Northeastern University - Cauldron Yearbook (Boston, MA)

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Differing views of Boston are shown with scenes from the Norm End and South Boston. The meat markets line the street in the North End, top, while two and three-story frame houses comprise the heart of Southie, above and top right. South Boston High School is shown at the end of the street in the above picture. lenges. But Boston extends beyond these areas. It is still very much a city of neighborhoods. Whether it be the North or Sound End, Roxbury or Roslindale, Dor- chester or Hyde Park, South or East Boston, Jamaica Plain or West Roxbury, these areas and their people are tied culturally, econom- ically, and politically to the inner city. In this way Boston is unlike New York, or any other extremely large city. People could be born, live, and die in an area like Brooklyn and have little reason to be in Man- hattan. Boston is still small enough so that people can have contact with the entire city. Going out to eat, shopping, or to the movies is no big deal. There is a move, however, to decentralize this arrangement. Little City Halls have been estab- lished in every section of the city to offer governmental services that would otherwise necessitate a trek to Government Center. Shopping Malls are moving into the areas and bringing with them chain discount stores that often offer bargains more attractive than the trip intown. Even the public utilities and branches of the federal govern- ment have established permanent and mobile centers that bring their services into the communities. But while there is inter-city con- tact, the individual neighborhoods are still responsible for what living in Boston means to each resident. In the white working class areas, the parish you ' re in still can be used to determine what type of neighborhood it is. A good beano game (legal or otherwise) can be found in several locations of the city any night of the week. A lot of your education comes off the streets. You have a better chance of going to college if you go to parochial school rather than public school. Corner bars still serve as the so- cial centers for a fair number of the population. Each man ' s own is as good as a private golf club, and without any of the bother the golf club membership entails. Certain areas of the city still pro- vide homes for the newly arrived to this country. Chinatown is still a familiar language refuge for immi- grants from the far east. Southie and Dorchester remain the homes of many of the Irish who come to

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The bridge over the duck pond in the Public Garden is a miniature replica of the Brooklyn Bridge. NUs), or across the river, the Har- vards or MITs are centers in them- selves. The schools were not planned with the cold precision of a German blitzkrieg, but rather grew and ex- panded, taking large chunks of the community and chewing them up and digesting and excreting them, changed from their former selves, now new and foreign entities de- void of the old communities, now only blocks to be filled in as pleased. The students do not destroy the neightborhood, it is the people there, the ones who move out be- cause one of them moved in, or the small-time landlord who begins to buy and blockbust and hopes to cash in on the student ' s parents ' s rent-in-aid. The Savin Hill area of Dorchester and along the beach into Southie is littered with many such operators who saw a goldmine in UMass and ended up with just the shaft. But some areas, like Alls- ton Brighton or parts of the Back Bay did become student slums. It is in these areas out-of-towners come and live and mature among their own kind, sharing interests and ideals. These communities be- come a comfortable alternative to living in a small town or another part of the city. Students remain in these areas of Boston for the same reason gener- ation after generation of families remain in South or East Boston — they are with their own people, in this case, the academic (or at least educated) community — they are not faced with uncomfortable chal- The Public Garden as seen from the Boston Common in late fall.

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-. ■«p; fc - Ellin f ?i - ma i ' - ■ 1 iH«i . 1 fttk, ' ' ' ' -jtfwto A quiet spring scene by the Fenway provides some relaxation for students in Boston ' s Back Bay section. The bridge is located just across the street from the Museum of Fine Arts. this country every year and they remain in these areas either per- manently or until they get married or are forced to move to find a job. But the relative tranquility of the neighborhoods has been shattered by a political and social storm that had been brewing for some time. Politicians were always assumed to be generally crooked and were tol- erated as long as they delivered. Kevin Hagen White has been mayor of the city since 1967. In 1975 he faces another tough fight for the job he now hopes will give him a lift into the national political arena. An unsuccessful candidate for governor of Massachusetts in 1970 and an almost last-minute vice presidential alternative to Sen. Thomas Eagleton in 1972, he has gotten close enough to such power to taste it, and now, if critics are to be believed, must have it at any cost. And that cost is the city of Bos- ton. He must restrain the passions of all the elements, pro and con, in the city. He must try to bandage, if not heal, the wounds caused by blight and unemployment and race and crime and keep the city from bleeding to death, from dying un- der his care. And how does this work for the people of Boston? Quite well, actually. White has always been elected as a candidate of moderation. Al- though liberal, he was always a clear choice against more radical thought on both sides of the fence. This clearly defined but usually tough competition each time he has run for re-election has kept him sharp. He by no means has ever had tenure. There always was, if only in the beginning of each race, at least the impression given that the mayor was in the running and not just expecting to sit aside and recieve a rubber stamp for another four years. White, in fact, never stops cam-