PennySaved

The Tritown Bugle has something for (and from) everyone

by Sally Cragin

Illustration by Lennie Peterson

One of the reasons that Hollis the Mountain Man was able to move into Great-uncle Wilton's cabin is because the place isn't up to code. The septic system has forgotten how to drain, the plumbing had u-joints where straight valves should be, and the wiring would horrify Dr. Frankenstein. So Hollis's folks, mindful and vigilant about what Wilton used to call "those gahdam state regulations," kept the title in the family. You hear about local dynasties that splinter when property or wealth is in transition, but the Mountain Man clan takes the long view. "Some companies in Japan write a business plan for the next 200 years," says Hollis. "But my family just tries to stay current with the generations."

He and Delia Ellis Bell (there was a questionable great-great- grandmother) are admiring his recently installed Englander wood pellet stove. The old coal-burning clunker finally required parts more expensive than the cost of a replacement. "Well," says Delia, gazing at the sleek metal contraption with a handy box for dumping the pellets. "You've gone from burning coal back to burning wood, which the kids studying Industrial History might consider a step backward."

"Not for me," says Hollis proudly. "Forty-pound sack for three bucks is a lot cleaner, lighter, and sweeter-smelling than two tons of pea coal that soils everything it comes near."

Delia nods. "Every time you hauled the ashes, there'd be a plume of dust behind you like the Tasmanian devil. But I remember you said it did have some use. The clinkers made for good traction in the snow."

"Yeah," Hollis admits. "And if I wet it down, it filled the chuckholes in the drive."

As they are speaking, Trick and Treat, the black and orange Mountain cats, are eyeing the new stove warily. But the waves of heat draw them nearer.

"Nah," says Hollis. "This is better. There were times when I thought I had two gray cats if they got near the dust. But I wish I hadn't ordered my winter load before buying the new stove."

"What are you going to do with two tons of coal?" asks Delia.

"What I did to find this stove," Hollis replies confidently. "The PennySaver section of the Bugle."

4500 LBS PEA COAL 4 COAL STOVE

U HAUL IT. $250 OR BEST OFFER.

The Tritown Bugle is one of New England's oldest continuously published papers, mostly because Tritown has some of New England's oldest continuously operated paper mills. Begun as a weekly dispatch during the Civil War, the Bugle went to daily publication around the time of the telephone, and then published twice a day when radio came in. When television arrived, the morning edition was eliminated; and when overseas imports began to bankrupt local manufacturers who anchored the ad base, the Sunday run was scrapped. Now, the Bugle is back to what is was when Abe Lincoln was president: eight pages of thin columns and the widely read PennySaver pull-out section.

When she was a child, redheaded $erena the Waitress used to dress up as a bride; but ever since Hasky agreed to go through with the wedding, she's had a case of intermittently cold feet. She'll wear her mother's gown, of course, but she suddenly realizes she needs to outfit bridesmaids and a maid of honor. "I can't ask my friends to spend a couple of hundred bucks on a dress they'll never wear again," she wails to her aunts, Big Theresa and Little Terry of the T 'n` T Beauty Salon.

Big Theresa puts down the crossword and inserts her pencil into her towering auburn beehive. Little Terry grabs the paper. "Here you are!" she says.

7 MATCHING BRIDESMAIDS GOWNS, ONE SIZE 6, 2 EACH 12, 14, & 16. SEAFOAM GRN, MAJENTA TRIM.

NEVER WORN. PAID $125 EA.,

SELL @ $50 EA., OR $300 FOR THE SET.

"Must have been sets of twins, a dwarf, and a helluva bust-up," Little Terry conjectures, while $erena shakes her head.

"Geez," she says. "Seafoam green looks great with our hair, but I dunno about my friends."

Big Theresa reaches for a piece of hard candy and says, "Hon, you're gettin' married, you want everything to look nice. Your friends will understand."

Little Terry pipes up, "We can henna their hair so it'll all match!"

Meanwhile, in the wheel-less yellow school bus behind the Mountain Lair on Mt. Magoo, Lorencz the Hermit, Tritown's resident recluse, is sorting his mushroom finds on a sheet of newspaper. It's going to be a long winter, and the small, wizened figure is feeling -- what? Lonely? Anxious? Lorencz never knows what he is feeling. And slowly his gnarled fingers brush aside the fungii while his widely-dilated pupils contract to focus on wavering lines of type.

ANIMALS -- ASST'D

BEARDED DRAGON, 3 Y/O W/TANK, HEATER, SCREEN.

Lorencz perks up but then slumps again when he sees the price: $600. Being a hermit is great except for the occasional bouts of loneliness. Sure, the forest animals like him; and he enjoys his staring contests with the deer, but that wasn't the same as a critter of your own. Hey, what about a

FERRET, F W/SHOTS, 1 Y/O,

VRY FRNDLY, GRT PERSNALTY,

NDS MORE LOVE & TIME THAN WE

CAN GIVE. $50. ALL CALLS RETURNED.

Lorencz removes a stub of pencil from a pocket and licks the tip. Slowly, he begins circling. Who has more love -- and time -- to give than Lorencz the Hermit?

FITCHBURG CULTURAL Alliance celebrated 20 years of service to the community at a party at Fitchburg Art Museum recently. Jazz guitarist Mark Marquis serenaded the culturatti in the main hall, and architectural photographer and Guggenheim recipient, Cervin Robinson, presented a charming slide show of present-day Fitchburg. Some years back, Robinson was a resident at the McDowell Colony in Peterborough and decided to take pictures of surrounding areas. He happened upon Fitchburg and was immediately smitten with its mix of industrial and Victorian architecture.

"One of the wonderful things about Fitchburg," he said, "is that you can trust what you are looking at." Robinson enjoys a scene where buildings are engaged in a "conversation," that is, are placed at interesting angles to one another, posing a challenge to the photographer. He doesn't mind a piece of a building being out of the frame if the resulting angle shows off unusual architectural features. Which, as we all know, abound in New England buildings, public and private.

Robinson visited Laurel Hill Cemetery with its panoramic view of the mill city, and he scrutinized houses, tenements, and churches with equal interest. The Rollstone Boulder particularly fascinated him, and several photos in his show portrayed the massive glacial erratic cheerily integrated with surrounding features (a Mobil marquee, the background buildings, and highway signs). The audience, which included Fitchburg Mayor Mary Whitney, sighed appreciatively at views of Christ Church's Gothic Revival interior, the Iver Johnson building, and even the vacant lots. This is their city, after all.

Thanks this week to anthracite expert Roy Besarick of Duxbury, a man who knows his pea coal from his nut coal.

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