Tag Archives: DoDo Bacharach

DoDo & Jim’s Kitchen: Nourishing Westporters In Need, For 40 Years

On Saturday, relatives and friends from as far away as British Columbia packed Assumption Church for a memorial Mass celebrating the life of Dolores “DoDo” Bacharach.

The matriarch of a beloved and longtime Westport family died in May, at 97.

She lived her Catholic faith fully and well. She was involved with Westport’s pioneering Intercommunity Camp, along with Caroline House, the Interfaith Council, Assumption’s Senior Advisory Council and Social Concerns Committee.

After raising 5 children — and being a surrogate mother to many of their friends — she earned a master’s degree in social work at age 60. DoDo worked for Catholic Social Services, and established SAGE Associates, a private social work practice.

Father Tom Thorne — her former minister, who now lives in California but was asked by the family to officiate — said, “she would have been a wonderful nun.” But then, he noted, she would not have had her nearly 3-dozen children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren to share with the world.

Dolores “DoDo” Bacharach

The night before, it was Homes with Hope‘s turn to honor DoDo and her late husband Jim. The Gillespie Center’s newly remodeled kitchen now bears the couple’s names.

It’s not their first recognition from Westport’s supportive housing non-profit. The Bacharach Community comprises 3 single-family homes in Westport that provide stability and a fresh start for formerly homeless mothers and their children.

Over 40 years ago, the Bacharachs were founding members of the Interfaith Council’s homeless shelter project, greatly expanded today and part of the Homes with Hope umbrella.

For more than 40 years, DoDo cooked and served meals at the Gillespie Center kitchen that now has a plaque with her name.

Rev. Pete Powell spoke at the Gillespie Center dedication. His words are worth noting — and not just because they offer important details about DoDo and Jim Bacharach’s contributions.

They also shine a light on the remarkable 40 year history of Homes with Hope. Whether you remember the first homeless shelter at the former Vigilant firehouse (now OKO restaurant), or recently moved here and just learned of Westport’s long tradition of helping those in need, this is a stirring reminder of what it means to be part of a great community.

And to do whatever possible to help make that community even better.

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Rev. Powell said:

What makes Westport different? People like Dolores Bacharach.

In 1982 she and her husband Jim, along with other volunteers, including many fellow parishioners of hers at Assumption Church, opened the Community Kitchen in the parking lot and community room of Save the Children on Wilton Road.

Jim and DoDo Bacharach

Hunger in Westport? Westport was a wealthy Gold Coast suburb even then. Of course, Westport has never been comfortable with that designation.

Comfortable or not, we are one of the 4 wealthiest towns in Connecticut. Could there be hunger here? In the midst of so much, could people from here lack for food?

Yes, they could.

How to respond? Dodo and those who volunteered with her took their Christianity seriously, and opened a feeding program. We are standing today in a future they could never have imagined.

However, they had enough imagination to meet a current need. They opened a basic program entirely run by volunteers and operating out of iffy places.

Who did the feed? I can only imagine.

In 1982 I had never heard of Westport. I was rector of an Episcopal church in Prince George’s County, Maryland, just outside of Washington. Dolores and Jim, Sister Maureen, Ann Rully, Kathy Romano and many whose names I can no longer recall, responded to the words in Matthew’s Gospel: “Then those who are righteous will reply to him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you a drink? When did we see you as a stranger and welcome you, or naked and give you clothes to wear? When did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ “Then the king will reply to them, ‘I assure you that when you have done it for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you have done it for me.’”

DoDo Bacharach and Rev. Pete Powell, in 2014.

What did Westport look like then? There was no shelter for homeless people. However, homeless people were sleeping in Saugatuck Church.

Residents were worried that a feeding program was a solution to a problem that didn’t exist, and instead would be a nuisance attracting the needy to Westport.

Fortunately, these worries did not dissuade Dodo, Jim and the others who had the courage to act on the principles of their Catholic faith. They opened the Community Kitchen. We are standing in the heir to those efforts.

In the early years the reputations of the Bacharachs and others made it hard to challenge them. The Community Kitchen was lay-led — no clergy involved, as near as I can tell.

The founders took the Gospel seriously. As part of that they also reached out to Jews. Quickly, Temple Israel joined the churches in Westport in supporting this effort.

Their actions paved the way for the opening on Christmas Eve, 1984 of the Westport Emergency Shelter in the Vigilant Firehouse at 6 Wilton Road.

The Vigilant Firehouse on Wilton Road, circa 1977. Several years later, it was the first site of Westport’s homeless shelter.

It was a mess. The Community Kitchen volunteers worked out of the second floor in a space that had been condemned. They fed people in the parking lot outside of the firehouse and eventually in the bay of the firehouse.

By 1984 the kitchen had moved downstairs. It consisted of a refrigerator, microwave and utility sink. Food was prepared elsewhere, and served at the firehouse.

When I arrived in Westport in 1985, and was hired by the Interfaith Housing Association in 1988, the kitchen was a functioning and important part of the community. All of the religious congregations participated in providing dinner, 5 nights a week.

When we moved out of the Vigilant Firehouse and opened the Gillespie Center on Jesup Road in 1989, we were able to improve the kitchen facilities. Ultimately the kitchen served food, entirely provided by volunteers, from the religious community and many civic groups: 3 meals daily, 7 days a week.

The Gillespie Center in 2021, before a recent renovation. (Photo/June Rose Whitaker)

One of the people who prepared and served meals her entire life, from 1982 until very recently, was Dolores Bacharach. Her faith and the way she lived it is inspirational.

What difference did a feeding program make in Westport? Dodo and all who served with her gave people dignity. The founding principle of her work and that of this agency is that people deserve to be treated with dignity as human beings.

Whatever the reason for dining here, the people fed from this kitchen since 1982 were accepted and treated as an equal to those providing food. Dodo was not afraid of homeless people. She saw them as children of God.

Homes with Hope CEO Helen McAlinden (far left) community members like these, who frequently volunteer to serve meals. (Photo/Ted Horowitz)

Our work today is to continue to see the people fed through this kitchen as people of God who deserve the very best we have to offer.

DoDo and Jim’s Kitchen is not a place for charity. Charity is giving of our excess; giving of what we have left over. DoDo and Jim’s kitchen is a place of dignity, where we restore to people who are hungry and have real human needs a place where their needs and condition are honored and respected.

We do not give them charity. We give them what we have received: food to sustain life.

That’s the takeaway I have from knowing Dodo since 1985: Treat everyone with respect. She has been a blessing to all who came in contact with her.

She was humble. She was confident. She was present. She blessed us by her life and her giving her life to us.

So, let us pray: Bless this kitchen, Lord, and those who gather here each day. Let it be a place where we can meet to love and laugh and pray. Help us to live up to the example Dodo gave us, and meet each person with caring and dignity so that not only is the food a blessing in their lives, but their presence is a blessing in ours.

Members of the extended Bacharach family, and friends, at Friday’s Gillespie Center ceremony. The kitchen was named in Dodo and Jim Bacharach’s honor.

4 Stony Brook, 5 Golden Rings

It was always a tense moment.

We gathered in the cozy living room of the Bacharachs’ house on Stony Brook Road. We’d caught up on each other’s lives, had a bit of food, sung a few warm-up Christmas carols.

Now it was time for “The 12 Days of Christmas.” Slips of paper would be passed out. Which “day” would you get?

There were a few dozen of us — old and young, relatives and friends, from near and far — but 12 days is a lot. Each of us would have only 3 or 4 other singers to help out.

All ages gathered at the Bacharachs' house for the annual carol sing. This photo is from the early 1970s.

All ages gathered at the Bacharachs’ house for the annual carol sing. This photo is from the 1970s.

If you were a good singer — and many of the Bacharachs and their guests were — you were happy to get the 1st day: “a partridge in a pear tree.” Another prize was “5 golden rings.” You could draw that one out like Enrico Caruso.

I love music. Unfortunately, my voice does not. I always hoped for “12 drummers drumming.” Inevitably, I got “2 turtle doves.”

I thought of all that recently, when a group of former Bacharach carol singers got together. I was with some storied Westport names — Anne Leonard Hardy, Suzanne Sherman Propp — and the more we chatted, the more we realized those holiday gatherings were more than just a fond memory.

They were transformative moments in our lives.

The Bacharachs' library, where generations gathered to sing. (Photo/Robert Colameco)

The Bacharachs’ library, where generations gathered to sing. (Photo/Robert Colameco)

It wasn’t just the warmth of the Bacharachs’ home — a 1796 farmhouse with a 3-sided fireplace in one of the oldest sections of town, that could have come right out of colonial New England central casting.

It wasn’t the warmth of the annual holiday party either, with its cherished traditions: the smiling patriarch Jim Bacharach leading everyone in song; his wife, the equally delightful DoDo, carving up ham and ladling out egg nog; the tree in the same spot every year, unchanging amid the turbulence of the world around.

And it wasn’t the guest list: the Bacharachs’ friends and neighbors; their 5 kids’ friends; girlfriends, boyfriends, college friends — the more the merrier. Jim and DoDo embraced them all.

DoDo Bacharach

DoDo Bacharach

All those memories came flooding back, as Anne and Suzanne and a few others talked. But it was something else that made those particular carol sings such a powerful piece of our past.

Among the folks always in the Bacharachs’ home were adults we knew from Staples High School: teachers we admired and respected. Phil Woodruff, the next door neighbor. Dick Leonard. Dave and Marianne Harrison. All were there, year after year.

At first we were a little intimidated by them. Singing “The 12 Days of Christmas” with the same people who handed out homework and gave us grades was — different. But socializing with those adults in that way made us feel a bit like adults too.

As we grew up, we grew in other ways. We graduated from Staples, and entered college. Returning to the Bacharachs’ for the carol sing, we had new things to talk about. We told them what we were studying. We offered our opinions. We were probably a bit pretentious, but our former teachers listened.

Relating with them on that level validated us. Those adult-type conversations — respectful, honest, about real issues — were some of the first times I felt like an adult myself.

At the same time, as I looked around at the many “kids” there, I saw younger versions of myself. I realized I had once been like them. For the first time I understood what it meant to grow up. I recognized with clarity that at that point, my life was poised between my past and my future.

As we moved on into the “real world” — with real jobs — we kept returning to that carol sing. Now we were the adults. The Bacharachs, Leonards, Shermans and others got married, and started families. And every year, they brought their own children to the annual Christmas party.

The Bacharachs' next door neighbor John Woodruff, with his young daughter Emily.

The Bacharachs’ next door neighbor John Woodruff, with his young daughter Emily at the carol sing.

The Bacharach carol sing is no more. Sadly, the house was torn down, replaced by something far less warm and much less meaningful.

But the memories remain, as strong as ever. It was a joy to share those memories the other day, with good friends who remember those great days.

Something else is strong too: My sense of self, nurtured so lovingly by those adults years ago, when I was a teenager trying to figure the world out.

Over ham, over egg nog — and yes, over the dreaded “12 Days of Christmas” — I tasted Westport at its best.