17 - Microfiche/Microfilm

Thursday, June 9

Thursday morning Gary put the sports pages together so I could devote myself to finishing the pull-out section for Men’s Softball.

Got to spend the morning doing my favorite activity—writing stories.

Nine years ago, when tackling my first men’s softball tab section for Maude, I began what’s now called the Family Threads series.

For this year’s rendition, I’d sniffed out a couple options before my reconnoiter through Larson Park on Opening Night.

Found that the team sponsored by the Home Run House had a trio of cousins on the roster, all named Dan, all named after their grandfather, who had had daughters, thankfully. (They each took different married names, which made it a lot easier to write the story.)

I talked with the threesome and their teammates at the uber-relaxed atmosphere of the Park and finished with a nice batch of humorous anecdotes of people calling out for Dan at games and practices and family gatherings.

Took me less than an hour to crank out 30 inches for that story.

Next, I wrote a feel-good piece about the team sponsored by the Worthboro Fire Department that featured a dad playing alongside his two, 20-something sons.

That worked out to 22 inches and my story obligations for the tab were finished.

After dashing home for lunch, I returned to the newsroom to start work on the retrospective.

Had come up with a list of questions to share amongst each player.

These were fluff interviews, easily handled over the phone; though, for the Little Big Men who attended the party where Maria was killed—specifically Matt, Jonny, Vincent, Tom and Randy—I planned on using the retrospective as an excuse for face to face interviews.

After a few phone calls for the retrospective, I ran another fruitless spin through the west end; Matt remaining incognito.

What to do?

My Dad always said to try and maintain a healthy balance between the integrity of my opinion and getting along with others.

You’ll be best off if you can figure out how to do both, he told me.

Besides, collective reasoning makes for better decisions.

Generally.

And right now the collective had asked: how did Franklin O’Connor end up in Bristol County representing Matt in the first place?

Something about the man made me nervous as hell and I loathed the thought of actually speaking to him. (Yes, I’ve always been a woos, despite my height.)

But, according to both Marc and Chip, the attorney was holed up in his Boston office, which might as well be a fortress.

There were still a couple of hours before festivities at Buckley Park that evening and I went out of the building and crossed Main Street to walk across the common to the library.

The Worthboro Library was constructed in 1901, simple in design, but with a hint of majesty in execution.

Built of brick and neo-classical in inspiration, it reminds me of Monticello (I went there with my Dad while on vacation in the fifth grade).

The entry to the library’s main room is open to the original atrium, maybe not the best use of floor space, but it does provide a bit of grandeur. Located centrally on the first floor are the author and card catalogs, which at mid-afternoon, were spotlighted by shafts of sunlight streaming from above.

I spent some time thumbing through each set of catalogs, but found nothing about or by anyone named Franklin O’Connor.

Headed to the back of the library where an addition was built onto the original structure, including an alcove with an index catalog for a spiral of local newspapers in the region.

Quickly found a series of references to a Franklin O’Connor, from 1967-69.

Most of the hits were from the New Bedford Times and Brockton Herald and I slipped into another side room where I tracked down the appropriate years of the newspapers.

Found the Times on microfiche, the Herald on microfilm.  

Loaded the 1969 Times microfiche and hit paydirt.

Stories for Franklin O’Connor were in the sports sections. Apparently, he was a star athlete, but there weren’t any pictures, so I couldn’t confirm that it was the lawyer.

Got a bit carried away at the marvel of being able to stop and scan so quickly through the layout designs of 25 years ago.

Next, I tried the microfilm from the Brockton paper.

I’m an old hand with the rotation and zooming gears and blurred along until finding articles for the fall of 1969.

There was a nice feature about Franklin O’Connor who, as a senior, was named to Parade Magazine’s All-American High School Football Team, at offensive line.

A rather flashy quote from his coach went: “Franklin O’Connor is a truly great, student athlete. Tough and hard working. He epitomizes the Brockton mold, the same mold that produced our city’s most famous sports hero—unbeaten, heavyweight champion of the world, Rocky Marciano.”

Best of all, there was a headshot.

And it was him: Franklin O’Connor. More youthful, but definitely the attorney representing Matt. Just as I had the other morning in Jimmy’s office, there was a moment of deja vu.

Said out loud, “Where have I seen you before, Mr. Franklin?”

Wracked my memory, but unfortunately (or maybe fortunately?) I can’t do the eidetic thing and could only hope it would come to me later.