July 4 Thoughts
Marblehead may not be exactly the cradle of liberty, but has some claim to having fed the baby.
It's interesting that here, in a town well on in its fourth century of existence, there is no yee-hah July 4 parade with red-white-and-blue beer hats, et al. The only parade is the "Horribles Parade," a sort of midsummer Halloween for kids that has been going on so long no one is quite sure when it started. You start the morning with the bells of Abbot Hall and the downtown churches taking it in turn to toll in Independence Day. The flag that I would otherwise have some issues displaying looks fitten and proper on a street of similarly decorated Victorian houses. We'll have fireworks directly: don't need them damn Boston fireworks, thank you.
A few days back, a friend sent me a set of photos without knowing quite what they showed. They were from USS Constitution's cruise to Marblehead in 1997, already a while back. That happened not long after the Fourth of that year.
I have a peculiar, cross-cultural connection with USS Constitution. My grandfather took us on a behind the scenes tour of her when I was 9. He was one of the last shipwrights in the Boston Navy Yard trained in the traditions of the age of sail, and so ended a career which began in a Royal Navy dockyard helping to keep the nemesis, "Old Ironsides," in commission. It says much about the man that he was immensely proud of that.
For all that, when we came back to his house that night, he brought out a medal struck from the copper of a Royal Navy ship that had been one of Nelson's flagships, and was still in commission when Grandpa was an apprentice. She had been in service two generations before Nelson flew his flag over her. Even at 9, I guessed he wanted us to remember where our roots were.
I have the medal today. I also have artifacts he made from USS Constitution's wood. When Constitution came to Marblehead, I made sure my daughter, then 15, saw both.
As a historian and one-time Freedom Trail manager, I knew Constitution for what she was, not as a focus of touristy quaint. She was built as a pocket battleship: larger and far more powerful than any European ship of her class, far faster than any European ship more powerful than she.
In 1997, we were able to see her from the moment she cleared Winthrop and entered Boston's President Roads, ten miles away. Keep in mind there were other sailing vessels in the area as well as modern vessels. The media were all lapping up the interesting notion that the US Navy's oldest frigate was being escorted by its newest frigate, all dark grey and missile siloed. What I noticed was how this ship utterly overwhelmed the existence of anything else under sail. She seemed to fill the seascape: not quaint, but all power and intimidating presence. Mainly because the crew weren't sure how much sail she would carry (Constitution hadn't voyaged under sail since 1931) she flew what was, in her time, only the canvas necessary to maneuvre in battle. It was called "fighting sail:" she seemed to know.
Some years back, when I was working at the Peabody Museum, I had seen ship portraits of American frigates entering Salem Sound. It was generally thought that there was some play of artistic proportion in many of them, that no ship of the time could so completely dwarf the landscape. Next morning, my daughter and I went off in our 16 foot sailboat to see Constitution leave.
There was no artistic licence. This grand ship overpowered everything near her, whether land, ship, or sea. It took no great leap of imagination to see oneself in a much smaller vessel being overborne by this mountain of wood and canvas.
Lest I get overwhelmed with patriotic sentiment, I should record that my kid earnestly begged me not to execute my original escort plan: to fly the British Red Ensign, and to play the Village People's "In the Navy" at full blast as we sailed out. I conceded. Sometimes, one can rub adolescent sensibilities too far.
That same online photo set included a now-famous series of a formation of F-18s on a flyover of Constitution. Impressive visuals: even more impressive when said F-18s have just buzzed your boat at an altitude of 300 feet or so.
That's about it from the cradle of medication. Happy Fourth.
It's interesting that here, in a town well on in its fourth century of existence, there is no yee-hah July 4 parade with red-white-and-blue beer hats, et al. The only parade is the "Horribles Parade," a sort of midsummer Halloween for kids that has been going on so long no one is quite sure when it started. You start the morning with the bells of Abbot Hall and the downtown churches taking it in turn to toll in Independence Day. The flag that I would otherwise have some issues displaying looks fitten and proper on a street of similarly decorated Victorian houses. We'll have fireworks directly: don't need them damn Boston fireworks, thank you.
A few days back, a friend sent me a set of photos without knowing quite what they showed. They were from USS Constitution's cruise to Marblehead in 1997, already a while back. That happened not long after the Fourth of that year.
I have a peculiar, cross-cultural connection with USS Constitution. My grandfather took us on a behind the scenes tour of her when I was 9. He was one of the last shipwrights in the Boston Navy Yard trained in the traditions of the age of sail, and so ended a career which began in a Royal Navy dockyard helping to keep the nemesis, "Old Ironsides," in commission. It says much about the man that he was immensely proud of that.
For all that, when we came back to his house that night, he brought out a medal struck from the copper of a Royal Navy ship that had been one of Nelson's flagships, and was still in commission when Grandpa was an apprentice. She had been in service two generations before Nelson flew his flag over her. Even at 9, I guessed he wanted us to remember where our roots were.
I have the medal today. I also have artifacts he made from USS Constitution's wood. When Constitution came to Marblehead, I made sure my daughter, then 15, saw both.
As a historian and one-time Freedom Trail manager, I knew Constitution for what she was, not as a focus of touristy quaint. She was built as a pocket battleship: larger and far more powerful than any European ship of her class, far faster than any European ship more powerful than she.
In 1997, we were able to see her from the moment she cleared Winthrop and entered Boston's President Roads, ten miles away. Keep in mind there were other sailing vessels in the area as well as modern vessels. The media were all lapping up the interesting notion that the US Navy's oldest frigate was being escorted by its newest frigate, all dark grey and missile siloed. What I noticed was how this ship utterly overwhelmed the existence of anything else under sail. She seemed to fill the seascape: not quaint, but all power and intimidating presence. Mainly because the crew weren't sure how much sail she would carry (Constitution hadn't voyaged under sail since 1931) she flew what was, in her time, only the canvas necessary to maneuvre in battle. It was called "fighting sail:" she seemed to know.
Some years back, when I was working at the Peabody Museum, I had seen ship portraits of American frigates entering Salem Sound. It was generally thought that there was some play of artistic proportion in many of them, that no ship of the time could so completely dwarf the landscape. Next morning, my daughter and I went off in our 16 foot sailboat to see Constitution leave.
There was no artistic licence. This grand ship overpowered everything near her, whether land, ship, or sea. It took no great leap of imagination to see oneself in a much smaller vessel being overborne by this mountain of wood and canvas.
Lest I get overwhelmed with patriotic sentiment, I should record that my kid earnestly begged me not to execute my original escort plan: to fly the British Red Ensign, and to play the Village People's "In the Navy" at full blast as we sailed out. I conceded. Sometimes, one can rub adolescent sensibilities too far.
That same online photo set included a now-famous series of a formation of F-18s on a flyover of Constitution. Impressive visuals: even more impressive when said F-18s have just buzzed your boat at an altitude of 300 feet or so.
That's about it from the cradle of medication. Happy Fourth.
posted by Uncle | 22:14
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