On March 10, 1876 Alexander Graham Bell said the first words on a telephone to his assistant, Thomas Watson, “Mr. Watson–come here–I want to see you.”

Five years later the native of Salem Massachusetts resigned his position with Bell to farm stones in East Braintree, then became a successful Shakespearean actor until founding the Fore River Shipyard in 1883.

The Shipyard provided thousands of well-paying jobs to men and women.

Hundreds of Ocean Liners, Battleships, Cruisers, Destroyers and Submarines slid down the slideway into the Fore River.

When my family moved from Maine to the South South in 1960, we stayed the first night at Eddie’s Motor Lodge across from the shipyard. I recall standing at the motel window and seeing the derricks looking over the trees illuminated by floodlights. My father told me to go to bed. He hated my insomnia.

The Shipyard was on the way to Nantasket Beach. A fried food shack and a cheap gas station sat at the roundabout to the Fore River Bridge. The concrete drawbridge was a joyful sight. The ocean and Paragon Park were less than twenty minutes away.

As teenagers we drove down 3A to see bands and dance at the Surf Nantasket.

After our junior prom in 1969 our friends, my brother, and I ate at Cain’s Lobster House. My date was Janet. My brother was with Ava Gardner, but somehow she ended up with our next-door neighbor. My brother rightly never forgave Carl for his bird-dogging him.

All of it’s gone now, the Shipyard, the ships, the launches, the restaurants, the jobs, and the Quincy Quarries.

But Pete’s Bar is still open and I go there any time I’m in Quincy with my lost nephew, Matt St. John. Old strangers come up to me and ask my name. A few I knew back in the 1960s and for us fifty years ago was more than a memory.

They are life.

“Mr Watson – come here – I want to see you.”