'Always a song'

DOVER — During a first introduction, Charlie Boyle would quickly decide whether you would be one of his many friends for life.

“He was very good a judging character. He could pick out a phony in five minutes,” said Patrick Boyle, the last surviving member of the seven Boyle siblings.

Charlie Boyle, a Dover legend who died last month after a battle with cancer at the age of 70, wasn't afraid to ask pointed questions to help him decide whether a new person was a keeper.

Ben Baker, one of Boyle’s more recent friends for life, fondly remembers his first interaction with the Garrison City native. Baker was playing with the band Bradigan with Patrick at the Seacoast Irish Festival in 2010 at Henry Law Park. Afterward, Patrick told him, “It’s time for you to go see Charlie and the greenhouse,” recalled Baker, the owner of Rochester-based C.B. Gitty, which is known for its cigar box guitars.

The greenhouse is a place of lore for those who know about it. To be friends for life with Charlie Boyle meant that you were always welcome to stop by the greenhouse at the Boyles' small family farm on Boyle Street on the outskirts of downtown Dover. The family had been raising and slaughtering livestock on the property for decades, so long that according to a 2001 Dover/Rochester Times article, that Charlie Boyle “was the only resident of Dover who (could) legally slaughter livestock within city limits” because he was grandfathered in.   

The greenhouse is where you’d usually find Charlie for nearly the past 30 years, growing his legendary tomatoes, singing songs, drinking beer, pouring shots of whiskey, watching the Red Sox and partaking in whatever merriment arose.  

“The greenhouse was a great gathering place of music, fun and diversion,” said Patrick who grew up at the house and now lives in Somersworth.

During his first 2010 visit, Baker was invited to sing a song and thought he knew all the lyrics. But when he started singing the second verse, Baker could see that Charlie Boyle was upset.

“This song has a chorus, and if you’re not going to sing the chorus, you can get out,” Baker remembers Boyle telling him sternly. “He certainly had some strong views on the proper way of doing things, and he wasn’t afraid to voice it.” Thinking quickly, Baker asked Boyle to teach him the missing lyrics, and their friendship was born. “He had the ability to read people rather quickly, and he wouldn’t waste his time on fools,” Baker said.

Unfortunately, Charlie didn’t get to spend his last days at the greenhouse. Instead, he was in the hospital where he limped along. Baker was there two days before he passed and sang Charlie a song with other friends, and he could see the mischievous twinkle in Charlie’s eyes.

Charlie died around 11:30 a.m. on July 11. Patrick was taking off from an airport in Ireland at the same time, and he didn’t find out about his brother’s death until he reached the States. “Charlie and I were leaving the earth at the same time but heading to different destinations,” Patrick said.

While Charlie Boyle is gone in body, he remains in spirit. As news of his passing spread on July 11, some 40 people spontaneously stopped by the greenhouse as they had before. Many brought the greenhouse’s unofficial cover charge: a 12-pack of Budweiser. Some brought instruments. They sang songs, traded stories, laughed and cried. “It was certainly a tribute for Charlie for all the great gatherings he’s had,” said Doug Steele, who was invited to the greenhouse by another friend some 20 years ago. That first day, Charlie said to Steele, “‘Doug, come back here whenever you want,’” he recalled. “And I went back almost every day since.”

Born Charles K. Boyle in February 1949, Charlie was the youngest of seven his immigrant parents. His Irish father and Scottish mother met at 17 years old while working in the Pacific Mills in Dover. From their early years, the Boyle kids were steeped in Irish music.

“Once or twice a month we would have gatherings down at the family house, and people would come from all around to do the Irish step dancing, playing Irish music, singing Irish songs. So we grew up in the Irish culture and music,” said Patrick, who learned to play the bagpipes and sing like their father. Charlie learned singing and the love of gardening from this father.

Jack Rowland, who remained good friends with Charlie since they met when they were 10 years old, said Charlie taught him at least 50 Irish songs before launching into one during a recent phone interview. “Wherever we went, there was always a song,” Rowland said.

Charlie Boyle worked several different jobs through his life, from roofing, to plowing roads, to distributing beer. In his early years, he could often be found at local bars. Stan’s Café beer joint, where he worked as a bartender, was his favorite haunt. He also spent many years farming. John Sillietta, who knew Charlie since childhood, would help Charlie in the 1980s and 1990s as Charlie farmed a couple of acres on Middle Road. “He specialized in tomatoes, but he grew everything,” Sillietta said. Charlie would sell his goods to local stores like Janetos Superette, Tuttle’s Farm and Handy Hardware. On the good years, he’d sell 200-300 pounds of tomatoes a day during harvest season, Sillietta said.

Charlie returned to the family home to care for his ailing parents. His father died in 1986 and his mother in 1991. “Charlie used to go carouse the streets of Dover and different pubs. After our parents passed, he decided it would be better for him to stay home and let people come to him, and they did,” Patrick said. “Whether they were one, two or many, they were all welcome at the greenhouse.”

Holidays were festive days at the greenhouse, such as St. Patrick’s Day. Red Sox opening day was another one. A lifelong Boston sports fan, one of his nicknames was “Two Ticket Charlie” for his antics at Fenway Park, where he was known to come with at least two tickets. “(Charlie) was one of these agitators in the stands, and he was loud and boisterous, and they’d thrown him out,” Patrick said. “So he would take another ticket and go around the building and take another seat.”

Patrick said his brother could get under the skin of the opposing players, and legend has it that one time when then future Hall of Fame right fielder Dave Winfield came to Fenway as a Yankee, Boyle annoyed him so much that he tried to go into the stands after Charlie.

Another story goes at a Celtics game, Charlie was heckling an opposing player. “Some kid yelled, ‘Dad, that’s him. That’s the guy from Fenway Park,’” Patrick recalled. “There are so many Charlie Boyle stories, honest to god.”

Most of the stories revolve around Charlie’s kindness. “He would do just about anything for anybody. He didn’t have a lot to share, but he would share whatever he had,” said longtime friend Tom Duffy. “He’s the salt of the earth. In my eyes, one of the richest guys I ever met.”

Charlie didn’t have a lot of rules other than he was going to live his life the way he wanted to. He lived his life offline, and other than the mail, his landline phone was his only connection to the outside world. Baker said there were a few unwritten rules at the greenhouse, but the only written one was the one by the phone. “Don’t answer the phone.”

“Don’t even tell Charlie what the caller ID said,” Baker said. “You just pretend it’s not there and isn’t ringing. It was just off-limits. People got banned for not obeying that rule.”

Among the unwritten rules was no talking about politics or business. People would stop in, perhaps for 15 minutes or an hour and then move on. “And someone else would stop by. Always a constant flow of people,” Duffy said.

Charlie’s funeral service will be held at 11 a.m. Aug. 24 at St. Joseph’s Church on Central Avenue in Dover with a graveside service following the Mass.

“And then it’s back to the (Dover) Elks Lodge for music fun and diversion,” Patrick said.