Mickey Coburn's Blog: May 2009

When we moved into the Corning Street house in Beverly Massachusetts 40 years ago, I believed that I had come home, that I would plant roots there and grow like an oak forever. It didn't work out that way. After 13 years there, I was between the proverbial rock and a hard place, and I moved to Boston neighborhoods -- spending 15 years in the city. Then I found myself back in Beverly -- for a four year event -- before moving to the New York City area for four and a half years. Now, like a weed, I'm back in Beverly. Unfinished business, no doubt. The universe works that way.

Beverly didn't impress me when I returned this time; I've felt that the community was avoiding its potential. Lots of second hand shops; an inordinate number of Dunkin' Donut stores and pizza restaurants and bars. Even with the presence of the Montserrat School of Art in the center of the city, Beverly doesn't boast an art center or even a small art museum or a palpable historic presence as do so many of the neighboring towns. Some really good restaurants have opened here. The in-town area no longer has a really good market. There is, of course, glorious coastline and some fine parks. And gorgeous big houses along the coast up through Beverly Farms. But something missing for me. I went to look for it.

I walked to the pier which people don't seem to notice much. And from there I explored the earliest Beverly streets. Feeling immediately the quiet -- not that Beverly is hustle and bustle ; lots of traffic drives through its two main streets causing the din. If, on the weekends -- you want to stroll among others -- you need to go to Salem or Newburyport or other towns where tourists walk the streets as well as residents and neighbors. The area closest to the marina, known as Fish Flake Hill, was undoubtedly settled first. And the charm of these streets, the feeling of neighborhood and neighbors -- well, walk with me for a moment. Let me know what you thin