‘Haunted’ history worth retaining, not renaming

Marty Walsh, being a son of Savin Hill, you understand that, yes, we are parochial here in Boston.

Some would say “notoriously” parochial, as if it were a bad thing to cherish neighborhoods and memories, but they can be forgiven because, like Red Sox owner John Henry, they probably just blew in from someplace else.

For kicks, why don’t you ask Mr. Henry how to get to Patty’s Pantry?

He’ll have no idea, yet he presumes to speak for those who live in such places.

He knows so little about who we are, yet has the effrontery to tell us what we are, implying we’re either grossly insensitive or simply ignorant for wanting to keep Tom Yawkey’s name alive by using it to identify the street that houses Fenway Park.

This might all come to a head tomorrow morning when the city’s Public Improvement Commission may vote on Henry’s plea to make Yawkey persona non grata on the basis of having been a racist.

In the name of fairness, that inflammatory indictment demands a lot more thought than Mr. Henry has given to it, claiming to be “haunted” by the mention of his predecessor’s name.

OK, maybe he really is more enlightened than we are.

So, tell us, Mr. Henry, how should we feel about George Washington, the “Father of our Country,” and Thomas Jefferson, who authored our Declaration of Independence, given that both men owned slaves?

Are you “haunted” by them, too?

And what about that liberal lion, FDR?

He was the president who signed Proclamation 2537, ordering the “relocation” and internment of almost 120,000 Americans of Japanese descent during World War II, remember?

He was also the chief executive who forbade 900 Jewish refugees seeking freedom aboard the German ocean liner St. Louis to disembark on American shores, calling them threats to national security.

Are you “haunted” by that, Mr. Henry?

History judges men in the context of their times and perhaps you should, too.

“Years ago,” recalled Jerry Foley, the veteran barkeep of a legendary South End watering hole called J.J. Foley’s, “I was talking with Arthur Francis Willoughby Sullivan, a great reporter.

“Arthur had established a friendship with a priest from County Cork who then moved to South Carolina, where he had a dream of building some kind of orphanage. I was fascinated as Arthur told how it wouldn’t matter whether the kids were white or black; to this priest, they were just kids.

“Anyway, Yawkey heard about it and donated everything needed. Do you know why I had never heard that story before? Because Yawkey never talked about the things he did. He just did them.”

So Marty, do Mr. Henry a favor and tell him that instead of badmouthing Yawkey, he should try being more like him.

Then, who knows, maybe someday he’ll be revered around here, too.