R.I.P. BRIGHAM'S

News of the demise of Brigham’s, a Massachusetts chain eatery best known for ice cream treats, burgers, BLTs and fries came to me via a Facebook post earlier this week. For my FBF, Mary Wynne-Wynter, the loss of Brigham’s evoked an even sadder memory, the closing of Bailey’s.

A Boston institution, Bailey’s was a chain of ice cream parlors with dark wood paneled walls and hot fudge or butterscotch sundaes served in silver dishes. One of Mary’s FBF's commented that an important ritual of childhood shopping trips with mom was a stop at the Brigham’s in Downtown Crossing.

Yesterday’s Boston Globe captured the human impact of Brigham’s filing for bankruptcy after having been scooped up by a private equity investor. Focusing on the Brigham’s in Arlington, one of the last to survive, the story captured the pain inflicted on minimum wage workers blindsided by the loss of their jobs during a horrendous economic downturn. One server felt especially sad that she never had a chance to say goodbye to her regulars, including a blind woman who depended on the server to read her mail to her.

I got takeout cups of ice cream at the Brigham’s in Arlington on just one or two occasions, if only because it was part of a tiny strip mall adjacent to the parking lot for my dentist. Ice cream is my preferred anti-anxiety balm before dental visits. A few years ago, amid a scare for some sort of food-born illness, the Globe reported on restaurants with one or more infected kitchen workers. After seeing that particular Brigham’s on the list, I never returned.

Besides, for a while Arlington had a JP Licks, a much newer, better Boston ice cream chain. And let’s be clear about one thing: Brigham’s was never a destination ice cream vendor, but more the default when I was famished and couldn’t really decide what I wanted to eat. If you’re not from Massachusetts, the closest comparison I can offer is Friendly’s. Dennis has dubbed the chain Fiendly’s for its blah, tide-me-over offerings when there’s absolutely nothing else in sight.

Still I’ve lived in Boston long enough to have some fond memories of Brigham’s. When I first began working for a non-profit on Beacon Hill, I used to enjoy walking down to the Financial District with a friend and colleague named Barbara Powers. Sitting in a booth with red vinyl upholstered benches, we enjoyed gossip, overcooked burgers, and fries nearly every day at the Brigham’s on Congress Street.

My eating habits have changed with my metabolism, and I now dine most days at a vegetarian restaurant with absolute black granite tables and a skylight. Though the salads and whole wheat wraps help keep me trim, they lack the comfort of the junk I enjoyed at Brigham’s.