Charlie St. Clair, Hero

My first interaction with Charlie St. Clair began when I answered a call on my cell phone. It was the fall of 2014 and I was accustomed to getting all sorts of nasty, upsetting phone calls. But I answered it anyway, ready for trouble.

“Hello, this is Ruth Sterling,” I said.

The voice said, “Ruth Sterling, YOU’RE GETTING SCREWED. You are getting screwed.”

My response wasn’t to hang up or react. But I did ask who was calling. It was Charlie St. Clair from Laconia, the organizer of Laconia Motorcycle Week.

Charlie was calling me from Florida, from Daytona Bike Week, where he had been following the drama we were caught up in after the 2014 Pumpkin Festival. He had an unusual way of getting my attention and following through with action. He called it like he saw it and I never saw him back down from anything. His outreach came as many supporters of the festival were bailing, not wanting to be involved in an ugly fight, not able to risk their reputations, their jobs, their relationships to wage a doomed campaign to save the festival. I stubbornly put all of those things on the line. And Charlie joined me. He had been in many, many, many fights on behalf of Laconia Motorcycle Week. Fights he fought with facts, charm and persistence. Fights he always won.

Charlie took his fight to Keene City Hall where he walked in like the character in Harper Valley PTA and socked it to the City Council. He made his case for the festival as the best marketing program a small NH city could ever have. Worth all the effort. Worth the inconvenience. And if Keene couldn’t see that, he’d make sure Laconia would. He’d talk with Laconia’s Mayor and Chamber of Commerce and sponsors and citizens and he’d bring the pumpkins to the Lakes Region and thumb his nose at Keene and their short sightedness. He’d laugh with the Laconia Police Chief who personally had t-shirts printed that said, “Policing Motorcycle Week for 92 Years, the thought of Pumpkinfest doesn’t even make my palms sweat.” The police sold them as a fundraiser. Mine is in my trophy case.

It was easy to see Charlie as the hero he was. He was impressed with everything about Keene Pumpkin Festival—the tower, the World Record effort, the Pumpkin Dump Cleanup Derby, the tourists, the heart, the people trying to save it. He treated us all as heroes. He paved the way to bring the festival to Laconia where the Chamber of Commerce wanted to run it. Charlie always thought, as I did, that the event should be run by City staff so that they could call the shots and keep it safe and efficient. Charlie got his wish in Laconia in recent years. He called me and asked me to speak to the Laconia leadership, or write my opinion for Charlie to share. I wrote. If a City wants to succeed, it needs marketing. There is no better marketing than a spectacular event that captures the imagination of the world and draws people in droves. But the event must come from the City itself, not in spite of it.

All those years later, Charlie cared about my opinion. So very unusual.

When I heard about Charlie’s motorcycle accident I had feelings. Why is he still riding to Sturgis? He is older than I am and I sensibly sold my Harley this spring. Why would he pack up all that stuff and make the trek out there year after year after year? Why would he take that kind of risk? 

Courage was never in short supply with Charlie St. Clair. He had a way of doing things. He didn’t give up on anything easily. His antique shop with its nostalgic lunch counter was a testament to that. He was larger than life, an icon, an inspiration, a hero. And at a time in my life when I really, really needed a hero, Charlie St. Clair was there. If Charlie had to leave us, I for one am glad he did it his way—on a motorcycle, on a mission.

Top photos: 1) Members of the Keene team who took the festival to Laconia in 2015. 2) My childhood friend, Karen Williams, and I visited Charlie during fest weekend a few years ago.