EDITORIAL: The day the town stopped, saluted

If you were in town on June 27, 2005, the day is etched in your memory.

That is when what seemed like all of Marblehead stopped everything to say goodbye — and thank you — to a favorite son, Christopher N. Piper.

For those who may not have been here 20 years ago — including the as-yet-unborn most recent class of Magicians athletes who competed on Piper Field — the anniversary presents an opportunity to reintroduce the field’s namesake and reflect on one of the most remarkable days in the town’s recent history.

A 1980 graduate of MHS, Piper enlisted in the Marines without telling his parents, having been inspired by his grandfather, Ernest W. Piper, a Navy veteran who had served in the South Pacific during World War II.

So began two decades over which Piper often found himself in some of the world’s most dangerous hotspots. Case in point: A Feb. 14, 1983, story in Time Magazine documents the remarkable actions of Marine Capt. Charles B. Johnson, who ran toward three Israeli tanks approaching the international peace-keepers’ position on a road to the south of Beirut. Johnson would eventually jump on the lead tank and grab the Israeli commander to yell at him to stop his tanks.

The sniper providing cover for Johnson? Chris Piper, according to his sister, Lisa.

“The military was his life,” she says.

Indeed, Piper had already signed up for another three tours of duty when a homemade bomb struck his convoy in Afghanistan June 3, 2005. He succumbed to his injuries on June 16, at the age of 43.

To even get the opportunity to serve as a member of the Army Special Forces in Afghanistan, Piper had to fight what his sister calls “age discrimination.” At age 38, the Army deemed him too old, yet he passed the fitness test “with flying colors,” Lisa says.

But it would be incorrect to characterize her brother as simply a “tough SOB” or obsessed with being the embodiment of some “macho” military ideal, Lisa Piper adds.

He was also gentle, kind and “utterly and completely dedicated to the idea of right and wrong,” she says.

With his service in Afghanistan, “he truly wanted to avenge 9/11,” Lisa adds.

Chris Piper was also a romantic at heart and, as he looked down, no doubt appreciated the cinematic quality of his sendoff, according to his sister.

Rows of mourners, many bearing American flags, jammed the sidewalks of Old Town as Piper’s flag-draped coffin began its final journey from the Old North Church on the back of a horse-drawn caisson.

With the help of the Boston Police Department, then led by Marblehead native Kathleen O’Toole, a small group of protestors from the Westboro Baptist Church was rendered irrelevant, overwhelmed by the outpouring of support.

Most of those gathered then filed in behind the caisson for a solemn procession to Waterside Cemetery. Rounding the corner on Turner Road, they were greeted by a huge American flag suspended by ladder trucks from neighboring fire departments.

Graveside, the crowd stood rapt as the Army chaplain adopted a “gospel tone” to his remarks, Lisa Piper recalls.

“Every word reverberated through everyone in the crowd,” she says.

She then heard for the first time the eulogy prepared by her brother, Ernest III, a journalist who had gone from the Marblehead Messenger and Reporter to the Minneapolis Star-Tribune and then to Alaska. In advance, he had steadfastly refused to share the eulogy with family, and he would subsequently deny a civics class permission to use it, according to Lisa Piper. The words to his younger brother were “his and his alone,” she says.

Lisa Piper left the cemetery in the company of the grieving widows of the two other soldiers who died from the explosion near Orgun in eastern Afghanistan near the Pakistan border, one of whom was pregnant with twins.

It is hard to believe that it has been 20 years since she lost her “baby brother,” she says.

“It still seems like yesterday,” she says.

It is also hard to imagine her brother as an older man, Lisa adds.

“Knowing Christopher’s vanity, he would still be in amazing shape,” she says with a laugh.

Lisa also smiles thinking back on the estimated 2,500 people who turned out for her brother’s wake or otherwise showed up for someone they knew had made a difference, even if they did not know him personally.

During the wake and funeral, the town’s historical roots as a cradle of democracy were on full display, she says.

“The town really poured out its true heart,” Lisa says.

Veterans Agent David Rodgers may have been particularly indispensable, but countless others did their part, too, she says.

As we did 20 years ago, we pause to salute the courage, sacrifice and commitment to America of Christopher N. Piper.

And we tip our cap, too, to the community that ensured he got the sendoff he deserved.