My great uncle, Jed, in his office. Carlisle Engineering, Jamaica Plane, Boston MA.
So, i guess i will pick up straight after my last entry. We landed with quite a thud, but i didn't care too much as i was too excited about the prospect of being on American soil. It felt pretty surreal. We waddled slowly down the aisles of the plane, snaked through clinical airport corridors and eventually reached passport control. Due to travelling on different books, myself and Bekky had to split up at this point - meeting again at baggage reclaim. Unfortunately, i didn't get the 'welcome home' i had been hoping for as i stepped into the country. Boohoo.
We were greeted with a bast of humidity and heat however, as we squeezed our luggage out through the electric doors of the airport. The shapes of everything we could see were so oddly familiar, having watched so many American films and TV it was easy to get a feeling of Deja Vu, to feel that we have been here before somehow. Everything felt like a film set, it didn't feel quite real.
We consulted Citymapper for a hand with how to find our accommodation, navigating a few buses and trains to finally arrive in Boston, MA. The house was incredible, as were all the other houses on the avenue. However, this one had a different kind of character to the rest. The drive was taken over by two forgotten cars, one reminiscent of Robert Frank's image of the covered car (only with more leaves and bracken) and the other had been completely consumed in fallen foliage. The front porch contained an eclectic mix of bric-a-brac; we quickly discovered that the house was much the same. Deborah (our host) greeted us with open arms and a huge smile before escorting us on a tour of the house, talking about all of our careers and lives. Deborah writes plays, her current one is about an artist that draws male nudes, called 'Too many willies'.
Our evening was not productive. Having been up for nearly twenty-four hours (also bare in mind the five hour time difference), i don't think our heads were functioning properly. We headed into Downtown Boston to find food, but i stupidly lead us into the financial district. Everything was obviously closed at 9pm at night there. After a couple of hours of ambling around in search of a nice restaurant, we settled on a Five Guys and bailed.
Wait! I've forgotten an important part of the day!
So yeah, on my way to Deborah's i received an email from Jed (John) Duggan, my great uncle. I had emailed him previously about my project, with my Gran chasing it up by calling his office. The email simply contained the word 'cell' and his number. I called him on our way back into Boston, anxious about how he would receive my request to meet. Honestly, i can't remember much of how it went, but i knew that he seemed slightly suspicious - asking a few questions possibly to verify who i was. Apart from that though, he was welcoming and happy to arrange a meeting with us the next day at 9am.
The next day we woke up incredibly early to make sure that we were prepped to meet him. Arriving at his office i knocked on, awkwardly asking the man who answered the door 'I'm here to see Jed Duggan?' to which he replied 'that's me.' We walked through the building and sat down in his office, on an incredibly comfy corner sofa. We began by sharing a few stories and having a flick through the photos of Joey, my Gran and my Mum. Jed then helped me plot a family tree of the Duggan side of the family. One particular branch lead to Donnell/Donnie O'Duggan (the 'O' was added for reasons i can't completely remember, but was to do with his profession of fitting stained glass windows in churches). Jed told me that he had been very young at the time of Grace & Joey, so his memories were hazy - not even remembering Grace at all. He said for me to contact Donnie, he would know much more of the story.
Jed could remember Joey's personality though, that he would come bursting into a room and completely take it over. He would explode into song at any given moment. Joey used to work at the company as an engineer, fitting sprinkler systems. One of the addresses i had for Joey & my Gran was in Jamaica Plane. I told Jed of this and he remembered the house - it was just a minute away from his office, it was likely that Joey moved here to be close to the company. Jed told me that it was a boarding house though - meaning that it was a pay-weekly affair with no contract. This kind of suggests that even at this time, Joey's finances may have not been in the best shape.
Then Jed began telling us about his life. He said that he had the 'Duggan gene' of the wandering eye and addictive lifestyle. He grew up revelling in excess through much of his younger years. The difference between him and Joey though was that he was able to control the rest of his life at the same time. He ran a successful company throughout this time as well as starting up a popular restaurant on Boylston Avenue. In his own words though, Jed described himself as being lucky to have ditched this lifestyle at the beginning of his 40s. Joey didn't have the same luck. 'Some people just make bad choices, and unfortunately Joey was unable to see that his choices were bad ones'. He went on to say that Joey was the kind of guy that had no enemies, his only enemy was the bottle. We spoke of how when Joey's parents had passed away, Joey inherited their house. This was not a cheap place, intact it was a beautiful house in Brighton, MA. Instead of moving in, he sold the house. Instead of investing the money, he picked up everyone's tab at the bar. 'Those were a fun two years' he would say to people after the money had dried up.
One of the last things we chatted about was Joey's dad, Joseph. Jed described him as a man in stark contrast to Joey. He would never be seen out of a suit, impeccably dressed, and would only ever speak in proverbs.
As we left, Jed pointed us towards the boarding house, shaking our hands firmly as we said our goodbyes. The house was actually really pretty, not what i had been expecting after hearing that it was a pay-weekly. I was gearing myself to knock on the door when an angry-looking lady appeared at the window, shaking her head aggressively. With this, we left and headed to the house in Allston. Here, we were again greeted with a beautiful, panelled house on a friendly looking road. I picked up the courage to knock, but received no reply. Then i noticed a sign, this was also a boarding house.