Victor Curran

One autumn day in Monument Square, a visitor asked me about Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. “Is that the one in The Legend of Sleepy Hollow?” he wanted to know.

“No, that one is in New York,” I smiled. (I hear that question a lot.) “There’s no headless horseman here.”

“Then who’s that?” he asked, pointing over my shoulder. I spun around to see a figure all in black, strumming a black guitar as he cruised through the roundabout on his bicycle. But the weirdest part was, his head was conspicuously absent.

Concord’s cycling minstrel goes by the name of Slam Dunkle, and he’s irresistibly drawn to novel ideas and opportunities. A couple of years ago, he spotted a broken guitar in a trash barrel, put it back together, and painted it black. Then he painted his beach cruiser bicycle black to match. He found a bargain-priced headless horseman outfit in a costume shop, and voilà, the headless horseman materialized.

It was April 1900, and the First Parish in Concord was putting the finishing touches on a splendid renovation of its historic meetinghouse on Lexington Road. No expense had been spared, for in a few days the parish would celebrate Easter Sunday, and less than a week later, the town would gather in its pews to honor the 125th anniversary of the minutemen’s victory at the North Bridge.

“Is not all the summer akin to a paradise?” wrote Henry David Thoreau in 1852. This summer seems especially heavenly as we start to travel and enjoy social activities safely again. Concord has much to offer literary pilgrims, Revolutionary War buffs, and nature lovers from near and far. 

The people of Massachusetts were slow to anger, but when they got mad, there was hell to pay. They protested the Stamp Act in 1765, but they remained British subjects. They denounced the killing of five civilians in the Boston Massacre in 1770, but they didn’t strike back against the soldiers who patrolled their streets. 

What finally provoked them to take up arms was a play by the English government to disenfranchise them—in effect, to suppress their voting rights. The Massachusetts Government Act, passed by the British Parliament in May 1774, was the most intolerable of the so-called Intolerable Acts.

In the early spring of 1862, as the first buds began to appear, two men made their way along Main Street. Concord knew this pair well; over the last twenty years, these “knights of the umbrella and bundle”¹ had rambled together from the Walden Woods to Montreal, from Cape Cod to the Catskills.  

Henry Thoreau had been the more vigorous of the two, but today the poet Ellery Channing offered Henry an arm to lean on as he paused to catch his breath. His tuberculosis was growing worse, and his faithful friend Ellery had come to walk this familiar path with him for what might be the last time. 

The Marquis de Lafayette visited Portland, Maine during a grand tour of the United States in 1825. When Mary Moody Emerson—fifty years old at the time—was introduced to the aging hero of the American Revolution, she told him she was “‘in arms’ at the Concord Fight.”¹ 

It was a joke, but as always, her wit had an edge of truth. She was indeed present for the “shot heard ’round the world,” but the “arms” she was in were her those of her mother, clutching eight-month-old Mary as the battle raged 150 yards from her window at the Old Manse.

You see the names all over town: Musketaquid, Nashawtuc, Nashoba, Squaw Sachem. These words invite us to learn the stories of the people who lived in this place for thousands of years before English settlers arrived.

The English named this place Concord in 1635, but it had long been known by the region’s first peoples as Musketaquid. In the Algonquian language, the name means “grassy river” or “grassy island,” and the Sudbury, Assabet, and Concord Rivers have always been the lifeblood of the land. As Lemuel Shattuck recounts in his 1835 History of Concord, the local people lived “[by] planting, hunting, or fishing . . . and few places produced a supply more easily than Musketaquid.” ¹

Travel books love to include tips on how to experience a place “like a local.” But if you’re lucky enough to be a local, how often do you actually experience the fun that’s right in front of you? 

When family or friends come from out of town, we show them the North Bridge, Author’s Ridge, and Walden Pond. We take them to our favorite restaurants and shops, and maybe go canoeing on the river. But why wait for visitors? Even if you’re a townie, Concord’s Visitor Center might surprise you with some of the experiences you can enjoy here.

A week before Thanksgiving 1917, the Concord Enterprise printed a letter from a young Maynard man named Hugh Connors. The United States had entered the First World War seven months earlier, and Connors had shipped out with New England Sawmill Unit No. 3, a team of American lumbermen stationed in Scotland.¹ “I am writing this letter in bed,” he wrote, “as I have been laid up for a week with the grippe. Over here they call it influenza,” he added, as if translating a foreign word. “I am not at the hospital, but have engaged a room about five minutes’ ride by bicycle, from our camp.”²

Concord is a favorite destination for visitors from all over the world: literary pilgrims, Revolutionary War buffs, and nature lovers crowd our streets all summer long, right through foliage season. 

But in 2020, many travelers want to steer clear of crowds, so we Concord-area residents have the place pretty much to ourselves. There was never a better time to enjoy the local attractions. In the words of our favorite townie,¹ Henry David Thoreau, “It is worth the while to see your native village . . . as if you were a traveler passing through it.”² The summer has brought ideal weather for fresh-air fun, and outdoor spaces are now welcoming visitors.