The world right outside your back door

Family night out

 

In Lexington, 5½-year-old Ian Robinson and his mother, Sue Paradis, test the family tent set up in their yard for Saturday’s campout. (Aram Boghosiam for the boston globe) 

By Taryn Plumb
Globe Correspondent / June 21, 2012

The Lexington couple have backpacked in Denali National Park in Alaska against the stunning, snow-covered backdrop of Mt. McKinley; hiked Utah’s Arches National Park with its iconic sandstone formations; spent two nights camped at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

Along the way, they’ve enjoyed the glimpses of wildlife, the spectacular views, the inner calm that comes with exploring nature, and the mornings waking up outside to the quiet and the fresh air.

But on Saturday, Sue Paradis and Mike Robinson will embark on what could be one of their greatest adventures yet: They’ll camp for the first time as a family. It won’t be in some exotic locale, though — the couple and their two young sons will spend the night in a tent just feet from their back door, when they participate in the National Wildlife Federation’s eighth Great American Backyard Campout.

“We’ll read, sing songs, sit out and have s’mores,” said Paradis, mother to 5½-year-old Ian, and 2-year-old Hugh. “We really just want to foster a love of the outdoors and camping in our children.”

That is the overarching goal of the nationwide camping night: to pull children, young adults, and adults alike out of the world of text and instant messages, e-mail, cellphones, computers, and video games, and reintroduce them to the natural one just outside their door. The event also ultimately raises money, through individual fund-raising and donations, for the National Wildlife Federation’s youth programs.

“We want to make it simple for families to just get outside,” said Karoline Hurd, the federation’s senior manager of special events.

And for kids, there are numerous benefits from camping. “They’re stronger, calmer, kinder, leaner, and smarter,” Hurd said. Plus, studies have shown that the simple act of playing in the dirt is beneficial for a child’s immune system.

Despite all the benefits, however, the National Wildlife Federation reports only 25 percent of US children play outside regularly.

Still, some experts assert that the pervasiveness of technology, coupled with the uncertain economy, will push people back outside. Last year, for example, Americans were involved in outside activities more than they had been in the previous five years, according to the Outdoor Industry Association. Nearly 50 percent of all Americans age 6 and older — or 141.1 million people — participated in at least one outdoor activity last year, the association reported. According to a report by the Outdoor Foundation, Coleman Co., and Kampgrounds of America Inc., roughly 40 million Americans over age 6 – or 15 percent of the country — went camping in 2010.

As for the Great American Backyard Campout: It had 175,000 registered participants last year, according to Hurd, and raised more than $100,000 for the organization. The fund-raising has been part of the fun for Paradis and Robinson’s older son, Ian. The self-described nature-lover set a goal to raise $100 for the federation — and he surpassed it, raising $110 ($5 from his own funds).

So ultimately, “this whole experience has enabled us to have a dialogue with our kids about helping others and the environment,” Paradis said.

Of course, it’s fun, too.

On Saturday night, Ian will explore the yard with his flashlight, bug catcher, and a magnifying glass, and will likely pepper his mom and dad with questions about constellations, insects, plants, and life cycles of animals.

He camped for the first time at age 2 at Lake Tahoe on the California-Nevada border, Paradis said, and has spent weekends here and there with his parents around New England. “He just loves being outside,” she said.

Meanwhile, it’ll be 2-year-old Hugh’s first night of camping, but his parents are preparing him for a life spent outdoors. His birthday present this year? A sleeping bag.

The four will take their first camping trip this summer on Cape Cod. And eventually, mom and dad would like to introduce both kids to backpacking — and not just for free-spirited nights in the wilderness.

“Every backpacking trip my husband and I have ever taken has had some unforeseen thing happen,” Paradis said. “Overcoming adversity is good, challenging yourself is rewarding.”

Ultimately, she said, “I look forward to many years of camping with my family.”

As does Michelle Goodwin, an Upton resident who will tent up in her backyard Saturday night with her husband, Mike, and their three kids: 17-year-old Stephanie, 9-year-old Stanley, and 6-year-old Stacey. It’s the family’s second year taking part in the event.

She and her husband started out with what she called “primitive camping” in Vermont — they’d carry in water and a tent, dig a hole for a latrine, and collect wood for fires, Goodwin said.

“When you’re camping like that, you follow a real natural rhythm of nature,” she said.

They’ve also spent time camping in Alaska and the Adirondacks in upstate New York, where she’s been amazed by the dazzling array of stars visible in the sky.

As for Saturday night? She and her family will pick vegetables from their garden, grill their dinner, do a swamp hike and nature hunt, play hide-and-seek, then sleep in a two-room tent. “It’s reestablishing that connection that life is to be lived outside, and not inside four walls,” she said. “There’s more than just concrete and bricks and buildings.”

Still, Goodwin admitted, it can be a struggle to get the kids away from the computer and TV and out the door. But although it’s taken a bit of coaxing — and sometimes some all-out forcing — her three kids have become much more comfortable being outside.

“Last year when I asked for ideas of things to do, they wanted to run an extension cord from the house and bring the computer out into the tent,” she said. “This year they wanted to do a nature hunt. I think that pretty well sums up the goal of this event.”

For more information on the Great American Backyard Campout, or to register, visit www.nwf.org. 

© Copyright 2012 Globe Newspaper Company.

Covering the food spectrum

From field to fork

 

(Photos by Brian Feulner for The Boston Globe and Aram Boghosian for The Boston Globe)  

By Taryn Plumb 

Globe Correspondent / June 21, 2012 

ESSEX — Hair wind-blown and jeans smudged with dirt, Frank McClelland glanced out over a field spotted with yellow and rippling lightly with the wind.

Suddenly he leaned down, nudging a garlic shoot out of the soil. He gently brushed it clean, then raised it for a sniff.

“It’s sweet, so aromatic,” he said, holding it out for a small group of guests to take a whiff for themselves. “Doesn’t it make you hungry?”

McClelland is in the business of feeding people. But he doesn’t just cover one aspect of the soil to plate spectrum. By day, he cultivates and harvests crops at Apple Street Farm in Essex; then at night, he buttons up his chef’s jacket to create Zagat-rated dishes at his Boston and Natick restaurants, L’Espalier and Sel de la Terre. In between, when he can, he distributes bushels of fresh produce to local caterers and restaurants.

“I work kind of around the clock,” the 55-year-old farmer, chef, and father of four said on a recent morning while tending to his 14-acre farm.

On that spread tucked away off a shady, winding road, he grows dozens of different fruits, vegetables and greens: lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, arugula, asparagus, cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, shallots, leeks, sage, oregano, thyme, fava beans, plus edible and pick-your-own flowers.

One acre is dedicated to onions; another to potatoes. A stretch of 500 strawberry plants yields 50 quarts about every three days this time of year. Thousands of tomatoes are distributed annually. He and his team forage, as well: wild sorrel, grapes, and wintergreen.

Then there are the resident bees, laying and meat hens, hogs, turkeys, goats, and geese (primarily providing meat, milk, eggs, and honey for McClelland’s family).

“The list marches on,” he said.

All this keeps him and five workers busy. They’re buttressed by dozens of volunteers, including chefs, cooks, and waiters (and their families) from his restaurants, as well as groups from Gordon College, Pingree School in Hamilton, and several area grade schools.

With each new season, demand grows, and so does the farm. This year it has expanded to eight satellite fields, and provides produce for McClelland’s establishments, another 10 restaurants and caterers, a Community Supported Agriculture program that includes 70 families, and a farm stand. It also hosts monthly themed, four-course outdoor dinners — at $175 a person — in the summer.

Whereas in the restaurant it’s “Do we have enough of what we need?” and “Are we ready?,” on the farm the concerns center around weather and blight, and “When are we going to be able to get 2,000 tomato plants in the ground?” he said.

As he moved on from the greenhouse, he passed through an old barn housing dozens of peeping chicks. Fenced-in areas included goats and their kids, rooting piglets, geese, and four breeds of clucking chickens.

Between tending to fields and fowl, overseeing his workers and volunteers, and planning plantings and crop rotations, McClelland regularly meets with his chefs from L’Espalier and Sel de la Terre, devising seasonal dishes around his crops. Recent creations included strawberry with foie gras and various takes on asparagus; there’s also a regular “Apple Street Farm salad” at L’Espalier, located on Boylston Street in the Back Bay.

“It’s great to have someone who's farming who also knows the restaurant world,” said Amelia O’Reilly, chef and owner of The Market Restaurant in Gloucester, which receives deliveries each week from Apple Street. “It’s nice to work with a farm that is owned by a chef. They know what sort of things a restaurant’s looking for.”

Ultimately, the farm’s regular bounty serves as inspiration for local chefs, much like a certain color or texture might stimulate an artist’s creativity.

For example, Lindsey Wishart, head chef of Chive Sustainable Event Design & Catering in Beverly, said she is often introduced to different types of greens and herbs through Apple Street — such as spicy radish sprouts — that elevate dishes and make for great flavorings in soups, stocks, and light sauces for poached chicken or fish.

“Everything they grow is just so beautiful. You can tell they just put a lot of care into the way they’re growing it,” said Wishart. “If they have it, I want it.”

At The Market, new menus are devised every morning.

“We really can highlight whatever looks good on the farms,” said O’Reilly. “I can't imagine cooking any other way.”

Although the “farm-to-fork” concept has become more popular, McClelland said it wasn’t a business decision when he started the farm in 2009. Rather, he was looking to reconnect with his past. He grew up on his grandparents’ farm in the White Mountains, eating five- and six-course meals prepared by his grandmother, a chef. Later, he got his first job as a chef’s assistant at a camp.

“It’s the right purpose for me,” he said. “It’s not what you have, but what you do, that makes you happy.

“In five to 10 years, more and more serious cooks will have their own farms. Local, sustainable, knowing where your food is coming from . . . it’s all going back to where we should be.” 
For more information, visit www.applestreetfarm.com.  

View the photo slideshow by Brian Feulner and Aram Boghosian here.  


© Copyright 2012 Globe Newspaper Company.

Salem's own "Downton Abbey"

Salem’s Phillips House tells the ‘Upstairs, Downstairs’ story 

By Taryn Plumb |  Globe Correspondent

June 14, 2012

Pat Greenhouse/Globe Staff

Stand in the center of the walk-through closet, and look to one side: A bright dining room furnished with fine chairs and tables, wooden floors covered with decorative rugs, a chandelier dangling above, and walls inlaid with elegant molding.

Now glance to the other side: A kitchen with an enormous stove and soapstone sink, worn brick floors, simple woodworking and fixtures. Dim and utilitarian. No fancy flourishes.

The two rooms in Salem’s Phillips House provide a tangible example of the disparity between early 20th century families and their servants. Cooks, maids, and housekeepers were meant to remain as shadowy, fleeting figures who kept the house in order behind the scenes, rarely seen and never heard.

Jennifer Pustz, of Historic New England, has dedicated herself to bringing form to these silhouettes, to giving voices and stories to the servants who so often remained anonymous. She has done extensive research throughout Historic New England’s 36 properties, including at the 1821 Phillips House on Salem’s Chestnut Street, unearthing the artifacts of domestic American life.

“Bringing people out of the shadows creates a full story,” said Pustz, who wrote the 2010 book, “Voices from the Back Stairs."

In the case of the Phillips House, that story includes not only owners Anna Phillips, her husband, Stephen Willard Phillips, and their son, Stephen, but their first-floor maid, Delia Cawley, their cook, Bridgit Durgin, and Caddy Shaughnessy, their nursemaid and attendant. They also employed two part-time male staff: coachman, gardener, and handyman Cornelius Flynn, and chauffeur Patrick O’Hara.

Pat Greenhouse/Globe Staff

The Phillips bought and renovated their home in 1911, and it stayed in the family until the 1970s. The museum focuses on 1919 and 1920.

According to Pustz, the 11,500-square-foot, three-story gray mansion with black shutters is particularly interesting. Unlike other museum houses where servants quarters were later cleared out, renovated, or turned into office or storage space, its staff spaces have been relatively well-preserved.

In addition to its large soapstone sink, the kitchen still contains the Walker and Pratt cooking stove, a wall of glass cabinets, and gas-electric light fixtures.

Through a door at the back of the room and down a set of rugged wooden stairs is the basement laundry room, with a long sink set with wringers and washboards, a stove loaded up with irons, and a set kettle used to boil clothes.

“It was a really messy, hot, sticky, long, job, and physically taxing,” Pustz said.

Going up from the kitchen is a long, narrow, rather ominous staircase to the third-floor servants quarters. The three small bedrooms are empty and unfurnished, but scratches on the floor and marks on the wall tell of the life that was once there.

Back on the main floor, a china closet separates the kitchen from the rest of the house, with its exquisitely furnished bedrooms, parlor, library, and dining room.

Yet although the servants were very deliberately separated from all this, they were never truly alone. As Pustz noted, theirs was a 24-hours-a-day, seven-days-a-week job.

“There was a constant amount of work,” she said.

A call-bell system installed by the Phillipses was common at the time, but remains an uncommon artifact, as they were often removed from historic houses during later-century renovations. Doorbell-like buttons in nearly every room of the house were wired into boxes high on the wall of the kitchen and on the third floor; when pressed, a loud bell would ring and a flag would fill a round circle underneath room indicators, such as the “library,” “parlor,” or “dining room.”

Pat Greenhouse/Globe Staff

Even though it meant the staff had to stop everything and attend to the call, “it was an incredibly efficient way for them to work with the family and meet their needs,” said site manager Julie Arrison.

Although the relationship the Phillips family had with their servants was rather harmonious compared with other households, according to Pustz, clearly defined barriers separated the two halves of the house.

For example, Arrison said, just what to call them was a “sticking point” for the family — they were referred to as “the staff” or “the girls,” rather than “servants.” Meanwhile, anecdotes — such as Mr. Phillips’s propensity for stepping to the threshold of the kitchen, but never going inside — stress just whose domain was whose, and who should be where, and when.

On the other hand, although the servants heard and saw almost everything that was going on, “they were expected to be invisible. It was a very complicated visibility/invisibility,” said Pustz.

Ultimately, in exploring and presenting all that was found, the goal is to create a “balanced perspective of what living here was like,” she said. “It was two worlds under one roof.”

By telling all the stories of a house – or at least attempting to by piecing together the scant bits of history — “it adds to the overall narrative of New England’s history,” said Peter Gittleman, visitor experience team leader for Historic New England. “Everyone’s history matters.”

Pat Greenhouse/Globe Staff

To that end, Historic New England also is unveiling a new, permanent installation this month at the Spencer-Pierce-Little Farm in Newbury. It looks at the Stekionis family, natives of Lithuania, who lived in a tenant farmer house on the property from the 1920s to the 1990s, raising food for the Littles.

Gittleman said it is just another example of the many narratives beyond those of the “rich and famous” property owners to be discovered in any given place.

“The stories are much more nuanced when you look at them from multiple perspectives,” he said.

Pustz agreed, stressing that, when analyzing history, people need to be aware that there were “all kinds of layers and relationships,” and there are also many things we’ll never know, no matter the amount of digging into research.

Ultimately, she said, our shared past isn’t neat and linear, easily fitting into timelines and generalizations.

“History is a really messy, complicated thing,” she said. 

Pat Greenhouse/Globe Staff

How does $5 a week sound? For circa 1919 servants in Salem, that was high pay

At the Phillips House circa 1919:

5

The number of servants employed by the Phillips family: 3 full-time women, 2 part-time men.

$5

The weekly wage of Delia Cawley, longtime maid for the Phillips family.

$3

Cawley’s weekly wage at her previous job.

100

Years (combined) that Cawley and maid/attendant Caddy Shaughnessy worked for the Phillips family.

SOURCE: Historic New England

It Takes a Town

One town spells upkeep D-I-Y

 

(Photos by Pat Greenhouse/Globe Staff)  

By Taryn Plumb Globe Correspondent / June 10, 2012 

NEWBURY — As the saying goes “it takes a village,” and in Newbury’s case, not only to raise a child, but to raise a building.

With the the perennially tenuous budget-balancing act — and the defeat of two consecutive overrides, $950,000 last spring and $293,000 in May — officials have turned to community kindness, rather than the tight town coffers, to perform much-needed municipal repair projects.

During the past several weeks, volunteers from Newbury and beyond have donated time, expertise, money, and materials to renovate the Town Hall and library.

“There’s been overwhelming support,” said building inspector Sam Joslin, who has overseen the effort.

Work on the two-story, 2,400-square-foot Town Hall has included replacing worn and weathered siding and rotted exterior trim; landscaping and rebuilding of a retaining wall; and interior painting, reflooring, and furniture updates.

“It was in pretty desperate need of a makeover,” said Joslin.

The exterior of the 14,000-square-foot library, meanwhile, is being repainted (the same color — gray with red trim).

Work on both buildings was expected to be completed last week, weather permitting.

More than a dozen local businesses, restaurants, and agencies came forward to offer labor crews, tree-removal and landscaping services, and materials such as paint and lumber. They included the Essex County sheriff’s office, Jackson Lumber and Millwork in Amesbury, and Hathaway Landscape Co. of Newbury. Plum Island Grille and Bob Lobster, both in Newbury, also donated food for the workers.

Greenscape Property and Building LLC of Newbury, for its part, shingled one side of the Town Hall and sheathed holes where air conditioners once butted out, according to owner George Haseltine.

Brett Murphy of Newburyport-based Murphy Construction Company, meanwhile, supplied carpenters who spent three days residing one side of the building.

He called the response “tremendous,” noting that Newbury is a “close-knit community, and everybody wants to pitch in.”

Haseltine agreed, saying that, as a resident himself, he felt compelled to contribute.

“I believe that, in the economic climate that we are in, we all need to work hard to help each other out,” he said in an e-mail. “Now when people drive by or visit the Town Hall — either residents or nonresidents — they can appreciate the effort that many community members put forth.”

Donated or reduced-price labor and materials saved the town hundreds of thousands of dollars. Joslin estimates the Town Hall renovations would have cost between $150,000 and $200,000, and the library project would have had a price tag of about $62,000. But the town will pay just about $22,000 for both out of an account set aside for capital improvement projects.

“There’s a lot of willingness in this town,” said Joslin, seated in his Town Hall office on a recent afternoon, the building’s exterior still set up with staging and tarps, and its driveway partially covered with mounds of dirt and landscaping stones. “I don’t think we’ve found a way to focus that interest in a while.”

That energy was first directed to a shared purpose after Joslin, in 2008, closed the Department of Public Works facility because it was out of code and in disrepair.

Estimates of roughly $500,000 to rehabilitate it were “well out of the town budget,” he said. As a result, the building was left empty and the department “had no home for a couple of years.”

But then, people started coming forward to offer help — and within six months, all five garage doors had been repaired and the building was equipped with a new roof and gutters, as well as new wiring, windows, and heating, ventilation, and carbon monoxide detection systems. The project was completed in late 2010, and ended up costing the town about $150,000, Joslin said.

“The building was condemned — it was an extremely dramatic change,” he said. “It was pretty amazing that we had that much of a response.”

Town officials don’t expect to stop now. They have since reinstated a capital planning committee, and Joslin has taken on the role of facilities manager.

The next project? Tearing down and rebuilding a two-bay Department of Public Works garage.

The hope is to start this fall, or by the spring at the latest, depending on the availability and willingness of volunteers.

“With some cooperation, planning, and proper funding,” Joslin said, “we can do quite a bit.”

Community support by the numbers

$762,000

The estimated cost to renovate the Newbury Department of Public Works facility, Town Hall, and library.

$172,000

The actual (rough) cost to the town for all three projects.

Two dozen

The number of local contractors, landscapers, lumberyards, restaurants, and schools that donated time, money, or materials for the three projects.

A month

The amount of time it took for volunteers to complete work on the Town Hall and library.

$1.243 million

The amount turned down by voters in override questions last spring and this spring.

 © Copyright 2012 Globe Newspaper Company.

Silent films resonate in the 21st century

Pianist accompanies vintage silent movies for a modern crowd

THIS STORY APPEARED IN  

June 03, 2012

Taryn Plumb/Globe Correspondent

• 

Mark Wilson for the Boston Globe

Up on the screen, in black and white, a vivacious starlet projects not with her voice or her body language but with her entrancing eyes.

They widen and shine with happiness; lower and smolder with desire; pop and flame with anger; droop with sadness.

As silent film siren Clara Bow captivates, pianist Richard Hughes follows: Low notes greet her sorrow, high ones her cheer; down-the-keyboard trills reflect her flirty, playful nature.

“I’m reacting to the screen,” said Hughes, who makes a living in nostalgia: The 62-year-old Hudson resident is a pianist in the old-fashioned, nearly forgotten art of silent film musical accompaniment.

Silent movies evoke a different time — one that wasn’t necessarily simpler, as the cliché goes, but uncertain, like ours, and for many of the same reasons — and they also offer a respite from the cacophany of contemporary cinema.

And even in today’s instant-access, frenetic culture, they continue to captivate: Just look to the popularity and success of last year’s silent French film “The Artist,” which won five Academy Awards, including those for best picture, actor, and director, or the rerelease of the colorized, re-scored 1902 “Le Voyage dans la lune.”

Hughes serves as a sort of tour guide to this slower, subtler world, as he accompanies various silent films — from Buster Keaton slapstick shorts to feature-length narratives starring the quintessential flapper girl Bow — in showings at local schools, libraries, senior centers, historical societies, private clubs, nursing homes, and assisted living facilities.

As he put it, the medium endures because the same themes — betrayal, triumph over adversity, love lost and found again — transcend time and place, whether it’s the ancient Greek theater, the burgeoning post-World War I movie theater, or the 21st-century multiplex. All that changes is the manner in which it’s presented.

“One thing remains absolutely the same: our emotions,” Hughes said.

Because technical challenges prevented the recording of synchronized sound and film until the late 1920s, theaters almost always had an organist or pianist accompanying silent film reels, either playing scores of their own creation or cobbling together “little clips and bits” of music written by others, Hughes explained. Popular songbooks, meanwhile, provided “moods” that could be applied to any movie.

As Hughes noted, comedy scores are much more “jaunty and light,” and are played in a “more staccatto way, more cavalier,” with more space between the notes. Darker movies, on the other hand, have “muddier” scores, with lower and often more sustained notes.

But whatever the film, improvisation is a key component, according to Hughes.

“It’s very difficult to play something exactly’’ as composed, he noted.

“You have to build in transitions or bridges from one piece into another.”

His interest initially piqued by a piano teacher — he had fiddled on the keys since age 7, and always liked silent films, particularly “Keystone Kops” shorts — Hughes started looking into the craft 15 years ago after he was laid off from his precision manufacturing job. After some research, he found the book “Motion Picture Moods for Pianists and Organists,” by Erno Rapee, originally published in 1924.

“This is my bible right here,” he said, laying it down on his kitchen table.

On its well-worn and dog-eared pages are more than 50 “moods,” ranging from “sinister’’ to “hunting,” to “aeroplane.”

As he learned to play them, he created his own cue sheets to synch with the onscreen action. He’s also scored original compositions for several Charlie Chaplin shorts, and hones his “moods” and themes on an 1895 Hallet, Davis & Co. grand piano in his living room.

Not surpisingly, he’s particularly fond of Chaplin, “the little tramp” who started in vaudeville, and went on to become one of the most successful and enduring silent film stars.

“He had depth to his character: He was so crass one second, and in the next filled with compassion,” Hughes said. “He was probably the best pantomime comedian who ever lived. He left a huge legacy.”

Buster Keaton , meanwhile, best known for his dangerous stunts, physical comedy, and outrageous sight gags — all endured with his “great stone face” — is another Hughes favorite.

“Even nowadays he’s a real crowd-pleaser,” said Hughes. “People want to laugh.”

Indeed, guffaws and titters rippled across the room as Keaton scaled trucks, plunged through open windows, and sent pursuing cops colliding into one another during a recent screening of 1921’s “The Goat” as part of the annual SpringFest in Stow.

The goofs were followed up by romance: 1927’s “It,” starring feisty Jazz Age bombshell Bow.

“Secretly, I’m in love with Clara Bow,” Hughes told the crowd of several dozen assembled in Stow’s Old Town Hall, describing the movie as “a Cinderella story” and “one of the first chick flicks.”

Based on the book by Elinor Glyn, the film follows Betty Lou (Bow), a shopgirl, and Cyrus Waltham (Antonio Moreno), the owner of the store where she works. The pair fall in love, but a misunderstanding splits them apart — until the end, when they’re back in each other’s arms again.

As popcorn popped, the music flowed with emotions: buoyant and trilly; elegant and elongated; swanky; dreamy; somber.

s he played on a keyboard hooked up to a portable sound system, Hughes tapped his black-and-white wingtips, swayed and bobbed his shoulders.

“It’s just different, something people aren’t used to seeing,” Lewis Halprin, who organized the event through the Stow Lions Club, said after the requisite “The End” filled the screen. “They’re used to full-color 3-D. But you can get a perfectly good experience with black and white, and no sound at all.”

Audience member Bob Walrath recalled how, as a kid, going to the movies was a “regular Saturday afternoon thing.” (For him, the draws were Gene Autry and Roy Rogers.)

It was just part of your normal routine,” he said.

Hughes agreed, noting that what’s been lost in the late 20th and early 21st century is the communal aspect of cinema.

In the beginning, “it was more of an interactive thing, a community thing,” he said.

Ultimately, “silent movies are fun,’’ Hughes added.

“They’re educational. It’s an opportunity to glimpse what life was like back then.”

Ultimately, “silent movies are fun. They’re educational. It’s an opportunity to glimpse what life was like back then.”

© 2012 NY Times Co.