The Boston Phoenix August 26 - September 2, 1999 Man of the People Cheerio! Boston Globe columnist Brian McGrory here. As many of you know, I'm back from my annual summer sojourn in Maine, and this Tuesday, August 24, I weighed in with a column of fresh observations and witticisms about life in this darling, spunky metropolis. To sum: I told you that the Arundel Wharf Restaurant in Kennebunkport -- with its crisp gin and tonics -- is "perhaps the most glorious spot in all of America to while away a summer cocktail hour"; that silly ol' Poppy Bush didn't know that prime-rib night at the Wayfarer in Cape Porpoise is Saturday; that the Oak Bar in Copley Square serves the best drinks in Boston; that Morton's makes the most fabulous steak (but its atmosphere is subpar); that Locke-Ober whips up a surprisingly marvelous hot-fudge sundae; that seeing all those big, ugly buildings downtown after two weeks on an unblemished beach is "depressing"; and, finally, that -- doggone it! -- yours truly fudged a crucial approach shot in the Webhannet Golf Club member-guest tournament. Since my "Postcards to the Edge" column, however, some readers have politely asked me when I began channeling the love child of Larry King and Christopher Lydon. Well, hardy-har-har. I know I'm not Jimmy Cannon, or even Mike Barnicle, but I've toiled on the street, good fellow, and I'll bet you a dinner at Radius that I'm still the scrappiest wag in town. Here's some more foie for thought, chums: * If you're in the market for a new saddle -- and who isn't? -- you won't be disappointed by a trip to Dover Saddlery, on Washington Street in Wellesley. Unlike those faceless equestrian-supply superstores, the Dover spoils you with individual attention from a staff with intimate knowledge of riding. You may pay a little more, sure, but it's worth it. * Am I the only one who notices how the fourth and fifth gears on the new BMW 325i gum up after a severe rainstorm? The other day I was racing home from the annual Globe Pressmen's Union golf tournament in Osterville when I nearly spun out on Storrow Drive. Worse, a wheel of camembert in my back seat flew up and hit the dashboard, smudging my cell phone. * Word around town is that the Dartmouth men's heavyweight eight are the shell to beat in this fall's Head of the Charles. The Big Green have recruited a heckuva group of lads from Andover and St. Paul's, and should tear up the Ivy come fall. But the chaps down at Harvard Yard don't like losing on their home course, so look for them to fight back. * Call me crazy, but since the Globe was sold to the New York Times Company several years ago, ink on the hometown paper has seemed a bit . . . smudgier. Twenty minutes with this damn broadsheet and I look like Jackson Pollock after a weekend in the studio. If only Louis sold a stain-proof oxford. * You probably already know this, but when the working man is weary, there's no oasis quite like the Candela Laserspa on Arlington Street. The other day I had a massage, a raspberry facial, and a sauna for about the cost of a two-top at Ambrosia. Heavenly. That's all for now. Until next time, onward and upward! Tut-tut! This story ran on page 7 of the Boston Phoenix on 08/27/99. Copyright © 1999 The Phoenix Media/Communications Group. All rights reserved.