Intro

Only in Lynn was a title conceived decades ago after observing some unique local happenings.

As when Walter Dyer, a local cobbler, dumped $1000 from a airplane over Nahant Beach, to thank the citizens of Lynn, Massachusetts for their business. He jettisoned his money into a 30 MPH gale. Some dollars ended up on Egg Rock, others in Portugal.

Only in Lynn.

Lynn has always been a place to escape. At 7 years old I knew that my allowance would get me in and out of Boston with enough to feed the pigeons on Boston Common. By the time I was 17, I had walked from East to West Lynn, from the beach to Lynn Woods, along the train tracks from the GE to Swampscott and beyond. I knew all of Lynn Woods, Pine Grove Cemetary and the swamp behind it. I knew the Library, the Boys Club, the YMCA, Camp Rotary, all the catholic churches in town, the Warner, Paramount and Capitol theatres. I saw the murals chalked on the catwalk under the General Edwards Bridge by the construction crews. I had enjoyed the waters of Lynn Beach, and swam in every pond, lake and resevior in town.

I thought I had see it all.

Actually, the farthest I had traveled was the 1965 Worlds Fair in New York with my school class. But that would all change, as I had signed up, against the will of my parents, for 4 years in the Marine Corps.

It wasn't much of a change from St. Marys to the Marines, different uniforms and swagger sticks but the same time tested traditions of brutality and obedience.

I was changing my religion although I was unaware of it at the time. Unaware as only a 17 year old can be. Willfully ignorant. Hands in ears, nyah-nyah-nyah, ignorant. Indestructible, balls of brass, case hardened skull ignorant. Stubborn. Dense.

Everything I needed for the world.