Boston remembers the 4th in its fashion

6 July 2001

If you wanted a good, old-fashioned, Norman Rockwell-style Fourth of July parade this year, you had to leave the city and visit towns like Duxbury, Needham or Natick. Boston didn't have one - and never has.

Why not? No one seems to have an answer. Certainly the evening's concert and fireworks display on the Esplanade played true to the traditions of the holiday. Nearly a half-million lined the banks of the Charles River to listen to the Boston Pops and guest artists such as Cindy Lauper and Arlo Guthrie. This year's fireworks, precisely choreographed to a medley of pop and classical tunes, were the best ever.

But the daylight hours seemed curiously empty: No floats, no high school marching bands, no convertibles with local pols waving to the gathered crowds while underlings tossed candy to kids along the way.

And that's particularly surprising because Boston has never been shy about having a parade. The holiday doesn't seem to matter. Bunker Hill Day, St. Patrick's Day, and New Year's Eve: Each one finds crowds five deep along a several-mile course. And that's not to mention the various neighborhood parades, such as the Allston- Brighton Day Parade whose purpose, as near as I've been able to determine, is to extract money from politicians who think their career depends upon paying to be allowed to participate in the event.

So as the crowds poured into the Back Bay on Wednesday, blankets in hand to stake out their turf on the Esplanade, the rest of the city was quiet.

But not completely so.

Early in the morning, a few marching bands - some in modern dress, others in clothing from two centuries ago - gathered at City Hall. Speakers, including the mayor, came up to a podium and made some welcoming speeches. There weren't many people to welcome, however: only around a hundred or so.

After the flag was raised to the singing of the national anthem, the mayor - the only politician to have bothered to show up - led the ragtag group a short distance along Tremont Street to the Granary Burial Ground. They walked through the cemetery, stopping at four gravesites. The names were well known to Bostonians: John Hancock, Peter Fanueil, Robert Treat Paine and Samuel Adams. (Or at least, three were well known. Paine, with neither a building nor a beer to his name, is more obscure.)

There was a small ceremony at each grave. A few words were said about each man and a single bugle played taps, immediately followed by a six-gun salute. Most of those who had trailed the crew into the graveyard were tourists. Drawn out of their hotels by the noise and still somewhat sleepy, they jumped when the guns fired.

Next the mayor and the marchers proceeded through Downtown Crossing to the Old State House. By this time, the crowd had swelled to about a thousand. From the second floor balcony of the old building, the captain of the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company emerged and, to the assembled crowd, read the Declaration of Independence. It was the 225th year that the Declaration had been read from that location.

Most of us are familiar with the stirring opening of the document ("We hold these truths to be self-evident"). But actually much of it is a long, and to be frank, somewhat boring, litany of complaints. Still the crowd was silent and respectful, erupting in cheers only at the end when the speaker proclaimed that the political dependence of the colonies on Great Britain "is and ought to be totally dissolved."

All in all, it was an odd couple of hours. The tour through the Granary Burial Ground was somewhat mournful. The peroration from the balcony of the Old State House required the audience to listen and think. It hardly seemed like one of those events that should be part of the celebratory festivities of the Fourth.

Although on reflection, perhaps it was exactly what was needed.

The Fourth of July is in some ways like Christmas. Although both holidays are fraught with significance, the hoopla of the day causes many to forget that. Christmas is now more about Santa Claus and gift- giving than the birth of Jesus. The Fourth is about fireworks and parades instead of the birth of a nation.

The meaning of those days two centuries ago - indeed, the meaning of America itself - is the subject of much debate. Dramatic changes in politics and philosophy gave the world a nation unlike any it had ever seen before. And the origins of this country, perhaps more so than for any other nation, continue to inform its daily life, making it a unique land of democracy and freedom.

So what if Boston didn't have a parade? The city got it right. For a few hours - and, sadly, to far too few people - Boston honored the past and made history live again.