THE PROVIDENCE SUNDAY JOURNAL
July 23,1995
A Rhode Island original
July 23,1995
A Rhode Island original
By Brian C. Jones
Journal-Bulletin Staff Writer
THE CAR WITH DUCT TAPE on one taillight and license tags "U.S. Senate 1"
is bogged down in the perpetual traffic jam that is as much a part of Newport
summer life as elegant mansions and drunk college students.
In the passenger's seat is the thin frame of the senior
senator from Rhode Island, Claiborne Pell, immediate past chairman of the
Foreign Relations Committee, graduate of Princeton, one of the state's
wealthiest men.
His wife, Nuala Pell, is at the wheel of the white Ford Taurus.
Angry dark clouds fill the sky, mimicking a national mood
that lately takes a dark view of public servants like Claiborne Pell, a
cynicism rooted in the reality of headlines announcing the latest breach of
trust, special deal, abuse of privilege.
The grudging pace of Sunday traffic allows a motorist
behind "U.S. Senate 1" to take a closer look.
NEW ENGLAND WINTERS and salt air have not been kind to
this Taurus, a line of midsize cars that the automaker claims has become middle
America's favorite family sedan.
Perhaps the Pell's Taurus, (a rear sticker suggests it was
purchased locally at Newport Ford), has been not
been garaged properly, but parked too often outside their Newport home, a
modest ranch-style affair, nevertheless perched spectacularly on a cliff
overlooking the craggy coastline.
The car's white paint has lost most of its shine.
A big brown rust spot shows through on the left side of
the trunk, and body rot actually has broken through on the side of the car. The
right taillight lens is held on with duct tape - neatly cut and applied - but
duct tape nonetheless.
A lone sign of elegance probably was not added at a Ford factory:
a small, silvery hood ornament shaped like a pelican.
Traffic inches forward. Newporters and tourists jockey for position,
trying to butt a car or two ahead to get to the next light. But not "U.S.
Senate 1," which stoically keeps its place in line.
Finally, the white car turns onto Farewell Street, the aptly named exit from Newport that's
actually named for twin cemeteries on either side, some containing Pell's
Colonial predecessors in public life.
The pace picks up near the Newport Bridge, the often-photographed
but not-so-young four-lane bridge that
stretches more than two miles from Newport to Jamestown.
The bridge has many credits longest suspension bridge in New England is one of them. But
many locals, bored with a view that on the best days includes Block Island to
the south and Providence to the north, have come to regard the bridge mainly as
the only stretch of roadway in congested Newport where it's possible to achieve
speeds of 55, 65, 75, and above.
"U.S. Senate 1" keeps close to the posted 40 mph.
As cars zoom past, few heads turn to look at the man
who has lobbied to protect the ocean beneath the bridge, worried about world
peace protected by the Navy base to the right and who fathered federal stipends
called Pell Grants that likely helped at least some of the motorist pay their
way through college.
PELL'S NAME has been added to something else: this very bridge.
Although colloquially, and on most road signs and maps, it remains the Newport Bridge,
the span was renamed in 1992 at the urging of the senator's friend, Bruce Sundlun,
then governor of Rhode Island.
So on this Sunday afternoon, there is the coincidence of
Claiborne Pell crossing the Claiborne Pell Bridge.
"U.S. Senate 1" starts its descent on the bridge's western slope, a sensation some liken to
being in an airliner making its final approach to a seacoast landing strip.
It also produces in every driver another response - a frantic fishing for
one's wallet, or for regulars, a desperate grubbing through ashtrays, glove
compartments, coffee cup wells, the crack between the seats or
wherever they have stashed tokens still embossed "Newport Bridge."
Whatever name it goes by, the graceful bridge over Narragansett Bay's East Passage still
demands a stiff price: $2 in cash, or $10 for nine tokens, plus that day's trip.
SO FELLOW MOTORISTS ponder this question concerning privilege and power:
f the bridge is named for you, do you still have to pay?
Or, as the talk radio vigilantes might phrase it: Is the fix in at the toll booth?
"U.S. Senate 1" slows, then stops in the middle of the long row of toll bays.
A thin arm stretches from the left window, and sunlight that has finally broken
through the overcast sky, catches the edge of the gold-colored token as it arcs
into the collection basket.
Though many bridge travelers fling their tokens at the baskets
and hardly slow their cars, the Taurus waits for a light to change from red to
green.
And deliberately, "U.S. Senate 1," with its body rot, jury-rigged
taillight and quirky hood ornament, moves forward.
Journal-Bulletin Staff Writer
THE CAR WITH DUCT TAPE on one taillight and license tags "U.S. Senate 1"
is bogged down in the perpetual traffic jam that is as much a part of Newport
summer life as elegant mansions and drunk college students.
In the passenger's seat is the thin frame of the senior
senator from Rhode Island, Claiborne Pell, immediate past chairman of the
Foreign Relations Committee, graduate of Princeton, one of the state's
wealthiest men.
His wife, Nuala Pell, is at the wheel of the white Ford Taurus.
Angry dark clouds fill the sky, mimicking a national mood
that lately takes a dark view of public servants like Claiborne Pell, a
cynicism rooted in the reality of headlines announcing the latest breach of
trust, special deal, abuse of privilege.
The grudging pace of Sunday traffic allows a motorist
behind "U.S. Senate 1" to take a closer look.
NEW ENGLAND WINTERS and salt air have not been kind to
this Taurus, a line of midsize cars that the automaker claims has become middle
America's favorite family sedan.
Perhaps the Pell's Taurus, (a rear sticker suggests it was
purchased locally at Newport Ford), has been not
been garaged properly, but parked too often outside their Newport home, a
modest ranch-style affair, nevertheless perched spectacularly on a cliff
overlooking the craggy coastline.
The car's white paint has lost most of its shine.
A big brown rust spot shows through on the left side of
the trunk, and body rot actually has broken through on the side of the car. The
right taillight lens is held on with duct tape - neatly cut and applied - but
duct tape nonetheless.
A lone sign of elegance probably was not added at a Ford factory:
a small, silvery hood ornament shaped like a pelican.
Traffic inches forward. Newporters and tourists jockey for position,
trying to butt a car or two ahead to get to the next light. But not "U.S.
Senate 1," which stoically keeps its place in line.
Finally, the white car turns onto Farewell Street, the aptly named exit from Newport that's
actually named for twin cemeteries on either side, some containing Pell's
Colonial predecessors in public life.
The pace picks up near the Newport Bridge, the often-photographed
but not-so-young four-lane bridge that
stretches more than two miles from Newport to Jamestown.
The bridge has many credits longest suspension bridge in New England is one of them. But
many locals, bored with a view that on the best days includes Block Island to
the south and Providence to the north, have come to regard the bridge mainly as
the only stretch of roadway in congested Newport where it's possible to achieve
speeds of 55, 65, 75, and above.
"U.S. Senate 1" keeps close to the posted 40 mph.
As cars zoom past, few heads turn to look at the man
who has lobbied to protect the ocean beneath the bridge, worried about world
peace protected by the Navy base to the right and who fathered federal stipends
called Pell Grants that likely helped at least some of the motorist pay their
way through college.
PELL'S NAME has been added to something else: this very bridge.
Although colloquially, and on most road signs and maps, it remains the Newport Bridge,
the span was renamed in 1992 at the urging of the senator's friend, Bruce Sundlun,
then governor of Rhode Island.
So on this Sunday afternoon, there is the coincidence of
Claiborne Pell crossing the Claiborne Pell Bridge.
"U.S. Senate 1" starts its descent on the bridge's western slope, a sensation some liken to
being in an airliner making its final approach to a seacoast landing strip.
It also produces in every driver another response - a frantic fishing for
one's wallet, or for regulars, a desperate grubbing through ashtrays, glove
compartments, coffee cup wells, the crack between the seats or
wherever they have stashed tokens still embossed "Newport Bridge."
Whatever name it goes by, the graceful bridge over Narragansett Bay's East Passage still
demands a stiff price: $2 in cash, or $10 for nine tokens, plus that day's trip.
SO FELLOW MOTORISTS ponder this question concerning privilege and power:
f the bridge is named for you, do you still have to pay?
Or, as the talk radio vigilantes might phrase it: Is the fix in at the toll booth?
"U.S. Senate 1" slows, then stops in the middle of the long row of toll bays.
A thin arm stretches from the left window, and sunlight that has finally broken
through the overcast sky, catches the edge of the gold-colored token as it arcs
into the collection basket.
Though many bridge travelers fling their tokens at the baskets
and hardly slow their cars, the Taurus waits for a light to change from red to
green.
And deliberately, "U.S. Senate 1," with its body rot, jury-rigged
taillight and quirky hood ornament, moves forward.