Coming up Perkins near the train bridge and Clinton Street, is apart of the city where the old buildings speak of Brockton’s proud past with the best possible story to tell… a firsthand chronicle. These are the very roads my great-great-grandfather gazed over. Where my grandfather knew every inch. These great places I have romanticized past all conceivable fault.
The next inductee into the Westgate Cinema Centre Hall of Fame is
Howard Stern’s Private Parts
Follow the link to see the trailer…
Include yourself on the list along with all of the greats and legends whom have also passed under one of Brockton’s beautiful stone bridges…
Something magical happens in Brockton during the still of an approaching storm. The dark silhouettes of the trees of Brockton become spooky against the purple-grey sky.
In the summer, my grandfather used to open the doors to his garage, sit just inside the open doors and watch the storm. I can remember being in the garage during a storm and smelling the vapor of the cooling streets and lawns and gardens. No lilac covered mountainside dew could smell sweeter.
I looked at this picture and I thought of Muffler Man with his friendly wave reaching out onto Montello in any weather. When Muffler Man retires from his post one day, perhaps long after all of us, he should be permanently enshrined in a glass case at a prominent area of City Hall for school children and proud Brocktonians to be inspired by forever. He never quit on Brockton. I smile everytime I drive by him.
I came across this blurb in “The History of Brockton, Plymouth County, Massachusetts 1656-1894″ by Bradford Kingman.
Just added a page for pictures of Brockton. Also a contact page with my email address…
I went on, for years, without taking the time to appreciate the structures, strange roads and train bridges. The variety of corner stores. The feeling I get when I walk into George’s or Cape Cod Cafe or Christo’s. The history of this magical place.
I’d been constantly bombarded by people’s opinions of how bad they think it is, or how it isn’t what it once was… Well it is what it was… It’s the same land our parents and grandparents ran on. For all the good fortune and great events that have gone on in this city for years it is sad to me to hear people put it down. I see the city as being in a brutal fight with a badly swollen eye. I’ve seen the the city out in the early morning hours training in the streets, and I know the city has more heart and grit and no swollen eye could take it down… Just one hard right hook and the city retains it’s title: THE City of Champions…
The Mayor finally got the right key to get into the Tower at D.W. Field Park. We took our swords which we had made out cardboard tubes taken out of two rolls of Christmas wrapping paper. We raced up to the top of the Tower. I turned and said, “Ha! Nobody can beat me to the top of the Tower! On gaurd!”
The Mayor and I duked it out for a few minutes, exchanging the fighting slurs we’d heard the great pirates of the silver screen say in their epic Hollywood sword fighting scenes. We fought and fought until finally the mayors sword bent.
After our battle, the Mayor removed a plastic baggy which contained graham crackers and he and I ate them, then layed down to take a nap…
I was asleep all of maybe ten minutes when I was awoken by the sound of the Mayor chanting in his sleep. “Buwuh haha buwuh huh huh! Buwuh haha buwuh huh huh! Buwuh haha buwuh huh huh! Buwuh haha buwuh huh huh!”
The Tower began to shake and a vapor began to swarm into the Tower. It smelled like an early morning summer garden. In the blink of an eye the Mayor and I were completely engulfed in the sweet vapor.
“Buwuh haha buwuh huh huh! Buwuh haha buwuh huh huh! Buwuh haha buwuh huh huh! Buwuh haha buwuh huh huh!” the mayor continued.
Suddenly, I could feel the Tower begin to rumble and lift off from the ground! The Mayor woke up and hugged his knees close to his chest.
We were flying. But it wasn’t like the flight over in the Mayor’s saucer. We were zooming through a tunnel of streaming light! I asked the Mayor, “What was in those graham crackers?” to which he replied, “Nabisco.”
The moment the Mayor said “Nabisco” the Tower stopped and hovered. We got up and walked to the opening to look outside…
The Mayor quietly let out a sigh. “Huh” he said “It’s just as I remember it.”
“Wow!” I said. We’ve travelled through time!
“I know” said the Mayor “far out, man!”
I am Spartacus!!!
Tom Everett Scott (second from left) was born in Brockton and raised in East Bridgewater. He has appeared in many Hollywood films and numerous television series. He is married to actress Jenni Gallagher and has two children.
The Sliding Rock
The Geese
The Path
The Water
The Tower
Mayor Harrington gave me a ride to D.W. Field Park in his flying saucer. The Mayor was covered in a holographic disguise so he wouldn’t be recognized by Mel Doogan, a man whom lives in an underground fort located on a small island in the Park. I guess he owes Mel five bucks from the other day at Supreme.
The Mayor took the keys out of the ignition of his saucer, pushed the saucer’s invisible-mode button, and we strolled up to the tower. To our surprise, the Key to the City didn’t open the Tower. I think the Mayor felt he had gotten a bum deal with that key.
Everything worked out fine. The Mayor and I still had a good time. We each took turns sliding down “Sliding Rock” and we fed the ducks. Mel Doogan never suspected a thing…
