From “The Owl House” LGBT breakthrough to Ernest Borgnine’s “Marty,” and more, Hamden’s rich roots are evident.
After I watched NBC’s telecast of the triumph of 400-meter whiz Alexis Holmes in an Olympic relay race — she ran the anchor leg — I wondered about other Hamden natives who have achieved gold, some well-known, and others who triumphed with much less fanfare.
By gold, in this case, I’m meandering outside of the Olympic stadia to locate a roster of the children of Hamden who rose to the top of their professions. Here are just four of many, though none, as far as I know, could survive a marathon. Certainly not the first one on my list.
The name Ermes Effron Borgnino wouldn’t have made it in Hollywood, unless it was changed to Ernest Borgnine, who first saw the light of day in Hamden in 1917, and who, years later after a family move, graduated from New Haven’s James Hillhouse High School.
The name change, of course, was a key, but nothing could change his gruff looks and gap-toothed smile. Even so, it was the sort of face, and his ability at acting both the ruffian, including in the 1955 “Marty,” which won him the Oscar for best performance in a leading role.
I remember that quiet masterpiece as metaphor, a film that argued that everyone has a right to happiness, but must recognize the opportunity, and be brave.
If you’ve been a fan of the Disney Channel, or you have cartoon fans in your house, you likely know the characters Luz Noceda and Amity Blight of “The Owl House.” But you may not know that their creator, Dana Terrace, had to throw a fit to get the show that features LGBTQ+ storylines produced. She told Vanity Fair in 2021 that she was not allowed to “have any kind of gay storyline among the main characters.”
In response, Terrace said, “I let myself get mad, to absolutely blow up, and storm out of the room. Life is short and I don’t have time for cowardice, I was ready to move on to greener pastures if need be.” Happily, she didn’t have to. And “The Owl House” was acclaimed by critics, and its creator won a Peabody Award for “giving queer kids a welcome template.”
Those of you who root for the Boston Red Sox, and I’ve heard there are many out there who do, will know the name of Joe Castiglione, who broadcasted the team’s televised games for three decades.
He was the guy who officially announced in 2004 that the Sox, by their clutch performance in the World Series, had erased, finally, the Curse of the Bambino. But what had he done in previous engagement? He announced games for what previously had been his favorite team, the Cleveland Indians. And what curse did he end for the team I lovingly call the Tribe? (A franchise, now referred to as the Guardians, and, as I often argue, the only Major League team that plays on Connecticut land – the state’s old Western Reserve, and is therefore our real “home team.” You could look it up.)
I saw the late Donald Hall last at the Sunken Garden Poetry Festival in Farmington, many years ago. He had been asked for the second time to appear there, and drew an estimated 2,500 attendees, which remains something of a record for Connecticut poetry readings. Indeed, the New York Times headline included the phrase, “poetry traffic jam.”
The former U.S. Poet Laureate read that night, just months after the death of his wife, Jane Kenyon, one of her poems, “Otherwise.” He did so while wiping tears away.
I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.
Ah, there are so many Hamden natives I could name here, including those who made advances in medicine, in science, in art, in criminal justice reform, and who served bravely and selflessly on the battlefield; thank you, Willis H. Downs, for your courage as a soldier in 1899, when, with no regard for your personal safety, you took on the enemy’s overwhelming numbers in the Philippine Islands, and earned the Congressional Medal of Honor.
I could even expand the roster to those who, though not born in that fair town, have called it home. Thornton Wilder, for example, who wrote “Our Town,” the quintessential American play still performed regularly, and so much more, including the “The Matchmaker,” that became the basis for the Broadway musical, “Hello, Dolly.”
In any case, we are blessed to live these days amid lots of gold.
Editor’s Note: Lary Bloom’s recent book of local tales, “I’ll Take New Haven,” has been reprinted, and is available at Atticus Market.