I have a long history with the Boston Marathon; my first in
the early 70’s was a revelation to me. I was behind the wheel of the Fairbank’s
owned WKOX news car. ‘KOX at the time was the only broadcast outlet allowed to
have a vehicle on the course. There I was in the station’s Mustang with Bob
Bruce and Bill Galvin, driving right behind the “Statie’s” motorcycles and the
photographer’s truck, positioned just ahead of the lead runners from the start
in Hopkinton all the way to the finish line on Boylston Street in Boston. Every
town you pass through on the course has its own unique way of cheering the
runners on, from the beer drinkers at the Happy Swallow in Framingham, the
Wellesley girls cheering, the families along Heart Break Hill, the crowds in
Kenmore Square and the final turn onto Boylston Street and the finish line…the
smiles, the cheers, the encouragement for the runners, more cheers for everyday
runners than for the elites who were right behind our news car.
The Marathon,
almost 40 years ago offered no prize money, it was and still is run by the BAA,
a lot has changed but the people along the course haven’t. I know people who
have witnessed the marathon every Patriots Day of their lives. It’s always been
much more than a road race. It’s a way of life, a part of life a celebration in
the only state in the Union that still celebrates Patriot’s Day.
Later, I lived and worked in the part of Boston where the
bombings took place yesterday, it hit me hard. I know those streets, walked
them every day, I used to get my glasses and contacts at the store that the
first bomb went off directly in front of. I worked in the Prudential Tower, just
across the street from where the 2nd bomb detonated.
I read earlier today that Boston is a tough town, but “once
you’re in, you’re in”, how true that is. I live in California now, but I’m a
Boston guy and have been since my early 20’s. I’ve gone to see the Red Sox and
the Marathon on the same day. I’ve sat in the VIP stands and watched the race’s
finish. Jan and I have watched the runners on Comm Ave from our roof deck. We’ve
walked through the smiling crowds to get a beer and a sandwich in the middle of
a Patriot’s Day afternoon as the last runners chug down Boylston to the finish
line.
The Marathon, until now has been a celebration of a 117 year
old race, a city, its people and the tens of thousands of people from all over
the country and the world who come to run in the “Boston” to cheer for the
runners, fast and slow and to be embraced by the people of Boston and all the
towns along the route. This has had an effect on me that I could never have predicted;
one of my first thoughts yesterday was “good thing the fire fighters of Engine
33 are close at hand.” Jan and I thought of our friend Mary who manages a
restaurant right around the corner from the blast. So many friends and
neighbors, so close, including Mrs. Lee at King Lee cleaners a block away on
Newbury, the guys at DeLuca’s market, so many, so close.
Boston is a tough town, but under the toughness is a big,
damn heart. Boston is where our country began, where the first shots of the
revolution were fired, where the tea was dumped, the city where the British
fled from the guns on Dorchester Heights, the town where Ben Franklin swam in
the Charles and learned to write and print. Tough town, tough people.
Go to Boston some time, walk the history on the Freedom Trail, sit on a bench on
the Common and contemplate it and take a look at the people. They’ll get
through this and next year, on Patriot’s Day there will be another Sox game and
a world class marathon to celebrate. They are too tough and too big hearted not to.
