Ramey’s Market was my laboratory for life when I was young in the 50’s and 60’s. It served a emerging immigrant community and the old neighborhood which is no longer there.
My grandfather was quite a character from the old world, educated on the streets but somehow becoming a larger than life influence on his family, grandchildren and peers. The store was also a community center of sorts where Boston political figures, police officers, neighborhood poor, mafia figures, bookies, priests and farmers gathered . They would stop in for a soda, roasted chestnut on a pot belly stove or just a chat. “Speed Ramey”, my grandfather, innately seemed uncannily able to speak with anyone making them feel safe. His language was rough, even coarse at times, but his capacity for acceptance of all others seemed remarkable.
He and his brother worked hard 6 full days a week closing at noon on Sunday. I learned to cut meat, arrange a fruit display, ground hamburger and help old ladies take their groceries home. But quietly I learned the importance of character. Whether you could pay in full, in part, or not at all you went home with the groceries you needed. When eventually they closed down the store there were hundreds of IOU receipts uncollected.
One memorable Sunday standing outside the store my grandfather put his arm around me. He said “Dave, you are a good boy. Please promise me something?” Being all of 12, I said “Sure!, but what?” Without missing a beat, he said “promise me you’ll never become a politician, a priest or a lawyer. “. When asked why he said, “they are all crooks!” Well that was Speed Ramey, and his 1920’s street wisdom. Apologies to any who are any of those professions. He simply could not abide any scent of phony people.
That day and on many other occasions in that store I learned the importance of what we would now call character or an inner directed life.
I have been blessed with a wonderful education but none better than the lessons of Ramey’s Market on Chestnut Street.