If any reader personally experienced daily life among the many culturally different ethnic groups in Lowell in the 1930s or before, then he/she remains a living witness to the socioeconomic history of that period.
At that time, young people usually shared a house or a tenement (an apartment would be too fancy a word to use) with family members often covering three and, sometimes, even four generations. These tight and sparse living arrangements were simply practical solutions that were reluctantly adopted to manage the very limited, combined incomes of all the adults in the group. Children were exempt after child labor laws came into effect.
Those older group members, the elders one might say, carried the indelible, transparent stamp of a psychologically displaced, French-Canadian man or woman, who was seemingly still quite lost in a non-Catholic, industrial work environment where English was the language of the land.
In contrast, however, one also found that the younger members of such a family group had often slowly managed to acquire useful skills in conversational English of the area, the gruff, Scots-Irish parlance spoken by the so-called Yankees.
This latter group had first set up local communities such as the town of Chelmsford, Massachusetts based mostly on family farming starting back in the 1640s and 1650s. These Yankees were well-established as rulers of the land prior to the American War of Independence (~ 1776 to 1780) and even more so after New England experienced the beginnings of the Industrial Revolution in the 1830s.
The need for cheap, untrained, and pliable (desperate) laborers, who were willing to work ten to twelve hours per day on a Monday through Saturday schedule, established the lifestyle and expectations of thousands of adopted foreigners, the immigrants, who were then given a chance at US citizenship.
This bargain remained quite easy to comprehend, i.e., 60 to 72 hours a week laboring in the humid, dangerous, and, usually, unhealthy environment required for successful textile fabrication.
However, since the ideal environment for the mass production of textiles required ambient temperatures of about 90 degrees Fahrenheit and 90 percent humidity, few of these immigrants expected an easy lifestyle in the years to come. But, it seemed preferable to starving on a barren plot of land in Ireland, Greece, Poland, Portugal, French-Canada, Russia, and elsewhere.
The times were hard and only those laborers willing and able to keep up the industrial pace, week after week, and year after year, managed to barely stay above water. Often, these replaceable workers, the so-called “operatives”, lived a hand-to-mouth existence while housed tightly together in three and four-story tenement blocks, which were conveniently located within walking distance to the textile mills.
As a French proverb would have you believe:
“La vie ne fait pas de cadeaux.”
This acerbic comment can be rendered into English as:
“There is no free lunch.” or “Life can be a bumpy ride.”
Cultural Differences and Many Languages
As I grew up during the war years, I became aware that this world of ours supports a wide variety of peoples, who in turn spoke foreign languages, ate interesting, different foods, and believed in a confusing number of religious tenets.
My parents, the Lowell Sun and local WLLH radio broadcasts were my primary sources of information. Later, The Readers Digest, the Lowell City Library, and movie theater newsreel clips filled in the gaps for me.
Little Canada, the Acre plus Upper and Lower Centralville, All Ghetto Neighborhoods
These many different peoples were scattered all over the world, but, more importantly, some of them were also inhabitants of my hometown. Ethnic differences abounded throughout the city’s many ghetto neighborhoods from Little Canada to The Acre and into sections of Upper Centralville along Bridge Street where many Irish and Yankees lived. There also existed Polish and Portuguese parts of town that were separate from all others. In a sense, every ethnic group chose to live tightly packed together and away from all other ethnic influences.
But, why so many social separations in a city of about 100,000 people? Do people coming directly from a different culture and belief system only feel safe by first choosing to segregate themselves within their ethnic group, which remained mostly closed to outsiders? Maybe, there is a pearl of wisdom in the popular expression that:
“Birds of a feather flock together.”
Another expression along this line reminds us that:
“Qui se ressemblent, se rassemblent.”
as any observant “franco-canadien” or “franco-canadienne”might have told a visitor.
Words, Words of All Varieties and Forms
Recall that most people immigrating to America at the start of the previous century had absolutely no background or training in the English language or in our customs and system of laws. The lack of attainable opportunities in their mother country eventually had driven these people to abandon family, friends, traditions, and language too, hopefully, start a new life in these United States.
As an example, one might consider that an estimated 900,000 people left the province of Quebec from 1850 to 1920 to work in industrial settings in New England and in American border states such as New York, Michigan and Minnesota. Others chose to settle down in Ottawa or further west in Canada.
A few of these new arrivals came upon our shores with certain career advantages such as having technical skills or homespun millenery savoir-faire as examples. As an aside, it remains historically important to note that Canada’s early fur trade was largely built on the fashion for beaver hats in Europe, particularly top hats. Hat making was millinery magic at its best.
A Saturday Walk through the Crowds
One of my many early memories centered on those exciting, Saturday morning escapades walking, among and between, busy shoppers, who were traveling up and down Merrimack Street (near Central) in the commercial epicenter of the city.
The Eastern Massachusetts bus station, which was nestled between two five-and-ten-cent stores set the stage. Across the street, there loomed that impressive Page clock, maybe twenty feet tall, that dominated the scene. Busy shoppers were invited to relax, unwind, and, also, snack at their favorite malt shop located on the corner of Central and Merrimack. Sure, New York City had Times Square, but we, Lowellians, had our famous Kearney Square.
Indeed, Kearney Square was the center of my boyhood universe. The world of local commerce was essentially centered at the intersection of two main streets, Merrimack and Bridge, which strongly defined the socioeconomic pulse of the city. However, Central Street where one found McQuades, The Strand, and The Rialto movie theaters, a malt shop or two plus Newman’s Men’s Store also defined the business and social ethos of the inner city.
Sherlock Holmes of Downtown Adventures
As a young boy while wearing my knickerbocker shorts or corduroys, actively weaving through busy, downtown crowds was a delightful challenge. Usually, my mother and, sometimes, my father accompanied me and my brother, Bob, on these shopping adventures.
I recall such a walk from long ago. Men in suits and women wearing simple cotton dresses were walking in front of us as we pasted one of the two 5&10-cents stores to our right. I was overhearing conversations, i.e. eavesdropping on perfect strangers.
The older woman was actively soliciting her companion in a foreign tongue. Words that sounded like: “fereastră, uşă, lumina zilei, lipici, cleşte” had a strong effect on her friend’s composure.
Of course, all that I could gather was that some form of communication had transpired without my understanding of anything. My grasp of Rumanian was non-existent or marginal, at best, yet I made no effort to add that language to my to-do list.
Another couple, just ahead, was speaking German, I thought. Now, since German has many cognates in English, I might certainly be able to extract a message from that encounter. Words like: “Elektrizität, Tür, Tageslicht, kleben” poured out from the mouth of a well-dressed gentleman. Apparently, he was talking about “electricity, door, and daylight” but I could not understand “kleben”. However, this experience taught me to focus mostly on French and German if I wished to make any real progress in the translation business.
A Greek-American Twist
My interest in foreign languages probably started with my family’s appreciation of the cuisine from all over the world, and Lowell had no shortage of ethnic restaurants and tiny market shops. At the Olympia Restaurant, the visitor, who might be familiar with world-famous Hellenistic dishes like “Souvláki, Kóta Riganáti, Gyros and Spanakópita” had good reason to believe that he/she had stumbled into Greek heaven. Added to this delightful, culinary surprise, this visitor would also be treated to a quick overview of the staff’s speech repertoire.
In their native language, the waiters and waitresses bubbled with references to: “κουζίνα, κατσαρόλα, κοτόπουλο, κρασί, αρνάκι, σάλτσα”, which any well-bred Greek-American knew immediately to mean: “kitchen, casserole, chicken, wine, lamb, sauce”.
Given my French-Canadian background, this linguistic artistry was something to be greatly admired. It was early in life that I decided that a bilingual person sees and feels the world in more than one fashion, and I enjoyed this diversity.
A Polish Flavor
Slavic roots within the city included two, Polish enclaves, one in the vicinity of Lakeview Avenue and Bridge Street and another in the neighborhood setting near Hildreth and Bridge Streets where the beloved Polish Club proclaimed the traditional sounds of the polka, waltz, and, of course, the oberek. My mother always loved the music and dancing at the club. And, she also enjoyed a beer or two within the company of friends, there.
In this locale, the visitor might hear references to daily life with a certain, Slavic twist. Words like: “taniec, człowiek, kobieta, dziewczynka, chłopak, ładny” could be heard at all the tables where visitors sat to watch the dancers on the floor.
Again, any Polish-American person in the crowd easily knew their equivalent, English meaning. In this case, the savvy visitor knew that these Polish words meant: “dance, man, woman, girl, boy, pretty”. For me, words from all languages seemed to invigorate the moment with a mystery, a special zest, giving the event a special flavor. I recall even learning some Latin while in elementary school since the Mass was said in Latin at that time period.
An Irish Flavor
Similarly, the Irish in Upper Centralville and in the Highlands had their own part of town with their churches, taverns, restaurants and a special holiday on St-Patrick’s Day. Their parades and festivities brightened everyone’s life at the time. It was easily understood that many people simply wanted to heed the advice: “Kiss me. I’m Irish”, which those pretty young lassies happily displayed on colorful badges, which they wore.
Who could remain indifferent to the melodic tones emanating from local radio stations that highlighted Peggy O’Neil’s sassy grace and charms? Peggy was for all of us a charming heroine, who made our days a bit more pleasant. Indeed, she was the craic of our life as industrial capitalism further captivated and transformed the city’s mores.
However, in sharp contrast to Peggy’s upbeat effects at the turn of the previous century (1900), the plight of Irish immigrants around 1850, stemming from an increasingly anti-Irish sentiment, opened the doors for several Irish priests, Father John O’Brien in 1848 and his older brother, Father Timothy O’Brien, in 1851 to bring some peace and understanding to the scene.
It was at this time that some merchants seeking employees to staff their businesses actually would post a typical announcement (see example below) in their shop windows stating:
“Opening for a store manager and salesperson. Irish need not apply”
Certainly, the good Fathers O’Brien faced a challenge of monumental size. Fortunately, however, St Patrick’s Parish, the oldest Catholic Parish in Greater Lowell, established in 1831, was home base for these two religious leaders. It was through their combined talents that the growing Irish numbers would find an identity.
A Portuguese Insert
The heart and soul of Lowell’s Portuguese community are and were centered around St Anthony of Padua Parish Church, located at 893 Central Street, a back-Central location in the parlance of the locals. This Portuguese-American Roman Catholic Church, established in 1901, still offers Mass in English on Saturday and Sunday plus Portuguese services on weekends and, also, on Wednesday evening.
It remains the source of many community connections to family-friendly shops and restaurants in the area. Some of these are described below.
A favorite locale, which is in business today, is called Nana’s Kitchen at 524-492 Central St. This is a family-owned business that claims to be looking forward to meeting new customers. Their menu includes coffee, deserts, appetizers plus lunch and dinner.
But, for the visitor wishing to taste authentic, Portuguese cuisine, Nina’s Kitchen also offers its customers culinary treats that are colorfully described in the blurb below:
Bife a nana,bacalhau a posta,bacalhau de natas,camarão alhinho,abrótea frita,cherne frito,chicharros fritos,peixe vermelho frito,iscas de fígado,morcela frita,feijoada,bifanas no prato ou no pão,chicken wingrs ou fingers,hamburger ou chesseburger, sopas de caldo verde,canja de galinha,e couve repolho e feijão.
Hopefully, the manager of this establishment also provides on-the-spot translation services required to assist customers with only a marginal command of this Latin-based language.
So, in the hope of providing the reader a wide choice of authentic, culinary delights, the following establishments are also presented for consideration:
1) Cavaleiro’s Restaurant: a familiar, neighborhood Portuguese fixture with up-market seafood & steak entrees & house-made sangria.
2) Marko’s Mediterranean Grill on Thorndike: Favorites include a falafel salad or sandwich plus a fire-grilled gyro
3) Santoro’s Subs & Pizza: Great for organic products and fresh produce
4) Valentina’s Portuguese Market: an authentic bakery and delicatessen
However, the Taj Mahal of dining extravaganza in this locale is the:
5) Portuguese-American CVC League located at 512 Central Street. Many customers claim that this elegant restaurant is an awesome place to have parties, and enjoy authentic, delicious Portuguese food!
A comment in passing is noteworthy.
All ethnically distinct and long-lasting neighborhoods appearing in Lowell’s geography today have important common features. These highlights underscore the key importance of language, religious beliefs, a shared history, music, song and recognized national heroes as necessary ingredients in forming a strong group cohesiness needed over the years.
Upper Highlands and Belvedere Neighborhoods
The Upper Highlands and Belvedere Neighborhoods housed successful professionals of Russian-Jewish descent or long-term Yankees, who first established themselves in the region before the start of the Industrial Revolution. These old-time Yankees were mostly of Protestant, Scottish, and Irish persuasion, whose ancestors had been the first to set foot on Plymouth Rock around 1620 when England still ruled the seas.
This enumeration of typical ethnic varieties to be encountered in the city falls far short of the long list of immigrant types that had sought refuge in Lowell over the years.
The Record of a City
Indeed, the local author, Rev. George F. Kenngott, who wrote “The Record of a City, Macmillan Company, 1912“, indicated that there were 40 or more ethnic groups in the city at the time of his publication. As a Presbyterian minister, orator, and author, Reverend Kenngott had many publicly expressed misgivings regarding the city’s seeming indifference to the financial woes and disgraceful living conditions, which immigrants living in the substandard tenements endured.
His Christian-based, personal appraisal of these living arrangements deemed them essentially immoral. As a consequence, he soon became a “persona non grata” among Lowell’s captains of industry.
The mores of Lowell’s industrial capitalism of the period violated the basic tenets of his Presbyterian upbringing. Readers are encouraged to learn more about the reverend’s essays on these life and death issues by glancing through “The Record of a City, Macmillan Company, 1912”.
It was not a “pretty picture” as my dear, departed sister, Denise, was fond of saying.
