Do you have an interesting story about Lowell Massachusetts? Tell us about it. Your story may be used in a book about Lowell.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Around Lowell's Neighborhoods
I grew up in South Lowell; the Grove to be exact. We bought Leary's Root Beer at Dan's Variety, played hoop at Kirwin Park. We gathered at the "coal bin" and just sort hung around. Let us know the special places of your younger days.
In the sixties, my neighborhood friends, all incredibly Irish Catholic, played a lot of baseball. One of the most unusual venues for our games was a place we called "The Mountains," mainly because the terrain was a little lumpy and there were trees and rocks all over the place. The Mountains were located between the backs of the houses on St. James Street, and the railroad tracks running parallel to Bolt Street. For some reason, there was a very, very small clearing in the middle of the Mountains where we managed to structure a baseball field. The games were challenging, in that the clearing was surrounded by gullies and woods and rocks and holes and losing baseballs was a regular occurrence. We were determined, however, and fashioned the place into what in our minds was a mini-Fenway. The late Steve Gilbride even took a shovel and built a dirt "Wall" spanning left to center field, about maybe a 100 feet from home plate. I loved this wall, because it allowed me to hit 88 home runs in April of 1962, at which time we pretty much abandoned The Mountains because the thought of my hitting 500 homer runs by September was a little too much for my friends to handle.
We are 2 long time friends writing about the city we love. Our book is about interesting stories and the characters that lived them.
Lowell's Character
One of the major themes of our work is that Lowell is a unique, little city with a "character" that is all its own. One that is not likely to be found elsewhere. Do you agree? If so, what do suppose makes so Lowell special? What do you think is the reason for its "one-of-a-kindness"? Whatever, you're thinking, we'd enjoy reading your thoughts.
3 comments:
In the sixties, my neighborhood friends, all incredibly Irish Catholic, played a lot of baseball. One of the most unusual venues for our games was a place we called "The Mountains," mainly because the terrain was a little lumpy and there were trees and rocks all over the place. The Mountains were located between the backs of the houses on St. James Street, and the railroad tracks running parallel to Bolt Street. For some reason, there was a very, very small clearing in the middle of the Mountains where we managed to structure a baseball field. The games were challenging, in that the clearing was surrounded by gullies and woods and rocks and holes and losing baseballs was a regular occurrence. We were determined, however, and fashioned the place into what in our minds was a mini-Fenway. The late Steve Gilbride even took a shovel and built a dirt "Wall" spanning left to center field, about maybe a 100 feet from home plate. I loved this wall, because it allowed me to hit 88 home runs in April of 1962, at which time we pretty much abandoned The Mountains because the thought of my hitting 500 homer runs by September was a little too much for my friends to handle.
I apologize for the phrase "homer runs." It will never happen again.
Anyone still out there?
I was further out in Wiggenville.
Took the 709 home from downtown.
Now in the mountains. Tom. oldyankeeplumber@yahoo.com
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