My sister and me. circa 1974

I went to Ellis Brett Elementary School from 1970 to 1976 (except for fourth grade, when I went to the then-called “Goddard School” (for the AP kids). Then I attended West Junior High until ’78. My parents divorced and we moved to Randolph with our Mom at the end of my 8th grade year. So, a miserable year in Randolph in 9^th grade, Archbishop Williams for 10^th and 11^th grade, then finally to Brockton High School for senior year, back with my old friends to graduate in ’82 together.

Our Elementary school was the Ellis Brett School on the West side, near a back entrance to D.W. Field Park. We never called it “the Brett school”, or “EB” or anything shortened… always “Ellis Brett”, pronounced by everyone as one word with an ‘s-p’ instead of a ‘B’, as in, “Ellisprett.”

At Ellis Brett, first, second, and third grades were on the first floor; fourth, fifth, and sixth were on the second floor, as was the principal’s office and the nurse, two classrooms per grade. I remember some of our teachers: Miss Barbara Lyons, Miss Quan, Mrs. Carridi, Miss Yarletts, and Mr. Alan Jolly. Mrs Sneirson was a third grade teacher who looked exactly like Cher, to us anyway.

We had some kind of an audio-visual closet we called the “A/V room” on the first floor, where the overhead projectors were kept – very high-tech for 1973. Some of the teachers would let us run off papers on the mimeograph, that cylindric hand-crank machine that grinded out violet toned copies, and we would return to class with our hands all purple from the ink and carbon paper. Anyone who was in Miss Lyons’ class will remember that interesting musical instrument, the “autoharp”. Whenever Miss Lyons got out the autoharp for music class I was thrilled. Fascinated by this interesting musical instrument, I vowed to own one and learn how to play it some day. Maybe it’s not too late.

We had to go down to the basement to get our milk during lunch, because we didn’t have a cafeteria (milk went from three to five cents when we were in the third grade). And because we also didn’t have a gym, our recess was outdoors on the “blacktop”, but whenever it rained we had “indoor recess” where we pushed our desks to the sides of the room and played dodge ball right there in the classroom. Occasionally Mr. Boutin, the gym teacher, would break out the “batacas”, those big red overstuffed bats you were supposed to hit a ball with, but we usually ended up just beating the shit out of each other instead.

I also remember Mrs. Daversa, I think she was a lunch monitor. She once yelled at me, Jennifer Shinnick, and Leslie Kram, because we were “bold”, and made us stand against the wall for recess… the big punishment for us kids at Ellis Brett in the 70’s. Fred Hebshie hung around with all the Jewish kids (there were only about five Jewish kids in our class at the time), and I always thought he was Jewish, too, until I ran into him years later as an adult. I saw him one day during the holiday season while he was managing a large grocery store. I said, “Hey, Fred! Happy Hannukah!” He looked at me and said, “Why does everybody think I’m Jewish?” We both cracked up laughing. We were all too young to date back then, but boys and girls had that typical kid-crush going on. I think Fred had a crush on Erin Clancy, Erin had a crush on Jon Weiner, I had a crush on Steven Cardinal, and Chuckie DeStefano had a crush on me. Steven Cardinal moved away in our sixth grade year. Me, Ginny Mara, Joan Conley, Patti Comeau and a few others were in the same Brownie troupe. Ginny used to say she hated her middle name, because it was more of a last name than a ‘real’ name. It was “Foss”. That always stuck in my head. I always thought Virginia was a beautiful name, so that balanced it out.

Marshall Anderson came to Ellis Brett during the third grade. He moved into Kim Vallaincourt’s old house on Ash Street. He had a very charming personality, and Marshall and I were instantly great friends; we still are. I think Marshall is still friends with everyone.

Erin and I were the shortest kids in the school – Miss Lyons used to measure us every day on the wall in the classroom. I remember Jeffrey Benefit (he was a grade younger than us) was one of the best kickball players ever to attend our little 12-room school. Linda Baroncelli was the best athlete out of us girls, and she could give any of the boys a run for their money in kickball, softball, or even a foot race. She used to wear one of those sailor’s rope bracelets, and I thought she was so cool because she was left-handed. John Verminck was double-jointed and could bend his arm backwards at the elbow. He also used to bring little containers of ketchup for lunch and just eat that with a spoon. Steven Noel and Steven Cardinal used to say, “WHOA-dett!” all the time. I have no idea why.

Near the corner of Pleasant and Ash Streets there were several shops we frequented near our beloved “Ellisprett”.  Dunnington’s Pharmacy was right on the corner, and it was where all us kids from “around the blocks” went to run errands for our parents. In my case, I’d run up with seventy-five cents in my hand to get my Dad a pack of True blue cigarettes, which were fifty cents a pack. Yes, times were simpler back then, and kids could happily buy cigarettes and probably anything else without having to go through federal government background checks. I got to keep the remaining quarter and usually bought a Butterfinger candy bar with that. Then there was Mrs. Foster’s candy store, and after school we’d all go there for penny candy. At Mrs. Foster’s, you could fill up a little brown paper sack with all kinds of penny candy… paper strips of candy dots, hot balls, root beer barrels, and wax drinks. There were also these weird little candies shaped like UFOs called ‘flying saucers’, that were basically two pieces of styrofoam filled with tiny BB’s. They tasted like communion wafers and sometimes got stuck on the roof of your mouth. Mrs. Foster’s later became Moraine Variety, and somehow it just wasn’t the same. Cassani’s Restaurant was also a big hit, and it was special to us because we knew Michael Cassani, and his family owned it. They had the absolute BEST Italian meatball subs ever.

We went Downtown to go to Saint Patrick’s for church.  The Y was there, and many of us had families who joined. We’d see each other at the pool, or at craft fairs, or any one of our CCD sporting events that were held there. The Brockton City Hall and the Brockton Public Library were two of the most beautiful buildings in the whole city. To me, as a kid, they were luxurious examples of brick and wood and artwork. We shopped over at the end of Belmont Ave at a discount department store called King’s, and across from that was the Brockton Public Market, or “BPM”, as we called it, where we got our groceries. My Dad worked at Central Fire Station on the corner of Pleasant and Main. He was a fireman on Squad A for the Brockton Fire Department and when I’d go to the station with my friends, the guys let us climb all over the “hook and ladder” truck.

At one very disturbing time in this era (1974), a little boy named David Louison disappeared, and it became national news. Every elementary school in the country began a massive safety campaign to educate us naïve youngsters on personal safety and “stranger danger.” Sadly, the little Louison boy’s remains were found in an abandoned building six years later. I will never forget David, or the echoes of all the voices calling his name for weeks. I believe his father eventually became instrumental in the “Missing Children” pictures on the milk cartons. Thus began our journey toward reality and growing up in the modern age.

At West Junior High, I remember Mr. Nax, Mr. Socarides (how old was he, anyway?), and Mr. Dahlborg, the science teacher. Homerooms were alphabetical by last name, so poor David Clisbee had to sit between Erin Clancy and me, passing our notes back and forth through him. Someone put tacks on Mr. Nax’s chair on April Fool’s Day, obviously an inventive and creative student who I’m sure became a diplomat or a foreign affairs secretary.  Our science class was alphabetical, too, and that’s where I met the Michaels, two best friends with the same name. Seating went Michael Anderson, Michael Berolini, Mimi DiGiammo… so the three of us became lab partners and ultimately pretty good friends.   How we came to hang around with Amy Smith, I can’t recall, but I have a great picture of the four of us standing in front of the chalkboard… wearing very 70’s clothing. If I can find it, I will post it here.

The Ash Street playground was a great place to let off steam and run free. There was no cushioned mulch on the ground to break our falls… just rocks, dirt, and concrete. There were no low temperature plastic curvy slides, just a standard metal straight slide that I think was about eight feet high which was hot as hell in the sun and if you slid down it in the summer wearing shorts, the burns on your legs lasted for days. A rusted set of metal monkey bars, a large swing set with metal chains and wooden seats, two flat planks of wood with handles that passed for see-saws,  and a metal and wood “spin-out” rounded out the playground equipment. The splinters, burns, skinned knees, twisted ankles, and broken wrists were all part of growing up. 

We never came in the house until well after the “arc-lights” had come on. The corner of Spring Street and Belmont Ave. used to be a dangerous intersection and the scene of many car accidents in those days prior to the now-present traffic signs. Walking to school with our friends down West Elm Street with West Junior High waiting proudly at the end was always great fun. It was beautiful in any season, but I remember vividly when they let us out of school early during the start of the Blizzard of ’78 just how amazing a tree-lined residential street is when covered in fresh white snow, especially a street dotted with large Victorian homes. Pat, Hugh, Danny, Joann, MaryTeresa, Georgette, Phil, and so many others came into my life at West Junior High. When we were in the 7^th grade, Jay McGee’s older brother Skippy, who was in the 8^th, had a huge after-school fight with another big kid named Evan Young. The ongoing battle seemed to last all year. I’m fairly sure they fought at least three times that year, those good, innocent times when a fight meant a fist fight, not “bring your own guns and knives.”

I had my first date that same year, with Billy McCann, who got his picture in the paper because he turned 13 on Friday the 13^th… May 13^th, to be exact, another gem that has stuck in my head for eternity. We went to see “Rocky” at the Westgate Mall Cinema. Movie tickets had just increased in price to $1.25. My father wouldn’t let me call boys on the phone, and a few weeks later, Billy sent his friend Tommy Sturdevant to my locker to break up with me. He said it was because I never called him. Darlene Masefield and I tried out for the WJH cheerleaders, then quit when we realized we had to wear those little skirts and stand around in the cold. I was sad when my parents got divorced and I had to leave Brockton to move to a new town.

It was nice for me to be able to come back and graduate as a senior from Brockton High. Most of our West Junior High pals went on to be high school superstars – excelling in everything from sports to school government. I think Pat Cesarini was everything… handsome football player, class President, National Honor Society… but he was always so humble and modest and quiet. I think in our yearbook under his picture he wrote something minimal and vague, like “student government and athletics”. I used to think Mary Santry and Eileen Cashin were going to come back as Principal and Vice Principal some day. Jay McGee was going to be the next Tony Dorsett, we were sure.  BHS Boxer running back #21 could bounce and zing off opposing defenses like a pinball, and was destined for greatness.  We were lucky to have such a large, talented, diverse group of classmates. Having an unusual nickname like “Mimi” was unique to me… until BHS. There were at least three “Mimi”s in the class of ’82: Mimi Uhlman, Mimi Boutas, and myself; our real names were Mary, Demetria, and Marianna. I wish I had a dollar for every time someone has said to me, “Oh, you graduated from Brockton High in ’82? Do you know So-and-So?” With about 1,200 seniors in our graduating class, we couldn’t possibly have known everybody.

During our senior year, my sister-in-law Elaine was also in our class of ’82. I was married and had a baby son named Ryan who was one year old during our senior year. I used to bring him to school sometimes (Mr. Bethany always let me bring him to our Sociology class… what a great class – no books, just discussion… and lots of it. Marie Murphy and I had a great time). I took three foreign languages in senior year… Dr. Taconet became one of my favorite teachers. I also took the swimming test in September to get out of having to take swimming for gym during the school year. I took archery for one of my gym electives and had this great gym teacher who was really cool and sexy named Carlyn Gombar. As my mom, “Mrs. D” was a popular English teacher in the yellow building, she and Carlyn became best friends. For years I was still able to see the fitness and style this lady exuded. Carlyn gave me the best 30th birthday card ever. It said, “The best is yet to come.” She was right, and I still have that card. Sadly, she later passed away from pancreatic cancer. What an amazing school we had: an indoor pool, a planetarium, a hockey rink, a full-blown Fine Arts building with a stage and gallery… we got used to walking about a quarter of a mile in between each class. I remember thinking six minutes was not enough time between “mods”.

Another class I had that year was Oceanography with Mr. Bohlin, who, on the first day of school, walked in the room, broke out a record player, and played “The Tide is High” by Blondie. Cindy Jones and I sat next to each other, and we thought, ‘this is going to be interesting’. I used to talk with Eric Lutz on the phone at least once a week, but we hardly ever saw each other in school. Eric was so smart, and we had many intellectual conversations that were, of course, of great importance to the future of the world. There were so many of us, and there were four separate buildings of homerooms, there was no way everyone could see everyone every day.

Because I was a mom, I didn’t participate in a lot of the normal senior year activities, so I don’t have a lot of pictures of parties and events. I did go to every football game, though. I’ve been a sports fan all my life, and our Boxers owned high school football in those days! We were champions so many times, other schools didn’t want to play us anymore. Eventually, a whole new Conference was created called “The Big Three” which included New Bedford and Durfee as well as Brockton High.

Just a few short years after graduation, Steven “Buck” Noel died tragically. Steven was the Captain of the BHS basketball team, a member of the BHS TV station, and had an extraordinary creative mind. He used to share his poetry and drawings with me. Before he died, he used to stop over and visit with me and my two little kids, telling them funny stories from when we were in elementary school. I remember those times fondly. I was devastated when I heard that he took his own life. Sadly, I missed his wake because in back then, I didn’t read the paper (who did?), and those days were before cell phones and Internet. Steven was a good old friend. [Note: Buck’s sister has graciously given us her corrected version of this statement in the comments section, see below.]

I have remained in touch with many good friends from the old Brockton days. I’m still friends with Erin Clancy, stayed in touch with Mary Santry, and I still hang out with Jay McGee. We’ve been best friends since we were 12 years old. Jay and I have stayed in touch with our old pal Phil Russell (who moved to Los Angeles in the 90’s) and still stay in touch with Chuckie Tartaglia and Marshall Anderson. Pam Kennedy and I never really knew each other in high school, but thanks to class reunions and ad-hoc get togethers over the years, we’ve become very close friends. And thanks to Facebook, other social media outlets, and the hard work by our alumni like Hugh McLoughlin, Georgette Sarkisian, Mary Teresa and many others, I think our Class of ’82 has one of the best online presences of all time.

Several years ago, Geoffrey Gouveia also passed away. A BHS football player and wrestling Captain, Jeff was a big bear of a guy. His love of life was huge, and unfortunately his appetite for living got the best of him… too much of what was available in life finally squeezed the life out of Jeff. I have a great photo that I took of Jay, Jeff, Phil, and Chuckie, sitting in a wooden booth in the first bar at George’s Café on a Thursday night, Bud bottles covering the table, chests puffed out, college t-shirts proudly worn, framed Brockton memorabilia on the walls. I still pop into George’s Cafe as often as I can, and say hi to the owner, Charley, Chuckie’s Dad. George’s Cafe is a Brockton must, as is Christo’s Restaurant, also owned and operated by another ’82 alum, our good friend, Georgia Tsaganis.  Her dad and my dad and Chuckie’s dad were all good friends too, back in the day.

Brockton has seen a decline once or twice in this century, and Brockton will rise again. I feel sad that Brockton gets a bad reputation from some of the more sensational things that find their way into our media. There is a lot of history in Brockton, and much to celebrate about the “Shoe City” and the “City of Champions.” From our hometown boxers, Rocky Marciano to Marvelous Marvin Hagler, with Ken McAfee, Rudy Harris, and Rich Miano (our NFL players), and the Can-Am League professional baseball team, The Brockton Rox, Brockton is a sports town steeped in victory and tradition. And it was, and still is, a family town.

I am proud that I grew up there.  I feel honored to have had the good fortune to be raised safely by blue-collar parents who valued my education and played a vital role in a hard-working town. I am thankful that I had the good fortune of being brought up with so many different people from so many different cultures, backgrounds, and interests.  Brockton, Massachusetts is an intrinsic part of me. Many of our friends have relocated, but many remain. Brockton stays alive in all of us. Thank you Brockton and Brockton friends for so many great memories!

{Since this article was first written, we have also lost two other friends whose names appeared – Chuckie Tartaglia and Eileen Cashin. Our Class of ’82 bond will always be with their families, and the families of all our graduates who have since passed away.}