|Rita Gillooly, Mary Clark and Beth Ferree - Friends from Houston days|
I met Rita Gillooly in the lounge of the University of Houston law school in 1974. She was also eating a sack lunch alone. We were both transfer students from other law schools and naturally gravitated to each other. Our differences were stark despite her being only three days older. Rita grew up in public housing in Boston and I was a farmer’s daughter from the panhandle of Texas. No one in her family drove a car and I had my license at age 14. My family traveled extensively and hers got no further than a summer jaunt to Cape Cod. Yet, we bonded, stayed in touch, and in June, I finally got to experience Boston through Rita’s history.
|117 Garfield Avenue is on the right|
The Gillooly family immigrated from Ireland to join the many Irish in Boston. With such an unusual name, anyone claiming it had to be kin to Rita. She knew of 35 first cousins. Her father delivered mail and her mother cared for the four children. Rita candidly disclosed that her father’s drinking caused instability in the family. They moved often with occasional residence in public housing (Rita attended 5 schools in 7 years), before settling in Hyde Park, a nice neighborhood south of Boston proper. Though surrounded by middle class homes, her cul-de-sac ended in several two story, three bedroom public apartment buildings. Theirs was number 117 Garfield Avenue.
When we visited it, Rita was shocked at the quietness - empty stoops, vacant street, and no hordes of children playing on the back yard monkey bars. She noted window air units had been added since her time, possibly the source for the minimal activity. Rita pointed out one apartment where she had done Mrs. Carroll’s hair and the O’Grady and O’Hara families’ homes where she babysat. All earned money went for clothes as she avoided the outfits bought by her mother at Salvation Army’s thrift store.
|Boston bomb memorial in Copley Square|
At home, Rita’s mother knew the value of education and played word games with the kids, surrounded them with books and alw
ays had paper and pens ready for writing. Even though the TV was often on, her mother would lay a board over a chair for each to do homework. Her father was harder to please. Despite her excellent grades (she graduated 3rd in her class), her father would look at the report card and always say, “Room for Improvement”.
Her life changed forever when a school counselor suggested she apply to Brown University, a nearby Ivy League school. She had never heard of Brown, and never been to Providence, despite its proximity at the end of her train line. The school was full of far wealthier students and Rita realized quickly she needed to tone down her strong working class accent. After getting her undergraduate and law degrees and practicing in Texas for several years, Rita returned to Boston in 1985.
|Charles River, Boston|
|Swan Boats in Boston's Public Garden|
At the Public Garden, across from the Boston Common, we saw the famous swan boats ferrying tourists and families around a small lake. Rita’s mother would bring the four kids downtown once a year to ride the boats, an experience they loved. And nearby we walked by the headquarters of the insurance giant, Liberty Mutual, where Rita now works in the legal department.
Rita is not bitter about her father’s drinking nor does she indulge in self-pity. She and her husband raised two children in Canton, only two train stops from her family’s apartment on Garfield Avenue in Hyde Park. Her journey to a home in the suburbs with good schools is the American dream. I missed seeing many famous sites of Boston but the city became more real with Rita as the guide - a place for immigrants to settle and thrive and where a self-motivated, smart child of the projects could use a good education to expand her world.