Middle brother Dave recently came across a batch of photos he took long ago. I asked him if he’d like to put together a blog post about them; happily, he said yes.

Here is his story:

The Brownie camera, an inexpensive point-and-shoot, democratized photography in the mid-
century USA.

Mom and Dad gave me my Brownie Fiesta on either Christmas 1965 or my ninth birthday the following March.

These photos all date from 1966 and are of places in and around the city of Pittsfield, Massachusetts, that were special to me.

While I’m afraid they don’t suggest a major photographic talent, they’re still a nice springboard for reminiscence.

Berkshire Athenaeum

I felt lighthearted and right at home every time I went through the doors of this fairytale confection of a library, exploring the shelves in both the children’s and adult collections for the science fiction and astronomy books I loved. The building now houses government offices; while I understand the library’s need for a larger structure to house its expanding collection, its functional but charmless new home can’t ignite a child’s imagination the way the Athenaeum did.

Berkshire Museum

As you can see in the photo, our local museum included a small movie theater, where I remember watching the charming comedy The Russians are Coming with my parents and siblings.

The museum’s collection was strongest in natural history, and it hosted a Saturday-morning program for interested children called the Junior Naturalist Club. The Club involved talks, films and demonstrations followed by a quiz which sometimes necessitated searching the collections for answers.

My older brother Harry and I were quite the JNC dynasty, each winning our age divisions multiple times, once in the same year.

The Berkshire Eagle devoted a lot of column space to the program, even publishing the weekly contest results!

Pleasant Valley Wildlife Sanctuary

Attending a week of nature-themed day camp at this gorgeous locale just outside of Pittsfield was the prize for winning one’s age division of the Junior Naturalist Club; Harry and I were campers here at least two times each. This building is where we made projects like terrariums and mounted insect collections.

There were also lots of hikes, “Nature Kickball” (you had to answer a question correctly in order to get an at-bat; nerd heaven!), and the camp culminated in a sleepout in a big meadow under the stars.

St. Theresa’s Catholic Church

We attended this church throughout our seven years in Pittsfield. I vividly remember the time I was an altar boy helping out with Midnight Mass on Christmas; one of the other altar boys, who had a reputation as a rowdy at school, fell asleep in his pew and started to audibly curse.

I also recall Dad’s comment, in reference to the parking lot, that nobody is in a bigger hurry than Catholics after church. When I returned to Pittsfield for a few days in 2020, I saw that the church was gone.

The Lake

Pittsfield boasts two lovely recreational lakes: Pontoosuc, which was (is?) more developed (beach, snack bar, enclosed swimming area, etc.) and Onota, which has a more rural setting despite being closer to town.

I’m pretty sure I took this photo at Pontoosuc, the lake where I had a big scare when I was 10 or 11. I walked to the far end of the boardwalk surrounding the enclosed area and jumped off – and unexpectedly, the water was over my head. Forgetting all my swimming lessons, I panicked, yelled for help, and bobbed up and down a couple of times before being rescued by a lifeguard.

During my 2020 visit to Pittsfield, I went to Onota. After a short wooded trail, the expanse of the water opened up, with more forest lining the other shore and hardly a building or other sign of Homo sapiens to be seen. I commend the government and people of the city for keeping the lake pristine – what a gem!

Kate’s Hill

Our house was on Pomeroy Avenue, and the closest cross street was Warwick. At the end of Warwick’s one long block, a sloping meadow on the right descended to some woods. This was Kate’s Hill, the sledding destination of choice for neighborhood kids. (I don’t know who Kate was.)

One had to be cautious toward the bottom, to avoid crashing into the trees, but I didn’t have any trouble sledding there. A popular alternative to sleds were convex pieces of plastic that I now realize could have come from old streetlight covers.

A memory from another season: at the terminus of Warwick, right next to the sledding hill, was a
house I remember vividly from Hallowe’en trick-or-treating. The older couple who lived there
invited children onto their porch, which was bathed in orange light, for cider and doughnuts.

(To be truthful, I’m not absolutely certain this photo is of the sledding hill, but it looks similar
and I don’t know why I would have taken a photo of such a place otherwise.)

Thanks for the memories, Dave. And thanks for not making your siblings pose for any goofy photos!

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