An Charlie's Sandwich Shoppe - A Historic Breakfast Joint I've Historically Passed On

Since I moved to Boston in 2001, I’ve walked or ridden by Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe on Columbus St. almost every weekday. Over ten years, 300+ times a year, I’ve thought “what a cool sign. I should really stop there some time for breakfast.” Usually, this occurs to me on my way home from work, when I’m in no mood for sandwiches or eggs and they’re not open anyways.

I’d have been inside without issue back in the 1960s, when Charlie’s was a 24-hour hotspot for black jazz musicians (who I imagine played at places like Wally’s on Mass Ave.) and late-nighters. These days though, their hours are limited to mornings and early afternoons.

The trend of “should have, didn’t” ended one morning last week when I went for a ride before work. Riding by that classically designed sign reminiscent of Cheers, but more authentic, I made a U-turn and locked my bike up on a fence next to some renovated tenement-houses-turned-luxury-condos and went in.

I was greeted at the door by a college-aged man who informed me I could sit anywhere. The options were a long counter with diner stools that may have inspired a scene or two in Grease, or a variety of small table scattered throughout a small space. I scanned the room – a couple of elderly men chatted over coffee and eggs at one table. A family on vacation chatted at another over plates of everything. Two college kids sat at the counter. I opted to join them, taking up the second-to-last stool from the entrance to the very visible kitchen. A pretty but plain blonde girl who couldn’t have been more than eighteen asked if I wanted coffee and gave me a menu. I told her I did, and continued scanning the room. I spied a number of tacky but appropriate signs, a woman who seemed to be in charge scanning over the whole place but not really seeming to be doing anything, and an older man cooking over four different pans. Above his head, directly in front of me, was the same menu I was looking at written out on a whiteboard.

A Tale of Two Ladies: Part I – The Christian Science Center

For this excursion, I planned on hitting the life’s work of two prominent women of the late 19^th-early 20^th century: Mary Baker Eddy and Isabella Stewart Gardner. Eddy’s Christian Science Center, which is comprised of a reflecting pool, the Christian Science “Mother Church,” and a Library holding the Hall of Ideas and the Mapparium was to be the day’s first stop.

Riding there on a bike from Roslindale, I looked forward to a day mostly in doors, as the sky revealed all the colors of dirty snow and was spitting at me unmercifully.

On arrival, I entered the Mary Baker Eddy Library and I was greeted by a very plainly dressed, attractive, pleasant, and direct woman. I told her I’d like to go to the Mapparium, and she sold me a $6 ticket to go inside. I needed to check my bag quickly, as the tour started in less than a minute.

The Mapparium

Following my bag check, I walked into the “Hall of Ideas,” where I was instructed to wait. There was a video introduction of Mary Baker Eddy just ending as I walked in, and our guide – an equally plainly dressed, attractive, pleasant, and direct person – instructed me and a couple from New York to follow him.

I was surprised and pleased to be in such a small group as I followed the young man. At the doors of the Mapparium, he gave a brief overview of what we were about to see and what the format would be like. He introduced the architect of the Mapparium, a man named Chester Lindsay Churchill, and explained that the map might look a bit strange because it was the borders of a world that no longer existed – that of 1935.