RichardHowe.com – Voices from Lowell & Beyond

Reflections on the Water

Reflections on the Water

By Leo Racicot

When I was a kid, I thought every city had as many canals as my hometown, Lowell, did. Canals seemed to be everywhere, crisscrossing the majority of the city; in summertime, brief, cooling interludes between long stretches of hot pavement. I didn’t think this was odd because, well, canals were part of the town. It never occurred to me that most places didn’t have waterways practically everywhere you walked. No wonder Lowell earned the nickname The Venice of America. Of course, originally, canals, whether in Lowell, Venice or Amsterdam were sewers, depositories for a city’s waste. A friend who visited Venice recently was appalled by the stench wafting off Venice’s waterways as he and his wife’s gondola made its way along The Grand Canal. “P. U. That city smells!” They never expected one of the world’s most popular travel destinations to smell like the farm.

I can’t say I never smelled anything foul about Lowelll’s canals. But I accepted them and their stench as part of my city, Stinky or not, I found there was something romantic about canals. The sight of them brings a welcome calm to the urban noises surrounding you. The gentle edges of them lap against moss-covered stones, almost hypnotically. When out on walks with Buddy, he liked to pause to gaze into the depths of the canal that runs through Ecumenical Plaza between Saint Patrick’s and Holy Trinity Churches, watch for the occasional fish head popping up through the green surface, watch the flock of ducks swimming by. I loved these moments with Buddy for — he was walking me, not the other way around and was my guide. I loved the interesting places he’d take me. At the canal, we would linger in peace. The seamless teal of canals gave a lightsome lift to the red brick heaviness of the old mill city, a heaviness I find melancholy on rain-heavy days. The relaxation properties of canals are many: the controlled water flow, the ways in which the mere sight of them can improve mood, outlook. They also offer reflection and respite on long walks, a means of entering a peaceful zone in the brain, what scientists call blue mind. It was a disappointment if you were strolling along only to find the city had drained your favorite canal. Back in the day, Lowell would empty all canals each weekend, this, to inspect them for leaks, fissures, remove unwanted debris (usually grocery store shopping carts people had thrown in them, plastic bottles, plastic bags, dead automobile batteries and car parts). Sadly, a canal would prove irresistible to those wanting to commit suicide. I remember wondering what kind of a place Lowell was, hearing about the number of students who’d fling themselves off the roof of the university’s Fox Hall, overwhelmed by their studies and life, the number of bodies found in city waterways. An acquaintance of mine from the 1970s who went by the nickname, The Cowboy, one whole summer took to saying he was “Done Trying”, despaired of ever coming back to himself. On a lonesome winter Saturday, he threw himself into The Western Canal running between Suffolk and Dutton Streets. My sister, Diane’s, dear classmate and friend, Helena Murgia, purposely drove her car into the dark night waters at an early age. Her body was never found.

I took my Franco American sixth graders on one of Lowell’s popular canal tours. They got a kick out of weaving in and out of the waterways around Dutton Street. Of course, they loved getting wet in spite of the slickers the city provided; in their post-tour theme papers, every single one of them mentioned getting sprayed as their favorite part of the trip. Kids!

I remember a special night when my housemate and friend, Pete Starrett and I on impulse went on a Kerouacian ramble through the rocks and white water falls under ULowell’s University Avenue Bridge. We had no fear of falling as we navigated the slippery stones, delighted in hearing our voices bounce off the rusty iron girders of the tired, creaky old bridge. It was easy to fall a little bit in love with Peter, as everybody who knew him in those days did. He was so open to the adventures to be had, tall stick of dynamite that he was. As with Buddy, I’d follow Pete anywhere, knowing an exciting escapade lay ahead.

These days, whenever I see a flash of water cutting through concrete, in a television travelogue or in a tv show or  movie, my mind rushes back to those mossy depths, the tug of a beloved dog’s leash, the ghosts of a city that taught me where to find a sliver of peace amid the urban grit. The canals are still here, slicing through the old New England town just as they always have, holding the weight of my past in their brackish currents. They remain my hometown’s heartbeat, proof that even unattractive places hold an enduring beauty if only you know where to look.

_______________________

Buddy at Western Canal

Canal boat tour

Canal boats

Canal walk in fall

Joe and Leo alongside Merrimack Canal in 1969

Lowell canals postcard

Merrimack Canal

Peter at Cape Ann in 1992

Seen & Heard: Vol. 45

A weekly report on things I’ve read, heard and seen since last Wednesday. 

Headline: “A Forceful Rebuke: Democrats Sweep Congress, Delivering Blow to Republicans” New York Times, November 5, 2026. This was the front page of the Times two days after the election. (The edition on the day after was out too early to reflect any election results). This front page had two map graphics that used blue and red coloring to depict the shift in Congress. Then there were photos of the seven new Democratic Senators who won seats held by Republicans. Finally, there were four articles with headlines like, “A Signal Trump’s Era is Starting Its Twilight” by Peter Baker; “Vance Cites War – Johnson to Step Back” by Catie Edmondson (who wrote a stellar article about the 2017 fight over the location of Lowell High when she was a summer intern at the Boston Globe); “Seismic Change As Texas Breaks Grasp of GOP”; and a “news analysis” piece by Carl Hulse, “Congress to Dust Off Role as Check on the President.” 

Editorial: “Immigrants, long part of Lynn’s fabric, now feel under siege” Boston Globe, October 26, 2026 – This is another in the Globe’s series on Gateway Cities in Massachusetts. While the focus of the Lowell article a few weeks ago was the renovation of a downtown office building into housing, this Lynn article is all about how the federal government’s immigration policy is disrupting the lives of so many of that city’s residents. It cites many examples of longtime residents who have established businesses, or work regular jobs in support of their spouses and children here in Massachusetts, who have been snatched off the streets and disappeared, leaving their businesses to founder and their families to spiral into crisis. The city is providing what support it can, but it seems that is only marginally effective and often just triages the disaster that has befallen these families. 

Article: “Last-ditch effort to save Flock cameras in Providence” by Steph Machado, Boston Globe, October 31, 2026. There are 60 Flock cameras in Providence, Rhode Island, and the city’s police force say they are critical in solving crimes. However, the incoming mayor and city councilors are intent on ridding the city of the cameras. It seems the conflict in Providence mirrors that in Lowell with the two sides, the police and their political supporters versus those opposed to this data collection, each addressing a different issue. The police and their supporters say the strict policies they have enacted regarding access protects against abuse of the system, whereas others – like me – say that if your data resides on the Flock servers (which it does) or if you share your data with another department (which Lowell and Providence both do), you don’t really control “your data” because all those other points of access create a backdoor into your data. And this is not an abstract concern because the federal government in power now has demonstrated again and again that it will use whatever tools it has to terrorize immigrant communities and political opponents. 

Article: “Kennedy Backs Off Plan to Ban an Opioid: Allowing Some Kratom After Push for Donor” by Christina Jewett, New York Times, November 1, 2026. A couple of years ago a Lowell resident appeared before the City Council and urged the council to ban the sale of kratom in the city. I had never heard of kratom before that, but learned it was an unregulated drug that appeared in large quantities in some energy drinks sold at gas stations and convenience stores. The petitioner was the mother of a young man who had died as a result of ingesting kratom. So this past week when I saw this article on the front page of the Times, it grabbed my attention. The story explains that following the deaths of dozens of people who consumed kratom, the federal government, by Health Secretary Robert Kennedy, decided to ban the sale of kratom. That caused a guy who owns a company that sells a lot of energy drinks that include kratom to donate $3 million to Republican candidates and get a meeting at the White House. A few days later, Kennedy revoked the new rules and the regulation of kratom was short-lived. 

Obituary: “Craig Symonds, 79, Lauded Military Historian Dies” by Sam Roberts, New York Times, October 30, 2026. I confess to being unaware of Professor Symonds and his books. While I’m sorry he passed away, I’m glad I read his obituary. He was an expert on the history of the U.S. Navy and was a longtime history professor at the Naval Academy. He had twin areas of specialization: The U.S. Navy in World War II, and the U.S. Navy in the Civil War. While I’ve read much about WWII, I recognize that I don’t know much about the Navy in the Civil War. The common understanding is that all the important battles took place on land, but strategically, the Navy and its blockade of the southern states, was critical to the defeat of the rebellion. Similarly, seizing the Mississippi River, including capturing New Orleans in 1862, was primarily a Naval action even though Lowell’s own General Ben Butler had much to do with New Orleans, but it was the Navy who handed it to him.

Veterans Day Prayer

VETERANS DAY PRAYER

 By Rocky Provencher (Nov 2023)

Rocky Provencher was born and raised in Lowell. He attended city schools from the Lowell Day Nursery through Lowell Technological Institute (now UMass Lowell). He spent his career working in Lowell’s mills and was a long time Lowell Folk Festival volunteer. He recently shared this prayer which he has recited at recent Veterans Day events.

 ****

On the 11^th hour of the 11^th day of the 11^th month—- Let us pray:

Dear Lord, we pray today for all those who have served in our nation’s armed forces. We thank you for their courage, their sacrifice, and their willingness to put their lives on the line for our freedom.

We pray for those who have returned from war both physically and emotionally wounded. We ask that you please heal their bodies and their minds, and give them the strength to rebuild their lives.

We pray for the families of those who have served, especially those who have lost loved ones. Please comfort them in their grief and give them the courage to carry on.

We pray for those who continue to serve today, both at home and abroad. Please protect them from harm and bring them home safely.

We pray for ourselves to never forget the sacrifices that have been made for our freedom. May we always be grateful for those who have served.

And please, dear God, show us how to build a more just and peaceful world.

Amen.

An American in Paris

This post originally appeared on this site on November 6, 2021. 

Laval U. Peloquin

An American in Paris

By Louise Peloquin

On September 16, 1940, the US passed the Selective Service Act allowing the draft of eligible men for military service. Hence, Laval U. Peloquin, one of nine children born to French-Canadian immigrants Joseph and Marieanne, was plucked out of civilian life and deposited into the Army.

Laval was in his first semester at the Georgetown University School of Medicine in Washington D.C. on December 7, 1941, the day Pearl Harbor was attacked. All medical students were conscripted when the US declared war on Japan on December 8. As they would be of greater use with medical training, the students were allowed to remain in school with the rank of Second Lieutenant (sometimes called “butter bars” because their insignia resembled one and because they had, in the view of some, about the same value as a stick of butter). Laval completed his studies as a commissioned officer but was usually in civies.

During the first summer of medical school, he was sent to Fort Dix, New Jersey, for basic training, a new experience where medical students were given no slack. The drill sergeants strengthened the trainees, toughened them physically and knocked them down to better build them up. They were a special target for ridicule, harassment and other duties as assigned. Asking for a bathroom rather than a latrine earned the trainee a ration of grief.

Laval was an alumnus of Assumption Preparatory School followed by Assumption College in Worcester, Massachusetts. The Assumptionist brothers and priests, many from Europe, excelled in classical education, the basic sciences and discipline in the Biblical sense. Laval later recognized that this type of instruction, which did not spare the rod, helped him complete basic training. He did what was told, when told and as told. Daily reveille blasted the trainees awake before dawn, hustling them to get ready, to square away their bunks and foot lockers and to shout “Yes, drill sergeant.” The soldier was dressed down if a look of amusement or defiance crossed his face.

Laval was not in shape for basic training, but he made a consistent effort to follow instructions, keep a serious expression and behave as he was taught at Assumption Prep where corporal punishment existed even up to the time of its closing in 1970. He had learned that harsh discipline prepares a man for life’s challenges as well as for war.

Training included crawling through the mud under live machine gun fire, climbing tall walls and jumping down the other side, 20-mile hikes with full packs and C-rations. C-rations were given to the troops when fresh food was not available. These meals were calorie dense, consisting of a meat, a couple of biscuits that could be used as a blunt impact weapon or a hockey puck, an insipid dessert and a pack of cigarettes with matches. The latter was the favorite element of said banquet. Salt, lots of it, was the primary flavoring. A helping of grease was in the can for good measure and a full canteen of water enhanced the dining experience. These meals were not gourmet, but they kept one alive as Laval’s relatives in combat in North Africa and the South Pacific would later testify. Laval had a sensitive palate but would not criticize this offering from the taxpayer as he chose to avoid correction from the drill sergeant. Again, the protocol was remaining impassive, complying to injunctions, not volunteering one’s opinion but rather volunteering for harsh or extra duty to prove one’s mettle. After a while, Laval noticed that the drill sergeant ceased to choose him because other trainees seemed to require instruction more desperately.

Upon completion of medical school, Laval was assigned to a medical combat support unit in the South Pacific. His class graduated early as the military needed doctors. The war in Europe was winding down, and his services were required where fighting was still fierce.

He was granted a brief leave to return to Lowell to say goodbye to his family. His mother and sisters cried as he left. On the set date, his father Joseph drove him to the old train station in Worcester for his journey. The service men were well treated, with coffee, snacks and meals. At scheduled stops, the public was there to greet the soldiers, sailors and Marines with goodies and hugs. Laval was contemplating his adventure and the dangers therein.

In Chicago, Illinois, he was scheduled to do an “overnighter” in a government-provided accommodation. He reported to the Army liaison center at the train station for his orders. They had been changed. He was reassigned to Paris, France, with duties yet to be specified. He was booked to go to New York City for a ship bound for Europe two days later. That night, he got on a train to NYC and boarded his ship.

Upon arriving in France, Laval was sent to Paris. “The City of Lights” had been liberated on August 25, 1944, and the war was drawing to a close. When he reported to headquarters, he found out why they removed him from duty in the Pacific. He proceeded to Paris as a Second Lieutenant and, shortly thereafter, was promoted to First Lieutenant. At this rank, he was named chief venereal disease control officer.  A French speaker was de rigueur for the Army and Laval’s linguistic mastery met the requirements. This was no surprise as he had grown up in a Franco-American family where French was the household tongue.

Liberated Paris was very welcoming. Many young women wanted to personally express their appreciation for the Allied soldiers who gave them liberty. Some gave their affection freely, others did so for a fee. Penicillin, the brand-new miracle drug, was the exclusive property of the US military and was prescribed for serious or recreational infections. Laval’s job was to inspect the “social clubs” where many soldiers found comfort in Gallic arms and so he examined and treated the victims of amorous activities, be they women or soldiers.

Laval was assigned his own Jeep with all of the fuel he could consume. In a time of rationing, he could go where he wanted when he wanted. He was also designated as head of a military police squad complete with its own transportation truck. His men, some trained as medics, facilitated entrance into any home or establishment needing the services of the specialized unit. Usually, he was greeted cordially, as his mission allowed these businesses to safely operate. At other times, the squad would have to raid the oasis of comfort. He was welcomed throughout Paris as a liberator from “intimate irritations.”

As he toured the city, he practiced his other-than-medical talents. With his curly ginger hair, green eyes and pleasant features, Laval was handsome. He was also blessed with a beautiful singing voice, one that he had used to earn pin money while a medical student in Washington, D.C.  As he had done in the States, he sang in bistros but not for tips. In Paris, he received a good meal, a good drink and the opportunity to dance and sing with the city’s darlings like Montmartre’s singer-actress Patachou.

Certainly, the services Laval provided promoted the public health and welfare of Paris. As conservative parents learned of this “French” American doctor, he also found himself being invited for a home-cooked meal and an introduction to their treasures, i.e., their daughters. In such homes, the fathers watched this Army officer closely. Although he seemed nice, they would leave their daughters alone with no man.

It was in such a Gallic home that he received a special treat. Lamb stew, a wartime rarity, was on the menu. As guest of honor, Laval was served the most delectable pieces of lamb, the most succulent vegetables and small potatoes simmered in a delicately fragrant sauce. It was scrumptious. He ate heartily and engaged in friendly conversation with the patriarch of the house while being ogled by mother and demure daughter. As he chewed, he felt a rubbery item that he discreetly removed from his mouth and returned to his bowl. The host noticed and said, “What have you got there? Ah, it is the eyeball, the best part of the stew!” He dipped the ladle into the tureen and added, “Here is the other one, we saved it for you!” Later, during tales to his children about his Parisian experiences, Laval did not specify whether or not he ate the other or if he had ever dined there again. He did tell them that the young woman was quite attractive. Laval’s children do not know if he saw her again.

Just before returning home, he was promoted to Captain.

The year-and-a-half-long tour abroad allowed Laval to live with the French people he served. The suffering, the mourning, the healing, the renovating and the rebuilding, he encountered it all. The celebrating as well and always the singing. His honey-rich tenor rendered popular songs heard especially in the crowded smokey cabarets of La Butte Montmartre. As the years went by, the melodies of his youth never left him. On the contrary, they aged like vintage wine as he fine-tuned his interpretations. Years after his European military assignment, the songs continued to enliven his household and punctuate his tall but true military tales. (See “A kid’s soundtrack” posted on April 27, 2021).

Captain Laval U. Peloquin M.D. was a Titan, a man who lived a life of courage, adventure, leadership and faith. His was also a life of service to the city of Lowell, first as a general practitioner in his 322 Pawtucket Street office facing the Grotto, then as a board-certified surgeon and finally as a board-certified radiologist at Lowell’s Saint Joseph’s Hospital. He died on August 7, 1976, at age 56.