A postcard of the Howard Johnson’s at Route 138, which was the prototype for the food chain. (Courtesy of Rich Kummerlowe)

In a town where modern history extends back over 300 years, there are plenty examples of colonial architecture. But perhaps the most famous colonial revival building in Canton is largely hidden and destroyed by progress. To see this building as it exists today, travel down Turnpike Street almost to the foot of the Great Blue Hill. On the left, just as you are about to pass from Canton into Milton is a Dunkin Donuts. Beneath this modern façade is one of America’s most famous colonial style landmarks: Howard Johnson’s.

It all started in a drugstore in Wollaston and would grow to the largest hospitality chain in the world. How it grew, and the influence of the Canton location, is a rags to riches story that can only happen against the backdrop of struggle and perseverance.

Having served in the Yankee Division in World War I, Howard D. Johnson returned home to Quincy at age 27 to resume his pre-war business of selling cigars. After finding himself in debt, Johnson borrowed $2,000 in 1925 to purchase a drugstore in the seaside neighborhood of Wollaston. It turned out that the busiest section of the store was the soda fountain. And the center of attention at Johnson’s soda fountain was ice cream. People flocked to “Johnson’s” to enjoy a new recipe of ice cream, which, due to the high butterfat content, became the centerpiece of his establishment.

The automobile age was in full swing, and throughout the summers of the late 1920s Johnson opened up dozens of concession stands along the beaches of Massachusetts. In the early days the menus were simple: hotdogs, hamburgers, soft drinks, and Johnson’s “28 flavors” of ice cream. By the end of the 1920s, Johnson created his first sit-down establishment. The menu featured a few familiar items that many New Englanders will certainly identify with — fried clams, baked beans, chicken pot pies, hotdogs, and of course, ice cream.

After the stock market crash of 1929, Johnson began building an empire. The second restaurant to open was in Orleans on Cape Cod. Soon thereafter, through the first franchising agreements ever, spots opened in Dedham and Dorchester. By 1936 there were 41 established “Johnson’s” popping up all over Massachusetts. Canton was one of the earliest. What made Canton a great spot was not only the proximity to Quincy, but also the fact that it was a destination along a busy turnpike from Boston to Providence. Canton was not simply another restaurant in the chain — this location was different.

What made Canton special was the fact that it was the prototype for all of the other Howard Johnson’s in the country. It is said that the Canton location was “perhaps the best known image of a ‘colonial’ house to have originated in Boston during the twenties and thirties.” Designed by Joseph Morgan, it served as the prototype for the colonial revival design that would become a highway landmark. Built circa 1936, it was still standing intact at 2790 Washington Street in Canton until 1985.

Hidden behind this façade is one of America’s most famous restaurants. (Photo by the author)

It is hard to date the exact opening of the ice cream stand in Canton. There are a few hints, however. We know for sure it was there in the summer of 1936. The local paper ran a front-page story on August 28, 1936, with the headline “Second Break at Johnson’s Stand.” In less than two weeks, thieves had forced a window and “made off with a quantity of cigars.” It seems that cigars were easy pickings as more than 60 had been stolen 14 days before the second robbery. There was no report of a capture, and it is likely the evidence went up in smoke.

The year 1936 was a crime-riddled one for that small ice cream stand. On December 31, a police manhunt ensued through the Blue Hill Reservation. Canton Police Officer Thomas Galligan pursued a car from Johnson’s, which was found overturned a “short distance down the road to Boston.” Galligan had been investigating “a light in the rear of the building, saw the car dash away and followed it.” Losing sight of the car, he came upon it soon thereafter, “overturned, the registration plates had been stripped from it and the safe from the ice cream stand remained within, intact.” Inside the un-cracked safe was $250.

The early days of that Canton “Ho-Jo’s” were an amazing time for the infant chain. Design elements were developed in Canton and then exported out as new franchisees signed on. Things like the colonial style of the roof, the “Disney-esque” faux dormers, the cupola, and even the signage all started at the Canton prototype.

By the mid 1940s the testing of design and food took on a new role in the Canton location. Internal company documents list designs as the “Canton-type.” The design details of the dairy bar, the seating, and updated dining facilities would be modeled after the Canton location. Innovations in hospitality that started here continue to this day. Take, for example, the idea that a family of six or more could sit in booths next to each other and the wall partition between them could be removed to expand and accommodate the entire family. Well, that was developed and tested as part of the Canton location.

The exterior was extremely modernistic in tone. The roof had three tiny dormer windows trimmed with green blinds against a “rust colored Italian tile roof.” If it followed many of the other designs, Canton would have had a floor inset with a circle featuring “a boy and a dog looking longingly at the feast.” The same design carried out in the electric sign outside the restaurant and also in the weathervane atop the white spire over the building. The interior featured a vaulted ceiling, bronze chandeliers, and deep wood tones. It is likely that the tables were blue and the seats were of ivory and blue leather. Details within the design for franchise plans even indicated the colors of the draperies and venetian blinds.

What made Howard Johnson’s great was the fact that the menu and food were predictable, sensible and priced accordingly. This was achieved through producing the food in local commissaries, which served as distribution hubs, and delivering the food frozen to be re-prepared on-site. Pierre Franey and Jaques Pepin were first employed as executive chefs in 1959. Pepin, writing in the New York Times, said, “I flipped burgers, cooked hot dogs and learned about the specialties of the house, among them tender fried clams made from the tongues of enormous sea clams whose bodies were used as the base for the restaurants’ famous clam chowder. Other specialties I became familiar with included macaroni and cheese, hash browns, ice cream sundaes, banana splits, and, certainly, apple pies.” This is the food that made an empire.

A small plastic sandwich pick from the mid 1960s from the Canton HoJo’s (Collection of the author)

Several Cantonites still swoon about that little Ho-Jo’s. And recently on the “You Know You Grew Up in Canton When…” Facebook page, the photo of the Turnpike Street landmark elicited some wonderful memories. Brad Bashner wrote of the chocolate ice cream, “To this day I can’t describe it, but there was something about it.” Jane Leahy recalled, “This was my first job! My father would drop me off and pick me up; I was too young to drive! Worked the counter and learned to tie a mean turquoise tie on my apron … we had to!” Mark Ronayne’s comment brings back the memories of the roadside attraction: “Onion rings and we owned the parking lot every Friday and Saturday night.”

By 1985, the Howard Johnson’s Company ended and a licensed owner took over and decided to once again turn the building into a prototype. By the early 1990s, after the Howard Johnson Company itself had been split apart, the Canton restaurant came to be operated by Franchise Associates Incorporated. The restaurant chain was in decline and Franchise Associates used the Canton location to make one notable attempt to create a Howard Johnson’s of the future — again a new prototype restaurant in Canton. Among the new design features was a modern arch over the entrance with a logo prominently displayed. Also, half of the legendary orange roof was changed to gray and the cupola was removed. It closed in 2000.

Unfortunately, the orange roof featuring the Simple Simon logo has disappeared. Jaques Pepin summed it up best: “For me, Howard Johnson’s reliable, modestly priced food embodies the straightforwardness of the American spirit.” And in Canton, we played our part in this uniquely American icon that casts a long shadow back to our colonial heritage and a time when food was simply as good as ice cream on a hot summer day at the foot of Blue Hill.

Click here to see a film clip of Canton’s Howard Johnson’s in 1941.

(L-R) Karen Foley, Mark Feehily, Dave Foley, Brian Devin, Dick Crisafulli, and Al Ayla

“Today, we run as one” flashed from the Mass. Hospital School’s Randolph Street sign as nearly 500 runners, walkers, and wheelchair participants streamed from the MHS campus and into the neighboring streets.

Proceeds from the event will enable the school’s power soccer team, the Chariots, to compete in next month’s national championship in Minnesota.

“Power Soccer is the fastest growing sport in the disabled community,” said Richard Crisafulli, director of recreation and athletics at the school, “and after four years of hard work and a lot of disappointment, we finally have a team that has qualified for the nationals.”

That invitation to compete came very close to being turned down. “After our biggest fundraising event of the year was pushed from May to October, the dollars to send these kids to Minnesota wasn’t there,” explained CEO Brian Devin, who noted that the school relies on donations and fundraising to support all of its off-campus activities. “And then Karen and Dave Foley happened.”

The Foleys contacted the school and offered to underwrite the entire cost of the road race. On race day their staff prepared and served up the post-race refreshment, meaning there was no one back on Pearl Street watching the restaurant.

“Karen and I wanted this to be a day about Mass. Hospital School, the runners, and the people that helped make it possible,” said Canton resident Dave Foley. “So we closed the restaurant and invited all the volunteers back for a post post-race party.”

Two weeks later, Foley’s added the proceeds from its annual golf tournament to its donation from the race. The two events together combined to raise an even $13,000.

The MHS Chariots fly out of Logan June 20.

Just ask Kurt Purnell of Canton, a software account executive who stumbled upon one of his greatest passions, Alzheimer’s awareness and research, after watching his late father struggle with the disease throughout the early to mid 2000s.

Kurt Purnell (Shannon Power photo)

For Purnell, just seeing his father, a veteran of both Korea and Vietnam, slowly deteriorate while his mother did her best to be a caretaker was inspiration enough to take action, and in the fall of 2004 he dove headfirst into service with the Alzheimer’s Association of Massachusetts/New Hampshire — an organization he is now poised to lead as the chairman-elect of the board of directors for the upcoming fiscal year.

“My father was diagnosed officially in 2003 — we had suspected that he had some cognitive issues before that,” explained Purnell, “and so I wanted to do something to be a little more proactive in fighting this disease.”

Purnell’s first act was forming a team for the Greater Boston Memory Walk (now called the Walk to End Alzheimer’s). He enlisted the support of his wife, Amy, and his father-in-law, and in a few short weeks they managed to raise over $1,100 for the cause.

“I think it was a very good experience for us, not only to support the [association] financially, but also to connect with other people in the same situation,” said Purnell, who decided to stay involved by participating in the planning efforts for the following year’s walk.

Over the next few years he continued to take on new challenges, eventually becoming the chairman of the Greater Boston walk — one of the largest of its kind in the country — from 2008 to 2010.

Purnell has also held numerous other posts within the association, including chair of the committee on public policy and advocacy and his current position as vice chairman of the board.

Reflecting on his evolution as a leader within the influential MA/NH chapter, Purnell said he’s simply “one of many good people there.”

“Definitely the motivation, the passion, and the drive was there from my side, but it was also about me being a little proactive,” he said. “I really went after them to see what I could do.”

“I’ve seen the association from many different fronts,” he added. “Overall, it has a lot of strong and dedicated volunteers.”

One of the most satisfying experiences for Purnell as an association volunteer has been meeting with lawmakers on Capitol Hill during the annual Alzheimer’s Association Advocacy Forum in Washington, D.C.

Purnell has attended every year since 2009, including the most recent one held April 22-24, and he has spoken directly to congressmen and senators about the need for more research dollars for Alzheimer’s.

The forum also features seminars on policy issues and current research, as well as presentations by notable advocates and early stage Alzheimer’s patients.

“We are grateful to Kurt and all those who took the time to travel to Washington,” said Betsy Fitzgerald-Campbell, vice president of communications and public affairs for the MA/NH chapter. “I encourage anyone who has been touched by the disease to get involved and follow the wonderful example set by Kurt.”

From Purnell’s perspective, events like the advocacy forum are a way for him to honor his father while also doing his part to help future generations of Alzheimer’s patients.

He noted how painful it was to watch his father struggle with basic tasks, such as driving, and the toll it took on the family, especially his mother.

“It was not an easy time,” said Purnell, who traveled back to the family home in New York City almost every other weekend. “I lived my life on Route 95, but at least my father was able to stay home the whole time, which I know is not possible for everyone.”

Ultimately, when his father passed away, it was not a direct result of Alzheimer’s disease. “He was in the moderate stages of it,” said Purnell, “but he definitely died with it.”

Looking ahead to the future, Purnell said he would love to see a cure for Alzheimer’s at some point in his lifetime, although researchers must first get to the point where they can slow the progression of the disease, he said.

“I think we’re still in the infancy stages,” he said. “We really need more awareness out and more research dollars, and eventually we will have that cure.”

In the meantime, Purnell will have his plate full this coming year as the new board chairman as well as the leader of “Willie’s Walkers” in the upcoming Walk to End Alzheimer’s in September.

The team was named in honor of his father, Willie James Purnell. For more information or to donate to Purnell’s team, go to act.alz.org.

Pat and Steve Cohen

Pat, a dental hygienist and assistant clinical professor at Tufts University School of Dental Medicine, and Steve, a dentist, became marathon volunteers five years ago. Each year they have been assigned to a family meet-up area, where family members meet their runner at the end of the race. There is a designated area for each letter of the alphabet, with letters hanging on street poles. The Cohens are assigned to area C, which is on Stuart Street. Their location is about a block and a half beyond the marathon finish line.

The Cohens are part of a team that helps family members and runners in two ways. Runners are given computer chips that track their location during the race, provided that they are on the marathon route. Family members can check at the corresponding kiosk, where volunteers have laptops, to find where their runner is on the course and at approximately what time they will finish.

Pat Cohen explained that once the runners finish the race, they may need to rehydrate or be checked in the medical tent before finding their families. That process can take as long as an hour.

Volunteers also assist the runners when they finish the race. Steve grew up in Boston and helps both local and out-of-town participants find their way around the city when the race is over.

“When someone comes in and asks how to get somewhere, everyone looks at me,” Steve said. “I can direct them and give them helpful information.”

There are two medical tents at the end of the course, one at Dartmouth and Boylston streets and the other at Clarendon and Boylston. When the first bomb exploded shortly before 3 p.m. on April 15, Pat was at one of the tents with the father of one of the runners. They found his daughter in the tent, suffering from serious leg cramps and having trouble walking. Steve was at the family meet-up area.

“We heard two loud booms,” Pat recalled.

“I looked up at the sky,” said Steve. “It sounded like lightening.” At first things seemed to be normal, so the Cohens continued with their work, answering questions and helping runners who needed attention. Fairly quickly, Steve heard ambulance sirens and then saw two ambulances heading northbound on Clarendon, which is a one-way street going southbound. He also received a phone call.

“My brother-in-law called from Pennsylvania,” he said. “He asked, ‘You guys okay?’” His brother-in-law had been watching the race on television. It was through that phone call that Pat and Steve learned that bombs had gone off just blocks from where they were.

Within the next 15 minutes, the situation changed quickly as the Cohens began to help runners searching for family members and family members searching for runners. Some needed information, some needed an aluminum wrap to ward off a chill, and some just needed a hug.

Boylston Street memorial

“When you’re wearing the volunteer jacket, you have the freedom to approach people,” Pat explained. “We gave them real tender loving comfort. Everyone took the high road in helping each other. It was a tribute to humanity.”

Eventually police officers came to the family meet-up areas and told the volunteers that they had to leave their computer equipment behind and evacuate the area. The Cohens made their way to the Back Bay commuter rail station and took a train back to Canton.

In the weeks since the bombings, support and counseling was offered to volunteers by the Boston Athletic Association, Tufts University, and Weight Watchers International. The Cohens did not use the services. However, on a visit to the marathon memorial in Copley Plaza, they saw a number of volunteers wearing their jackets and spoke with them.

“It was nice to talk to them,” Pat said. “Everyone has stories.”

Robert Kraft provided six tickets for each volunteer. There was a video memorial tribute before the game. “It was very touching,” Pat said. New England won the game over Philadelphia 2-0.

Meredith Linsky with her son, Gabriel

Young and idealistic with a passion for social justice, Linsky figured that she would never be rich and might not always be comfortable — and she distinctly remembers being okay with that fact.

“I felt a responsibility and an urgency to do something more than just take care of myself and my own family,” recalled Linsky, speaking via telephone from her office on the Texas-Mexico border. “I felt a need to make some sacrifices in my life as a young person.”

Fast forward to the present day, and Linsky, a 1984 Canton High School graduate, seems to be living just the kind of life she had envisioned for herself — one that revolves around helping the less fortunate and providing them with hope in the face of despair.

She does this through her work with ProBAR, the South Texas Pro Bono Asylum Representation Project, which provides free legal representation and education to the hundreds of asylum seekers who are detained each year in the Rio Grande Valley by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

Based in Harlingen, Texas, ProBAR focuses its efforts on the people who have strong claims to asylum — those who have fled civil war, ethnic fighting, or religious and political persecution — but lack the means or the knowledge to successfully prove their case.

“A lot of what we do is the legal education piece and letting immigrants know what their rights are,” explained Linsky, who has served as ProBAR’s director since 2000. “It’s not just Mexicans who cross the border in south Texas; it’s also people from Africa — Ethiopia, Rwanda, Eritrea — all over the world really.”

During her time in Texas, Linsky has managed to help hundreds of undocumented immigrants, including many unaccompanied minors, escape persecution and find a home in the United States. A graduate of the University of California-Davis School of Law, she is widely respected in immigration law circles and has won numerous awards for her work, including the prestigious Arthur C. Helton Human Rights Award from the American Immigration Lawyers Association (AILA).

Linsky, according to a statement issued by AILA, has been “tireless” in her advocacy for immigrants’ rights and has trained a “generation of immigration lawyers” who are currently practicing around the country.

And her commitment to human rights is not just limited to her work with ProBAR, as she also has extensive experience as a volunteer at various nonprofit groups, including the Cambridgeport Problem Center and the American Red Cross international program.

One of her first big volunteer opportunities had actually come in Harlingen about a decade before she joined ProBAR, with a group called Proyecto Libertad, which provides legal defense and advocacy for detained Central American refugees from Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Guatemala.

All three nations were embroiled in civil war throughout the 1980s, and Linsky, having become “very interested” in U.S. involvement and U.S. support of military governments in the region, decided to do her part to help the victims of these conflicts, working first as a volunteer and later as a hired paralegal.

She subsequently joined Witness for Peace and traveled to the southern tip of Mexico, where she worked on behalf of Guatemalan refugees who were planning to return to their homeland.

“It was very important for me to see what life was like in Latin America,” recalled Linsky of her time in Mexico. “I wanted to go see the conditions that people were fleeing from and I wanted to better understand their situation.”

“It was great on a lot of levels,” she added, “just realizing how much we have in the U.S. and how much people go through to have access to basic human rights and to things like justice and due process.”

Linsky’s commitment to these issues eventually led her to UC Davis, where she obtained her law degree while also spending time in San Francisco’s Mission District working on tenants’ rights cases.

She later returned to Texas, where she settled into a career and built a life for herself and her son, Gabriel, who is now 13. “I feel like this is where I can have the most impact based on my interests,” explained Linsky.

Part of the draw, she said, has to do with her own personal interest in the Spanish language and in Latin culture — an interest that was sparked in advanced Spanish courses at Canton High School and nurtured during a nine-month trip to Spain during her undergraduate years.

It was while in Spain, in fact, where Linsky underwent a “personal metamorphosis” and became politically conscious and “engaged in the world’s problems.” It is also where she acquired a mastery of Spanish, a skill that has “opened many doors” for her over the course of her life.

Nowadays, Linsky speaks Spanish as often as she speaks English, and she is able to navigate seamlessly between the worlds of educated legal professionals and poor detainees.

“Put me in a room with Ruth Bader Ginsburg or Maya Angelou or the Dalai Lama, or a recent immigrant from El Salvador or Ethopia, and I would feel comfortable with any one of them,” she insisted.

Linsky has also demonstrated time and again a willingness to step outside of her comfort zone in order to try something new — such as a recent sabbatical she took to Uganda in late 2011.

Volunteering with the American Jewish World Service, she was accepted and placed in a legal service office, where she worked for four months alongside Ugandan women lawyers.

“I saw a completely new culture,” Linsky said of her first-ever journey to Africa. “It was fascinating, it was challenging, and it was incredibly rewarding.”

She said it had been a personal dream of hers to make a trip like that, and just like she had done 25 years earlier as a college student at UMass, Linsky took decisive action and found a way to make it a reality.

“I would encourage people to find a way to accomplish their dreams,” she advised. “It was so satisfying to actually do it instead of just thinking about it. [The experience] was really inspiring.”

As for her advice to Americans who have no tolerance or sympathy for the plight of undocumented immigrants, Linsky commented, “The U.S. benefits economically to a great extent from undocumented laborers. These are people who generally work very hard for low wages; they keep our dinners affordable, and our car washes and our cleaning services.

“We are a country that prides itself on protecting vulnerable populations … I think a developing nation that believes in due process and liberty needs to have a system in place where someone can make a claim for asylum.”

Dr. Karim Malek

It’s the reason that he follows his passions and is constantly seeking out new adventures, whether it be learning to fly an airplane or scuba diving with sharks — or scaling tall mountains, as he plans to do this summer as part of his next transnational excursion.

“Having seen people of all backgrounds being faced with life and death issues, I’ve learned that if you want to do something, do it now. Don’t wait,” advised Malek, a Canton resident since 2001. “I am a firm believer in living life to the fullest extent.”

In keeping with that life philosophy, Malek, a native of Egypt, will journey back to his home continent in July where he will attempt to climb to the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, Africa’s highest peak and the highest free-standing mountain in the world. The journey will take him eight days to complete, ending, if all goes as planned, atop the Uhuru Peak at an elevation of 19,341 feet above sea level.

For Malek, this will be his first attempt at a climb of this magnitude, and while Kilimanjaro is not as technically demanding as many similar sized mountains, he will still have to contend with numerous physical and geographical challenges along the way — everything from altitude sickness and possible hypothermia to high winds and even rock slides.

“There are no ropes or rappelling involved, but Kilimanjaro is a long hike requiring lots of endurance,” said Malek, whose highest climb to date is around 11,000 feet in Venezuela. “I’ll have to train regularly, and I’ll have to manage some old injuries, including my knees and my back, but I know I will learn something about myself in the process.”

More than just a personal test of endurance, however, this particular journey will also serve as a fundraiser for one of his favorite charities: Angel Flight Northeast, a local nonprofit that provides free air transportation to patients and family members in need.

Founded in Beverly in 1996 by retired business owner and pilot Larry Camerlin, Angel Flight NE has since flown more than 62,000 patients and family members from various locations throughout the northeast to hospitals in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and other major cities. Approximately half of the patients are children suffering from life-threatening cancer, severe burns or crippling diseases, and there is no limit to the number of free flights a person can receive.

A nonprofit 501(c)3 charity, Angel Flight relies on the generosity of its donors and its volunteer corps of over 1,000 private pilots — including Malek himself, who has completed dozens of missions since joining the organization in June of 2008.

“Angel Flight is a big part of my flying,” said Malek, praising the organization for its emphasis on safety and its commitment to saving lives.

He said the Angel Flight website posts daily lists of available missions, and the pilots simply choose the ones they are willing to complete. He also likes the fact that the individual pilot has the final say on cancelling a flight, regardless of the reasons involved.

In Malek’s case, he generally completes about five or six missions a year, and he cherishes the experience both as a doctor and as a flying enthusiast.

“Flying is one of the greatest endeavors of my life,” he said. “When you’re flying, it consumes every inch of your thinking. It’s an incredible mental exercise and I enjoy that tremendously.”

Malek said he acquired an interest in flying at an early age, but it was not until 2003, while laid up in bed recovering from a severe back injury, that he finally decided to give it a try.

Inspired by a television special on the 100^th anniversary of the Wright brothers’ first flight, he decided to sign up for flying lessons at Norwood Airport and instantly fell in love, eventually obtaining his full pilot’s license.

He later bought his own plane, and over the past decade he has logged almost 900 hours of flight time, including trips to South Carolina and a particularly memorable flight over Niagara Falls.

And while he initially feared that flying would compete for his time with scuba diving, another passion of his, Malek realized that he could very easily do both.

Among his favorite places to dive is Cocos Island off the coast of Costa Rica, an area known for its high concentration of sharks. Malek likes to dive at night, when the sharks move in by the hundreds to feed.

“You have to keep your complete cool,” he explained. “You have to learn that sharks are unpredictable. The top rule is that you are tolerated but not welcome. Similar to flying, you have to know that this is not your natural environment.”

Although he may seem like a thrill seeker, Malek insists that there’s another reason he’s drawn to such high-risk pursuits.

“It’s not for the thrill of it,” he said. “It’s certainly not how much I can get away with. Really, it’s that I want to get as close as possible to nature.”

Malek credits his wife of 22 years and high school sweetheart, Amani, for allowing him the freedom to explore and for encouraging him to pursue his dreams.

“She deserves a lot of the credit,” he said. “My wife and I see the world differently, for sure, but she’s never been anything but fully supportive in all of these endeavors.”

Together the two of them have lived all over the world, going from Egypt to France to the United States, with various stops in between.

Malek said living in the U.S. has been incredibly positive, and he is proud today to call himself an American and to live in a place where he can freely chase his dreams.

“My experience living in the states has been nothing but comfortable,” he said. “You get to bring in your individuality and there’s no divorce of your past.”

Now he’s on to his next adventure — one that he hopes will take him to new heights, both literally and figuratively.

On Kilimanjaro he will “push the limits” and challenge himself physically and mentally, and he will dedicate it all to the “fellow men and women, children and adults alike, who have their own mountain to climb: sick patients.”

Malek’s goal is to raise awareness and much-needed funds for Angel Flight NE, and his motto for these efforts is a fitting one: “Together we can save lives — one footstep at a time.”

Click here for more information about Dr. Malek’s fundraiser or to donate to Angel Flight on his behalf.

One hundred years ago the town of Canton looked very different than it does today. There was certainly a sense of community and safety, an idyllic place of merely 4,000 residents where everyone knew everyone else. The neighbor over the back fence was practically a family member, and people took care of each other.

Dr. Dean S. Luce pictured in a Harvard class photo circa 1904 (Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

Just about every day there would be a familiar face in the neighborhoods across town. The coal dealer made his rounds followed by the iceman, and of course the all-too-familiar milkman. But in April 1913, it was the milkman who brought sickness and death to hundreds of residents in this bustling little town.

Like wildfire, the symptoms began spreading across town at an alarming rate. People began reporting chills, fevers, dull and profound headaches along with nausea and vomiting. And while the individual symptoms varied, ultimately the sickness settled in the throat. Inflammation of the tonsils became so severe that swallowing and breathing was all but impossible.

The outbreak officially began on April 28 when the local Board of Health, headed by Dr. Dean S. Luce, called a meeting to discuss “a few cases” of septic sore throat. By late April the epidemic was in full swing and alarm began to spread across the community. People were suffocating and began to die at a noticeable rate. All eyes turned to the milk, as a similar outbreak in the milk supply had occurred a year earlier in Boston.

In Canton’s case, 26 dairies in the general vicinity supplied milk. Since raw milk was available locally, the supply was produced and delivered on the same day. Carefully, information was collected to try to discover similarities among the sick to determine the source of the illness. A striking fact: All the milk in the hundreds of households was coming from one source. It was not long before the cause of the milk-borne illness was traced to the dairy owned by a wealthy citizen, Charles Howe French Jr.

On Wednesday, April 30, Dr. Luce called the state Board of Health around 3 p.m. and tried to reach the state health inspector. Luce, a Harvard-trained physician, played a central role in combatting the epidemic. The next day Dr. W.W. Walcott arrived from Natick around noontime. The first stop was French’s Dairy on Washington Street. A graduate of Harvard College and of Harvard Law School, French was a prominent and well-respected citizen of the town. A member of the School Committee, he was the son of a prosperous industrialist who had built a fortune in the wool industry here in town. Having practiced law for six years in Boston, French ended his practice in 1908 and became a dairy farmer. When suspicion fell upon his dairy, the sense in town was that friends on the Board of Health stood by to protect him.

In reality, the Board of Health took the matter extremely seriously. A detailed day-by-day account was written a year after the epidemic. The report shows increased concern for the sick and dying as the epidemic raged. On the very first visit to French’s dairy, the inspectors and the entire board met with French, two hired men, the foreman, and anyone else connected with the milk supply. The inspection included examination of the 18 milking cows and a thorough examination of the premises.

The health team learned that French had fallen ill with tonsillitis the previous week and that members of his family were extremely ill. The foreman, R.E. Brooks, also reported being sick with the same malady “some time before.” Likely, Brooks started the epidemic by working while sick, thus infecting the initial milk supply as early as April 15. A fateful decision was made by the Board of Health to keep the dairy open and instruct French to stay away for the foreseeable future.

A letter arrived the next day from the state inspector suggesting that the “entire milk room be thoroughly scrubbed and disinfected” and that “all cans, bottles and utensils boiled.” Despite these measures, more deaths occurred in the following days. And, more alarmingly, children began to come down with a rash diagnosed as scarlet fever. Bottles being returned from infected homes were being refilled and infecting new households. The Board of Health stationed Thomas Dockray at the French Dairy to oversee the boiling and sterilization process.

Former Police Chief Henry Galligan oversaw the sterilization and boiling procedures at the local dairy farms. (Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

On Sherman Street, the Collins family closely watched their newborn infant son labor in his breathing. The illness that was sweeping Canton began to claim victims — those who were ill-equipped to fight off the infection. On Saturday, May 3, seven-month-old Charles Collins Jr. died of pneumonia. That same day, 73-year-old Mary Ellen Notman was slowly dying of septic tonsillitis.

After a weekend of hundreds of illnesses, the Board of Health took action and closed all schools and the public library. They also forbid any public funerals and advised parents not to allow children to play together, stating that the “benefit of closing the schools in a time of epidemic is lost if the children continue to play together, even though they are out of doors.” The School Committee balked at the idea of closing the schools, claiming that they could “protect the children better by watching them every day with the aid of the school nurse.” The state health inspector did not approve of the closing of the schools, “but such action was wholly in the hands of the local board” and the schools were kept closed.

In one case, a funeral procession was stopped and dispersed at High Street on the way to Knollwood to bury a young 23 year old. Churches were closed the following week and a state inspector observed that he was “absolutely surprised at the conditions of the sick and [he] had no idea that such conditions prevailed in Canton.”

At the same time, seemingly clandestine orders to fumigate all public buildings and dwellings of the sick were ordered. The cars of the Blue Hill Street Railway were disinfected twice a day. All the while, rumors burned through town. The most serious rumor involved the story that a “diseased cow was spirited away from one of the dairies in town.” This rumor had multiple sources and included nefarious versions that heightened the fear of the townspeople. Meanwhile, obvious questions began to arise as to how Mr. French’s milk was still being sold.

The Board of Health sought to calm nerves. In the weeks since the outbreak “nearly a half score of deaths” startled and panicked the community. The board reported that they “have thoroughly investigated all the dairies in town and have demanded certain improvements which have been installed.” Singling out Mr. French in particular, they reported that he “has installed machinery to pasteurize all milk which he handles and the public can rest assured there is no danger from the use of milk so treated.” The ex-chief of police, Henry Galligan, was ordered to visit all dairies and oversee the boiling and sterilization process.

By May 6, 200 people were seriously ill. The state cattle inspector soon came to inspect the herds and on two occasions took samples for testing. All the while the sickness continued, and the Boston papers reported sensational stories of people coming down with “Cantonitis.” The Boston Post described the work of the local and state authorities as “muddled and mismanaged” and exclaimed, “To the sick and to the families of those who have died this bungling will require a great deal of explanation.” By May 10 the milk supply from the French Dairy was formally cut off.

James J. Smith (Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

That same day, one of Canton’s venerable Civil War veterans succumbed. James J. Smith had enlisted at the age of 16 in Company A, 3^rd Heavy Artillery and had survived the war and returned to Canton. The members of the local GAR Revere Post requested permission to hold a graveside service, and the Board of Health denied their request. In one of Canton’s most poignant moments, the members of the GAR Post formed in front of Memorial Hall and presented their colors as the hearse passed. The town was never able to mourn the loss of its war hero.

The state legislature took action and ordered that the Committee on Public Health be authorized to “summon witnesses for the purpose of [determining] whether the State Board of Health, or the Canton Board of Health, or both, were negligent in the case of the epidemic.”

By mid May the epidemic had begun to subside, owing mostly to the fact that pasteurization was required as part of providing the milk supply to Canton. In the end there were over 400 people gravely ill, mostly children and elderly, and nearly 20 deaths were reported.

In the years to come, infectious disease specialists studied the epidemic and it was determined that human streptococci growing in the milk caused this great tragedy. It would be almost 30 years until penicillin would come to be used to treat strep throat. French was sued for $5,000 by a fellow School Committee member who “decided to take the matter to court and have it decide where blame was.”

The Martha Howard Quilt in a rare public appearance and closely watched by Lorraine Hatch (Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

Martha Crafts was very particular, and most especially in her needlework. The second child of eight born to Dr. John Staples Crafts, Martha grew up in a well-to-do household supported by an educated family that could trace its roots back to Yorkshire, England. On a beautiful spring morning, young Martha picked up a piece of bright salmon-colored cloth and began to produce needlework that would last over two centuries.

Martha’s family settled in North Bridgewater in what is now Brockton. Born in July 1760, the Crafts were well respected in the small community. Martha’s father had been destined to be a minister after receiving an inheritance of £400 in order that he “be brought up to learning, and fitted for the ministry of the gospel.” John Crafts, however, found he was more suited for medicine, and as such he prospered in the small rural community. It is likely that Martha’s mother, Elizabeth, taught her the handiwork we see today.

Running her fingers over the tiny stitches, Martha created feathers, scallops and leaf designs. At ten stitches per inch, the work is extremely delicate and precise. The wool runs through her hands as she pulls the stiches up through the chintz-like fabric. Measuring almost seven by eight feet square, the fabric is cut from four panels of whole cloth — an extremely expensive project in the 18^th century. A plain backing offsets the pink in a muted golden hue, and what Martha is creating is a piece of American history that will be adored for hundreds of years.

Today, the work that was completed by Martha Crafts (sometime between 1761 and 1787) is a superb wool quilt with provenance to suggest that it is America’s oldest surviving whole cloth quilt. And when hundreds of modern-day quilters gazed upon this work of art, the members of the Canton Historical Society were all smiles. Local historian Patricia Johnson described the quilt as being made “before the United States were the United States.” And what amazes Johnson the most is the rich symbolism and history that accompanies this common household object.

Perhaps you have a quilt that has been handed down a generation or two. Many families boast a prized and timeworn blanket that is drawn up on the coldest of New England winters. In most cases, when we think of quilts we think of patchwork pieces of cloth brought together in amazing patterns, with the patches telling stories of old suits and shirts or perhaps gingham dresses. Rarely seen, however, are whole cloth quilts. Traditionally, these quilts were made by more affluent women who had means to purchase wide bolts of fabric, which would make up the entirety of the quilt. The beauty is in the stitching that creates an elaborate design.

The history of this quilt is well recorded, and as such we know it was made prior to Martha Crafts’ marriage in 1786 to Canton’s third minister, the Harvard-trained Zachariah Howard. Born in North Bridgewater in 1758, Howard would have known the Crafts and likely attended church alongside Doctor Crafts. Howard enlisted as a soldier during the Revolutionary War, and upon his return from the Army he entered Harvard College. Graduating in 1784, within two years the young preacher was invited to become the pastor of the First Parish Church in Stoughton — in present-day Canton.

The tag that accompanied the quilt in 1910, tracing the provenance to Martha Howard (Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

A small card that traces the history of the quilt mentions that the quilt was made “prior to the Howard marriage in 1787.” Howard was named pastor on October 25, 1786, and within five months, with his future secure, he married Martha Crafts and brought her to live here in Canton.

The inhabitants of the First Parish were eager to see that their pastor and his wife would be made comfortable. A new roof was placed on the meetinghouse, and the building was freshly clapped. In anticipation of helping the newlyweds get settled, the parish committee advanced £187 for a piece of land and home for the Howards.

Settling down near the church, the Howards purchased a small tidy farmhouse from Theophilus Lyon in the valley just below Pleasant Street. The house that the Howards purchased was the one that David Tilden had built in 1725 on the present-day Pequitside Farm. Howard saw himself as a gentleman farmer, and after purchasing 27 acres bounded by Pequit Brook, he added another 37 acres all the way to present-day Washington Street.

The quilt came to Canton in 1787 and has been here ever since. It would seem that the Tilden House and the Martha Howard Quilt are two surviving artifacts that help tell a remarkable story about both the fledgling country and the town of Canton. Such is the case with quilts; the stories and the cloth are handed down through the generations. And while the Howards did not have any children, their generosity was well recorded.

On February 23, 1806, Zachariah Howard, “dressed in gown and bands, with his braided queue, ascended for the last time the pulpit stairs and preached all day.” According to historian D.T.V. Huntoon, as he left the church that Sunday, “he passed, bowing to the right and left, down the broad aisle to the door, the elders returning his salutation as he moved on.”

Zachariah Howard (Courtesy of the Canton Historical Society)

This was his last sermon, and within seven months he was gone. After 20 years, at the age of 48, “Priest” Howard passed away. He was buried in Canton Corner Cemetery, and inscribed on his headstone is a request that “gentle Seraphs bear me to the skies.”

Martha Howard would live in that house for 50 more years. As she advanced in age she befriended cats, and today if you climb the stairs in the Tilden House you can still see the small stairway that she built into the attic so they would have a place to play among the rafters of the ancient home.

At some point in the 1850s, Martha Howard supported the Gill family — who had fallen on hard times — and invited them to live with her. Having no children of her own, this kindly old lady came to love a new baby girl who was named Martha Howard Gill in her honor. The quilt was given to this child and it became a cherished part of her life after Martha Howard died in 1856 at 95 years of age.

Martha Howard Gill married into the wealthy Draper family and passed the quilt onto her son John Howard Draper. And so the quilt moved from century to century in the hands of loving people who knew what this piece of cloth meant to their families. In 1910, the Drapers gave the elaborate artifact to the Canton Historical Society.

The first thing you notice when you look at the quilt is just how tenuous it is. Cloth that is almost 300 years old is extremely fragile — time definitely takes its toll. When the Draper family donated the quilt to the local historical society, the gift was folded and placed in a wooden box framed in glass. Once framed, one whole facing portion began to fade while the inner portions remained protected from light. And that is how it was stored until it was sort of “rediscovered” in 2008.

The Canton Historical Society established the Textile Conservation Committee in 2007, and the mission was to identify all historic textiles, assess their condition and storage requirements, and develop a policy for maintaining these precious objects for generations to come. Canton resident Marie Gibbs headed up the work, and when it came to the quilt she marveled at the history in her hands. One of the first things she did was bring it to the American Textile History Museum. Once at the museum, extensive insect damage was discovered, which had caused fiber damage to the artifact. The cycle of insect damage was ongoing, from eggs to insects, all having microscopic bites of the threads of history.

In late 2008, the historical society mounted an unprecedented preservation effort — hiring Deirdre Windsor, one of the country’s foremost textile conservators, to stabilize and clean the quilt. Windsor has worked for the Museum of American Textile History, the Museum of Fine Arts, the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, and countless other private consultancies. In short, Windsor would help save the Martha Howard Quilt.

At the Blue Hills Regional School earlier this month, the quilt went on public display for two days as part of the Rhododendron Needlers Quilt Guild’s Annual Show, marking only the second time it has ever been publicly displayed. What people saw was a unique reflection upon social history and the important role of women in 18^th century domestic life. To put things into perspective, the Smithsonian Quilt Exhibition holds out their oldest comparable quilt circa 1795 as the example of the earliest surviving quilts in American history. Ours is older, and the rich provenance is associated with our community to help tell the story of Martha Howard in a way that keeps her memory alive even hundreds of years after she has gone.

On Martha Crafts’ gravestone in Canton Corner Cemetery is inscribed: “This mortal hath put on immortality.” Indeed she has.

Kathleen Banfield with gardener Saida Ramirez

Banfield, 30, presently works in the Office of Community Partnerships at the University of Massachusetts Boston. Before that she spent eight years at the Food Project, where she worked with children in the Boston Public Schools and the Boys and Girls Club, using a hands-on garden and nutrition curriculum to teach kids about food accessibility and nutrition. It was while spending time gardening in a plot that her in-laws have at Pequitside Farm that she noticed families with young children at the playground and thought of a way to build a connection with children and fresh food.

“I want to help them build a garden and teach families how to grow food,” explained Banfield.

She plans to use the square-foot method for the Canton Family Garden. She will build raised beds for each one-foot-by-one-foot planting grid in a large plot at Pequitside. The raised beds will have wooden frames on all four sides as well as on the bottom.

“You grow things in it,” she said. “You never step on the soil.”

At “Family Garden Day: Service Build” on Sunday, April 14, families and high school students will fill the raised beds with soil and decide what they want to grow. “I have tons of different seeds,” Banfield said. “I want kids to see where food comes from. Everything you eat has a source.”

Garden activities will be held twice a month from April through September. Participants will enjoy gardening activities and taste garden vegetables on “Taste It Tuesdays.” During the three “Family Drop-In Days,” families are invited to drop in to the garden, ask questions, tour the garden, or harvest vegetables. “Helping Harvests” will include activities and the idea of sharing with the community. Banfield hopes to donate harvested vegetables to the Canton Food Pantry. Compost and Garlic Day on October 20 is for closing out the garden.

All Canton families are encouraged to register for the Canton Family Garden. The activities are geared toward children in grades K-5, and each child must be accompanied by an adult. The garden sessions are free, but registration is required. Banfield emphasized that families are not obligated to continuously attend the sessions, although they are encouraged to attend as often as possible.

To learn more about the Canton Family Garden or to register, go to cantonfamilygarden.eventbrite.com.

Officer Ralph Centeno

This year’s event will feature two hockey games — Stoughton Fire/Police vs. Randolph Fire/Police at 8 p.m. and Canton Fire/Police vs. Boston Police at 9 p.m. — along with a chuck-a-puck contest, raffles and auction items, and a live DJ. All of the money raised will go directly to the Centeno family in honor of their beloved “Ralphie,” who died last month at the age of 48 following a five-month battle with pancreatic cancer.

“He was a great person,” said his older sister Gladys Centeno, who plans to be in attendance at Saturday night’s event. “For me, he was a hero. He taught me how to succeed in life and how to move forward.”

Gladys, who fought back tears as she reminisced about her only sibling, recalled how Centeno had always played the “good cop” to her “bad cop” and had always tried to help people out whenever he could. She described him as a dedicated father, grandfather and uncle, and a “good mentor” who was great with kids.

He also was an excellent police officer and a real “cop’s cop,” according to Canton Police Chief Ken Berkowitz, a close personal friend of Centeno’s going back to their days at the Police Academy more than 20 years ago.

“On the first day of the academy we had to line up in alphabetical order,” recalled Berkowitz, “and I was one in front of Ralph and we became fast friends.”

Berkowitz would later make his way to Canton while Centeno would settle into a long and productive career with the Boston Municipal Police. But the two remained in touch, and after the controversial merger of the “Munis” with the Boston PD in mid 2006, Berkowitz reached out to his old friend and asked if he was interested in transferring to Canton.

At the time, the chief had been in search of a Spanish-speaking officer to help diversify the department and respond to the changing demographics in the town — and Centeno proved up to the task, becoming the first Latino officer in CPD history when he joined the department in 2007.

In his eulogy of Centeno in front of a packed crowd at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Berkowitz described the partnership as a “match made in heaven,” recalling how the South End native arrived in Canton “like a hurricane” and somehow managed to meet “half the town” in his first week on the job.

He quickly became a fixture at local sporting events, where he offered up tidbits of advice and words of encouragement to kids on both teams, according to Berkowitz.

“For someone who didn’t grow up in the town and was here for only a short period, he really made a big impact on our department and the community,” said the chief.

He was also “incredibly generous” to his fellow officers, Berkowitz said, and he regularly took on holiday shifts so the younger officers could be with their families.

And even when he did get sick, Centeno continued to work and never complained — this despite enduring grueling chemotherapy treatments and a host of medical setbacks.

“He kept going and going; he was a fighter,” said his sister. “He would always tell me, ‘We’re going to beat this. Nothing’s going to get to me.’”

Gladys said his positive attitude helped keep the rest of the family strong as they struggled to make sense of the frightening diagnosis, which came as a complete shock when it was revealed by doctors last September.

“He had gone to Pennsylvania for a softball tournament and came down with an upset stomach,” recalled Gladys. “He thought he had a stomach virus. He was taking Pepto-Bismol and was trying to take care of himself.”

When he did finally learn that he had cancer, Centeno focused his attention on beating the disease, bolstered by the support of his family and his Canton and Boston police brethren.

Gladys said the initial prognosis was favorable; doctors had labeled it early stage and the tumor at the time was roughly the size of a pea. Centeno underwent six weeks of chemo and was considered a likely candidate for surgery, until doctors discovered lesions on his liver during a checkup in early January.

It was a devastating blow for Centeno and his family, and yet as Berkowitz noted in his eulogy, “there was not one minute of self-pity” as Centeno vowed to keep fighting at all costs.

“His conviction to beat the disease and his commitment to this place and his desire to be around the department and this community, it was unbelievable,” remarked Berkowitz.

Eventually Centeno’s body began to shut down and he was placed into home hospice care at his niece’s house in Hyde Park — the same house where they had gathered for countless Sunday dinners over the years.

He arrived there on a Thursday, transported by ambulance behind a motorcade of police vehicles, and he died the following evening surrounded by loved ones.

“He was a soldier,” said Gladys of her little brother. “He fought all the way to the end. I’m so proud of him.”

Gladys expressed similar feelings of pride for the members of the Canton and Boston police departments, two organizations that meant the world to her brother and rallied to his aid when he needed them most.

“They’re like my family now,” she said, “because they were with me from the beginning to the end. They were amazing and I’m so happy to have them.”

Berkowitz, meanwhile, feels the same way about the Centenos — a family of “incredible” people full of “love and compassion.”

Both will be forever bound by their love for Ralph and their commitment to preserving his legacy.

“We will carry him with us always,” Berkowitz said in his eulogy. “He made us better police officers and people for having known and loved him.”

“We’re going to continue his legacy and his memory,” said Gladys. “We’ve got to keep it alive.”

***

Admission to the fifth annual charity hockey benefit is free, and donations will be accepted at the door. Those who would like to make a donation prior to the event can drop it off at Canton Fire headquarters, located at 99 Revere Street.