Boom towns for a day

Welcome to command central for Independence Day in Pepperell, where tough times have closed a school, nearly shuttered the library, and brought a painful Town Meeting vote to slash funding for July Fourth fireworks that are the unabashed pride of this former mill town.

It’s also a town that has refused to scale back its annual celebration, a daylong, community-wide gathering that cannot match the national allure of Boston’s extravaganza but embodies a can-do, embrace-your-neighbor ambience that is nearly the stuff of myth in 21st-century America.

“This is our day to shine,’’ said Kraus, a 38-year-old mother of three. “It’s, hey, look at us, look at Pepperell, and see how such a small community can have so much heart.’’

As many as 10,000 people were expected to gather on the streets of this semirural town, founded in 1753 and named after Sir William Pepperell, a soldier and Colonial governor of Massachusetts whose portrait hangs in a creaky Town Hall where residents can summon Town Clerk Lois Libby by ringing a large, hand-held bell.

“He’s been cleaned up,’’ Libby said as she nodded toward Sir William, who has escaped from exile in an aerie. “He had pigeon poop all over him.’’

From the hand-lettered sign that advertises $10 haircuts, to the 19th-century general store, to the abandoned paper mills on the Nashua River, Pepperell exudes an unpretentious attitude that can mask its gradual change in recent decades from plain, blue-collar town toward a growing, bedroom exurb on the New Hampshire border.

The recession has hit hard here. But not hard enough to quash the sense that this town of 11,000 inhabitants should remain a community of neighbors, and not another disconnected place where residents, strangers to each other, sleep between shifts.

Only six days ago, Pepperell passed the first override in its history, overwhelmingly approving $647,000 in new taxes in an 11th-hour vote to spare the library and the senior and community centers. And now, faced with a $10,000 bill for the fireworks, the parade committee has passed the bucket - again and again, to local residents - to ensure that yesterday climaxed with a rousing bang.

Colonel William Prescott, a Bunker Hill hero whose home is still occupied here, would be proud.

The committee held Texas Hold ’Em poker games, a golf tournament, and a circus to raise money for the fireworks and parade, which cost a total of $28,000. There was a dunk tank on the town field after the parade, where $1 gave anybody a chance to crow, with absolute certainty, that a dripping town selectman was all wet.

And there was a post-parade ribfest rescued by a local volunteer fire captain, whose catering company stepped up with hundreds of ribs, chicken, hamburgers, and hot dogs after the scheduled vendor suddenly backed out last week. About 10 percent of the barbecue’s proceeds went to the committee.

The ribfest, supplemented by live music and children’s games, followed a 12:30 p.m. parade featuring 80 units ranging from Boy Scout and Brownie troops to a Scottish pipe band and mariachi players, who marched downhill for 1.9 miles through the flag-bedecked center of town.

The parade also featured a representative from 2-acre Moonshadow Farm in neighboring Townsend, where Pamela DeBerardinis was scheduled to dispatch a Chevy Silverado to the line of march. She planned to pack her children in the cab, put her husband behind the wheel, and even bring a duck for the ride.

“I can’t see bringing my goat because he has horns now,’’ DeBerardinis said late last week.

Bringing up the rear, Kraus and the Fourth of July Committee rode on and walked beside a replacement trailer, donated to replace an old standby with dry-rotted planking, that was towed by a pickup provided free of charge by a local Chevy dealer facing a perilous future.

Neighbor helping neighbor.

“It’s fantastic,’’ said Michael Doherty, 30, a native of nearby Westford who left Scottsdale, Ariz., to relocate here with his wife. “One of the reasons we wanted to move to a town like Pepperell was to get this kind of community spirit.’’

That spirit has bubbled to the surface since Town Meeting decided last fall not to fund the fireworks.

Residents came forward - with donations of $1, $100, $500, and up - to preserve their beloved pyrotechnics, synchronized to taped music and scheduled to be accompanied during the “1812 Overture’’ by blasts from two howitzers loaned from Fort Devens.

“It’s a good way to bump people’s spirits up,’’ said Patrick Coppinger, 22.

Lorri Guarnieri watched the parade from a lawn chair in front of her house on Main Street.

“It’s old America, and it’s fading,’’ she said. “We’re proud of how the town came together, because it was close to being taken away from us.’’

Coppinger helped Kraus organize the celebration; it is nearly a 12-month project, an exhausting undertaking.

And so by the time the fireworks were to begin, by the time Coppinger was to settle into a lawn chair after the parade, the barbecue, and a quick break to shower, he expected to fall asleep amid the booming noise and the aerial spectacle.

When Kraus spoke of her affection for this gathering of friends, neighbors, guests, and families, her eyes welled with tears.

“I get goose bumps thinking about it,’’ Kraus said. “You know what? The show will go on.’’

Globe correspondent Vivian Nereim contributed to this report.