The combination of Revolutionary War sites and mangia-mania Italian pasta joints is what makes Boston's North End one of the most intriguing neighborhoods in the country. It's not a stretch to say that America got its start here in what's now Boston's "Little Italy." Except, don't let locals hear you call it that.
 
A passer-by walks near the entrance to a restaurant in Boston's North End neighborhood, Thursday, Aug. 21, 2008. The district has shown an Italian influence since the early 20th century and features Italian restaurants, small parks, historic churches, and traditional shops that draw a large number of tourists annually. 
 
"It's the North End. Nobody calls it Little Italy," said my wife, a native of nearby Milton. Consider yourself warned.
It's just the latest incarnation of a neighborhood once populated by Puritans, revolutionaries and Irish and Jewish immigrants. This was once the commercial heart of Boston, where Macy's had its first department store and the Kennedy clan had its roots. It's a place where Puritan leaders are buried next to streets that would have been known to John Adams, Herman Melville and a visiting Charles Dickens.

But today there's as much Italian red, white and green as American red, white and blue. It's the place in Boston you're most likely to hear a Tony Bennett record played without a hint of irony. The Freedom Trail toward the Old North Church ("one if by land, two if by sea") winds past shop windows filled with cannoli or wheels of cheese. The gurgle-hiss of espresso machines and scent of coffee float from the doorways.

 With the demise of the much-loathed Central Artery elevated highway that cut the district off from the rest of downtown, the North End has become more popular in the past few years.

The heart of the North End is Hanover Street, a slightly bending thoroughfare where the scents of garlic and coffee dominate. I always make a stop at Modern Pastry for sfogliatelle, a vanilla-drenched pastry that's a North End favorite. Nearby is the small Daily Catch, better known as "the Calamari Cafe." Go for the linguine with red sauce ? or if you are daring ? drenched in a sauce made of the shellfish's own black ink.

From there, it's a short stroll to North Square. Look for the gray clapboard house where Paul Revere lived. It's the last 17th-century home left in the city. Though a Henry Wadsworth Longfellow poem made him famous for his ride to warn of the march of the British on Concord, Revere in his time was known for his fine metalwork, particularly with silver. I'm intimately familiar with his craft ? my own wedding ring is a copy of his, inscribed with his words, "live contented."

The area around this tight little square was home to both grandfathers of President John F. Kennedy. The more famous was his maternal grandfather, John "Honey Fitz" Fitzgerald, who lived at 4 Garden Court. He was the powerful and (in some quarters) much-loved mayor of the city. His daughter, Rose, the future mother of President John F. Kennedy, was born in the house.

Nearby Lewis Wharf was where many of the trading ships from around the world came to anchor upon visiting Boston. It was also the departure point for the burgeoning sailing service around Cape Horn to San Francisco. The wharf's iffy early 19th-century atmosphere is remembered as one of the settings of Edgar Allan Poe's "Fall of the House of Usher."

Up Clark Street is St. Stephen's Church, the only one of architect Charles Bulfinch's chapels in Boston that hasn't been razed. He was the architect of choice for congregations that wanted something a bit more luxurious than the angular austerity of the many followers of English architect Christopher Wren. Originally Episcopalian, then Unitarian, it changed branches of Christianity for the final time in 1862 when it was sold to the Bishop of Boston to serve the growing immigrant community.

Paul Revere Mall, with a statue of the horse-mounted patriot heading off on his midnight ride, is shaded with leafy trees.

Dozens of politicians over the years have used the spot as a photo op for declaring their candidacies. It's a nice place to stop and sit on a bench during the hot summer months.

At the end of the mall is the Old North Church, the oldest church in Boston. It owes its longevity in part to its revolutionary role. It's here where Robert Newman is said to have hung two lanterns one April night in 1775 to signal that the British were crossing by boat from Boston to march on a suspected cache of patriot weapons in Concord. The 197-foot steeple is a 1955 reconstruction of the historic structure, which twice toppled in storms since the church opened in 1723. Visitors can see Revere's pew and read the many plaques honoring parishioners who fought against the British.

Today the Old North Church is a patriotic icon, but at the time the majority of the congregation supported King George III and the royal governor was among its members. The arguments over Newman's actions so split the congregation that the church closed for two years during the war. The Episcopalian church is open most days for visits, and Sunday services are held at 9 and 11 a.m.

My favorite historic spot in the North End is Copp's Hill, one of the earliest burial grounds in the city. It's a link to an even older time in New England. Among the more than 10,000 New Englanders buried here are 17th-century Puritan leaders Cotton and Increase Mather.

In one of those "small town, wasn't it" moments, a history I carried noted that the Mathers lived at a parsonage that burned to the ground in the 1670s. The house that was built on the site in 1680 is the one where Revere lived.

There's a marker on Copp's Hill for Prince Hall, the leading black Revolutionary War activist. There's a sweeping view of the Charleston Navy Yard, one that British commanders found useful, setting up cannons in the graveyard to fire volleys on the rebels below. Some of the graves are pockmarked with musket ball holes from bored Redcoats who took target practice while on duty.

A memorial to more bloodshed is at the foot of the graveyard. The bottom of Copp's Hill was the site of one of the city's worst catastrophes, The Boston Molasses Disaster of 1919. A 2.5-million-gallon storage tank of the muck burst, killing at least 21 people.

Coming out of Copp's Hill, look for 44 Hull St., which is the skinniest house in Boston. It's thin footprint, just 9 feet, 6 inches wide, is the result of an extremely frugal owner who wanted to limit his tax bill during the 19th century, when homes were assessed based on the size of their frontage.

On your way out of the district, stop off for the best hot lobster roll in the city at Neptune Oyster Bar. Or if you are looking for something sweeter and more colorful, stop off at Maria's Pastry Shop, with its hefty Italian cookies and pastries. Check out the marzipan fauna and fruits in the window, though many find the almond paste and coloring bits of artwork more fun to see than eat. 

http://www.ocregister.com/travel/
boston-306821-north-one.html
 
 
 

The ANNOTICO Reports Can be Viewed (With Archives) on:
[Formerly Italy at St Louis]