Article January 27, 2003 Issue

A friend of the Back Bay

Text and Photographs by Kim Shippey Senior Writer

ONE OF the tallest, straightest young maples on the mall at the heart of Commonwealth Avenue, in Boston, stands in the block between Gloucester and Fairfield Streets. For several weeks last fall, it was as gold as the sunlight it embraced in its slim, adolescent arms. It's now big enough for squirrels to play in, and seems happy among the gracious Victorian homes that Jim once cleaned with strong arms and unfailing good humor.

A small bronze plaque at the foot of the tree bears an inscription that tells the world who Jim was: "A friend of the Back Bay. James L. Hinton." There's certainly not space to record the names of the dozens of grateful friends who gathered on the mall one raw winter afternoon two years ago to plant a tree in his memory.

We smiled at the thought that the harsh weather that afternoon wouldn't even have been noticed by Jim. He did a lot of work outdoors in the front gardens of these elegant brownstones. When passers-by-talked apprehensively about foreboding weather and the impossibility of getting good yardwork done, Jim would look them in the eyes, grin broadly, and say softly through his beard, "Those are man's words, not God's words."

Send a comment to the editors

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE

Article

Thank you, Lord, for healing me