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The idea for
this collection of writings occurred to me after hearing Paul Brouillette
and Marie Louise St. Onge read their work in November, 1994, when
the Center for the Arts at UMass Lowell presented “Voices Like Bridges:
Ten Writers and Singer-Songwriters from the Merrimack Valley.” Two
years earlier, I had co-edited and published Merrimack:
A Poetry Anthology, which included poems by Susan April. A selection
of my poems had recently appeared in Lives
in Translation: An Anthology of Contemporary Franco-American Writings,
edited by Denis Ledoux and published by his Soleil Press in Maine.
I was convinced that there was room for another collection of works
by contemporary French Canadian-American writers. Being engaged
in cultural affairs in the Lowell area, I was eager to make these
writings available to readers.
In
the fall of 1997, I was awarded a teaching assistantship in the
master’s program in community social psychology at UMass Lowell.
I am grateful to Dr. Charles Nikitopoulos, whose course in “Ethnic
and Racial Factors in the Community” offered me an opportunity to
assemble these writings as a course project. Throughout the fall
we discussed issues involving identity formation, cultural conservation,
and
the dynamics
of ethnic groups in community settings. My special interest in ethnic
expression among Americans whose ancestors emigrated from homelands
several generations ago, combined with my ongoing explorations of
my French-Canadian heritage, led me to this publishing project.
The writings in French Class speak to my core identity as a person of French-Canadian
heritage who was born in Lowell and grew up next door in Dracut,
a small version of “the town and the city.” In these poems and essays
we have four people, artists, holding the threads of a fading ethnic
subculture and tying the ends tightly to the fabric of their contemporary
lives — lives saturated by the mass pop culture of late twentieth
century America. In their writings they recall, hold up, hold out,
rescue, and savor a distinct set of experiences steeped in the French-Canadian
ways of their parents and grandparents. The authors evince a preservation
ethic in their stance as keepers of stories and times. They write
for the record. They write to make sense of what’s lost, and to
make connections to their days.
My father used to ask me, “Do you think you’ll ever go back?”
He never expected an answer, but he kept pitching the question at
the end of a long day at the mill. He would be changing out of his
work shoes and toss me that question, grinning and lifting his chin
for punctuation. These writings are an attempt to go back, to bring
back what we learned, and hand it over to those who are listening
Places like Lowell, Dracut, and the Merrimack Valley lack text-based
narrative. Most of what’s known is carried in the minds of the people
who live, work, and play here. Not enough stories are written and
bound, ready to be handed from one person to the next. We are fortunate
to have several novels by Jack Kerouac, published in the early 1960’s—books
in which he renders the neighborhood adventures and inner lives of
Lowell’s Franco-Americans of the 1920’s and 1930’s. French Class takes its place alongside two recent books that have
enriched our knowledge of the culture of the area’s French Canadian-Americans—Immigrant
Odyssey, Arthur L.
Eno, Jr.’s translation of Félix Albert’s remarkable 1909 autobiography,
Histoire d’un enfant pauvre
(University of Maine Press, 1991), and Brigitte Lane’s comprehensive
study, Franco-American Folk
Traditions and Popular Culture in a Former Milltown: Aspects of Ethnic
Urban Folklore and the Dynamics of Folklore Change in Lowell, Masachusetts
(Garland Publishing, 1990).
The four authors of French Class represent the post-World War II generation, ethnic baby
boomers, who came of age in the 1960’s amidst so much social change.
While Portuguese, Puerto Rican, Cambodian, and other peoples still
close to their traditional cultures made homes in Greater Lowell,
daughters and sons in families of Irish, Greek, Polish, and French
Canadian ancestry drifted or in some cases spun away from their
particular ethnic group. As we hear in these writings, the native
language and national parish were the linchpins that kept the ethnic
wheels from falling off, even after the urban enclave gave way to
scattered lives in the suburbs. As that post-war generation became
separated from its language and often the related religious traditions,
the connections loosened and sometimes were lost. The result is
a generation of people in their 40’s and 50’s piecing together recollections
from an enriched youth and dubbing those accented voices in their
heads. This material takes on a new form in their art.
Although there are almost one million Franco-Americans in
Massachusetts, the Boston
Globe recently asked why the state’s second largest ethnic group
is so quiet, which in this case means politically low-key. The newspaper
pointed out that no Franco-American has been elected governor in
Massachusetts or as a representative in the U. S. Congress from
this state. The last Franco-American to be elected to a state level
office was J. Henry Goguen, the secretary of state in 1958. Outnumbered
only by Irish-Americans, the Franco-Americans make up one-sixth
of the Commonwealth’s population. Concentrated in cities such as
Worcester (33,700), Springfield (29,400), Lowell (25,300), Boston
(25,000), and Fall River (22,600), the Franco-Americans have a reputation
for being a “quiet presence” in New England. Some observers say
that Franco-Americans have assimilated, and therefore do not stand
out. Others say they lack a high profile because they avoided wholesale
discrimination upon arriving in the region.
When we list notable New Englanders of French Canadian descent,
we notice they are not too quiet: cultural conservationists Martha
Pellerin Drury, Paul Paré, Normand C. Dubé, Albert V. and Barbara
Côté, Roger Brunelle, Marthe Biron-Peloquin, Julien Olivier, Joseph
Garreau, Paul and Monique Blanchette, Lillian Lamoureux, Rev. Armand
Morissette, Armand W. LeMay, Armand P. Mercier, Aurore Dionne Eaton,
Jim Bishop, and Robert B. Perrault; historians Will Durant, Raymond
J. Marion, Richard Santerre, Peter Richards, Armand Chartier, and
Gerard J. Brault; political scientist David E. Marion; Red Sox general
manager Dan Duquette; authors Robert Cormier, Jacqueline Giasson
Fuller, Rhéa Côté Robbins, and John Dufresne; Baseball Hall of Fame
member Napoleon Lajoie; novelists Grace DeRepentigny Metalious,
Ernest Hebert, E. Annie Proulx, and David Plante; U.S. Senator Felix
Hébert, Lowell mayor Dewey G. Archambault, and Massachusetts state
representative Henri Achin, Jr.; painter Richard M. Marion; Congressional
Medal of Honor-winner and Spanish-American War naval veteran George
Charette; editors Wilfrid Beaulieu, Claire Quintal, Denis Ledoux,
and Yvon Labbé; marine veteran and Iwo Jima-flag raiser René A.
Gagnon; performers Rudy Vallée and Robert Goulet; actor Robert Tessier,
storyteller Michael Parent; playwright Grégoire Chabot; marathoner
Joan Benoit; musicians and singers Rita Paquin, Lucie Therrien,
Josée Vachon, Don Hinkley, and Lilianne Labbé; and poets Rosaire
Dion-Lévesque, A. Poulin, Jr., Susann Pelletier, Steven Riel, Dorianne
Laux, Bill Tremblay, and David Rivard.
Addressing literary critic Yvonne Le Maître in 1951, Jack
Kerouac wrote: “All my knowledge rests in my ‘French-Canadianness’
and nowhere else. . . . Isn’t it true that French-Canadians everywhere
tend to hide their real sources. They can do it because they look
Anglo-Saxon, when the Jews, the Italians, the others cannot . .
. the other ‘minority’ races. I’ll never hide it again; as once
I did, say in high school, when I first began ‘Englishizing myself’
to coin a term (Me faire un
Anglais).” In French Class,
the authors use the English language in service of their French-Canadian
“knowledge.” They reveal their sources.
Susan April misses when she tries to make a pork pie like
her mother’s, but relishes it anyway, eating the whole pie herself.
Each of these authors craves the connection symbolized by that pork
pie. Each writes about the highly charged food connection. The food
lasts and translates, as do the inventive local French- Canadian
phrases that provide a soundtrack to this jump-cut movie running
on four tracks. Spirituality, family, work, memory, language, food
— these are the common elements in the selections.
In his or her own way, each of the authors is also trying
to move beyond memory. Each is looking for a way to make what he
or she has been and has known part of an evolving life. Marie Louise
St. Onge writes of the “challenge to keep alive that which most
wholly represents us.” She credits the people who are the source
of her hope. Paul Brouillette honors the “rootedness” found in a
distinct ethnic character and looks toward new shores. Loss is catalogued
here. Value is accounted for. Homage is paid. Stories and lives
are saved. Connections are made. These are voices like bridges.
Paul Marion
Lowell, Massachusetts
June, 1998
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