New London: Hidden Gem or Minefield?

It’s like one bad thing happens here and then we need ten good things to cancel it out.

New London bar owner

It was just last week, while grabbing a late lunch at one of downtown New London’s numerous drinking establishments, that I heard these rather poignant words spoken.  Perhaps not surprisingly, they were uttered by the establishment’s owner – an assiduous but ever-calm individual with whom I became acquainted this past summer (but more on that later).

Although this friendship has since resulted in numerous conversations regarding bar ownership in New London, the above comment – directed at a passerby waiting for her train over a Long Trail – stands out in its frankness.  Yes, it is true: “bad things” happen in New London.  The city is not completely free of danger.  It is also true, however, that many “good things” can be found in the city – festivals, historical sites and local businesses (not to mention people), which, regrettably, most Conn students never experience.

What makes us hesitant to enter downtown New London? A host of answers could address this question— a lack of transportation, a lack of time, a lack of travel companions— but somewhere in such a list would invariably be the fear that something “bad” will occur.  Also present would be the claim that New London simply has nothing “good” to offer. I believe that these two perceptions, the latter in particular, have stood in the way of a more prosperous relationship between New London and Conn.

Before moving any further, however, it seems appropriate that I explain my investment – both academic and personal – in the city of New London.  For well over a year now, I have been conducting anthropological research largely centered, through one lens or another, on New London’s highly intriguing bar scene.  This research began at the tail end of my sophomore year, when I became involved with a decidedly unusual project seeking to discover relationships between cigarette smoking and social group identity.

As a student in Professor Anthony Graesch’s Urban Ethnoarchaeology class, I was responsible for collecting all of the cigarette filters discarded outside of a New London bar (each student was assigned a different establishment — mine was Frank’s Place) and classifying every specimen in this rather stomach-turning data set by both brand and type, from Marlboro Reds to Camel Blues. The purpose of the exercise was to discern whether or not variability in social groupings on the urban landscape is visible in assemblages of cigarette refuse. For example, do patrons of Oasis Pub, which attracts a relatively “hipster” crowd, smoke largely the same types of cigarettes as patrons of other “hipster bars”?  If not, why is this, and what does it say about the relationship between cigarette smoking and identity?  Can we — as archaeologists have long held — really discern behavior and, by extension, culture from the material record of human beings?

These questions registered quite deeply with me, despite the less-than appetizing data set required to answer them.  I signed on to serve as a research assistant for Professor Graesch during the fall of my junior year (a position that involved further collecting and classifying), and then proceeded to assist another section of Urban Ethnoarchaeology that following spring by virtue of an individual study.  During this time, I received a CONNSSHARP grant, which enabled me to stay on campus over the summer and continue conducting research with Professor Graesch.

Having turned 21 in May, I was now able to begin conducting ethnographic fieldwork in each of the 22 establishments from which we had been collecting cigarette refuse.  By bouncing between these establishments at different times of day and during different days of the week, I had the pleasure of meeting eight bar owners as well as numerous staff members and patrons.  Each shared his/her own stories of New London’s past, opinions on the city’s current state and forecasts for its future.

It was while conducting this fieldwork that I also began to consistently notice feelings of solidarity exhibited by individuals within certain establishments.  I wondered about the extent to which a bar could be considered a “community” (as anthropological scholarship defines the term), and soon elected to base my honors thesis— which explores New London bars entirely from an ethnographic perspective— on this ambiguity.

Now let’s return to the question of what students might find in New London.  Admittedly, much of my own attachment to this city evades concise explanation.  The friendships that I’ve made and continue to strengthen, the countless anecdotes which, time and time again have forced me to reconsider elements of my own life, and the satisfaction that comes with an emergent sense of belonging are well beyond my descriptive abilities.

But I am not so much writing this article to encourage students to visit New London bars — though I would certainly like to see more of this— as I am because I feel that my research demonstrates an important reality: it is entirely possible to pursue academic projects in New London that are just as instructive and engaging as work based on semesters or summers spent off campus.

Certainly, study abroad programs consistently afford students incredible opportunities, but the idea that one  has to travel across several oceans to have a meaningful “cultural” experience— an idea prevalent on college campuses across the country—is misguided.  Within every human society on this planet exist complex, dynamic and endlessly fascinating patterns of behavior.

There are also practical advantages to doing work close to one’s school.  It is only by centering our research in New London that Professor Graesch and I have been able to collect such a comprehensive data sample (both in terms of material culture and field-notes) over the course of several years.  The proximity of downtown New London to campus has also been of immense help to my thesis.  Rather than being forced to diligently scan and rescan old field notes, relying entirely on mentally reconstructed events as material for my analysis, I can return to “the field” whenever I wish.  Although I had the opportunity to conduct considerable ethnographic fieldwork over the summer, the most important data sample for my thesis —interviews with bar owners — has yet to be collected.

Perhaps the most important lesson drawn from the studies that Professor Graesch and I are currently conducting is that the most fruitful research projects are rarely the most obvious.  Who would have thought to study cigarette butts, or even bars for that matter?  Places like New London are ripe with opportunity for scholarly research, but it will take some deliberation on the part of students to develop project designs centered on the city.

Finally, is New London dangerous?  In response to this question I must tread carefully.  Crimes are committed in New London, and I have heard several accounts of students finding themselves in unnerving positions while downtown.  Out of respect to those individuals who have been affected by various forms of transgression in the city, I will make no attempt to downplay the severity of these incidents.  That being said, I can assert with considerable confidence that such incidents are quite rare. I walk to Bank St. from campus at least twice a week and have never felt threatened in any regard.  During my summer fieldwork, it was exceedingly rare to see patrons grow antagonistic toward one another.  I have never witnessed a mugging, stabbing or shooting in New London.  Again, I do not mean to imply that the city never experiences violence, only that the frequency with which this violence occurs is considerably lower than many Conn students — as I have learned over the years— believe it to be.

To write off New London as a hotbed for arbitrary hostility is not only erroneous but also disrespectful to the individuals who live and work in this area.  It is imperative, I feel, that the culture of our campus begins to discourage such misconceptions by granting students greater exposure to the city in which, technically, we all live.  Bad news spreads more readily than good news and, as evident in the quotation with which this article begins, New London is not exempt from this trend.  Only by actually visiting New London can one begin to develop an accurate view of the city.  If the first experiences that students have in New London occur with a large group of friends, or, even more helpfully, professors, greater levels of familiarity and comfort with the city will become more common on campus.

In subsequent issues of The College Voice, I will be profiling some of the bars in New London that I find most interesting.  If you are an avid bar-hopper, or simply would like to get to know New London more intimately, my column will hopefully provide useful overview.  If you care little for bars, you may still find the column a valuable source of context for your curiosity in other facets of the city.  I hope that by making my investment in New London public, I may encourage other students to improve their own relations with this intriguing and so often overlooked place that, for four years, we may call home.