Boston's rapid-transit Blue Line covers a distance of 5.94 miles, a twenty-three-minute commute that begins at Bowdoin station in downtown Boston, travels under the harbor, passes Revere Beach, and stops at Wonderland. Today's commuters might be surprised to learn that the line they are riding was once operated by trolley cars and narrow-gauge steam-powered commuter trains, for it was not until 1904 that the East Boston Tunnel under the harbor was completed. By 1917, the number of people riding the Blue Line had climbed to twenty-five thousand a day. Although significant advances had been made to accommodate high-volume commuter traffic, rush-hour congestion at downtown stations remained a problem. In the 1920s, with ridership exceeding forty-two thousand people a day, the Boston Elevated Railway and the Boston Transit Commission agreed to convert the tunnel to a rapid-transit operation with a transfer station at Maverick Square. Further expansion occurred in the 1950s, when the Blue Line was extended to Orient Heights, Suffolk Downs, and Revere Beach.
When the Boston Elevated Railway Company broke ground for the Cambridge Subway in May 1909, its intention was to provide the cities of Boston and Cambridge with the finest and most efficient rapid-transit system of the time. Other cities, such as New York and Philadelphia, paid close attention, adopting many of the Cambridge Subway's revolutionary design features. The subway became known as the Red Line and eventually extended from Cambridge across the Charles River through Boston, serving Dorchester, Braintree, and Mattapan. Boston's Red Line: Bridging the Charles from Alewife to Braintree details one of Boston's oldest and busiest subway lines. This nostalgic collection of vintage photographs documents the line's construction and its engineers and leaders, such as Maj. Gen. William A. Bancroft, mayor of Cambridge and president of the Boston Elevated Railway Company. In these pages, watch as crews break ground in Harvard and Andrew Squares and see the 1929 trolleys that replaced Mattapan's commuter train service. Through exciting, historic photographs, Boston's Red Line: Bridging the Charles from Alewife to Braintree tells the fascinating story of how the Crimson City's subway became the modern Red Line, taking passengers beneath the streets of Boston to landmarks such as Harvard Square, Massachusetts General Hospital, historic Park Street, and the Longfellow Bridge.
A richly illustrated story of public transit in one of America’s most historic cities, from public ferry and horse-drawn carriage to the MBTA. A lively tour of public transportation in Boston over the years, Boston in Transit maps the complete history of the modes of transportation that have kept the city moving and expanding since its founding in 1630—from the simple ferry serving an English settlement to the expansive network of the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority, or MBTA. The story of public transit in Boston—once dubbed the Hub of the Universe—is a journey through the history of the American metropolis. With a remarkable collection of maps and architectural and engineering drawings at hand, Steven Beaucher launches his account from the landing where English colonists established that first ferry, carrying passengers between what is now Boston’s North End and Charlestown—and sparing them what had been a two-day walk around Boston Harbor. In the 1700s, horse-drawn coaches appeared on the scene, connecting Boston and Cambridge, with the bigger, better Omnibus soon to follow. From horse-drawn coaches, horse-drawn railways evolved, making way for the electric streetcar networks that allowed the city’s early suburbs to sprout—culminating in the multimodal, regional public transportation network in place in Boston today. With photographs, brochures, pamphlets, guidebooks, timetables, and tickets, Boston in Transit creates a complete picture of the everyday experience of public transportation through the centuries. At once a practical reference, local history, and travelogue, this book will be cherished by armchair tourists, day-trippers, and serious travelers alike.
Beckoning readers to explore the territory beneath Boston's streets, Joe McKendry explores a century-old world when Beantown designed and created the country's first subway. In stunning artwork and through a fascinating narrative, you will enter the subterranean realm of workers who dug miles of tunnels by hand. Using pick and shovels to create new routes, you'll discover how these workers burrowed deep below Boston Harbor, under Beacon Hill and the Old State House, and built the Longfellow Bridge to carry the trains over the Charles River to the center of Cambridge. You'll read lively first-hand accounts of the turn-of-the-century public's perception of the underground public transportation, including their fears (expressed fantastically through the gruesome image of a fanged and tentacled "subway microbe"), and learn how the system served as a model for the rest of the country in its ability to relieve traffic, mitigate congestion (which was even more severe a hundred years ago than today) and get people anywhere they wanted to go for only a nickel.
Every day, roughly 720,000 people from all walks of life use the four lines of the Boston MBTA subway system: Red, Green, Blue, and Orange. The T, as it's known, is a vital link to living, working, or visiting in Boston. The subway system acts as the city's arteries. It includes 28 underground and 80 above-ground stations. Over 145 compelling art photographs explore the T-riders, their behavior, their actions when waiting for or riding a train, and their response to the chaotic push of rush hour. With a keen eye, both the T's infrastructure and its many stations with their varied architecture, artwork, and physical layouts are captured. With the first tunnel excavation begun in 1895 and the last station completed in 1985, there is plenty of variation to explore. Interestingly, this volume also offers a rarely seen glimpse of how the trains are kept operational in several maintenance facilities. Here is a fascinating visual journey through one of the nation's oldest subway systems. Whether you are a regular subway rider, a fan of photography, a train enthusiast, or a people watcher, there is something here for you.
If you take Boston's Blue Line to its northern end, you'll reach the Wonderland stop. Few realize that a twenty-three-acre amusement park once sat nearby -- the largest in New England, and grander than any of the Coney Island parks that inspired it. Opened in Revere on Memorial Day in 1906 to great fanfare, Wonderland offered hundreds of thousands of visitors recreation by the sea, just a short distance from downtown Boston. The story of the park's creation and wild, but brief, success is full of larger-than-life characters who hoped to thrill attendees and rake in profits. Stephen R. Wilk describes the planning and history of the park, which featured early roller coasters, a scenic railway, a central lagoon in which a Shoot-the-Chutes boat plunged, an aerial swing, a funhouse, and more. Performances ran throughout the day, including a daring Fires and Flames show; a Wild West show; a children's theater; and numerous circus acts. While nothing remains of what was once called "Boston's Regal Home of Pleasure" and the park would close in 1910, this book resurrects Wonderland by transporting readers through its magical gates.
Do you know why the transit fare card in Boston is called the CharlieCard? Young readers will find out, and should bring an extra nickel along, when they hop aboard the "T" to follow Charlie through the streets of Boston in 1949. The full-page magical illustrations of Caitlin Marquis will take readers on a ride above and below the streets of Boston as they were in Charlie's time, zooming past familiar landmarks--many still standing, some long gone--wondering all the while, will Charlie ever return? Julia M. O'Brien-Merrill sets the story straight using original historical documents and the original M.T.A. song lyrics of the mayoral campaign song, written by Bess Lomax Hawes and Jackie Steiner, for her father Walter A. O'Brien, Jr. A timeline at the end of the book has juicy tidbits of Boston's history surrounding this time-honored folk song, made famous by the Kingston Trio, and will inform and enthrall readers young and old.
"Herein, we bring you to sites that have been central to the lives of 'the people' of Greater Boston over four centuries. You'll visit sites associated with the area's indigenous inhabitants and with the individuals and movements who sought to abolish slavery, to end war, challenge militarism, and bring about a more peaceful world, to achieve racial equity, gender justice, and sexual liberation, and to secure the rights of workers. We take you to some well-known sites, but more often to ones far off the well-beaten path of the Freedom Trail, to places in Boston's outlying neighborhoods. We also visit sites in numerous other municipalities that make up the Greater Boston region-from places such as Lawrence, Lowell and Lynn to Concord and Plymouth. The sites to which we do 'travel' include homes given that people's struggles, activism, and organizing sometimes unfold, or are even birthed in many cases in living rooms and kitchens. Trying to capture a place as diverse and dynamic as Boston is highly challenging. (One could say that about any 'big' place.) We thus want to make clear that our goal is not to be comprehensive, or to 'do justice' to the region. Given the constraints of space and time as well as the limitations of knowledge--both our own and what is available in published form--there are many important sites, cities, and towns that we have not included. Thus, in exploring scores of sites across Boston and numerous municipalities, our modest goal is to paint a suggestive portrait of the greater urban area that highlights its long-contested nature. In many ways, we merely scratch the region's surface--or many surfaces--given the multiple layers that any one place embodies. In writing about Greater Boston as a place, we run the risk of suggesting that the city writ-large has some sort of essence. Indeed, the very notion of a particular place assumes intrinsic characteristics and an associated delimited space. After all, how can one distinguish one place from another if it has no uniqueness and is not geographically differentiated? Nonetheless, geographer Doreen Massey insists that we conceive of places as progressive, as flowing over the boundaries of any particular space, time, or society; in other words, we should see places as processual or ever-changing, as unbounded in that they shape and are shaped by other places and forces from without, and as having multiple identities. In exploring Greater Boston from many venues over 400 years, we embrace this approach. That said, we have to reconcile this with the need to delimit Greater Boston--for among other reasons, simply to be in a position to name it and thus distinguish it from elsewhere"--
The Boston Elevated Railway broke ground in 1899 for a new transit service that opened in 1901, providing a seven-mile elevated railway that connected Dudley Street Station in Roxbury and Sullivan Square Station in Charlestown, two huge multilevel terminals. When the EL, as it was popularly known, opened for service, it provided an unencumbered route high above the surging traffic of Boston, until it went underground through the city. The new trains of the EL were elegant coaches of African mahogany, bronze hardware, plush upholstered seats, plate glass windows, and exteriors of aurora red with silver gilt striping and slate grey roofs. They stopped at ten equally distinguished train stations, designed by the noted architect Alexander Wadsworth Longfellow. All of this elegance, let alone convenience, could be had for the price of a five-cent ticket. The popularity of the EL was instantaneous. The railway continued to provide transportation service high above Bostons streets until 1987, when it was unfortunately ended after 86 years of elevated operation. Today, the squealing wheels of the Elevated trains, the rocking coaches, the fascinating views, and the fanciful copper-roofed stations of the line are a missing part of the character of Boston, when one could ride high above the city for a nickel.
