Taking on the story of a person as wrapped in 20^th century history on a global and local level as Eleanor Roosevelt takes an equally brave and insightful person. But to take it on as an actress inhabiting such a large personality is something else – it is epic.

            Equal to the character she portrayed for an hour on May 13 in a one-woman performance, Linda Monchik of Marion took us on Eleanor’s journey from shy lonely child to world-renowned, human-rights advocate. The title is “An Hour with Eleanor.”

            This performance is the first in in a series of Marion Art Center Theater Playwriters Incubator productions.

            “It’s a program for first-time play-writes. The goal is to aid the writer through the creative process with mentors …,” MAC Director Jodi Stevens explained. The press release noted, “Finding theaters to produce new or unpublished plays can be an obstacle … the MTPI is a structured program that aims to discover and support, through workshop and production, new stage plays from the region.”  “An Hour with Eleanor” was written by Cynthia Krause, who states, “My interest in theater is a central theme.” A graduate of the University of Wisconsin with a Bachelor of Arts in history and Masters of Science in Education, Krause has acted, worked on Broadway plays and performed in “Scrooge,” “Social Security” and “A Little Night Music” to name a few.

            Under the direction of Maura Barry Van Voris and Richard Van Voris (daughter and father), Monchik’s flawless telling of Eleanor’s life in the first person was tender, humorous, sorrowful and profound.

            The play covered the vast range of experiences and events that placed Eleanor in the center of world events, sometimes to the chagrin of her husband, you know, the President. President Roosevelt.

            His presence in the play is there, of course, but the “hour” hardly long enough to cover one political event Eleanor participated in, never mind a quarter century of the country’s history, is a telling of life lived through her experiences, not his. In the hands of Krause and Monchik, it is masterfully crafted.

            If you are not of an age to remember Eleanor when she walked amongst us, you’ll get an enjoyable history lesson.

            This lady, who was born into privilege, never felt wanted or loved. With the passing of her father (Teddy Roosevelt’s brother), she went to live with her grandmother. Her father was an alcoholic far removed from caring about the small child he had fathered as told in this anecdote: “Father took me to the Knickerbocker and told me to wait on the step, he’d be right back.” Four hours later, the doorman arranged for the four-year-old Eleanor to be sent home.

            One can only imagine what early, inner fortitude she possessed. Krause’s words spoken by Monchik left us deeply moved.

            And while there were many moments when we were left wondering where Eleanor found the strength to persevere, there was humor as well. But methinks the humor came when Eleanor was able to best naysayers.

            One singular event, the development of the United Nations, speaks volumes to Eleanor’s brilliant, possibly superior ability to bring disparate parties together, find the common ground and work together for the good of all.

            “My job was to be useful,” she is quoted as saying.

            Indeed. She was the first (and only for a long time) woman who helped create the U.N. Universal Declaration of Human Rights and later became the first chair of the United Nations Commission on Human Rights. Eleanor spent many years both before President Roosevelt’s death and after working on projects intended to improve the lives of those whose voice was not often heard. Such groups as the League of Women Voters, Women’s Trade Union and the Red Cross she would put her shoulder to the wheel for progress of human rights.

            Today, the following would be just a small footnote to Eleanor’s history, but in 1940 she was successful in securing freedom for 83 Jewish refugees. She knew it wasn’t enough, but for those who were spared a death sentence, it was.

            Krause didn’t shy away from the personal and painful moments when Eleanor questioned President Roosevelt’s faithfulness and then the ultimate betrayal. It is all there in emotions worn by Monchik to perfection. You want to cry at the reality of her passionless marriage and daughter Anne’s part of organizing trysts for President Roosevelt with his longtime paramour, but in the next moment experience the joy and freedom the grand lady knew through her work and her relationships.

            Whether you know the story of Eleanor Roosevelt or only recently heard her name, do yourself a favor and see this play. The writer, directors and the actress have prepared a feast for you.

            The next and final performance is scheduled for Sunday, May 28, at 2:00 pm. For tickets, visit MarionArtCenter.org.

Marion Art Center

By Marilou Newell

The Ground Nesting Partridge in spring is hard to locate and identify because the color of its plumage is camouflaged with one of two earthly color phases.

            Here in New England, the Partridge feathers match the dark gray shadows of the surrounding conifer forest. Further south, the Partridge plumage has a rusty cast to match the brick-colored, red-earth shade of more colorful soil below the Mason Dixon line. Either one of the two Partridge camouflaged shades can readily be recognized in the feathers of a Ground Nesting Partridge.

            As in my illustration, the mother Partridge is sitting on a clutch of six eggs that she started incubating after they were all laid so that all would hatch out at about the same time. Then all would match the others and coincide with one of the two earthly colors. Both can be easily identified to match the nesting Partridge coloring that came about from the geographic origin of the Partridge ground nesting location at the time the eggs were laid and incubated.

            The mother Partridge, out of habit, builds a bowl-shaped nest of sticks so she can pluck loose vegetation into it because it probably contains high-level protein and rich vitamins to grow on and develop into bigger fledglings.

            They quickly learn to move about into groves of aspen, pine and birch, and later to develop an appetite for fruit buds, ferns and shrub berries and then later in the season nuts and acorns that have a high content of cellulose, which after digesting makes it later possible to survive harsh, winter-weather conditions.

            Even after forced to move about more than a half-mile for a plentiful, unexpected, different food supply that pops up, their location is observed by a nearby Partridge drumming male that has no secrecy by loudly making his observation known. When he may mount a hollow log as a convenient drum, he can thunder some 40 wingbeats against his chest that sounds like some person trying to start up a two-cycle engine with a sputtering burst of a loud static tattoo.

            The plump Partridge has a cocky crest on its head and a tail marked with a broad, dark band near the tip, which when displayed gives the displaying male a rich, black ruff around the neck, giving it the well-known other name of “Ruffed Grouse.“

            The thumping, rousing beating like a drum carries up to a quarter of a mile and announces its message like a barnyard rooster beating its chest like Chaucer’s Chanticleer literary bugle announcement of the coming dawn of a new day.

By George B. Emmons

            The missus and I ventured down to the finally opened “Shining Tides Mile” section of the Mattapoisett Rail Trail. As an original skeptic, the curmudgeon in me wants to say something critical about it, such as the peace and quiet we once experienced walking along the dirt railroad bed communing with nature in peace and quiet is no more.

            The views are beautiful, though I remain saddened that the gigantic steel superstructure dominates the perimeter of the beach. If one stays on the boardwalk and ignores the speeding cyclists whizzing by your ear – they ought to be required to ring a bell as they approach from the rear – sharing the spectacular vistas with the cyclists, joggers and walkers is an afternoon is well spent.

            A walk along the trail is a great place to get away from the incessant talk about the 2024 presidential election, which the media is already dominating the news cycle by reporting early polls. I trust you will also agree that it is much too early to talk about Christmas, though I expect stores will be putting out holiday merchandise in the next month or two. But, is it too early to talk about New Years Eve? Hear me out.

            I suspect people are already dreaming of cross-country skiing or snowshoeing on the trail … assuming we ever get snow again. I have an idea that can make the boardwalk an idea venue to celebrate the New Year. Boston has its First Night, New Bedford has its own celebration and Newport has its Water Fire. Why not Mattapoisett? We could call it “First Night Mattapoisett.”

Imagine the whole community … families, mom, dads, kids, grandparents, seniors walking the trail on New Year’s Eve. Town organizations could sponsor sections setting up hot chocolate or cider stations along the boardwalk. Restaurants could offer food as they do at the “Taste of the Town,” or food trucks might provide refreshments.

            A deejay or the Old Hammondtown School Band could supply music. (Auld Lang Syne at midnight might be a nice touch, wouldn’t you agree?) Generators could be placed under the boardwalk to provide power. Temporary lighting could be set up. (Solar lights embedded in the railings for nighttime walks wouldn’t be a bad idea anyway.)

            A New Year celebration along the Rail Trail is not unprecedented. One town that I am familiar with has been doing it for several years. (Ya, I confess I stole the idea.) They set up fire pits along the trail for roasting marshmallows. Instead of firepits, we could have the Fire Department start mini-bonfires along the beach for warming.

            At midnight, all the revelers could stand at the railing and watch a laser show or better yet, a gigantic fireworks display over the west harbor. (Like they did over the town beach when I was a boy.) You’ve got to think big.

            Now you may ask, how do we pay for all this? I don’t know. I’m just the idea guy. That town I mentioned, they use volunteers, private citizens, civic organizations and a few deep-pocketed benefactors.

            Here is one idea, we could have a footrace in the fall along the Rail Trail from Fairhaven to the village, entry fees to pay some expenses, for example. We could call it the “Boardwalk Blister Mini Marathon.” Well, we can work on that.

            Perhaps some group could “sell” boardwalk planks like the engraved bricks at Shipyard Park. The buyer would get a small brass plaque with their name engraved attached to their plank. Well, that’s all I have. Do you expect me to think of everything?

            If “First Night Mattapoisett” comes to pass, I might just stay up past my 9:00 pm bedtime.

            Editor’s note: Mattapoisett resident Dick Morgado is an artist and retired newspaper columnist whose musings are, after some years, back in The Wanderer under the subtitle “Thoughts on ….” Morgado’s opinions have also appeared for many years in daily newspapers around Boston.

Thoughts on…

By Dick Morgado