Welcome to “The Salty Cod,” a monthly column in which humorist Steve Calechman grapples with uniquely New England dilemmas.
Illustration by Dale Stephanos
I’m a big fan of Charlestown. I’ve hung out there many times, helped out with some fundraisers, and, as a thank you, received a Charlestown Youth Hockey fleece—full sleeves, of course—which I wear constantly for two reasons. One, it hangs perfectly and has lots of pockets. Two, it makes me seem like much more of a badass than I actually am.
Charlestown has that effect on people. Suggest going there, and it’s as if you’ve mentioned a mystical land and all you get are glassy stares that convey: Oh, I can’t. I wouldn’t even know how to find it. Plus, it’s rough, sketchy, and bank robber-y. I’ve seen The Town.
Tony V—comedian, actor, long-time Charlestown resident, and a man who was actually in The Town—confirms that the rough-around-the-edges image was real, like 35-plus years ago. These days, though, you’re more likely to find your next hedge fund manager, a Whole Foods, and dedicated spaces for electric cars. But the old image is allowed to linger because of what hurts all our great neighborhoods—geography.
Really, there’s no reason not to go to Charlestown. It’s right there in the city. Like, right there. It should be the easiest visit, but the problem is that you have to cross water to get there. And so the real impediment, Tony V? “It’s the bridges.”
As Boston drivers, we love a good road challenge. Rotaries? Not hard enough. Four-lane swing to make our exit? Kids, watch this. But bridges? They mean gridlock and that discomforting rumble sound. Mostly, though, it’s the commitment. We can deal with anything as long as we know: At worst, I can bang a uey. Not so on a bridge. And just to reach Charlestown, you have to go down Atlantic Avenue, through Faneuil Hall, survive the North End, while trying to remember if there’s a Celtics or Bruins game. Yeah, I’m good seeing the monument from my car.
But is Charlestown so hard? At least it’s not Jamaica Plain, another cool neighborhood that suffers because it requires the Jamaicaway, the most obsolete two-lane road masquerading as a four-lane road. And newcomers, no, it never gets fully comfortable. But is a little water or a chance to get sideswiped gonna stop us from going anywhere in our city? Please. This is the stuff that defines us, that keeps us alive. So no more avoiding or settling for the Back Bay. It’s time to face our fear, get out, explore, and, yes, cross that bridge.
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