It started small. I recalled a train ride taken in my early
teens. Mom was in Minnesota visiting her folks. Dad took my sister and I to the
Bronx Zoo on the ‘Zoo Train’. It was the New Haven Railroad and took us from
Pittsfield, Massachusetts, to New York City. A day trip. I don’t know what was
more fun, the train trip or the zoo, or being in the Big Apple, or spending a
day with my dad.
Anyway, I wondered about the train, the depot in Pittsfield
and a whole bunch more. For example, the New Haven RR had more words in its title,
like Hartford, something, and New Haven RR. I doubt this railway is still
operating. Like so many it was merged in with other carriers or their routes
ceded to larger carriers like the New York Central.
Then I wondered about that rail route; did it go north, east,
or west from Pittsfield? Or did the line dead end in Pittsfield? I realized I
didn’t know how the town was connected to both Boston (120 miles) to our east
and Albany, New York, to our west (50 miles). Were there towns to our north
served by the railroad? And what about Vermont that hovered over us about 60
miles distant? Then I wondered about the route of the train through Pittsfield.
Where did it wend its way through the small city (50,000 population)?
So, I emailed by brother in Rochester, New York. I asked him
these questions. Our family had moved to Massachusetts from Southern California
in 1954. My brother met his bride there and settled down to married life. Judy
was born and raised in Pittsfield and knew much more than we about the city and
regional history.
Sherm responded to my email with: ‘the railroad station was
shut down and a trailer replaced it in another part of town in the early 60’s.
The rail line was then the New York Central and connected Pittsfield with
Boston.’ He knew of no other routes to our north.
When I lived in Pittsfield (1954 to 1960), the population
was over 50,000. General Electric was the largest employer in town. Dad worked
for GE in the heavy military division. Pittsfield was also the site of GE’s
electric hardware manufacturing (transformers and related gear). A newer GE
division was Plastics. Everything plastic that went into GE products like
radios, toasters, hand mixers, and a host of other consumer and industrial
products. The town was booming then.
Today the population is 42,000 and continues to decline.
Major industry has relocated to better infrastructure areas. The last 60 years
have not been kind to Pittsfield, but its history and culture remain intact.
When we lived there, culture thrived: Tanglewood was to our
south 15 or 20 miles; it still is the summer home of the Boston Symphony
Orchestra; summer stock theater is broadly available throughout the region in
charming nearby towns and villages; prestigious colleges abound like Williams,
Amherst, Smith, and Holyoke among the many. Music at South Mountain (Burgundian
and early renaissance music), Jacob’s Pillow Dance festival. If visual and
sculptural arts were your passion, they were represented everywhere.
Literature, too, had a historical anchor in the region. And of course, the Berkshire Hills were a
refuge for New York City dwellers seeking our green hills, ski resorts, fall
foliage, and peace and quiet. A charming area to escape urban chaos.
Our family reacted to the move east poorly. Everything was
compared with California. The weather, the roads, schools, churches and hills
replacing mountains. Actually, their reaction was the emotional response to such
a stark move from the wide open west and gorgeous weather, to the small town,
New England heritage and four seasons of the eastern climate. It was a shock.
I adjusted just fine, but then I was 11 years old and went
through adolescence in Pittsfield. Those were formative years for me. My mother
was a history buff and enjoyed exploring New England immensely. I accompanied
her at estate auctions, antique hunting, and rides through beautiful country so
unlike what we had been accustomed to. We enjoyed the cultural arts as well.
Dad did too. My siblings did not adjust well, although my brother eventually
settled there for many years before moving to upstate New York.
Those were the days I earned money mowing lawns, learned
photography, and rode my bike through lush, shadowed lanes. We picked wild
blueberries by the bucket, discovered wild raspberry patches and brought the
abundance home for mom to bake with. We explored the woods of New England so
different from the forest lands of the western states. Hardwood trees were
plentiful, while pines were few.
I remember Pittsfield fondly. I made good friends there,
friends who helped me expand my understanding of culture, art, music, and
place. Sunday drives to villages nestled in deep woods, some founded in the
late 1600’s. History markers and laybys reminded us of wars long over like the
French and Indian wars, the American Revolutionary War and early nation
building events.
Funny how the past returns to entertain the present of elder
years. So much richness.
September 8, 2021