Growing up on a downtown street corner
Photographs of Portsmouth's North End and a story by journalist Jeff McMenemy recently got my heartbeat racing. It detailed development in that area, specifically in and around the old VFW building, later Statey. I'm not offering pros and cons here − just memories.
I looked at that photograph and thought − "Wow, I know that spot!"
The corner of Deer and Bridge Streets anchored the first 21 years of my life's experiences. For 17 years I was there for most every bedtime, except for occasional sleepovers or camping trips. Then I went to UNH, residing at East-West Hall, returning home for weekends and summer months.
So, I grew up on a downtown street corner. A street corner abandoned by city government until it deteriorated to the point it, and our entire neighborhood of some 300 homes and a thousand people, qualified for federal urban renewal dollars, seductive as they are. Those dollars enticed the City Council to say yes and destroy affordable homes, throwing out wonderful cultural and racial diversity, all for the endless search of prosperity.
I guess we see now how that turned out. For some people, anyway.
Yes, I grew up on a downtown street corner. Where kids would play in the streets. Where people knew each other and would share lunches, dinners, fudge and cake.
I grew up on a downtown street corner in a neighborhood of working men and women. My dad lobster-fished all summer, and painted homes in winter. Mom ran a small restaurant from her kitchen (lobster rolls 3-for-a-dollar), and waitressed at Yoken's and Roses. Our neighbors worked at the shipyard.
Some in the North End had small businesses − a key-making shop, a TV repair store, small restaurants, three food stores, a tailor shop, garage, two barbers, and my grandfather's "beer parlor," as he called it. No women allowed. Peanuts 5 cents. By 1961 when he died, cold draft beer was 15 cents.
No hotels in the neighborhood, but there were about a dozen rooming houses, making one-room housing possible for single men and women, even husbands and wives, in some cases.
I lived on a downtown street corner in a neighborhood where people had settled during the previous couple of centuries. A tremendous mix of Irish, French, Asians, Greeks, Jewish, Italians, Canadians, African Americans, Scottish, just name it. A mix. A mix of good people.
It became a fascinating melting pot of diverse immigrants coming to our community during the 1800s and early 1900s. Neighborhood walks would include listening to a variety of languages and, during dinner time, the aroma of exciting succulent international cooking.
My brother and I could walk to the YMCA (now Jimmy's Jazz & Blues Club) in two minutes, the library in three, the swimming pool on Peirce Island in 10. As a pup, I walked to Farragut School two streets away. My brother walked to the high school within sight of our home. Mom would walk to Dan's Star Supermarket on Vaughan Street. She got all we needed there, dragging a wagon to bring it home.
My friends would have choices of three movie theaters within a five-minute walk, three if we ran. We saw H.G. Wells' "The Time Machine" in 1960. That scene of nuclear war set for 1966 scared us because in school we practiced "duck and cover." Watching Frankenstein and Wolf Man wasn't so scary after that.
Speaking of that year, urban renewal was approved by the Portsmouth City Council on Monday, July 11, 1966, 10 p.m. I do remember the day and hour. I was there. Mom and dad cried. After that meeting, before midnight, we returned to the downtown street corner that we called home.
The neighborhood around that street corner was a part of Portsmouth's soul. Let's remember that as we grow other neighborhoods in our community. Let them have a soul, a reason for being. It's about people, not buildings.
Because that downtown street corner was a good place to grow up.
Today's quote: "Be careful of the machines." Mom, referring to cars when I was a pup leaving the house to play with my neighborhood friends.
Next time: The missing ingredient in "Affordable Housing."
Variously since 1969, Jim Splaine has been Portsmouth assistant mayor for 12 years, city councilor for 18 years, Police Commission and School Board member, as well as New Hampshire state senator for six years and representative for 24 years. He can be reached at jimsplaineportsmouth@gmail.com.