The Boston Globe from Boston, Massachusetts • 17

THE BOSTON GLOBE MONDAY. NOVEMBER 26. 1984 17 Arts Films 23 Comics 26-27 Living 20 TV Radio 25 i All seats taken for airline's return MIKE DARNICLE -1 A. W4 XT -9 all re Wry VfL it 9 By Sarah Snyder Globe Staff Don Siwek of Peabody didn't worry at Logan Airport yesterday seeing his mother off to Martha's Vineyard on Province-town-Boston Airlines (PBA.) It was PBA's first day of flying since being grounded two weeks ago for safety violations. "I never did really hear what the safety violations were." said Siwek.

"I was not impressed by any threat of impending disaster." Because of passengers who shared that view, and others who said they'd never had trouble with PBA, the airline enjoyed a crush of solidly booked flights in New England and Florida yesterday. All 20 flights from the Cape and Islands to New York were sold out, and 24 of 30 flights from Nantucket, Martha's Vineyard and Hyannis to Boston were completely booked. It was also the last day of the busiest weekend of the year in the nation for air travel. Blue balloons in Barnstable Municipal Airport at Hyannis and Christmas cookies at Logan greeted PBA passengers, who seemed relieved that what one of them called the "Yellow Cab" of commuter airlines was back in service. William Deeble, a high school history teacher from Alexandria, reported a "very good" and uneventful flight from Martha's Vineyard.

"I don't think the FAA would let them fly if everything wasn't in order," he said. On the 10:45 a.m. flight from Boston to Hyannis, a lone passenger walked to the gate, looked comradely at the station agents, and said. "Sure is nice to have' you guys flying." PBA, Page 19 Yiii Oh 'fiwjfrl I-1" 4 Ticket agents Laurie Aresta, left, and Alison Choiniere offer Provincetown-Boston Airlines customers free cookies and buttons at Logan Airport yesterday. globe staff photo by ted dully Historical groups struggle Societies turn to professionals METROPOLITAN BRIEFING State trooper is beaten iru arrest try A state trooper en route home from work was seriously injured in Milton last night when she was knocked down and kicked in the head by the driver of a vehicle whom she was attempting to arrest on motor vehicle charges.

The officer, whose identity was not immediately available, was taken to Milton Medical Center, Karen Young, a nursing supervisor, said. According to police, the troopers-assigned to Troop based in Middlebor-ough, apparently pulled over a vehicle with two couples on Blue Hill avenue, near Neponset Valley parkway, shortly after 1 1 p.m. and was arresting the driver. The driver in the vehicle then allegedly attacked the officer, according to Metropolitan Police Officer Paul Halpin, who was at the scene. Halpin said an off-duty Boston Police officer and a passing truck driver saw what was happening and went to the trooper's assistance.

They subdued and held both males while a passing civilian called for assistance on the trooper's cruiser radio. The two suspects were taken to the Metropolitan Police Blue Hills station and later turned over to State Police at Norwell. METROREGION NEWS Pages 17-19, 25, 23, 49 style, Doug You're Doug Flutie who threw one of the longest passes in football history, a nearly perfect spiral that cannot be measured in yards because it has been grabbed by myth. You are a quarterback from a college, that actually graduates some senior athletes. You live in the swirl of headlines, hoopla and hype that surrounds anyone who stakes a claim to a piece of the American imagination and you carved out your slice on an afternoon late in fall while television cameras captured a race against a clock and plausibility.

People who know claim you have a lock on the Helsman Trophy. The puffery, the up-up's, the glitter and the gold are now part of your permanent shadow. You are a football player, and yet you discovered more about human nature in the aftermath of one November day in Bos-ton's City Hall Plaza than you ever learned on any third and long. That was when you met a President of the United States and your greeting was misinterpreted by a public that loves to devour its heroes. The screams of the crowds seem to flow around and past you.

A field becomes your personal lawn as soon as you step across the sidelines. Men on the opposite side of the line seem not to exist during that moment when you are trying to decide whether to flip or to throw the ball married to your right hand. You are Doug Flutie. Yet there are those who hint that you won't be able to play professional football because you are not of a certain height. Businessmen, greed and expansion turned that level of your game into something nearly as laughable and just as predictable as bowling, but they are around now shaking their heads because of your size.

It has to cause a smile. Saturday afternoons have come and gone. Inches of statistics rest in the record books, proving that there is no tape to measure a heart, no scale to weigh desire. You keep your own time while surrounded by 10 others who help with the Job. The clock is there, but still you do not hurry.

Desperation is a stranger. Your school, Boston College, has gotten a tremendous ride on your arm. The forward pass has taken it past the memories of just a place at the end of the trolley line. It's as if you were one of the final bricks put down by Fr. Monan, who decided a while ago to take the long road toward a national reputation through the classroom and got lucky with a quarterback out of Natick High.

You see everything out ahead of you: Colored Jerseys with numbers are no longer people you know but patterns in search of connections. Congestion never bothers you because you skip from one end of the field to the other like a guy running through shoppers gathered in a crowded mall. You have the style of a great athlete. It is a gift given only to the few. It is what DiMaggio had and Williams as well.

It's what Russell displayed and Bird still presents. It is the way Sugar Ray Robinson danced in a ring and the way Sugar Ray Leonard punched in one, too. It is the way Willie Mays caught that ball hit by Vic Wertz. It is Yaz in '67. It is Frank Gifford before Bednarik.

It is a kind of style that defines who you are. It is spirit and joy. You are Doug Flutie in the last regular week of your last college football season. And, somehow, in some odd way, the future does not matter. Sure, there is the weekend and Holy Cross.

Yes, there is the anticipation of being handed a piece of history at the Downtown Athletic Club in Manhattan when the Heisman comes off the shelf. Okay, people are already giving points on the Cotton Bowl, but you are a kid who became a man while working in the afternoon, working at the game of college football. You see things other quarterbacks do not see. You feel and will things that other players find just out of reach like in Miami. Remember the scene in Downhill Racer when everybody stood congratulating someone for winning the race until they realized there was one more guy throttling down the slope? Remember Butch constantly asking Sundance, "Who are those guys?" until a trail of dust on the horizon became the very real prospect of capture? That was Miami and their heralded quarterback, all of them celebrating just a bit too early, most of them taking you just a little for granted.

It does not matter now because the pass has been spun into history. It's not made of pigskin and it wasn't caught by a roommate. It is now, purely and simply, legend. You are a college quarterback and all the future seasons are merely so much frosting because you have set a mark that will live for a long time. You are Doug Flutie who has done it all.

By Marvin Pave Globe Staff Three years ago, Stephen Mackey's explorations through the cluttered, chilly and damp basement of the Somerville Historical Society resulted in an exciting find: an 1842 list of petitioners for and against the proposed separation of Somerville (at the time it was called Beyond the Neck or Charlestown Mainland) from Charlestown. "Each name," Mackey recalled, "was followed by the number of acres they owned and the tax valuation on their property. I wasn't surprised that those in favor of separation were paying the higher taxes." The document a study in human nature as well as a pivotal event in Somerville history was, like the rest of the hundreds of books, maps and art objects scattered about, uncate-gorized and inadequately preserved. "Scholars would come here once to do research and they'd never come back," Mackey said in a recent interview. Mackey, 29, a Somerville resident with a degree in government from Harvard, went from unpaid volunteer to development director in 1981 when the society realized it didn't have the financial or organizational support necessary to survive.

That wasn't the case in 1925, when ground was broken at the corner of Central street and Westwood road for the new home of the Somerville Historical Society's collections. Then came the stock market crash four years later and the scattering of many of the society's founding families. The building was little more than a shell and several unfinished rooms for more than 50 years. Collections lay scattered in storage rooms. Now, under a venture called the Somerville Historical Museum, Mackey and other recently hired staffers have embarked on fund-raising and educational and conservation programs.

They have also utilized the Somerville cable TV station to tell the museum's story and have cleaned out the museum's gal-METROPOLITAN BRIEFING, Page 19 Dedham Historical Society Executive Director Electa Kane Tritsch. globe staff photo by david ryan Marine son 'presumed dead' but their 6-year hunt goes on Piro backers say 692 ballots missing after Medford tally tion recount I think that it is obvious that the electoral process has broken down in Medford." But David Sullivan, legal counsel to the secretary of state's election division, said he was present yesterday as an observer for the the division. He said later last night. "There is no reason to think that these envelopes reflect any failure to count votes for Mr. Piro." Sullivan said Medford uses the Da-tavote System, which has candidates' names printed on the punch cards.

He said the envelopes are supposed to be saved after the cards are fed into the computer and votes recorded. "There is no basis for believing there was any wrongdoing on the part of the city clerk or anybody else," Sullivan added. The Medford recount, aimed at determining if Albano or Piro will represent the 2d Middlesex Senate District, ended yesterday with Albano increasing his lead to 221 votes in the Medford voting. The recount will resume at 6 tonight in the Somerville City Hall when SECOND, Page 19 By Jeremiah V. Murphy Globe Staff.

Attorneys for State Rep. Vincent J. Piro said last night that 692 ballots for the former House majority whip are missing after a two-day recount for a state Senate seat conducted at Medford City Hall. The attorneys, Martin Dropkin and Al Bielitz, said they were brought to the City Hall vault by Medford City Clerk Joseph P. McGonagle and shown a container with 692 empty envelopes used by voters for their ballots.

They said McGonagle found the envelopes earlier and put them in the vault for safekeeping. Piro said nobody seems to know what happened to the punch-card ballots. He said that because his opponent. Somerville Alderman Salvatore Albano, ran a sticker campaign, it was safe to assume the missing ballots were votes for Piro. "I don't want to say there has been some type of a cover-up," Piro told a Somerville news conference.

"All we know is there has been a tremendous number of improprieties in this elec By Jeremiah V. Murphy Globe Staff DRACUT The long ordeal of Robert and Rosmarie Boutilier of Dracut caused by the disappearance six years ago of their son. Marine Lance Cpl. Gary Bou-tiler, in Tennessee recently reached another milestone. They received a letter a week ago from the Marine Corps notifying them that young Boutilier's official status has been changed from "missing to presumed dead." The letter from Major J.L.

Farmer, by direction of Marine Commandant Paul X. Kelley, read in part: "This decision was made after careful review of your son's service records, the information contained in your attorney's letter attorney John Kulas of Belmont and the extended length of time that has passed without any information suggesting your son is alive I trust that the strength you have demonstrated throughout this long ordeal will continue to sustain you in the future, and that you will find comfort in your memories of Gary." But the Boutiliers have declined to consider the case closed. Now they are eligible to receive their son's Servicemen's Group life insurance that may amount to between $15,000 to $20,000. And "if all goes well." the father said, "we plan to use the money to have a complete investigation made into his disappearance. We want to know, once and for all, what did happen to our son." The Boutiliers are a middle income family.

Robert Boutilier works for a printing firm. They could use the money for other purposes, but the father said: "The money is not important to us. We want to try to find out what happened to our son." Their long ordeal began with a telephone call in June 1978 from the Memphis Naval Air Station saying that Gary had disappeared from the base where he was attending the Marines' electronics school. He was scheduled to go home to Dracut, a town adjacent to Lowell, on a three-week leave in a few more days. But he disappeared and was never heard from again.

He was 19. Gary had recently bought a motorcycle, and on that Saturday afternoon of June 17, 1978, he told some friends at the air station that he was going for a ride in rural Shelby County Park. He never returned. MARINE, Page 19.