Eddie Beasley’s Stand on Pine Street: A Quiet Push for Change

Eddie Beasley was there the night Pine Street burned. A sensible ten-year-old, he ran home at the first sound of gunfire near the start of the uprising, and it was only the next morning, when he returned to the smoldering scene, that the true extent of the damage etched a lasting memory in his mind.

On that night, civil rights leader H. Rap Brown gave an impassioned speech at Pine and Cedar streets, which led to the shots, chaos, and the fire of mysterious origin and ambiguous response. That night – July 24, 1967 – was a symbolic turning point, but the lasting blow to the community was the earlier closing of the Phillips Packing Company. Later attempts to revive the neighborhood over the years have all sputtered.

Sixty years later, Beasley, a lifelong Cambridge resident, still recalls the vibrant neighborhood of his youth, with its hotel, bar, shops, drugstore, cleaners, restaurant, and pool rooms.

“It was all here,” he said. “Then it was gone.”

Now retired after decades as a regional sales representative for Lance foods, Beasley could enjoy a leisurely life with his extended family. Instead, six days a week, he stands behind the counter of Pine Street Community Market, determined to breathe life back into a street that never fully recovered.

Though modest, the market reflects his resolve to rebuild a piece of his community’s past. In 2015, Beasley began planning the market, sparked by community conversations.

“People kept saying, ‘It would be great if there was a store up here,’” he recalled. “One that sells snacks, ice cream, and things for kids. I thought they were right.”

He found four contiguous vacant lots for sale and purchased them for $500 each. With the assistance of city grants and advice from the Small Business Development Center, plans to build a new store from the ground up were hatched.

But the COVID-19 pandemic forced him to downsize the project, scrapping plans for two rental units above the store that would have provided critical financial stability during the inevitable lean early years.

Later setbacks have been relentless. Coca-Cola removed its coolers when receipts fell short of monthly minimums; cold drinks now sit in a portable Igloo cooler. Two ice cream machines failed: one was unable to keep the ice cream cold, while the other froze it solid. Their connective hoses still protrude from the bare wall.

The store offers chips, sodas, canned goods, lunch meats, and cheeses, but shelves are sparse, and a neon sign announcing the store’s presence remains unlit and uninstalled. Beasley runs the market mostly alone, with his daughter covering some shifts and his son-in-law, a military retiree, handling heavier tasks. He closes at 4 p.m. to avoid adding payroll for evening hours.

“It’s been slow,” he admitted, “but we keep going.”

Pine Street’s history fuels Beasley’s persistence. As a boy, he cherished Saturday nights, youth dances at the Elks (where he’s been a member since 1979 and served as treasurer until 2012), and the bustle of people.

Today, he serves on the boards of the local YMCA and Habitat for Humanity, which has rebuilt 14 houses in the neighborhood for homeownership.  He is hopeful the residents of these new homes will ultimately become customers.

“If you own your place, you take care of it,” Beasley said. “That makes a difference.”

The market is Beasley’s heartfelt attempt to revive that community spirit, though its impact remains limited. Its kitchen produces popular home-cooked meals, but regulations require a public bathroom for on-site dining, despite ample space and a shaded patio. Beasley initially opted for an office instead of a bathroom, but now considers converting it to accommodate tables for community meetings, perhaps with Habitat or the Chamber of Commerce.

“It could be a place where people come together,” he said.

He’s working to accept SNAP to attract more customers and manages a lottery machine, noting, “People play numbers every day.” These additions could make the store a hub, but for now it remains a quiet operation, open Monday through Saturday. Friends often thank Beasley for his effort and promise to visit, but few do.

“A lot of people live nearby, but they don’t come up here,” he said. He hopes new Habitat homeowners will become regular customers, taking pride in their properties and the street.

Pine Street may never reclaim its past glory, but Beasley will never forget what it once was.

“If one business makes it, maybe another comes,” he said. “That’s how it starts.”

City officials support his efforts, and Beasley presses forward, driven by memories of a street alive with possibility. His market is a quiet challenge to the community: shop for a soda or sandwich, support the store, and help spark change, one customer at a time.