Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Why?!!!

Why.

I have often found myself being asked or asking myself, why do I do the things I do?

Not the silly little things I do, like having more than one slice of cheesecake. I know the answer to that. Because it's so damn good!

One of the first times I was asked "why" and I had to ponder the answer was when I researched Daniel Robinson. Daniel Robinson lived in New Bedford in 1893. Robinson was jailed for drunkenness and when his wife Mary refused to post his $10 bail he swore from his seat in the courtroom that he would kill her. When he was released 30 days later New Bedford's own "Gray Bar Hotel", the Bristol County House of Correction he fulfilled that promise. He was arrested, tried and convicted, amid much controversy, he was hanged at the Ash street jail. He remains the only man ever legally hanged in New Bedford and remembered as the last man hanged in Massachusetts. The gallows he was hanged from was and still may be in the attic of the jail. The same area Lizzie Borden had been jailed during her trial.

For some reason I found this story fascinating. During my research I found a letter to the editor dated days after the grisly murder of Mary Robinson that cited the Borden trial asking sarcastically whether or not Robinson would be treated as exclusively as Lizzie was. I mentioned on the Lizzie Borden forum about my find of the Lizzie related article. Immediately I was asked what made me interested in the Robertson murder.

I had assumed that it would be interesting to anybody and began to question my reasons. T hat was about 8 years ago.

Since then I stumbled onto rum runners in the area and became obsessed with researching the topic. That lead me to Max Fox, a local 'gangster' of the 1920's. That led me to other local crime figures of Jewish, Irish and Italian heritage.

Every once in a while I suddenly realize the amount of time and resources I have invested in local history. And I ask the one word question. "Why?" The word may be the only word in the English language that is a sentence. Short and to the point it demands an answer. An answer I can't provide.

When I ask myself this question I think. My next thought is usually "Nobody else gives a shit about this. Who cares what happened 90 or more years ago?"

Once there was a newspaper article regarding a lecture that the head archivist of the New Bedford public library was about to give at the 200 year anniversary of the New Bedford Superior Courthouse. The topic was Daniel Robertson. And I suddenly feel vindicated!

I was first on the topic of course! That bastard stole my idea!

Actually though I was first to research Robertson after I saw a query from one of descendants on a rootsweb.com forum, Paul Cyr had received the same request in an email to the library genealogy department. It took him longer to begin his research because of his workload there.

"I must have been on the right track."

When it came to rum runners I did hundred of hours of research, interviews over the telephone and in person. I traveled as Providence and West Greenwich Rhode Island. As I drove around I searched for places Max Fox, Charlie Travers and Herb Cavaca would have traveled to. I drifted onto the topic in almost every conversation.

I dreamed of what it must have been like to live in the '20's. Young girls became flappers, something as controversial then as some fashion trends are now. Gypsies were considered a problem. The common car was the Ford Model T. The ice and coal delivery trucks were as common as Comcast and Verizon trucks are today. Radio was becoming popular, both as an entertainment and broadcasting as a hobby. Vaudeville was still around but would soon all but disappear as movie theaters took over and 'talkies' would soon be all the rage.

"Why should I keep digging? WHO cares?"

Every now and then I drift into my rum runners spiel and find someone who seems interested in a romantic, adventurous and exciting time. It's those people that convince me that I am still on the right track. It's their encouragement that pushes me one step closer to writing about those daring men and women who stood up against a law the country didn't want and helped bring and end to Prohibition. And made a ton of cash, too!

So if I run into you and suddenly start telling you about the time Al Capone came to Fall River try to humor me and help to keep me from getting derailed.

Thanks.

2 comments:

Unknown said...

Why indeed? My husband now probably thinks I am crazy just for asking him so often "am I crazy for obsessing over these days gone by"? His answer is always no, of course, because he loves hearing the stories as much as I loved digging them up. The 1920s are my dream decade, too! For me, I'd selfishly say that it's my great escape. When the future's not looking so bright, I can go to that wonderful place of outlines and shadows in the mist of time past and fill them in with all the colors of my imagination. Then again, maybe we're called to be the chroniclers of Jung's collective consciousness!

Nokatay said...

Thanks, I need to know someone's interested in my obsessions sometimes.