and memorial cards were stacked at every turn. The basement served as a large reading room; archbishops and ministers from all over Boston trekked to Sheehan's to purchase their vestments, ordination gifts, and liturgical desk calendars.

Since the war began in Iraq, employees say the store has hardly been able to stock enough St. Christopher medals, the patron saint of travel, for the families of soldiers overseas.

''The convenience of dropping in and getting anything from a medal to clerical garments, a missal or a Mass book -- it was there. In the heart of Boston," said the Rev. Joseph Nolan, who teaches at Boston College. ''It was really something you took for granted would always be there."

Most of Sheehan's inventory was for the general public, with choices for both the well-heeled worshipper and the less fortunate soul. There were statues of the Virgin Mary that sold for $300 and some that sold for $3. Nativity scenes, used books, and simple items such as $1 prayer cards for deceased loved ones, were among their best sellers.

When Ginette Deus of Dorchester was a girl, she lost the first book her mother ever gave her -- ''The Dominican Missal" -- while on a bus ride to New York City. Sheehan's was where she found its replacement.

''That's probably why it stayed so long. It's ordinary people who are our customers," said employee Elena DiVito.

Founded in 1906 (though the store didn't open until 1907), Sheehan's has always been in Downtown Crossing, having moved to Chauncy Street in the 1920s. It prospered there, in the shadow of Jordan Marsh, serving the Catholic clergy and laity. After Vatican II, in the 1960s, Sheehan's expanded its line to include Protestant and ecumenical goods.

Still, change came about slowly at the store. Even as late as 1985, when DiVito began working at Sheehan's, she was required to wear a dress. ''And nobody laughed," she remembered. ''I used to come in here, and if I was laughing, people went, 'Shhh.' "

By the 1990s, things had mellowed: Flashy magenta, yellow, and baby-blue clergy shirts filled the window display, and customers listened to soft-rock music as they shopped.

But as Downtown Crossing became less of a shopping destination, Sheehan's sales began to suffer. In 2001, the store earned a headline in the Globe for holding its first clearance sale in 94 years. Even Sheehan's most die-hard customers -- priests and ministers -- had begun shopping online, DiVito said.

The church sex-abuse scandal clearly hurt business, employees said. But the decline began long before that, with fewer and fewer younger customers replacing the departed old. Rita Collins-Nave, 61, of South Boston, has shopped at Sheehan's for 50 years. On the first Wednesday of the month, she would take the subway to Filene's for their big sale, go to Mass at St. Anthony Shrine on nearby Arch Street, then stop by the store.

But asked whether her children also shop at Sheehan's, she shook her head no. ''You know, they know what they're taught. I try. No, they don't shop here," she said.

The store closing was announced in October, with every item marked down 50 percent in the final weeks. Senator John Kerry and a few other notable customers, such as actor Martin Sheen, have stopped by. But for many, news of the closing is still a surprise.

While most customers lament Sheehan's move to the Internet, O'Malley, who will man the phone at the Roslindale warehouse, reminds them that it's better than the alternative: ''The most important thing is . . . the Sheehan's name will endure on the website." A few moments later, a customer asked whether any stations of the cross were left. The answer was no.

''God bless you," O'Malley said, and the man walked out the door.

Peter DeMarco can be contacted at demarco@globe.com.

The Inside Scoop: I liked this place, and the people, and the story. O'Malley was a hoot. Great Irish sense of humor -- saying the opposite of what you expect to hear. And he even swore!

From Globe Magazine's Best of 2005 issue

The Inside Scoop: I had two last-minute writeups for the Best of issue this year. After trying to sell Zach Warren's story as a feature story, I had to settle for a 100-word brief. At least I got him in there. My plan to pitch him to People isn't going to work, I'm afraid, mainly because People is no longer about regular People: it's 95 percent celebrity news. Sucks. I need to think about pitching his joggling feat somewhere though, and soon. The Real Deal was in one of my table hops. I hope I didn't overhype the place. My memories were colored because it was jammed when I was there, but I didn't go back to see if the crowds were as thick months later. But that said, the editors were desperate for more new restaurants, so this was as good as any. Oh yes - one more funny thing. So the magazine had a launch party at a Kenmore Square restaurant for the issue. I got invited but it snowed that day and I had to pick Laura up at the bus station. So I meet Zach a week later and he tells me how he went to the party - but had absolutely no idea why he was invited! He had no clue that he was one of the best ofs, or that my piece got him (and his sister, Laura) in. Hey, when you're in college, free food and drink don't need any qualifiers.


Best of Food: The Real Deal

It was only a matter of time before someone opened a full-scale deli on West Roxbury's bustling Centre Street. But naming sandwiches after "Bugsy" Siegel and Al Capone? "Who doesn't like the Godfather or Tony Soprano?" asks Eric Battite, whose shop, The Real Deal, serves more than a dozen wraps and hot panini sandwiches named after real and fictional gangsters, a la Battite's other deli, the Brookline Spa. Do yourself a favor and try the Teflon Don boneless buffalo wings wrap. Or grab a thin-crust pizza slice - if you're on the run, that is. 1882 Centre Street, West Roxbury, 617-325-0754

Best of People: Zach Warren

Harvard Divinity School student Zach Warren has a theory about unicycles: No matter who you are - suede-patched-elbow types in Harvard Square, children in war-torn Afghanistan - seeing a red-bearded guy riding one will make you smile. Last summer, Warren, 24, took his cycle (and beard) on tour with the Afghan Mobile Mini Circus for Children, a nonprofit with a board and backers in Denmark that's run from Kabul. A friend told him about the circus, and he was inspired to join. "I wanted to know what happens when you take deep pain and you meet it with creativity," explains Warren, who went to Afghanistan to find his answer. This April, we'll be watching for Warren, who hopes to run the Boston Marathon - while juggling, no less - to raise money for the cause.

Hellenic Hill

Real Estate section
Sale puts beloved hill out of developers' reach
College buys tract at Jamaica Pond

By Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent | January 28, 2006

As the sun sets over Jamaica Pond it dips behind Hellenic Hill, a thickly wooded slope that locals tout as one of Boston's best untouched natural vistas. But developers have been just as smitten with the hill as the walkers and joggers who circuit the pond each day. Neighbors beat back a proposed town-house development in 1998, in a battle that went all the way to the State House. But even with that victory, the hill's future, in particular a 6.9-acre swath owned by the Barletta Family Trust, remained in limbo.

The trust put the property up for sale two years ago, and its broker marketed it as a ''unique development site" that could host a subdivision of single-family homes, a condo development, or other uses.

The Barletta family has found a buyer -- but it's not a builder, as the community had feared. It's an abutter: Hellenic College, which bought the property this month, for $5.4 million.

What does Hellenic plan on doing with the land?

Exactly what locals want them to do: nothing, at least for now.

''The college is not planning on developing this property for at least the next 25 years," said Greg Filias, spokesman for the 91-student Orthodox Christian school, which now owns most of the hill. ''It's there to provide green space."

Like many other communities in Greater Boston, Jamaica Plain is feeling the acute pressures of housing shortages and escalating prices. Debates in the neighborhood are often over whether new housing should be affordable, or market-rate, and not whether it should be built at all.

But because of its proximity to Jamaica Pond, Hellenic Hill has not been subject to the calls for housing of any kind. Rather, the community appears in favor of keeping it as a flank of green space overlooking one of Boston's more popular outdoor recreation areas. In 1998, for example, opponents gathered 7,000 signatures on petitions to block the town-house complex.

Moreover, institutions in Boston often have an uneasy coexistence with the neighborhoods in which they are located, with real estate expansions providing a flashpoint. But Jamaica Plain residents said Hellenic College has been a good neighbor.

The college, for example, previously agreed to change the location of the last building it erected, a housing complex for married students, so it could not be seen from the pond. So its purchase of the land was hardly a surprise. The school, which includes a separate seminary, purchased 8 acres from the Barletta family about 15 years ago. When the family decided to put their remaining 6.9 acres on the market, it approached Hellenic again, offering them the right of first refusal, Filias said.

Several other potential buyers were interested in the property, said broker James Elcock, of Meredith and Grew Inc.

They included ''four or five high-end residential builders," he said, who wanted the hill for town houses; a school that had thoughts of building student ball fields on the hill; and ''a couple of religious groups" who inquired about building a residential community on the hill.

A spokesman for the Barlettas said the family was willing to sell to a developer, despite the public backlash it had faced previously, yet it wasn't relishing the thought of another fight. The family had, in 1998, agreed to sell the property to the state as open space. The Legislature approved money for the purchase, but Paul Cellucci, the acting governor at the time, vetoed a direct sale and a deal could not be struck.

Leaders of neighborhood groups said the college is probably the best buyer they could have hoped for.

''We've wanted to preserve it, said John Iappini, chairman of the Jamaica Pond association. Hellenic ''wanted to preserve it themselves. It's now part of their campus. It's to their advantage to have this beautiful landscape as part to their campus."

John Lovett, president of the Jamaica Hills Association, said neighbors were aware of negotiations with Hellenic. ''We were kind of comfortable with the fact that Hellenic was the player."

The Boston City Council had previously supported a $1 million loan in order to help purchase the tract for open space. With the property now in Hellenic's hands, former councilor Maura Hennigan wants the community to come up with pond-area improvements or beautification projects that the city would be willing to support instead.

Hellenic College officials said they have no immediate plans for the Barletta family home on Prince Street, which was included in the sale.

The school, however, may look to the home as a possible residence for its president, Filias said.

The Inside Scoop: This was my second piece for real estate, following that goofy story on the Winchester house with nude Greek statues on the front lawn about two years ago. Andrew Caffrey was my editor for the above piece, and he definitely had a vision for where he wanted the story to go. As well he should have: he wrote about this controversial piece of property 8 years ago as a correspondent. Now he's the real estate editor. (He played his cards right, though back then, you could get in as a correspondent more easily it seems.) He definitely tinkered with this piece more than any editor has tinkered with one of my pieces in quite a long time, but I like what he did. He inserted all the lines about JP's views on development, which gave the story context. I didn't know that's what he wanted, but the next time I write for him I'll make sure to ask. He unfortunately had to chop the piece, leaving out the history of how the hill was once owned by the family of a state Lt. Governor. The "family spokesman" was a trip. I won't identify him here, but I will say we were on the phone 45 minutes before he mentioned that he didn't want his name published. 45 minutes! I spent another 45 maddening minutes trying to convince him otherwise, to no avail. I gave this person way to much leeway. I should have cut the conversation right there, politely of course. Can't waste time like that...

Marliave Sisters update!

Three loyal shoppers find they'll always have Filene's
City Weekly, Jan. 22, 2006

After 55 years of bargain hunting at Downtown Crossing, the ''Marliave Sisters" had thought they'd seen it all. But yesterday, instead of spending money at Filene's, something extraordinary was set to happen:

Filene's would be spending money on them.

A newspaper story on Christmas Day highlighting the trio's decades-old tradition of shopping at Filene's caught the eye of Tom Kingsbury, Filene's CEO and president. To show his gratitude, Kingsbury offered to buy lunch yesterday for the women-- Ruth Humphrey, 73; Joan O'Halloran, 75; and Rita Healey, 85 -- at their favorite restaurant, the Marliave on Bosworth Street, and gave each a $50 gift card to their favorite department store.

''Lunch at the Marliave and shopping at Filene's in Downtown Crossing. What could be better?" Kingsbury wrote in a letter to the women that was hand-delivered to the restaurant. ''We thank you for your loyalty, your trust and for being such great customers."

The ''Sisters" -- their nickname at the restaurant -- said they couldn't believe their good fortune. ''Isn't that great?" said Ruth when reached by phone. ''We were shocked. We were shocked, I'm telling you."

''They've always been good," said Joan, in a separate call. ''I wish it were another store closing."

Joan guessed she might use her gift card to buy a pocketbook during the store's going-out-of-business sale, which begins later this month. Ruth and Rita, who actually are sisters, said they might make a more sentimental purchase. ''Maybe something special to remind of us Filene's when it's gone," said Ruth. ''We'll see."

PETER DeMARCO

The Inside Scoop: This was really nice: my story on the ladies got them a free meal and $150 in gift cards.

Table Hopping: Drink Up

Nguyen Do, pouring me a dangerous cup of Vietnamese coffee.



How they wash it down
City Weekly: January 15, 2006

This week, we circled the globe, while staying close to Boston, in search of traditional cultural drinks. Along our route: local restaurants featuring foods from China, Tibet, Colombia, Mexico, Bangladesh, and Vietnam.

El Cafetal
479 Cambridge St.
Allston
617-789-4009

Colombia is famous for its coffee, but java isn't the national drink. (So much for those Juan Valdez ads.) The honor instead goes to aguapanela -- boiled brown sugar -- served either plain or with grated chocolate, milk, lemon, or a small square of cheese floating on top. ''Everybody drinks it. Families have it for breakfast," says Lucas Urrea, owner of El Cafetal, which serves dozens of cups every day. For the full experience I sipped a mug while munching on Colombia's traditional breakfast food, arepa de chocolo con quesito, a thin but dense sweet corn pancake with salty cheese mashed on top. Sampling one ($3.50) made it hard to go back to my plain old morning Grape-Nuts.

Qingping Gallery Teahouse
231 Shawmut Ave.
South End
617-482-9988

I associate the words ''kung fu" with martial arts, but in China the expression has a far broader meaning. ''Kung fu is anything done with a lot of effort, a lot of energy, or diligence," explains Han Lee, manager of the South End's tranquil Qingping Gallery Teahouse. ''Serving tea kung fu is a lengthy process. It's a ceremony." Selecting one of his top imported teas, jasmine (a ''real crowd pleaser"), for me, Lee placed a palm full of pearl-sized balls into a special clay pot. A quick rinse with water to ''bring out the flavor" came next. Finally Lee filled the pot with boiling water, covered it, then poured more water on the lid. While kung fu tea is expensive (about $10 a serving), the quality is exceptional, and Qingping's staff will refill the pot as often as you or your companion like.

House of Tibet Kitchen
235 Holland St.
Somerville
617-629-7567

A recent visit to a Tibetan museum -- my first -- led me to the House of Tibet and a glass of kushu changkul, hot apple cider swirling with tiny bits of cottage cheese, resembling flakes in a snow globe. Proprietor Yeshey Palsang confesses that barley or rice-based alcohol, not cider, is traditionally the main ingredient. But lacking a liquor license, she improvises. ''We serve this drink on the Tibetan New Year in the morning," she says. ''People who are sick drink it, or women after giving birth. It's made with butter or cheese so they sleep well and relax." We enjoyed ours with another tasty Tibetan staple, sha momo, minced-meat dumplings flavored with ginger, onion, and garlic. We had leftovers only because so many dotted our plate.

Bengal Cafe
2263 Massachusetts Ave.
Cambridge
617-492-1944

After a large wedding feast of goat biryani, Bangladeshis drink borhani to help their digestion. I stood next to Nasrin Imam, who owns Bengal Cafe with her husband, Ali, as she tossed cilantro, mint, a small green chili, a touch of sugar, salt, black salt, white pepper, mustard seed, cumin, coriander, milk, and plain yogurt into a blender to make me a glass. It certainly was as spicy (and effective) as advertised. To cool me off, Imam also mixed me a refreshing glass of mango lassi, a traditional yogurt shake made with mango pulp, milk, sugar and ice. ($1.50)

El Pelon
92 Peterborough St.
The Fenway
617-262-9090

Street vendors throughout Mexico peddle agua frescas and horchata, the country's equivalents to iced tea and fruit punch. Horchata is made by soaking rice, almonds, and cinnamon in water overnight. The mash is then strained out, leaving an opaque, thin liquid that one can easily chug. Frescas -- literally fresh waters -- are made with fruits and spices. At El Pelon, a lively neighborhood taqueria with entire walls of customer photos, owner Nate Walker serves homemade horchata and agua de Jamaica, a cold drink made from hibiscus flowers that's tart like cranberry. ''It's very cleansing for the body," Walker says. (Each $1.50)

Pho So 1
223 Adams St.
Fields Corner
617-474-1999The coffee shops of Saigon are tiny, but the lines for Vietnamese coffee are long. So men take to the sidewalks, filling their makeshift outdoor cafes by the hundreds as they chat for hours. ''Americans drink beer. In Vietnam men drink coffee. It's cheaper -- only $1," says Pho So 1 owner Nguyen Do, a Saigon native. Vietnamese coffee is far stronger than most American versions, so even Vietnamese restaurants don't serve it unless requested. (Ask for coffee served ''cafe fin" or ''made at the table" as opposed to just ordering ''Vietnamese coffee," Do says.) Made with condensed milk, my coffee was creamy, with a slightly bitter aftertaste, and plenty strong. ''If you have whole cup," warns Do, ''tonight, forget about sleep." ($2)

PETER DeMARCO

If you have any tips about a restaurant, bakery, or other eatery worth noting, contact us at tablehopping@globe.com.

The Marliave Sisters

Inside Scoop: I feel boastful today, so I'll say that this is one of the best stories I've pumped out in a while. Classic DeMarco, if you will: a heart-warming, salt-of-the-earth tale with good rhythm, flow and quotes. The banter between the ladies and Frank, who is a non-stop talker, was funny. He butted into our conversation so often - and made so many faintly disguised pleas to be in the story - that I started laughing at the lunch table. I'll look for some quotes and publish them at the end of the story. The only bummer was that this was supposed to be on the cover of City Weekly, but instead ended up buried inside. That doesn't happen often. Now, we'll have to see about payment. Another battle awaits, I'm afraid.


The Sisters of Marliave are not departed
Charlestown trio sticks to tradition

By Peter DeMarco, Globe Correspondent | December 25, 2005

''The Sisters are here," calls out a member of Marliave Restaurant's wait staff, and inevitably, heads turn to see whether a group of nuns has walked through the door.

But sit within earshot of Ruth, Rita, and Joan's customary table -- second floor, under the middle window -- and you won't hear much talk about holy miracles. Unless, of course, someone spotted a Karen Scott sweater at Filene's for 30 percent off the markdown price.

The Marliave ''Sisters" -- Ruth Humphrey, 73; Joan O'Halloran, 75; and Rita Healey, 85 -- know more about shopping than almost anyone else treading Washington Street this holiday season. When they were all young women in the late 1940s they made a pact to spend Saturdays combing the racks at Gilchrist's, R.H. Stearns, and Jordan Marsh. A leisurely afternoon lunch at their favorite Italian restaurant, the Marliave on nearby Bosworth Street, completed the ritual.

Downtown Crossing has changed enormously since those halcyon days, when a fancy Betmar felt hat cost $4.98 at Raymond's and Neisner's Five-and-Dime served hot dogs for pennies. This spring even Filene's, the shopping district's grand old lady, will close its doors to make way for condominiums or office space or a discount store or some other form of modern progress.

Through it all, the Sisters, or so they're called, have been here. Climbing aboard the No. 93 bus in Charlestown where they live, they have made the trip to Downtown Crossing almost every Saturday for some 55 years. In the thick of blizzards they've pounded on Marliave's door, the only customers to make it that far. Summer heat waves likewise have not held them back from a good sale.

''We kept telling our kids. 'Don't do this on a Saturday.' 'Don't get married on a Saturday.' 'Don't do confirmation on a Saturday,' " says Ruth, ''because we can't go."

They arrive at the Marliave about 1 p.m., a fresh white cloth atop their reserved table. As always, Rita sits on one side and Ruth and Joan on the other. Anne Battit, their waitress, brings dishes of sliced pepperoni, french fries, and rolls and butter for them to nibble on as they chat away about life's ups and downs. At 2 p.m. they order their main meal: chicken marsala, no mushrooms, for everyone.

The entire restaurant knows the drill.

''We used to get chicken cacciatore. Oh, it was delicious," says Rita. ''Then we changed to marsala one day. The chef came up and wanted to know what was wrong with the cacciatore."

The original group had seven ''Sisters": the O'Neil sisters -- Ruth, Rita, May, and Doris -- plus Audrey, their sister-in-law, and good friends Bernie and Joan. They'd get to Downtown Crossing by about 9 a.m. on a Saturday and sail through a veritable sea of department stores.

There was Woolworth's and on the corner of Winter and Washington, Gilchrist's. For a man's dress shirt, it had to be Kennedy's; for baby clothes, R.H Stearns.
''I used to buy my hats at Raymond's," says Rita. ''I would go in and try them all on."

''We always wore hats," says Joan. ''To church, you wore hats."

During the week the women would leave their jobs at the Charlestown HealthCare Center, the Boston Water and Sewer Commission, and a bank -- bearing a different name depending on the decade -- to scout the sales during lunch hours. On Saturdays, with their mothers or someone else baby-sitting the kids, they would return to cash in on the bargains.

And so it went for decades, until shopping malls came on the scene, and the old-time
department stores began to disappear one by one.

Still, even as Downtown Crossing lost its luster, the Sisters kept coming back.

''I don't like malls. Period," says Rita.

''You take the bus from here to Charlestown. That takes, what, 15 minutes?" asks Ruth.

No matter what shops came or went, the Marliave was a constant. Jerry Collocini, their bartender for 30 years, was always ready with a joke or a song. On Saturdays, the regular crowd -- some doctors, a lawyer from Boston University, some contractors named O'Connor, another bar-goer named Bill -- would fill the room.

''Nobody bothers you in here. That's why we come here," says Ruth on a recent Saturday, a cranberry drink in her hand. ''We can sit here for hours if we wanted to. And they would never say, 'Oh you have to leave.' "

''I did try to throw them out," corrects Frank Iacoviello, the restaurant's owner, speaking up from behind the bar. ''They refused to leave!"

Iacoviello has known the women for 10 years, since he bought the Marliave, and such friendly bickering is by now part of the Saturday tradition. As Rita describes the handbag and glasses she has at home with the Marliave name on them, Frank jokingly barks out that they're stolen.

Naturally, some changes have been inevitable, the women say. Pushcarts clog Washington Street, much to their chagrin, and politically correct ''holiday trees" have replaced the old-fashioned Christmas trees they grew up with.

Doris, Audrey, Bernie, and May have all gone. Last year, Jerry the bartender retired because of a heart condition.

Jordan Marsh and its Enchanted Village were taken over by Macy's. Their beloved Filene's will be next.

''I went into a bank in Charlestown," says Ruth. ''I was at the counter, and the woman said, 'What are you going to do without Filene's? I used to see you every day in there walking around.' I said, 'I don't know. I guess we'll survive.' "

And so will their tradition, they pledge. In spite of what pessimists say, Joan believes Downtown Crossing is very much alive and well. ''When there are sales, it's packed like it always was," she says. This very month, Ruth says she snagged her best-ever bargain: a $150 Karen Scott outfit for a mere $43.

Though the Marliave is showing its age -- the 137-year-old restaurant has barely changed over the decades -- the food and service are still very good, and Frank is still there on Saturdays to give them trouble.

Whenever their daughters or grandchildren are around, the women take them to the Marliave.

''As long as they're here, we'll be here," says Joan.

A few minutes later, Frank barks from the bar again, telling the women they won't get any french fries or pepperoni next week.

''OK," says Ruth, then threatens to relocate the Sisters to another downtown eatery. ''Shepherd's pie. They serve that over there."

''Yeah. It's frozen. It's made in Chicago," Frank says.

''So are you!" says Rita.

''I'll make you a shepherd's pie next week."

Peter DeMarco can be reached at demarco@globe.com.

Decked-out breads

Inside Scoop: The cranberry "presents" were possibly the best breads I've ever eaten. I thought I'd be the hero at Christmas and pick some up, but when I arrived at the bakery at 11 a.m. on Dec. 24 the line was out the door and around the block. I was flabbergasted. There must have been 100 people waiting to get in the bakery. It reminded me of people waiting outside Fenway for tickets, or at the movies for Star Wars. Crazy. Abe the owner was out serving complimentary hot cider to the masses, and he sort of recognized me but couldn't connect my face to the Globe. I thought it was kind of neat that he had no idea who I was, even though this article probably tripled the size of the line. If I'd only kept their delicious breads a secret ...


Calendar section, 12-22-05

You’re desperate for a last-minute Christmas gift, but sour eggnog sounds better than braving the mall again. Stay sane and swing by Clear Flour Bread (cq) instead, where doughy crème puff snowmen ($9.50), pink and white candy cane breadsticks ($3) and chocolate, turtle-shaped Challah breads ($4.50) await.

“You could think of something creative for almost every time of the year, but the holidays are when we do extra special things,” says bakery owner Christy Timon. (cq)

Infusing breads with vibrant, all-natural colors tops that list. Timon’s pumpkin-shaped rolls are harvest orange with green, spirulina algae tendrils on top ($4.25.) Her royal lilac ciabatta rolls ($1.75), made with head baker Yozo Masuyama’s (cq) secret ingredient, Japanese sweet potato powder, are shockingly purple. We fell in love with the tri-colored holiday bread wreaths ($6) and cranberry “presents” – pink sweet bread loaves shaped like wrapped gift boxes, complete with edible ribbons and bows ($3).

“I’m interested in helping people sit down and eat together. I think that will solve a lot of the world’s problems,” says Timon, who runs the bakery with her husband, Abe Faber (cq).

Great bread and peace on Earth. What could be better for Christmas? Clear Flour Bread, 178 Thorndike St., Brookline. Open M-F, 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. This Saturday from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Closed on Christmas Day. 617-739-0060.

Peter DeMarco

- 30

Proof is in the pudding

Table Hopping: Christmas Pudding
By Peter DeMarco

Anyone who’s read Charles Dickens’s “A Christmas Carol” knows that Bob Cratchit (cq) and Tiny Tim ate plum pudding on Christmas Day. Though the dessert is hard to find nowadays, plenty of other puddings can be found to celebrate the holidays with - coconut, chocolate, lemon, Indian, rice, and custard among them. So grab a spoon, and don’t be a Scrooge.

Full Moon Restaurant (cq)
344 Huron Ave.
Cambridge
617-354-6699

Chocolate addicts will fall hard for Full Moon’s warm chocolate pudding cake. Served in a blue ceramic dish with homemade whipped cream – the coldest and thickest I’ve ever tasted - this super-rich dessert is as warm as a just-baked cookie, as moist as a brownie and as gooey as a hot fudge sundae. “It’s comfort food,” understates chef Julian Frigo, (cq) who owns Full Moon with his wife, Sarah Wheaton. (cq) Table crayons, a play area and grilled cheese sandwiches give Full Moon a kid-friendly feel. But most of the food is decidedly adult, including the pudding cake, which is made with “lots” of coffee, and Frigo’s maple bread pudding, which tastes like a sweet version of syrup-drenched French toast. (Both $4.95)


Durgin-Park (cq)
Faneuil Hall Marketplace
Boston
617-227-2038

Durgin-Park, the city’s second-oldest restaurant behind the Union Oyster House, may have the oldest Indian pudding recipe in America. Made with cornmeal and molasses, the early colonial dessert – despite its name, settlers probably created it - is grainy like porridge but slightly sweet. Normally served with ice cream, our waitress forgot to put some on. Fortunately, Durgin-Park posts its pudding recipe on its website. My advice: make some at home, add raisins, and top with a scoop of rice pudding ice cream from Christina’s of Inman Square. But be sure to give yourself enough time: Durgin-Park’s longtime chef Tommy Ryan (cq) bakes his Indian pudding for 6 hours to get it just right.


Café Brazil (cq)
421 Cambridge St.
Allston
617-789-5980

“Brazil is a country of coconut,” says Café Brazil owner Valter Vitorino (cq). So for a true taste of Rio, try his manjar de coco – coconut pudding with prune caramel sauce. Made with coconuts and coconut milk, and corn starch to add thickness, manjar is served bottoms-up on a dish with a single, caramel-soaked prune on top. Custard lovers can also try Café Brazil’s pudim, ($2.95) an equally-tasty baked custard pudding with caramel sauce, as they soak in the restaurant’s bright colors, weekend guitarist and a brilliant fresco of swimmers on Copacabana Beach. (cq) Just what one needs to forget winter’s chill.


Busy Bee Restaurant (cq)
1046 Beacon St.
Brookline
617-566-8733

I strolled into the Busy Bee on the advice of an old friend who confessed a weakness for big globs of chocolate pudding served on plain white dishes. Though he hadn’t been to the restaurant in years, everything about the place was just as he’d described: the old-style counter, the hearty food, the cheap prices – and the pudding, served with whipped cream from a no-name aerosol can. “If it works, I keep the same,” (cq) says owner Peter Christakis, (cq) who opened in 1966 after immigrating from Greece. Pudding has always been a big seller at the diner, where Christakis makes a daily batch of either rice, chocolate, tapioca or custard. Like his $4.10 hamburger and French fry plates and $3.95 Spanish omelets, it’s a bargain at $1.95 a dish.


Sonsie (cq)
327 Newbury St.
Boston
617-351-2500

For simple pudding go to the Busy Bee. For pure decadence head to Sonsie. Pastry Chef Michael Blau-Shane (cq) has created two dishes for pudding lovers to feast upon: a layered lemon soufflé pudding with fresh mango and coconut meringues, and a traditional warm chocolate bread pudding served with a goose-egg size dollop of fresh whipped cream. The soufflé is strong and almost tangy while the bread pudding is so light it just about melts in your mouth. “It deserves to be shared with someone else,” noted one of my dining companions. Indeed, someone special. ($8)


Mount Vernon Restaurant (cq)
14 Broadway
Somerville
617-666-3830

As a Navy cook in the 1940s Bill Trabucco (cq) made gallons of grapenut custard pudding for the troops. After the service he brought his recipe to the Mount Vernon Restaurant, where he and his pudding were mainstays for 57 years. Though Trabucco has retired, you can still order his grapenut and tapioca puddings, each one thick and yummy and topped with a flourish of whipped cream. “The grapenut custard is one of our cheapest and biggest sellers,” says general manager Brett Henry, (cq) whose grandfather, John, opened Somerville’s oldest restaurant in 1935. “From our oldest people to our youngest people, its one of our favorite desserts.” Spoons aweigh!

- 30

Still cleaning the Mystic

Inside Scoop: Sometimes I wonder if editor Tom Coakley ever reads my stuff because he rarely changes anything. Not that I'm complaining ...

Mystic River clean-up efforts make progress but fall short
Published in Globe Northwest 12-15-05

By Peter DeMarco
Globe Correspondent

Some 60 shopping carts and 90 rubber tires were yanked from the Mystic and Malden rivers this summer during the largest river clean-up in recent memory. And yet, it wasn’t enough.

When the Massachusetts Water Resources Authority pulled its clean-up boat from the water in early November, dozens if not more pieces of heavy trash had to be left behind.

It’s anyone’s guess when the remaining trash be removed, or who will pay for it. The MWRA, which sponsored the $28,000 clean-up in lieu of paying an unrelated federal fine, is out of money. Medford, Malden and Everett, the three cities bordering the rivers, are strapped for cash. River advocates likewise lack the thousands of dollars needed to put a crew back on the water.

“There’s a huge backlog, and they made a huge dent in,” said Nancy Hammett, (cq) executive director of the Mystic River Watershed Association, praising the MWRA’s efforts. “Cleaning the rest of it, it obviously takes money.”

Still, Hammett and other conservationists are optimistic that this summer’s clean-up is the start of good things to come. The Army Corps of Engineers, which is slowly proceeding with plans to restore wildlife habitats along the Malden River, will likely remove some trash as part of the project. More than 250 tons of buried old tires and rubber shoe lasts have been hauled away from the fledgling River’s Edge residential and office development to make way for nearly 8 acres of riverfront parkland. Should that project take off, further river beautification efforts could follow.

A handful of companies responsible for industrial pollution of the rivers (portions of the riverfront are part of a federal Superfund site) could be made to pay reparations; retail stores whose shopping carts are dumped in the water could be persuaded to remove them.

Hammett’s watershed association, meanwhile, is drafting an action plan for improving the watershed that could include anything from blocking vehicular access to dumping sites to funding another clean-up boat.

At the very least, this summer’s effort, during which crews spent two months and hundreds of hours purging the Medford portions of the Mystic and Malden rivers of every piece of garbage they could find, provided a long-overdue glimpse of what’s possible.

“The bulk of the debris left is in and around the Malden River. That’s an area that’s undergoing an incredible transformation from a hidden, neglected area to housing and public use,” said Fred Laskey, (cq) the MWRA’s executive director. “I would suspect you’ll see, very quietly, demands and pressure increase to get that cleaned up.”

For information on the watershed association’s action plan go online at www.mysticriver.org.

- 30

Back behind the wheel

It's winter, so you know what that means. We got about three inches on Sunday, Dec. 3, so I bolted from the Nieman Narrative conference and hit my route by 2:15 p.m. It only makes sense that I had to literally jump from journalism to plowing in one day. Check out my daily plowing journal on my new blog, Plowing: the sophomore season.

www.thesophomoreseason.blogspot.com

No peeking

Inside Scoop: Three things about this story. One, I made tons of minor errors that editors thankfully caught. (I broke the rules and used the spelling of someone's name as it was given to me by the person's neighbor. Always go to the primary source!) The other is about Lisa Blackowitz's last name, and how I used common sense to avert disaster. She works for this rape crisis center and didn't want me to use her professional name. In fact, she didn't want her name in the paper at all. (Jeremy and his wife, X, ...) So I suggested we use her husband's last name, which she immediately agreed to. Thank GOD we live in a day where women don't automatically take their husband's last names. Though having a couple with the same last name makes it a lot smoother on the ear. ("The Blackowitzes were home, but David Eng and Andrea Canty were not.") The third thing? I found out about this filming because it was happening on my block! The Blackowitzes are just two doors down. I'm such an investigative reporter. Actually, you'd be surprised how much effort went in to finding out the names of the couples and such. Trading Spaces' PR division didn't call me back until after I'd written the story, so I had to report around the main source by going to neighbors and the like. RW1 all over again, though not exactly the Bronx. PS - Globe Northwest went with a slightly different version.

(City Weekly, 12/4/05)

For TV show, homeowner pals give each other a space lift
By Peter DeMarco

When the crew from the home-improvement TV show "Trading Spaces" showed up at Lisa and Jeremy Blackowitz's Davis Square condo, the scene was about as quiet as a tripped car alarm. White production tents dotted the street, a table saw buzzed at all hours, and camera crews came and went from their third-floor walkup.

But just what were workers doing inside the home? Were they ripping apart the bathroom, the living room, or the kitchen? Painting, wallpapering, or cutting old furniture in half? Staining hardwood floors, or plunking down thrift-store rugs?

Curious neighbors and passersby could only wonder.

"Trading Spaces," which airs on Saturday nights on The Learning Channel, features a pair of friends who swap homes for a few days and pick a room to redecorate, with an interior designer's help, for less than $1,000.

"Ever sit in someone's home and wonder what would happen if you stripped, ripped, and painted as you pleased?" asks the show's website.

Security on the set is tight. Crew members aren't allowed to talk about the show or let anyone inside the home.

The spokeswoman for Banyan Productions, which produces the show, can't comment on any of the remodeling choices. The show's participants, likewise, are instructed to reveal next to nothing until their episode has aired.

"If a crazy designer bolts your things to the ceiling, you've got to have fun with it," said Jeremy Blackowitz, a 29-year-old lawyer, about his approach to the show. "You can't take on the opportunity dreading it."

The Blackowitzes switched homes for two days with friends Andrea "Dre" Canty and David Eng, who live in Arlington Heights. The twist? Canty and Eng lived in the Blackowitzes' Somerville condo for seven years before selling it to them in 2003.

"We made some very poor decorating choices," Canty said of their time in Somerville during the show's filming three weeks ago. "We're here to right the wrong."

But details she could not reveal.

Still, like a trail of sawdust, there were clues. As carpenters worked outdoors on Kingston Street one afternoon including on-air carpenter Jimmy Little, with his bleach-blond hair a piece of furniture began to take shape. By Thursday evening, it appeared that they'd built a new kitchen cabinet.

"Joe, will you bring up two orange paint trays?" someone yelled from a third-floor window, letting slip another hint of goings-on.

"There sure was a lot of tile work," grumbled another worker within earshot.

At some point, an old red door emerged from the condo. Later on, a new, glass-leaded French door went up the stairwell, where the pinging sound of an automatic nail gun echoed.

Downstairs neighbor John Corcoran said the Blackowitzes' kitchen was filled with "bright colors" before Canty and Eng showed up to remodel it. But he couldn't say what had been changed.

"The production people have been nice, but they haven't even asked me if I wanted to take a look," he said during the filming.

Over in Arlington, Canty and Eng's neighbors were just as intrigued and mystified.

Next-door neighbors Peter Cox and Sue Aman said Canty was hoping the Blackowitzes would remodel her half-finished basement. (Canty and Lisa Blackowitz work at Rape Crisis Services of Greater Lowell, where their boss saw an ad for the show and encouraged them to apply as contestants.)

Crew members, however, appeared to be filming on the first floor of the house, Aman said during the week of the shoot.

"My son has a Bob the Builder outfit. I was going to send him over there in it to snoop," Aman said, referring to her 1-year-old, Ian. "Who could resist a cute kid?"

Still, Aman had seen something of note: On the second day of shooting, she spotted on-air interior designer Hildi Santo-Tomas climbing into a pickup truck.

Another neighbor, Lydia Cummings, said she couldn't imagine what was happening inside Canty and Eng's Dutch Colonial, the interior of which she described as "simple, plain, and elegant."

Once the crews disappeared, however, Cummings figured she'd find out fast enough.

"I'll invite myself over and see what happened," she said.

For everyone else, the episode will probably air in late January.

"We are not allowed to tell what our reactions are to the room. We're not allowed to take pictures of the room," said Canty, apologetically. "You'll have to wait for the show to see whether I love it or hate it."

Q&A: Paul Demakis

Published 11-27-5, City Weekly

By Peter DeMarco
Globe Correspondent

Paul Demakis (cq) doesn’t look like the other graduate students buzzing about the main lobby of Tufts University’s Fletcher School (cq) on a recent afternoon. He’s got textbooks under his arm and a backpack over his shoulder, but where’s the all-mighty laptop?

“Oh, it’s at home. It’s on the fritz,” he says.

Demakis, of course, stands out in other ways as well. He’s the only student in the Master of Arts in Law and Diplomacy program who’s served 10 years with the Massachusetts state legislature. The only student who’s been a hearing officer with the state Appellate Tax Board. And at age 52, he’s about twice as old as his 20-something classmates.

A Back Bay liberal known for battling former House Speaker Thomas Finneran (cq) when few others would, Demakis disappeared from politics about a year ago to become a fulltime student. But his decision to leave the life he knew was hardly a mid-life crisis: Demakis says he’s thought for years about putting his skills as a Harvard-trained lawyer to use promoting development and democracy in the third world.

“Even as early as my second term, or certainly by my third term, I started to think about the future,” he says. “You have to do that. I don’t think (working in the legislature) is the kind of job you should spend your whole life in.”

Demakis, who expects to graduate in 2007, is in Venezuela this semester working for a non-profit group fighting governmental corruption. City Weekly caught up with the former 8th Suffolk District representative during a recent visit home to find out what life as a student is like the second time around.

Q: What’s tougher: cramming for a house bill debate, or cramming for a test?
A: Both jobs require lots of hard work, but in some respects it’s tougher being a student than it is a legislator. And the reason is, you and only you are accountable for your work product in the end. Here I turn the paper in or I don’t turn the paper in. I take the test and pass it or I don’t take the test and pass it. A problem set is due the next day. You can’t say, ‘I’ll have my aid do the problem set for me.’ You do it and you’re up until it’s done.

Q: While in politics you were known as a contrarian. Are you the one guy in class who gives the professor a hard time?
A: (Smiles) No. Not at all.

Q: But your experience lends you views on the world that other students may not have.
A: I’ve had some experiences that have had some relevancy to here that other students have not had. But you know, they’ve had some experiences that I haven’t had. And so I don’t see this as me being sort of another teacher for them.

Q: When did you reach the decision to quit politics and start Fletcher?
A: I had a difficult primary challenge in 2002 because of redistricting. I ended up winning quite easily… but I came back and suddenly I found that my attitude toward the job was changing. I was getting tired of being out every night. I was getting impatient with people asking me to do things that they had every right to ask me to do. I was starting to show the signs of burnout because I had really approached the job in a very intense way for 10 years. I think it is so important to recognize warning signs on the job as soon as they start flashing. And I did.

Q: Your interest in the third world – has that always been something inside you?
A: I’ve always had a great curiosity about the world. But for a lot of reasons, and I kick myself for this, I did very little traveling. Then in 1992 I went to London and, you know, the genie was unleashed. And so I started doing a lot of traveling. In 1998 I went to Asia for a month, followed by Rio de Janeiro in 1999, Uruguay in 2000, and that was when I saw that I really enjoyed traveling in the developing world. When I was in Harvard College (as an undergraduate) I had no interest in international relations. I was an American government guy all the way. Funny the way life evolves.

Q: You announced you were leaving office in April 2004, just five months before Thomas Finneran announced he was stepping down. Had you known he was leaving, would you have stayed?
A: I had a very deep suspicion that he was leaving soon; I even told a colleague of mine. I asked myself would it make a difference? And the answer was no, because there were many other things that were causing me to leave. A desire for more time for myself, just a general fatigue with all the responsibilities of the job, many of which have nothing to do with the speaker of the house. I was ready to go.

Q: This took a lot of courage, didn’t it?
A: I hate to use the word courage to describe myself. I prefer the word risk. There were certainly risks involved, but in evaluating the risks I decided that they were not unreasonable - they were manageable. The most serious risk for me was financial because I felt that I had not saved enough for my retirement. And doing this for two or three years doesn’t help. But I decided in the end I was financially secure enough that I could do it and that the potential benefits outweigh by far the costs. So it was worth taking a chance.

Q: How much pizza have you eaten?
A: It’s a funny question that I’m going to answer in a serious way. (School) has had a negative effect on my eating habits and my exercise. The only exercise I get is walking from Davis Square up to here and back.

Q: You’re happy with your life right now?
A: I am happy with my life right now. And I am having fun.

- 30

Mike's Automotive

City Weekly, 11-27-05

By Peter DeMarco
Globe Correspondent

Auto mechanic Mike Pedersen (cq) doesn’t just have a brain for business. He’s got nearly 20 brains.

And they all showed up at his Union Square shop last Thursday afternoon.

Pedersen, proprietor of Mike’s Automotive Services, (cq) belongs to a small club of auto shop owners stretched from New England to Wisconsin who swap strategies on how to wow customers (offer free Internet access in the waiting room), improve marketing (advertise a “lifetime” oil change service for $169.95) and get in on the latest technology (give technicians touch-screen writing tablets instead of messy paper forms.)

The shop owners even share their finances with each other, pointing out ways to trim expenses, alter prices or change staffing when a member’s shop isn’t doing well.

“In your lifetime, how many automotive facilities have you seen come and go?” Pedersen asked. “It’s not that they’re not good mechanics. Ninety-nine percent of the time they’re not business people. It’s a huge problem in the industry.”

Enter Bottom Line Impact Groups, the Washington state-based organization that put together Pedersen’s club and several like it around the country. Pedersen heard about Bottom Line while at a seminar in 1997. Since joining that year his business has more than tripled in size thanks, in large part, to the innovative and creative practices he’s learned.

“In three years I went from roughly $350,000 to $1 million in gross sales,” said Petersen, 54, who was in business for 17 years before joining the Bottom Line group. “We had muddled through the years, so to speak, and I just knew there had to be a better way.”

Pedersen’s success with Bottom Line hasn’t motivated other local shops to join, however. He remains the only Boston-based member of a group. Just three shops in all of Massachusetts – the others being Browne’s Garage in Norwood (cq) and E & G Automotive of West Springfield - belong.

Pedersen said it’s often difficult to convince shop owners that customers aren’t just looking for lowest price. (His prices are above average, he said.) Joining Bottom Line, meanwhile, requires significant commitments of both time and money. Dues are about $4,000 a year, and members are required to travel several times annually - sometimes flying 1,000 or more miles - to critique fellow members’ shops in person.

Which brings us to last Thursday, when a Peter Pan bus rolled into Petersen’s parking lot shortly after 1:30 p.m. Immediately, shop owners in Pedersen’s club from as far as Illinois stepped off and begin inspecting each aspect of Pedersen’s operation, checking everything from the lines in the parking lot to his employee sick-day policy to the overall happiness of his mechanics.

Because Pedersen has been a group member for so long, and because his shop is almost brand new - he moved from a former horse stable on Medford Street into a state-of-the art facility in Union Square in October 2004 – there were no glaring problems. Nevertheless, Pedersen’s fellow shop owners found nicks in the armor.

“You’ve been making follow-up phone calls to all your customers?” owner Charles Browne (cq) asked Pedersen’s younger son, Mark, (cq) the company’s business manager.

“We haven’t been doing that steadily,” he replied.

Over by the car lifts, shop owner Bill Art (cq) of Edwardsville, Illinois watched as Pedersen’s employees went about their work.

“The customer car had no seat protection,” he said afterwards, clipboard in hand. “We recommend that most shops use a plastic sheet cover in case they get grease on it.”

As usual, group members also learned a few things during the inspection. Several crowded around Pedersen’s older son, Mike Jr., (cq) as he showed off the computerized touch pad that’s supplanted written charts. Others did a double take at the free Internet station and flatscreen television Pedersen placed in the customer waiting room, or marveled at his fleet of nine loaner cars and the cleanliness of his home-quality restroom.

“You see all these things and go, “Wow, can I do this,’” said Browne, one of the group’s newest members. “Your thinking has to be twisted. But once you get educated into it, it’s simple.”

An hour later he and other group members re-boarded the bus and returned to a Woburn hotel, where they compared notes on Pedersen’s shop and wrote up a report card. Following policy, they’ll check back in a few weeks to make sure Pedersen follows their suggestions.

“I have probably 99 percent of my ducks in a row,” he said. “But I knew they’d find something.”

- 30

Postscript: I invited Dad to join me at the last minute, but he had to show somebody some space or something.

The Great Turkey Walk

Inside Scoop: It's Thanksgiving, so I'm resurrecting my best-ever T-Day story, published 11-27-03 on the front page of the City & Region section. (My second best: Turkeys thumbing their noses at Route 62 traffic in Danvers on Black Friday.) Thanks to my mom, who had her students read a book called the Great Turkey Walk, I actually came up with a new angle for Thankgiving. I remember the morning the story came out - it snowed, and I was in my plowtruck when I picked up a copy at the Melrose Dunkin Donuts.

A real turkey trot
By Peter DeMarco

The image, on today's tableau, would be ludicrous: hundreds and hundreds of gobbling turkeys, farmers at their heels, walking 10, 30, even 100 miles to Boston's markets for Thanksgiving Day, leaving a trail of traffic jams and exhausted (or expired) birds in their wake.

But in the days before railroads, and even up to about the Civil War, when horses and stagecoaches were the favored modes of transportation, the harvest-time turkey walks along what are now Route 20, Route 9, and Route 2 were as much a part of Thanksgiving in New England as the turkeys themselves, historians say.

Farmers regularly prodded the birds from as far as Worcester and southern New Hampshire. A good pace was 2 miles an hour, assuming you didn't need to stop and chase a wayward turkey. Because the journeys sometimes took days, farmers would rest at taverns along the way, giving the innkeeper a bird for the night's stay as their flock roosted in a nearby tree before the next day's march.

''There are a couple of cases where turkeys actually walked from southern Vermont to Brighton. That's the longest walk I've ever seen,'' said Jack Larkin, director of research, collections, and library at Old Sturbridge Village. ''I think that would be a fairly heroic feat of turkey-trotting, as you might call it.''

The turkeys of the early 19th century, historians and agricultural specialists say, were not nearly as rotund as today's commercially bred specimens that seem to stagger just to stand up. Nor were they as large: A big bird in those times might weigh 15 pounds, said Debra Friedman, also of Old Sturbridge Village.

Despite such strenuous exercise, the turkeys did not lose much weight on their journeys, provided they were well fed and given water.

''You might lose a half-pound. Let them stand around in market and let them eat a little bit, and they might put that back on,'' said R.G. Brown, a retired animal science professor from the University of Massachusetts. ''Also, you would take your time. Remember, the turkeys were certainly in no hurry to get where they were going.''

In Boston, the main point of sale was Brighton, where various livestock, from cattle to sheep to pigs, were herded to stockyards that spanned hundreds of acres. But turkeys were also walked to Hartford or Providence or New York City to meet the demand. ''The Great Turkey Walk,'' a children's book by Kathleen Karr, loosely recounts an actual turkey walk from Missouri to Denver.

The droving of animals to slaughter, oftentimes dozens of miles by hoof or foot, was necessary because before the railroads, meat could not be carried great distances without refrigeration.

While cattle are the animals primarily associated with droving, turkeys were equally as adaptable to long walks, said Judy Adams, who owns Adams Turkey Farm in Westford, Vt., with her husband, David, and has researched turkey droving as a hobby.

''They're very easy to herd, especially if the grower is the one who manages the flock. They'll follow a grower,'' she said. ''If you had a cart with shelled corn in front of them and fed them along the way, you could walk them to Alaska.''

''I always think of Gary Larson and the Far Side,'' Larkin said, referring to the satirical cartoonist. ''We know that all these kinds of animals were marched to their doom. What would the turkeys be saying to each other on the way?''

Though farmers were bound to lose a few birds on every trip, even very long walks could be financially rewarding because turkey was considered luxury food.

Whereas a large farm today raises several hundred thousand turkeys, a large farm 150 years ago might have raised a few hundred. Meanwhile, there were few wild turkeys to hunt, said Friedman, coordinator of historical foodways for Old Sturbridge Village.

''People are more likely to see wild turkeys today than people in the 1830s,'' she said. ''New England was almost deforested back then. There wasn't the habitat for most game to survive.''

Although Nathaniel Hawthorne and Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote about the awful traffic jams caused by the annual livestock drives in New England, there are few mentions of turkey droving in history books, historians said. ''It was so commonplace, they rarely mentioned it,'' said Brown.

Local turkey farmers today said they knew little of the lore of the walks. John Pierce, proprietor of Bongi's Turkey Farm in Duxbury, found it hard to imagine any turkey walking more than a few miles.

''I don't think they would have stood up for a longer journey,'' he said. ''I think they would have been exhausted.''

Like the place it's named for, Dotini has a flavor all its own

The recipe was kept secret until Tuesday night, when, before a packed house at the Blarney Stone in Fields Corner, Dorchester’s very own martini - “The Dotini” - made its grand debut. “We’re not the sexiest charity,” explained Bill Richard, who helped organize “Martinis on the Avenue,” a giant fundraiser for both the St. Mark’s Area and Fields Corner Main Streets programs. “So we need to have a sexy" drink. Made with lemonade, Chambord, citron vodka and colorful, stick-to-your-teeth Dots candies, like the kind at the movies, the ultra-sweet Dotini was a hit. Still, we couldn’t help but ask attendees what drink they would concoct if challenged to bottle the many flavors of “Dot” Avenue. “A dirty martini,” barked one local, “because Dorchester is a little gritty, yet a neighborhood with real substance.” “A nice, single malt,” said Fields Corner resident Yvonne Ruggles. “Not everyone likes it, but if you’re a connoisseur, you will find that the flavors mix in your mouth. That’s the joy of Dorchester.” Local insurance agent Karlene Valente would make her drink with ginger – bitter at first, but with a pleasing aftertaste. Larry Slotnick, a Zip Car executive who lives in the neighborhood, said his beverage would taste like a southern barbecue. “I have a ton of neighbors whose families come from the south. People do tons of barbecuing, usually right out in the front yard.” Newcomers Adam and Allison Hodges Myerson, who left cozy Davis Square for the wilds of Fields Corner six months ago, suggested a shot of hard alcohol followed by lime soda from their favorite local Vietnamese restaurant. “You gotta have the contrast,” Adam said. “A shot of Jagermeister is what it feels like when moving to Fields Corner. But then it tastes kind of sweet, and it feels good.” Others said they wouldn’t change a thing about the Dotini, the brainchild of FCMS board member Peter Sasso. They’d even order another. “If you look at the (candy) colors – red, green and yellow – it’s diversity,” said party-goer Treng Huynh, 27. “To me, it does represent Dorchester.”

- Peter DeMarco, City Weekly 11-20-05

Inside Scoop : For a tiny story, this one took mucho effort. Of course, I made it hard on myself. My assignment was to attend the martini party and come up with some quirky angle. But after three hours there, I had nothing. At 3 a.m. I awoke and smacked my head. How could I not have asked people how they'd create a dotini? I spent the morning re-calling everyone I'd interviewed and the piece fell together nicely. Well, I think. Thomasine, my editor, never said boo. Then there was a small crisis because I put the work "drink" in parens in a quote and a copy editor called me on it. You know, he was right: I used a crutch. I was lazy - Richard said the word event, not drink, which was more convenient - and promptly did more reporting. Naturally, Bill Richard's full quote didn't make it in the story because it was too long, but here it is, for the record:

“Does the martini night have a little bit of sex appeal? I suppose it does. We’re more or less telling people, ‘Come out and try the Dotini. Come out and try Dorchester.’”

A few of the more colorful answers - the dirty martini, the barbecue drink - were also cut from the print version of the story because it was too long. Still, it held together well.

A helping of history

Published 11-20-05
Table hopping – Historic neighborhood restaurants

By Peter DeMarco

Thanksgiving brings to mind turkey dinners, football and, of course, local history. So with the holiday approaching, we turn our attention to Boston’s oldest restaurants. The Union Oyster House and Durgin-Park (both founded in 1826) are the obvious choices, but what about historic neighborhood restaurants? In Southie it’s Amrheins, est. 1890. Cantina Italiana on Hanover Street claims to be the North End’s senior ristorante. And in Chinatown, China Pearl has been serving dim sum on and off for decades. If only the Pilgrims had such choices.

1. S&S Restaurant
(Est. 1919)
1334 Cambridge St.
Inman Square, Cambridge
617-354-0777

The photographs on S&S’s walls retell Inman Square’s history, from the days of horse drawn carriages to the tumultuous 1970s, when the restaurant’s windows were paneled over out of fears of vandalism. But no photo is more striking than Rebecca “Ma” Edelstein’s (cq) large portrait behind the register. “There she is, keeping an eye on the cash receipts for us,” jokes co-owner Gary Mitchell (cq). Mitchell’s great-grandmother founded her Jewish deli on the simple principle of getting good value for your money. Its success has been dizzying: since opening in 1919, S&S has served more than 64 million cups of coffee, 15 million omelets and 2 million slices of apple pie, Mitchell estimates. There’s a crowd be it breakfast, lunch or dinner, and with more than 200 items on the menu - where else in Boston can one order a bagel and lox, Asian chicken salad or a filet mignon? – S&S has a dish for literally every appetite.

2. Santarpio's Pizza
(Est. 1903)
111 Chelsea St.
East Boston
617-567-9871

Cantina Italiana on Hanover Street, founded in 1931, is the North End’s most senior restaurant. But the oldest Italian restaurant in all of Boston stands in Eastie, where Santarpio’s started out in 1903 as a humble bread bakery. “There was only one meal prepared a day, whether it was beef stew, macaroni or tripe on Saturdays. Whatever my great-grandfather felt like making,” says Carla Santarpio, (cq) who runs the restaurant with her brother Frank (cq) and sister Joia. (cq) Their famous thin crust, thick-cheese pizza came along in 1933, according to the family’s 96-year-old matriarch, Anna Timpone (cq). Other than barbequed lamb and sausage plates, it remains the only item on the menu. With lines out the door most nights, no need to ask why.

Frank Santarpio and two freshly made pies. The one on the right is mine. Mushroom!

3. Marliave Restaurant
(Est. 1868)
10 Bosworth St.
Downtown Crossing
617-423-6340

Then again, Frank Iacoviello (cq) thinks his (italics) restaurant is the oldest Italian eatery in Boston. “When they had cows up on the Common, we were here,” he says. The Marliave, established in 1868, predates almost every other local restaurant. But it was a predominantly French restaurant – the first in the city to offer haute cuisine, Iacoviello says – before transitioning to Italian fare in 1935. (As for the cows, they were banned from the Common in 1830.) Regardless, in its day, Café Marliave was as famous as any North End ristorante. Generations of Downtown Crossing shoppers still attest that a trip to Boston wasn’t complete without a bowl of the Marliave’s minestrone soup or a plate of its veal parmigiana, both of which are still on the menu.

The sign is so old, the date has worn off.

4. Doyle’s
(Est. 1882)
3484 Washington St.
Jamaica Plain
617-524-2345

A saloon. A general store. A betting parlor. A speak-easy. Doyle’s has been them all. JP’s eldest restaurant embodies Boston history, from the wooden booths where generations of city politicians talked shop to the photos of Ted Williams on the walls to the 1907 phone booth once used by bookmakers. “Everything you see here is the real McCoy,” boasts mainstay Gerry Burke, (cq) standing near a 1946 menu board featuring a broiled scotch ham dinner for 30 cents. Burke recently passed the business along to his son Gerry Jr. (cq) and partner Chris Spellman, (cq) but nothing’s changed. Crowds still pour in for Doyle’s 32 tap beers – the restaurant was the first ever to serve Sam Adams – tons of dinner specials and hearty weekend brunches. You might even catch Mayor Thomas M. Menino (cq) dining in the room named in his honor.

5. Amrheins
(Est. 1890)
80 West Broadway
South Boston
617-268-6189

Downtown businessman Rick Putprush,(cq) beer in hand, surveyed Amrhein’s spacious new bar room early Wednesday night and gave his review. “Welcome to the 21st century,” he said. South Boston’s oldest restaurant re-opened this week a year after closing for a massive renovation, and while the dark wooden façade on West Broadway remains untouched, returning customers are bound to be surprised when they step inside. Owner Stephen Mulrey (cq) has gone from three rooms to two while replacing every seat, table, booth and lighting fixture in the 115-year-old establishment. Even the bar’s old tin ceiling has given way to a richly lighted vaulted one. Still, efforts have been made to retain much of the restaurant’s old-time character. Photos of legendary mayor James Michael Curley, the restaurant’s adopted patron (he never really dined there, Mulrey said) are omnipresent; the new furniture is rich and dark like before; the carved wooden bar back, dating to 1890, still rests behind the beer taps. New executive chef Janice Silva, (cq) formerly of Le Meridien, says more upscale dishes will dominate the menu. (First-night customers raved about the pork chops and pan-fried chicken parmigiana.) Still, a smattering of old favorites, such as the grilled marinated sirloin tips, are sticking around. “The building was showing its age,” says Pamela Coe, (cq) Amrhein’s president, about the 8-month renovation. ‘‘We tried to mix the old and the new.’’ Will some regulars miss the outdated but familiar version of Amrhein’s? Probably. But far more, customers said, will be glad it’s back. “It was tough when it closed down. My whole family used to come here for dinners and brunch,” said Tim Berardinelli, (cq) 24, of Dorchester, dining with friends. “The food’s better now. And we like the new flatscreens.”

6. China Pearl Restaurant
(Est. 1960)
9 Tyler St.
Chinatown
617-426-4338

Chinatown’s first restaurant, Hong Far Low, (cq) opened in 1879 and thrived for about 75 years, locals say. But try finding a present-day eatery with such longevity, and you’ll be out of luck. China Pearl on Tyler Street, which opened in 1960, comes closest to patriarchal status. For years its grand dining room drew customers from across the city in search of late night food, and its dim sum was not to be reckoned with. China Pearl’s current owners close up at 10:30 p.m. and have changed the restaurant’s Chinese name to Lung Fung, which means “the dragon and the phoenix,” traditional symbols of China’s emperor and empress. But the restaurant façade still reads China Pearl, the place still serves a great dim sum, and its large, albeit dated, dining room is still one of the top places in Chinatown for parties and celebrations.

Inside Scoop: I bit off more than I could chew with this topic. The printed version got significantly trimmed for space, but I credit David Abel with maintaining the integrity of the piece. It's really my fault: I turned in 1,000 words for a 700-word space. But the topic was so rich and interesting and hadn't been written about. I've got to learn to save such good ideas from table hop and pitch them for bigger spaces, or even the Food section. Mark my words: my next table hop will be under 800 words.

Since Tom Sheehan has bagged me on a few mistakes recently I took extra pains to report the hell out of this story. It took me a week, and I made just $325 on it, including photos, which sucks. But it's a good piece of journalism. My source list, ala Columbia days:

The Boston Business Heritage Project report, 1997, city office of business and development
Pam Dunaroma, editor, The Post Gazette, North End’s newspaper
Chinese Historical Society of Boston
Wing-Kai To, Bridgewater State College professor
Charlie Rosenberg, Jamaica Plain Historical Society
Frank and Kay Chan, former owners of China Pearl
Interviews with about a dozen restaurant owners not mentioned in the story
Somerville Historic Commission
Somerville Museum
Cambridge Historical Society
Cambridge Chamber of Commerce
Ernie Torgerson, director east boston main streets
Central Square Business Association
Charles Sullivan, City of Cambridge planning department
Extensive Internet research
Zagat Survey 2005/6

One other thing that didn't make it in the story, though I wish the hell it did: Santarpio's really is a dive, and it's so cramped that people picking up take out walk into the kitchen and pay for it there. On weekend nights like a dozen people can be crammed in there as if they were family. It's insane, but it works, and you know, it's kind of nice. Almost forgot - Amrheins is in blue because it appeared as a seperate story in the paper, though it was orginally part of the table hop.