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They probably had no idea who Eltiro Carafoli was. But everybody liked Cherry.
He was a working guy, somebody everyone knew. He worked at the Quincy shipyard and dug clams and worms and sold them as bait at his second job, managing a gas station on Water Street during the late 1950s and early ’60s.
During the summer, Mary Mulry used to visit the American Legion on Federal Furnace Road with her sister, Marion Hedge. That’s where Eltiro “Cherry” Carafoli struck up a conversation with Mary, a conversation he couldn’t forget. It was a year later, when he saw her for the second time, he decided he wasn’t going to let opportunity go stumbling by again.
“Wanna get married?” he asked.
The dumbfounded Mary laughed right in his face. It wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d been gunning for. But, while the proposal was a bit previous, as they say, Mary Mulry was intrigued. The two started dating and soon married.
Cherry sold bait out of his truck in the Mayflower Seafood parking lot on Town Wharf. But in 1954, town officials warned him to remove his truck from the town-owned lot or build a bona fide business there. Cherry shrugged and built his bait shop.
He had little idea the shop would outlast just about every business surrounding it. Restaurants, and a myriad of retailers would come and go over the next half century, but Cherry’s Bait Shop would remain.
This month, Cherry and Mary Carafoli’s daughters, Maureen Daly and Anne Carafoli, obtained a 10-year lease to continue to operate Cherry’s Bait Shop at 151 Water St. Carafoli, who turned 89 in October, said it’s time to hand the baton to the next generation. But, make no mistake, Mary is as full of fire as she was 40 years ago, give or a take a little arthritis.
“I think a lot and I try to always come up with the right answer, and the way I was born and brought up, you do for yourself until you can’t anymore,” she said. “I’d like to think that I am mentally safe for the time being.”
It hasn’t been easy. Cherry ran the bait shop from 1963 until he died in 1970, leaving his wife with a difficult choice.
Keep Cherry’s Bait Shop going or close it?
“I was there in October and I was meddling with myself, thinking what I am going to do come spring,” Carafoli recalled. “Then a man came to me and said, ‘We’ve all shared the same loss. We hope you can come and keep this place open.’ I said I’d give it a try.”
They probably had no idea who Eltiro Carafoli was. But everybody liked Cherry.
He was a working guy, somebody everyone knew. He worked at the Quincy shipyard and dug clams and worms and sold them as bait at his second job, managing a gas station on Water Street during the late 1950s and early ’60s.
During the summer, Mary Mulry used to visit the American Legion on Federal Furnace Road with her sister, Marion Hedge. That’s where Eltiro “Cherry” Carafoli struck up a conversation with Mary, a conversation he couldn’t forget. It was a year later, when he saw her for the second time, he decided he wasn’t going to let opportunity go stumbling by again.
“Wanna get married?” he asked.
The dumbfounded Mary laughed right in his face. It wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d been gunning for. But, while the proposal was a bit previous, as they say, Mary Mulry was intrigued. The two started dating and soon married.
Cherry sold bait out of his truck in the Mayflower Seafood parking lot on Town Wharf. But in 1954, town officials warned him to remove his truck from the town-owned lot or build a bona fide business there. Cherry shrugged and built his bait shop.
He had little idea the shop would outlast just about every business surrounding it. Restaurants, and a myriad of retailers would come and go over the next half century, but Cherry’s Bait Shop would remain.
This month, Cherry and Mary Carafoli’s daughters, Maureen Daly and Anne Carafoli, obtained a 10-year lease to continue to operate Cherry’s Bait Shop at 151 Water St. Carafoli, who turned 89 in October, said it’s time to hand the baton to the next generation. But, make no mistake, Mary is as full of fire as she was 40 years ago, give or a take a little arthritis.
“I think a lot and I try to always come up with the right answer, and the way I was born and brought up, you do for yourself until you can’t anymore,” she said. “I’d like to think that I am mentally safe for the time being.”
It hasn’t been easy. Cherry ran the bait shop from 1963 until he died in 1970, leaving his wife with a difficult choice.
Keep Cherry’s Bait Shop going or close it?
“I was there in October and I was meddling with myself, thinking what I am going to do come spring,” Carafoli recalled. “Then a man came to me and said, ‘We’ve all shared the same loss. We hope you can come and keep this place open.’ I said I’d give it a try.”
She did better than that. For the next 42 years, Mary Carafoli essentially was Cherry’s Bait Shop, selling saltwater bait like sea worms, clams and mackerel, and fresh water bait, like shiners and night crawlers. Her kids helped out and nobody was squeamish; you couldn’t be.
It was an interesting job, too, and the Carafolis and Cherry’s Bait Shop became Plymouth institutions. Tourists from all over the world stopped in for bait, directions and an occasional absurd question nobody could answer. The world walked by. And people confided things they sometimes shouldn’t have.
“My husband used to say ‘Keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut’,” Mary added, laughing.
Where did Cherry get his nickname? It meant Italian, apparently, and Eltiro wasn’t too keen on the moniker.
“I never called him Eltiro because he disliked it so much,” Mary said. “I called him Dad or Cherry.”
So, it was the Cherry and Mary team – a second marriage for both, and as successful a union as you’re going to find. For years, Mary cared for Cherry’s ailing mother while she raised their kids on Standish Avenue. A fire in the attic forced them to move, and they found a home on Murray Street, where she lives to this day.
They had three children: Maureen, Anne and Paul, who died four years ago.
“He was so close to his father that he mentioned the last year before he passed away that he didn’t care; he wanted to be with his father,” Mary said.
For Mary Carafoli, the success of the family business is tied to the Carafoli creed of treating people well and keeping a positive attitude.
“I like to think that I’ve done well and I’ve made a lot of connections,” she said. “People have been good to me, and I can truthfully say we’ve never had anything returned because they weren’t satisfied. We’ve never had anyone fuss or complain about anything that has gone on here. I have no complaints against people and I don’t find fault with any individual in Plymouth.”
Daly has no complaints, either, but noted that many a visitor is confusing the bait shop these days with the town’s chamber of commerce. She can’t count the number of times tourists have stopped in to pay a parking ticket, ask how they pay for parking or where they can park. Others want information on events, whale watches, Provincetown ferries and directions to every possible Plymouth site. The family, which now includes grandchildren Ryanne and Kaleb Borgatti, does the best it can to help.
“They think I own the parking lot,” Maureen said, laughing. “I should be the information booth. I see so much from these bay windows. I’ve seen cars going the wrong way down the street, a kid get hit on a bike, two teenagers with spiked hair, green and gold like the Statue of Liberty.”
And then there are drunks who stop in to…um, eat a sea worm?
Anne Carafoli confirmed that an intoxicated gentleman did, indeed, stop in at the bait shop, pick up a sea worm and swallow it. That was a tough picture to get out of her head, particularly since these worms have tiny little feet.
While it is a family business, the Carafolis and Borgattis were anxious to note that their friends Stephen Burt and Christina Hagan help out at Cherry’s Bait Shop and have always been supportive.
And, in addition to being a Plymouth institution, Mary is also a Mayflower descendant. John Howland, who fell overboard during the crossing when a storm raged, managed to save himself by grabbing a line that was dragging in the water. Carafoli’s grandfather, Maj. William Winslow Eaton was a surgeon during the Civil War and through him she also descends from Mayflower passenger Edward Winslow.
Looking back, Carafoli remembers Cherry’s first marriage proposal vividly.
“There was just something about him, and to think he wanted me so quick,” she said. “I thought ‘I wonder if I’m making the right choice?’ I guess I did! I never told him that.”
