This book, so far, has been a series of rambling thoughts and memory snapshots of the town in the last seventy years. I have already had the feeling that I should be getting ready for a second edition, because it is impossible to record, in a few hundred pages, all the events, happenings, and personalities that flash across my mind. True to my original intent, I have done no research; there is no official documentation of dates or exact placing of some events. That they all happened within reasonable time frames is certain. In these final chapters, I want to list two or three events or movements that had an impact on the town in each decade starting with World War I and continuing on up through the 1980s.

First of all, when I was born in 1915, the first war had already started in Central Europe in 1914. My earliest recollections of the war are of my brother, John, a student at Boston College, coming home in a uniform, a member of the SATC---the Student Army Training Corpsin October 1918. While he was awaiting orders to ship out to Camp Lee, Virginia, the Armistice was signed.

During that same era, the influenza epidemic hit this country, especially the Northeast, and thousands died because there were no antibiotics available to stem the tide. Among those from Andover who fell victim to the dread disease was Fr. Daniel Fogarty, O.S.A., the young priest who had knelt at the foot of my crib for those fateful three hours on Easter Monday, April 9, 1917. I never knew him, never even had a chance to thank him in person, but I have always tried to remember that through his prayers, I was saved for a purpose. There had to be something or somethings that I was needed to accomplish. Certainly I have not accomplished anything earth-shattering, but then, I am still young. When you finally reach it, seventy-five does not seem that old.

The 1920s saw the building of the model village in Shawsheen by Billy Wood, and its impact on the town. President Warren Harding died in office, and was succeeded by Vice President Calvin Coolidge, the former governor of Massachusetts. The Coolidge years were not difficult for the president; the economy was riding high after the war, and Cal did nothing to stop it. He might be described as an example of "outstanding mediocrity."

In the twenties the 18th Amendment had been enacted, making alcoholic beverages illegal. There was rum-running all over the place and most Andover neighborhoods had a storefront that served as a "speakeasy." Many farmers, even in West Andover, concealed a still in the woods, unknown to the local police unless it blew up and started a fire, or unless a jealous or unfriendly neighbor tipped off the authorities.

Herbert Hoover, a very cultured and nonpolitical type from California, was elected president in 1928. He defeated Alfred E. Smith, governor of New York and the first Roman Catholic ever to run for the presidency. It was a bitter and "dirty" campaign. Smith was an excellent speaker and a real fighter, but the country was "not ready to have the government run from the Vatican"; and Smith was roundly defeated. He did carry Massachusetts---not Andover---but the "Solid South," as it was known, voted Republican for the first time since the post-Civil War Reconstruction times.

In hindsight Smith was lucky to have lost, because about seven months after Hoover took office in March 1929, the October stock market crash brought the country to its knees in the worst Depression in our history. People lost fortunes overnight, and the government seemed powerless to act. There was hardly a family that was not adversely affected. For the next ten years every household witnessed either cuts in pay or loss of jobs. It was not unusual for town employees, at every town meeting, to be faced with a 3 or 5 percent cut in pay because there was no way that the townspeople would or could stand for an increase in taxes. Those who had jobs were truly fortunate. Today we worry when the unemployment rate hits 7 percent. In the early 1930s the rate was in the 20s---and anyone who was lucky enough to be working in the mills was probably working only three days a week.

The Depression dominated the 1930s. It was so deep-rooted that the pump-priming by the Roosevelt administration only lightened the burden. The repeal of the 18th Amendment in late 1932 helped somewhat in that it at least put the liquor industry back in business, but that was only one business---and most of the consumers still did not have enough money for food, clothing, and shelter, let alone spirits. It was not until about 1939, when Hitler invaded Poland, and Britain and France went to war with Germany, that the mills and factories rumbled back to work, to supply the Allied powers. It was in truth a sad way to get out of a Depression.

Before I leave this era and move into the post-World War II days, I must note two or three events that stick in my mind as having had local impact. Along about July of 1923---this is a guess on my part---I was in the dining room of our home on Harding Street; my mother was in the kitchen. There was a peculiar trembling sensation---I have felt it only once since---and some dishes in the china cabinet rattled. My mother came into the dining room and checked the china; one small plate had been broken.

Yes, we learned later that we had felt an earthquake. The epicenter had been somewhere in New Hampshire, but we definitely felt the effects.

In March 1936, my Junior year in college, all New England was hit with heavy rains and warm weather following a lot of heavy snow. The Merrimack River cut loose upstream and all the tributaries, including the Shawsheen, were backed up. In fact the high tide backed the Merrimack all the way back to Haverhill. We had a flood on our hands throughout the valley. Shawsheen Square was under about six feet of water. Canoes and rowboats were able to row in and out of what is now the Balmoral condos. The only way we could get from Andover to Lawrence was to go down Essex Street---the river did not flood over the road there---up Shawsheen Road to West Parish, over Beacon Street to Andover Street in Lawrence, to South Broadway, to Salem Street, to Parker Street, across the Central Bridge to Lawrence's Essex Street. I drove it on Saturday with my brother John to get a supply of Tribunes for some of the stores in Andover.

All the houses on North Main Street across from the plaza were flooded up to their first floors and on Friday night the water was up to the corner of Stevens Street. It was a mess, and it took a long time to clean up and recover. Damage in Lawrence, Haverhill, and on down the river valley was extensive, and the Army Corps of Engineers was brought in to set up reservoirs and holding areas upriver.

Hardly had we recovered from the floods when, in September 1938, the entire New England area was hit by a devastating hurricane. The combination of high winds and monsoon-type rains wreaked havoc throughout the area. I had been in the insurance business only a year and, being fresh out of the Aetna Casualty home office sales training program, I had attempted to sell people the extended coverage endorsement that covered windstorm damage. The reaction I had received from most people was, "What will the insurance companies think up next?" Well, after September 1938, I did not have much trouble selling the extended coverage-or windstorm endorsement. Thereafter, the banks required it on all mortgaged property, and in due time it became a basic part of the property coverage.

The hurricane took down communications wires, ruined trees and shrubs, and washed out roads and sidewalks. Because of the intensity of the rainfall, flooding was again a result, and most of the same low-lying properties were devastated once again.

In between these events I had graduated from Boston College in June 1937 and had entered the insurance business with Bill that summer. That business partnership lasted until shortly before his death, when we sold the agency to my children, Mary, Sheila, and Jay. During the forty-eight years of our association, Bill and I had many highs and lows. We never were wealthy, although many people, I guess, thought that we were rolling in dough. We never seemed to have an abundance of funds because we were not good bill collectors. We always fell for the "sob story" and used our money to pay premiums for people rather than cancel policies for nonpayment. The only real trouble that we ever had with the insurance companies was their criticism of our way of doing business. Our position was always that people are honest and will pay---eventually. "And don't try to tell us what to do with our money."

Well, I am here to tell you that we were wrong. Over a period of almost fifty years we wrote off a fortune in uncollected bad debts. Some of it we were glad to eat, but a lot of people took advantage of our good nature. I must admit that Bill was the "nice fellow." I was a rather reluctant accomplice. But through it all, we loved every minute of it. I doubt that any partnership in the area ever enjoyed its growing pains as much as we did. To see something that you have nurtured through the years grow into one of the largest businesses of its kind, and expand into the next generation of ownership, is extremely gratifying.

Enough has been written locally, nationally, and internationally about World War II, including its prologue and its epilogue. It was devastating. We lost many friends and schoolmates---Connie O'Leary and Frank Morgan who graduated with me from St. Augustine's. Many others carry and will carry the effects, mental and physical, to their graves. Afterward, it all seemed to me to be such a waste. I was fortunate. I guess my mother had more influence with God than many other mothers. I covered a large part of the country in training schools and permanent assignments, although with all the detached service, it seldom felt like a permanent station. I never volunteered for anything and only once did I use my own powers of persuasion to avoid an assignment. I convinced the Officer Candidates Review Board---all of whom I knew very well---that I could contribute more to the war effort if they would let me stay on my job in personnel services rather than send me to officer candidate school for Air Corps Administration. I worked with all of them on the base, and the board admitted that it might be hard to break in a new man in my job.

In every town hall, state house, or congress there is always one individual who can be depended upon to know the answers and to get things done. I was that man at Hendricks Field, Sebring, Florida. I could find ping-pong balls for a colonel and arrange for physical training credits for a major in the mess hall who did not want to go out on the parade grounds at seven o'clock in the morning to do calisthenics. It was interesting work, but the whole war effort always irked me because it was such a waste of manpower and materials.

I have told about the changes after the war: the meteoric growth in the town, the new faces, the building boom, and the general change in the character of the town. The sleepy farming town was changing, new businesses were setting up. Suddenly the policemen and fire fighters and mailmen were all my contemporaries, fellows I grew up with and went to school with and played ball with.

The 1940s came to a close in late November 1949, when Sheila Dalton from Tower Hill in Lawrence became Mrs. James D. Doherty. Marrying Sheila was the smartest thing I ever did and that event would have a most profound influence on my life for the rest of my days.

The 1950s started out with promise. The Korean War ground down to a close, and the economy looked good for several years ahead. Real estate development was booming in town and the population was expanding by about 1,000 per year. Western Electric Company moved out of makeshift quarters in Lawrence and Haverhill into a beautiful new facility on Route 125 In North Andover. This allowed for their needed expansion and also brought many new families into the area. Almost all of them had engineering degrees and so earned much more money than the textile millhands had made on a comparable basis during the previous fifty years.

Most of these people moved into either Andover or North Andover. And with them came an immediate need for new and additional school facilities. In rapid order we built a new high school (now the West Middle School), a new Central Elementary School (now the Doherty Middle School), the West Elementary on Beacon Street, the Sanborn School on Lovejoy Road and the South School on Woburn Street.

Water and sewer extensions were required throughout the town as new streets and developments were built. The police and fire departments increased to take care of public safety. New businesses were springing up all around town, and the quiet farming community of the 1920s seemed to have disappeared forever. Harry Axelrod and Jack Keaney took over Wildrose Farm from Sid White, and built nearly fifty houses. Bill Heard blew into town from Lexington and told me he needed enough land to build at least fifty homes. I negotiated the sale of the remainder of the Richardson Farm on Elm Street, the part that was in Andover. (The part that was in North Andover was already in the hands of Merrimack College.)

Heard built about fifty-eight houses there; each sold for $8,500. The last three or fourh---aving a different design and larger size---sold for as much as $10,500. Ed Hall and his son Ernie built Hall Avenue in Ballardvale and Flint Circle, off High Street, where my father had a garden and where I in the late 1920s played my first baseball game.

Fred Doyle was busy building new homes in West Andover, and it was there, on Juniper Road, that Sheila and I bought our home in December 1954. Juniper was a dead-end street and for several years it was standard procedure in the summer for the fathers to play softball against the kids on the street in front of our house after dinner almost every night.

Henry Pfaff, retired brewmaster of the Holihan Brewery, was the original "settler" on our street. We were joined every night by Tom Hood, retired from the Andover Companies, Sid Pollard, from Western Electric, and occasionally Ray Howe, Doug's father. It never made any difference who won; it was a great neighborhood activity. There must have been twenty-five to thirty youngsters in the immediate neighborhood, all born between 1950 and 1962. Our Fran was the baby of the area so she and Jay's dog, Ciggy, were the mascots.

We bought our house for less than $23,000---that was about the average price of homes in the West Andover area at that time. It was not, and is not, pretentious, but it was a solid, well-built home that we have enjoyed for the past thirty-five years. Just a few months before we bought our house, the region was visited by the two 1954 hurricanes---Carol and Edna---thirteen days apart, on August 31 and September 13. The havoc these storms wrought was immense. Coming one upon the other in rapid fashion, the new damage was heaped on property before the original mess had been cleared. Professionally, it was frustrating to go back over the same routine with an adjuster and visit insureds a second time, often to pay again for damage that we had paid for only a week or ten days before.

Joe Davis, a boyhood chum from Temple Place, had left the police department to work for the General Adjustment Bureau of Lawrence. A month before the tornado that struck the area in the summer of 1953, Joe and Paul Nestor left the GAB to set up their own business. We used them from time to time on fire and windstorm losses, so Joe worked with me quite extensively for the next several weeks. By Thanksgiving we had closed about two hundred claims and were awaiting final papers from only about three claimants.

The final years of the 1950s were taken up with Urban Renewal and the campaign to introduce legislation to get the town manager charter in place. I have discussed both of these items at length so I will not dwell on them now. During these years the old ties were loosening. New faces were appearing on the election ballot, new voices were heard, the old order was changing, and it was not to be the same ever again---at least not in my lifetime.

On another front, the Vatican election of Pope John XXIII had a profound effect even in Andover. The various churches opened their doors and their hearts and arms to members of other faiths. Ecumenism became the word of the day. The different churches entertained groups from other faiths. I remember meeting several townspeople who came on a Sunday afternoon to St. Augustine's, and I visited the Free Church, the South, and Christ Church Episcopal. It was a time when old barriers were knocked down and friendliness and tolerance were welcomed.

I remember sitting in Ford's one noontime with Duffy Lewis, the Ford dealer in Shawsheen, father of Derry and grandfather of Gary of Lewis Motors. Duffy said that the new pope was quite a guy because, "He says that I can get to heaven without being a Catholic." I assured Duffy that that had always been the teaching of the Roman Catholic Church, that a man of integrity and devotion to God was really in spirit in communion with the truth, even though not physically a member of the Roman Catholic faith. Duffy Lewis was a smart businessman, a real honest Vermont Yankee; I am aware of some of his charitable works, which, if he were alive, he would never admit to.

Duffy was the host to a very interesting group of well-known men in the community, all now deceased. Alter the Andover Service Club meetings on Thursday nights, they would retire to the Motor Mart on Haverhill Street for a friendly little game of poker. Each member had his own bank bag of change, securely locked in the safe, and they played until the designated hour-10:30 or 11:00---at which time the money was returned to the bag and into the safe. Besides Duffy Lewis, the card-playing group consisted of Clint Shaw (John Shaw's father), Walter Buxton, Jim Mosher, Sid White, and Ray Howe. No one else was ever invited, and nothing ever stood in the way of the Thursday night game. Ray Howe told me once that he doubted anyone was ever in the hole for more than $10 and none of the money ever left the room. I am proud to say that I was able to count all of them among my friends.

The fifties and sixties were interesting years in Andover. The town was growing, and the business community was always well represented at the "middle table" in Ford's at noon: Bob Barenboim and Irving Leoff, the owners of Clark Motor Company, located at the corner of Bartlet and Park Streets; Rod Hill from Hill Hardware; Ray Howe, who had sold his auto dealership in Bifierica and was helping his son Doug get started in the insurance business; the three Daves from the National Bank, MacDonald, Roberts, and Woodworth; Jim Christie, the tax collector; Tom Duff, our town manager; Duffy Lewis; Sid White; Jim Devine, who owned the Gradall rental business; and a few others. Always at least a half-dozen of us gathered for lunch. Ford's was close for Bill and me because we were then in the Simeone Block, where the Kitchen Korner is located now.

Of all that group I am the only one who still holds fort on the Main Street. The others have all either died or retired. Since the death of Bill Simeone, nearly two years ago, I guess that I am the undisputed senior member of the Andover business community. In the past fifty-three or fifty-four years I have seen a lot of them come and go. But as far as I'm concerned, Ford's is still the place to be at 8:30 every morning. Now new friends join me at the "center table." Horace and Betty Poynter, Bill and Marty Richards, when they are not wintering in Florida, George and Pam Christo (she operates a dance studio), and Franny Reilly when he can make it. Dave MacDonald, the "Ad King," comes in occasionally, although his place of business is now in Lawrence. Jean Hughes, who really runs Macartney's, comes in two or three mornings a week. Jean and I have one very important thing in common: we were both married on the same day, Thanksgiving 1949, in Lawrence, about six hours apart.

As I am winding down these memories, in the winter of 1990-1991, it is interesting to note that Bob and Tom Macartney have closed their family clothing store on Essex Street in Lawrence and have consolidated the operation in their Andover store at 5 Main Street. Bob and Tom are the third generation of the Macartney family in the business. Their grandfather, R.J., opened a store in about 1887 known as the Lawrence One Price. Every suit in the store sold for the same price, I think $5. My Uncle Martin worked there for a few years, before he had to quit because of the asthmatic condition that finally cut his life short in 1937 at the age of sixty. I will get back to him later.

Macartney's opened in Andover nearly thirty years ago at the same location that they occupy now. For almost all of that time, the store has been managed by John Zennevitch. John is a very popular member of the business community, and he has represented the company in an exemplary manner. He would probably be disappointed if I did not mention that his greatest asset and his most noteworthy achievement in life was marrying Millicent.

Others, besides Jean and John, who have worked in the store over the years included Alex Mime, Peggy Lambert, Al Legendre (who formerly worked for Carl Elander), tailor John Leimsider, and Dot Graham. The Macartney brothers both come in to Ford's every morning, but I have not yet convinced them to join us at the "middle table." They prefer to sit at the counter and read the paper. How dull.

I have mentioned Ford's Coffee Shop in several chapters. This establishment started in the 1930s when a young fellow new to town---I think his name was Ford Powers---opened a bakery shop where the booths are now located and added a counter for incidental eat-in service.

During the later stages of the war, Harold Heseltine, a clothing salesman for one of the large manufacturers, bought the business. I remember Harold telling me the story of meeting Powers at the shop at about nine o'clock the morning that the sale was to be consummated. Powers stood around for a couple of hours, and walked out at about eleven, never to be seen again by Harold.

Heseltine expanded the business by discontinuing the bakery and turning the operation into a real eat-in shop. His daughters, Marilyn and Norma, got their basic training as waitresses, alongside their mother. Yes, that very efficient, capable, former selectman, chairman of Andover's bicentennial committee, president of the Andover Historical Society and holder of so many other titles, Norma Gammon, got her basic training catering to an older generation of businessmen and politicians---right there in her father's restaurant.

In the 1950s Harold tired of flipping pancakes and sold the business to Tom and Stella Koravos of Lowell. Tom and Stella moved to Andover with their son Lewis and beautiful daughter Olivia, now Mrs. Spike Sintros. The family was very well known and highly respected in the Greek community in Lowell. To this day one of their frequent visitors is Mike DeMoulas. Mike and I are, I think, the only non-employees who get into the back kitchen to talk with Tom. Another old friend from Lowell, and one of the most astute statesman it has been my good fortune to know, is former U.S. Senator Paul Tsongas. Because of its location and type of clientele, over the years Ford's has been a great place for statewide political candidates to stop. A list of such visitors would constitute a very substantial Who's Who of Massachusetts politics.

I can remember meeting Senator Ed Brooke, Kenny O'Donnell, appointments secretary to President Kennedy, Tip O'Neill, his son Tip III, Mike Dukakis, Jim Shannon, Ed King, virtually all of the candidates who have ever run for the state legislature in the last thirty years from the Andover district. All drop in to get a little of the flavor of Andover. And through it all Tom and Stella just smile and stand back and enjoy it all.

In fact, Ford's is privy to the one secret weapon that I have wielded as an officeholder in town for many years. Stella Koravos is my campaign manager. She takes my nomination papers as soon as I get them from the town clerk, and in forty-eight hours gets them filled. That task would take me at least a week. I have heard that others have tried to steal her services, but I have no intention of losing my "manager" as long as I am a candidate.

Yes, Ford's has been an important part of downtown Andover for over forty years. It holds many pleasant memories for the Koravos family, the Heseltine family, and especially for the hundreds of regular patrons who have, made it a daily stop for so many years.

Across Main Street, where Andover Beauty Supply is now located, and before that Mooselaneous and before that the Gift House that was operated by the Andersons, there was another downtown restaurant for many years. My first recollection was Flanders Lunch, then Andover Lunch, and finally Lee's Restaurant of Andover. It was always a very nice in-town eating place, but it never seemed to be "home" as Ford's has always been. To anyone who ever complained at the table about the eggs or toast or coffee, I always had a ready response: "They are only trying to make you feel at home." If anyone did not get that, I will explain it after class.

I was relating some of the major events in each decade that seemed to have an impact on the town; forgive me for wandering a bit. The year 1963 was one of the saddest years in my memory. My mother died in May, a few months short of her ninety-fourth birthday, and was buried from St. Augustine's Church, where an hour and a half earlier our daughter Joanne had made her first communion. In July, Fr. Henry Smith, who had served in St. Augustine's for twenty-eight years, died after several years of failing health. Pope John died that year and John Kennedy was cut down by an assassin's bullet in Dallas.

It was a sad time. And during that same period---1963 or 1964---we lost Alan Rogers, brother of Irving of the Eagle-Tribune, and husband of Joyce. Alan was a good friend, and I truly shed a tear at his untimely death. T. Edwin Andrew, a real estate broker and a member of the firm that sold off all of the American Woolen Co. holdings in Shawsheen, was buried the same day as Alan. Ed Haselton, brother of George and Wally, and a broker at Smart & Flagg, also died about that same time. Although he was our competitor in the insurance business, and a smart one at that, Ed and I became good friends.

The 1960s were a time of turmoil and unrest throughout the country, and the effects were felt to some degree here in town. At the start of the decade, with the election of John Kennedy as president, the young generation, those who had survived a crippling Depression and a ruinous war, seemed to be ready to take up the challenge hurled at them on that cold, snowy, January day in Washington, when the oft-repeated words of the young President rang out across the land: "Ask what you can do for your country." Less than three years later the hopes of Camelot came to a crashing halt; the nation watched with tear-filled eyes as the television channels chronicled the fateful end to the dreams of many. It was truly devastating, and for the rest of the decade the country and its people seemed to drift aimlessly.

By 1968 two more national leaders, Dr. Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, had been assassinated, and the United States seemed paralyzed again. The Vietnam War---the one that nobody wanted---was in full swing. Draft cards were being burned, schools and churches were giving questionable advice to draft-eligible youth, and no one seemed to be in control.

Richard Nixon had been elected president in 1968, and he promised to end the war in a hurry. In 1972, he was re-elected, even though the war was still in full swing. Watergate and all of its ramifications had begun spiraling, and not too far into Nixon's second term, we had the spectre of a president resigning rather than face impeachment proceedings. It was a bad ten years, and we all felt their negative impact.

During these years, Andover "enjoyed" a stuttering economy. We were still building and expanding both our residential base and our industrial base. Dick Bowen served as town manager from about 1965 into the early 1970s.

He oversaw the building of the new high school and Bancroft Elementary School---and he faced plenty of opposition on both projects. Bill Doherty, still on the school committee until 1970, when he retired---undefeated, untied, and unscored upon---vehemently opposed the construction of the Bancroft as a frame building. Aside from the design---which Bill always referred to as Fort Apache---he felt that no school building should be anything but brick. In later years the town had to spend a lot of money to install a sprinkler system, because the frame building had a considerable financial impact on the fire insurance rate and the resulting premium. Even with the higher rate, insurance companies were not really interested in accepting the risk. As chairman of the town's insurance advisory committee at the time, I lost brownie points with at least one selectman when I ventured the opinion that I thought that frame construction school buildings went out with hoop skirts and high-buttoned shoes. In any event, Bill proved to be right once again, because the Bancroft School continues to be a maintenance nightmare for the town.

Bill's biggest hassle came over the new high school project. The taxpayers' association, with Henry Wolfson at the helm, were able to defeat the project on the floor of town meeting, because they wanted to kill the auditorium. Now the auditorium in the original plan would have seated 1,800 to 2,000. There were many theories advanced as to why the association opposed this one section of the plan. The most plausible, to me, seemed to be this: Andover will eventually "outgrow" the open town meeting system, and instead put the control of the town in the hands of a very few, select, individuals. A huge town auditorium was thus unnecessary.

In any event, an auditorium, which would have cost about $400,000, was left out, and about two years later the town built the high school, without the auditorium, for over $1 million more than the original project. There may be some still alive in town who will dispute my figures, but in one of my last conversations with Bill, he was still incensed over that.

Bill also had advocated that the mound between the two school buildings---opposite the entrance to the Collins Center---be blasted away and the area used for additional parking. He lost on that one, and although the neighbors use the hill for snow sledding three or four days a year, the complex could certainly use more parking (and not just for Jerry Silverman's Fourth of July celebration!).

The final annoyance was that the loam purchased for the playing fields was not prescreened, and many sharp stones as big as your fist were jutted up through the surface by the frost heaves. Bill had predicted that eventuality and he fought it with all his strength. I remember saying to him one day in the office: "Why don't you cool it? Some sweet young thing on the field hockey team will land on one of those rocks some day, gash a knee or, worse yet, her face, and you will have made your point."

Well, Bill drew himself up, looked at me with scorn in his eyes, and said: 'There is no G... D... reason for the first one to be injured or disfigured. That is what I am trying to prevent." In all my years in the public sector, I have never known anyone who was so intent on getting the very best for every child that came through the school system while he was on his thirty-nine-year watch. Maybe they should have named all the schools after him!

Well, the town and the country seemed to work their way out of the depths as the 1970s came to a close. Andover built a state-of-the art water treatment plant---and doubled its capacity only in the last few months. It is worthy of note that the one individual who provided the town with some of its most crucial early planning and expertise in the areas of water treatment and sewage disposal has never been properly recognized. Brother Bill wrote a letter to the board of selectmen several years ago suggesting that the water treatment plant might be dedicated to the memory of Joseph A. McCarthy, a state bacteriologist and an internationally recognized expert in the field of both water and sewage treatment systems. Joe had worked on the town's master plan back before it was taken over by professional engineers. His time and effort, like that of so many over the years, cost the town nothing. Unfortunately, Bill was not well enough to attend the selectmen's meeting that night---and I didn't even know that he had written the letter. No one on the board and apparently no one at the meeting was familiar with Joe, so the matter died. However, it is not too late to recognize the contribution of a fine, talented citizen, and perhaps the selectmen may read this chapter and do the needful.

The 1980s witnessed many changes in the town. The old Town Hall building on Main Street has been completely renovated and rededicated in the last year. The first floor has a comfortable walk-in center for the senior citizens, an administrative office and display area on the first floor, and a small post office. branch. Through the cooperation of the selectmen and town manager and the efforts of Tony Mendosa, our general postmaster---along with a substantial "nudge" from U.S. Congressman Chester Atkins---we now have, as of February 1991, a convenient postal service facility back in the center of town.

The second floor of the "Town House" has been restored to much of its original grandeur. It was a stately meeting hall for all occasions during the first third of this century, and I am happy and proud to see it restored. This town has a lot going for it---we have a lot of proud history---and we should be willing to spend a little money to preserve it for those who will come after us. In order to preserve it and restore the old Town Hall to its former dignity, a lot of money had to be spent. Thank God we had the good sense to spend it.

The Memorial Hall Library, which dominates our main square, was also completely renovated and expanded in the eighties. Today the Andover library is considered one of the finest municipal libraries in the country, based on its size and the population it serves. It certainly is worthy of this academic-rich community.

The former Punchard High School building on Bartlet Street, from which so many of us older characters graduated, was turned back to the selectmen by the school committee, and it now houses the town offices. Close enough to be easily accessible, but far enough removed so that the traffic does not interfere with the retail center, all town departments are now housed in one area---except for public safety (the police and fire station on North Main) and public works, located at the water treatment plant on Lowell Street. The school department administrative offices and the senior citizens' center are located in the East wing of the same building, in the former junior high school.

While the town offices were being relocated and reconditioned, the Park also received a facelift. The historic and picturesque bandstand was rebuilt, the walkways were bricked, and additional shrubs were planted. It is so nice, on sunny days, to see mothers with small children playing there, and people on lunch breaks getting a little sun and fresh air as they relax on the benches or sit out on the lawn. The Park used to be manicured by old Mr. Abercrombie from Essex Street and after him by Jim Ronan from Morton Street, but it seemed to be forgotten for several years. It is wonderful to see such a resource being again used and enjoyed.

This brings us pretty much up to date. At this time Andover is about to address the problem of money at the municipal level. Ten years ago the Reagan administration set upon a course of action that slowly and systematically cut back on the block grants to the states. I guess it had something to do with reducing taxes, although no one of my acquaintances seems to have benefited. The states, especially Massachusetts with its successful high-tech industry, were able for a while to make up the difference and the towns were able to get along in spite of the limits imposed by Proposition 2 1/2. Well, when the boom business went bad, it would follow that state revenues would fall and the distribution of funds to the towns would be seriously impacted.

We now are faced with financing a war that none of us ever really wanted and bailing out a banking industry that is a national shame. So I guess that the federal government cannot, or at least will not, help us. We have permitted people to become accustomed to handouts, because we encourage promiscuity rather than dignity and self-control, but we don't have the money to continue to fund the handouts. We hand out needles and condoms rather than teaching morality. It is not wars and the nuclear age that worries me. It is the immoral and shameless, easy approach too often taken by parents, teachers, and public officials that will be our downfall. In my opinion, we should go back to old-fashioned two-parent family responsibilities. I am not sexist. I don't care whether the father or mother is there to see that the children get off to school in the morning, and is there when they come in the afternoon; but please, let us accept the children as a gift from God and treat them as such. I got a bit away from Proposition 2 1/2, but someone needs to hammer away at trends and lies that are ruining society.

The most serious and important problem facing our town in the next few years will be raising money to operate our schools and our town government. We probably will get little help from the state or the federal Government. It is a vexing problem and it will not go away. We have to make a very definite choice. Will we maintain our school system as we have known it, giving the younger generation an advantage such as we have had, or will we decide to cut back in draconian style and allow our buildings to deteriorate to the danger point? Will we maintain our police, fire, and public works services as we have come to expect them, or will we cut back, allow our infrastructure to fall apart, and our public safety to be almost nonexistent in some areas?

That in a few words is what we face as a community in the 1990s. I realize that for some an increase in taxes would be a disaster, for some it would be distasteful, simply because they do not like paying taxes. We will all have to make the decision. I hope that collectively it will be the right decision for the majority of people.