My 24th entry in Amy Johnson Crow’s “52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks” family history blogging challenge.
The challenge: have one blog post each week devoted to a specific ancestor. It could be a story, a biography, a photograph, an outline of a research problem — anything that focuses on one ancestor.
My 24th ancestor is my great grand uncle, William James MARA (1894-1952). William was the brother of my great grandmother, Viola Elizabeth Maud MARA (1893-1971) and half brother of my great grand uncle Herbert Gerald ALLEN (1889-?). His parents were Anna Sophia ALLEN (1871-?) and Thomas MARA (1858-1916). Today marks the 100th anniversary of the event that sparked the First World War, the Great War…the War To End All Wars. The war did not officially start until 28 July 1914, and the U.S. did not declare war until 6 April 1917, but I thought I would take advantage of today’s 100th anniversary to talk about my great grand uncle’s service during WWI. William registered for the draft in Detroit, Michigan. I can’t tell if he registered in 1917 or early 1918 since the date is cut off on the microfilmed record. At the time, William was 22 years old, and employed as a civil engineer for the United Fuel and Supply Company in Detroit. He was single, listed his mother as his nearest living relative, and lived at 75 Herbert in Detroit, Michigan. William was described as Caucasian, of medium height, with light blue eyes and light hair, and no disfigurements. He registered for the draft despite not being a U.S. citizen. Mara had been born in Guelph, Ontario, Canada, and indicates that he had already filed a declaration of intention to become a citizen.
WWI Draft Registration for William James Mara. Courtesy of Ancestry.com.
An application for a veteran’s headstone filed after his 1952 death by his wife Irene provides information about William Mara’s service in the First World War. He enlisted in the National Army on 5 March 1918, and was assigned serial number 806 804. PFC Mara served in the Medical Department of the Army, at the Base Hospital on Camp Mills, New York. Mara was given an honorable discharge 1 July 1919 as a Private First Class.
Applications for Headstones for U.S. military veterans, 1925-1941. Courtesy Ancestry.com.
Camp Mills, located on Long Island, New York, was established in September 1917 to prepare Army units for deployment to Europe. After the war, it served as a demobilization center before becoming part of Mitchell Field in 1919.
Encampment of National Guard soldiers at Camp Mills, New York training for service in World War I. Public domain photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
Unfortunately, I don’t have any further information about PFC William James Mara’s activities during the First World War, but it does not sound like he was deployed overseas. I wish I knew what kind of work he did at Camp Mills. He did not have a medical background, but had worked as an engineer. So he most likely was involved in facilities operations, perhaps helping to build some of the permanent structures. William did receive that veteran’s headstone. He died 24 November 1952, and is buried in Oakview Cemetery in Royal Oak, Michigan.
My 22nd entry in Amy Johnson Crow’s “52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks family history blogging challenge.
The challenge: have one blog post each week devoted to a specific ancestor. It could be a story, a biography, a photograph, an outline of a research problem — anything that focuses on one ancestor.
I’m closing the gap at just 1 week behind in this series (the challenge is on week 23)!
Mom as a baby.
My 22nd ancestor is my Mom, whom I will not identify by name, for privacy reasons, because she is still living. In particular, I am profiling Mom’s awesome pies.
Let me proclaim here and now that my Mom makes THE BEST pumpkin pie and THE BEST pie crust in the world. Hands down. Even people who don’t like pumpkin pie like hers. It is light, airy, and creamy like a custard. Not at all heavy. Mom doesn’t just make a few pumpkin pies at Thanksgiving and Christmas, she makes about a dozen. Because our family slices her pies into quarters, not the normal six or eight slices to a pie. We like to eat it for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert. For several days. And she makes some to send home with each of us kids, and sometimes for her siblings.
But, the best thing about her pumpkin pie — all of her pies — is the crust. The crust is perfectly flaky, very thin, and just melts in your mouth. Sometimes, as much as I love her pumpkin filling, I scrape all of the pumpkin filling off (still eating it, of course!) just to take my sweet time enjoying the crust alone.
Mom’s pumpkin pie and mouth-watering crust. This photo doesn’t do her pie or crust justice. This is one she made in a disposable pie plate for me to bring home last Thanksgiving. It’s a big banged up from the long commute home in traffic. But it still tasted perfect! Didn’t last long! Only yielded 4 servings 🙂
Mom learned how to make her perfect pumpkin pie and perfect pie crust from her mother, my grandmother Elsie Charlotte HAYES (1926-1992). Grandma was a terrible cook (terrible is an understatement)! But, the lady could bake…especially pie!
And Mom is the keeper of Grandma’s pumpkin pie recipe (which I still need to learn) and Grandma’s pie crust recipe (I still need to learn this too), which I was shocked to discover a little while back, comes from…<gasp!> a cookbook!
Grandma taught Mom both recipes when Mom was young, and when Mom got married, my grandfather’s foster brother gave Mom this same cookbook as a wedding gift. A Better Homes and Gardens cookbook! I must confess, I was a little disappointed to learn that BH&G is the source of Grandma’s family recipes. I’d hoped these were passed down from her own mother and grandmother. But, these recipes ARE still part of my family tradition anyways.
Cookbook given to Mom at her wedding. The 1966 edition. Inscribed by my grandfather’s foster brother Norm (or Norm’s wife). I bet Grandma told Norm what specific cookbook to buy for Mom, since Mom learned how to bake pies from Grandma, and Grandma used the same cookbook. I blacked out Mom’s name for privacy reasons.
The cookbook is falling apart. The spine is completely broken from decades of being propped open on a kitchen counter while Mom made her perfect pies for the family. I work in a library, and we do book repairs, so I am taking it in to get Mom’s wedding cookbook fixed. Hopefully, I’ll inherit this cookbook. I have her favorite recipes scanned, but I want the tangible book that is stained from decades of use by Mom.
The well-stained page for Mom’s pie crust recipe. Single crust Plain Pastry.A post-it from Mom marks her custard filling recipe, with modifications.
I really do need to take a weekend day to go to Mom’s and learn how to make her crust and her pumpkin pie filling, audio or video recording her talking me through each step while she recounts memories of baking with Grandma. These traditions and memories are so important to preserve!
My 21st entry in Amy Johnson Crow’s “52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks family history blogging challenge.
The challenge: have one blog post each week devoted to a specific ancestor. It could be a story, a biography, a photograph, an outline of a research problem — anything that focuses on one ancestor
I’m closing the gap at just 2 weeks behind in this series (the challenge is on week 23). I initially blamed my tardiness on being super busy at home, work, and with my volunteer work. However, the extended lapse can be blamed on the recent diagnosis of some critical health issues that had wiped me out for a while (you can read about that on my food blog). But I’m determined to chronicle at least 52 Ancestors this year, so I’m playing catch-up.
My 21st “ancestor” is really a few stories about homes, but since I am supposed to tie these to actual ancestors or relatives, I have picked Youngest Aunt FLANAGAN as that relative, since she is the one who first told me these stories, and since I have already written about both grandparents in my 52Ancestors project.
Youngest Aunt Flanagan
I have mentioned before how poor my mom’s family was growing up, but the kids didn’t know that until they were older. Because my grandparents, Michael John FLANAGAN (1927-1997) and Elsie Charlotte HAYES (1926-1992), made the best of every situation, turned hardships into fun and games when possible, played with the kids, and showered the kids with affection.
Two stories told to me when I interviewed their youngest daughter years ago (I am referring to her as “Youngest Aunt Flanagan” here, instead of giving her name, to protect her privacy since she is still living) have always stood out in my mind as illustrating how very poor they were as a young family. Yet Youngest Aunt Flanagan recalled these stories as fun adventures, happy times. I have since chatted with Mom a couple of times — she is older than Youngest Aunt Flanagan — for clarification.
Michigan Back To California
Mike and Elsie moved back to Michigan, to be near Elsie’s family, after Mike was discharged from the Navy in March 1948. Their second, third, and fourth children were born in Michigan.
Sometime after 1952, Mike and Elsie moved their family back to California. Their oldest child had a severe case of asthma, and doctors told Mike and Elsie that the child might not live unless they moved her to a warmer dryer climate.
Grandma And Grandpa Leroy
With no job or home lined up, and almost no money, Mike and Elsie returned to their last place of residence when Mike served in the Navy — San Diego.
The cross country journey by car, loaded up with four kids and all of their belongings, had used up the last of their money. Mike and Elsie didn’t know what to do. They relied, literally, on faith, and parked in front of a church while they discussed their options. Can you imagine how terrified they must have been, wondering how they would provide shelter and food for their young children?
While sitting in front of the church, a couple from the church (or one member of this couple, here the details from the kids get foggy) that the kids nicknamed Grandpa and Grandma Leroy (an African-American couple) came out to check on this obviously destitute family. When they learned of their predicament, Grandpa and Grandpa Leroy offered to let the family camp in a tent in their backyard. They apparently didn’t have room inside their own home for a family of six. This backyard tent was the Flanagan family’s first California home after returning from Michigan.
6/20/14 Update: After Mom read this post, she messaged me more info. “We were parked in front of a church and Daddy was slumped over the steering wheel crying, that is why the Leroys asked what was wrong. I do remember [older sister, name omitted for privacy] and I had our 4th and 5th birthdays in their backyard. I still remember what Dad and Mom gave us. Fake pearl bracelets. I don’t remember, but I think [older sister] started school there.
Me: Bet you girls loved those bracelets.
Mom: We sure did. We always thought they were pearls. That was my best birthday as a child. My best Christmas is what Grandma said was the cheapest Christmas. It was the year we got junk. I got a tool to put rhinestones on to things, and my weaving loom.”
Grandpa Leroy helped my grandfather find work as a garbage collector. Mom told me several times when I was younger than Grandpa had a big soft spot in his heart for African Americans because of this act of kindness.
Tin Can Alley
I am uncertain of how long Mike and Elsie lived in San Diego, but the family’s next home was in Fullerton, Orange County, California — in what Youngest Aunt Flanagan calls “Tin Can Alley”. When I asked Mom about this after my interview with Youngest Aunt Flanagan, Mom explained that they lived in an old World War II Quonset hut.
Mom doesn’t know how they ended up here. Were abandoned Quonset huts being marketed as homes? Did Grandpa have a connection that knew housing could be found in abandoned Quonset huts? Why Fullerton? Where in Fullerton (I live one city over!)? Were there nearby families living in adjacent Quonset huts?
Quonset huts certainly proved their utility during the war, housing living quarters, offices, recreational facilities, etc. And some have been converted into fun kitchy businesses. But I can’t imagine this was the most cozy comfortable home for a family, especially if it was just one big giant room (did it even have its own bathroom?).
Yet their time in Tin Can Alley is one of Youngest Aunt Flanagan’s fondest childhood memories. To her, it was nothing but fun!
6/20/14 Update: After Mom read this post, she messaged me more info. “As for the Quonset houses, there were a few of them all together and they did have bathrooms and bedrooms just like regular houses.”
American troops in Ireland, 1942. Public domain photo from Wikimedia Commons.Inside of a Marines’ Quonset hut, 1952. Public domain photo from Wikimedia Commons.It’s killing me that I live one city over from Fullerton, I am an Orange County historian, and I don’t know where Mom’s childhood Tin Can Alley home is located! I sent an email off to some fellow OC historian friends, posted an inquiry in our OC History Facebook Group, and am planning to visit the Fullerton Public Library’s local history room next week in hopes of identifying where Quonset huts were located during WWII and the decade after WWI.
Finally Home
I don’t know how long the young family lived in Tin Can Alley, but in 1953 Mike received a Selective Service Notice forwarded from their last Michigan residence to a San Diego address (that I cannot pull up on Google Maps) then to 11579 Claymore, Whittier, Los Angeles County, California (this pulls up in Google Maps as a Santa Fe Springs address).
Grandpa’s Selective Service Notice.Grandpa’s Selective Service Notice.
Mom does not remember them living at a Whittier address, or a Santa Fe Springs address other than the home they grew up in. This might have been the home of Elsie’s sister Cassie, which Grandpa and Grandma may have been using as a mailing address while they were living in San Diego or in Fullerton.
By 1956, Mike and Elsie had settled their family in to the first home they owned in California, the Santa Fe Springs home in which their children grew up. Mom says Grandma and Grandpa moved the family to Santa Fe Springs to be near Grandma’s sister Cassie and her family. This is the home I remember visiting and spending many nights in as a kid. And to me, this will always be my grandparents’ home.
What their old Santa Fe Springs home looks like now. I took this photo in March 2014.By Christmas 1956, the family was in their own home. Here you can see Grandma feeding baby Uncle Flanagan. The little blond girl smiling at the camera is Youngest Aunt Flanagan. Mom has her back to the camera. The family didn’t have much — they are eating at a card table with mismatched chairs, but the look happy.
By Christmas 1956, the family was in their own home. Here you can see Grandma feeding baby Uncle Flanagan. The little blond girl smiling at the camera is Youngest Aunt Flanagan. Mom has her back to the camera. The family didn’t have much — they are eating at a card table with mismatched chairs, but the look happy.
The kids in the backyard. Youngest Aunt Flanagan is in the middle. Mom is second from the right.Me as a baby, being held by Grandma, in their Santa Fe Springs home. Grandpa is sitting next to my godmother, Aunt Bea. This was during a luau-style party for my grandparents’ wedding anniversary.
Me as a baby, being held by Grandma, in their Santa Fe Springs home. Grandpa is sitting next to my godmother, Aunt Bea. This was during a luau-style party for my grandparents’ wedding anniversary.
My grandparents sold this home and moved to San Bernardino, California, after their kids were all married and had spread across Southern California. This San Bernardino home was their very first brand NEW home, and boy was Grandma proud of that fact! This was the last home they would ever live in before dying.
My 20th entry in Amy Johnson Crow’s “52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks family history blogging challenge.
The challenge: have one blog post each week devoted to a specific ancestor. It could be a story, a biography, a photograph, an outline of a research problem — anything that focuses on one ancestor.
I’m closing the gap at just 3 weeks behind in this series (the challenge is on week 23). I initially blamed my tardiness on being super busy at home, work, and with my volunteer work. However, the extended lapse can be blamed on the recent diagnosis of some critical health issues that had wiped me out for a while (you can read about that on my food blog). But I’m determined to chronicle at least 52 Ancestors this year, so I’m playing catch-up.
Sarah has been one of my brickwalls, until the last couple of years. Because my grandfather, her youngest child, Michael John FLANAGAN (1927-1997) had no memories of her. Sarah died when he was barely three years old. Sarah’s husband, Michael’s father, Patrick Thomas FLANAGAN (1897-1928) had already died one and a half years prior. Because the other children did not grow up together after their parents died, Michael learned very little about his mother. He omitted her name entirely from his marriage certificate, listing his foster sister-in-law Edna as his mother, indicating to me that when he married at age 19 in 1946, Michael still did not know the name of his mother (he got his dad’s name wrong on that document, too). Which doesn’t fully make sense since Michael’s baptism record correctly lists the names of his parents, but perhaps he did not obtain a copy that document until after he was married.
Name and Birth
I first identified the name of my grandfather’s mother from records created by the German Roman Catholic Orphan Asylum in Buffalo, New York, where Grandpa and his brothers lived for a brief while. His record, the family record for his brothers, and the guest visitation records identify “Sarah Kenedy” as the boys’ mother. After my grandfather died, I found his mother’s prayer card in his personal papers, which identified his mother as Sarah Flanagan. That baptism record I mentioned above wasn’t with the papers I had access to at the time, otherwise I would have had another Kennedy confirmation. My Mom and her siblings were unclear about Sarah’s maiden name. My oldest aunt thought that Kennedy was the name of Sarah’s first husband, and that Ward was her maiden name. We knew of an older daughter named Catherine Mae Ward, but weren’t sure if her full name was Catherine Mae Ward or Catherine Mae Ward Kennedy).
German Roman Catholic Orphan Asylum Family Card identifying Sarah’s name and incorrect birth place. Click the for larger view.
I was also unclear about Sarah’s birth place. The orphan records list it as Hyman, Pennsylvania, which sent me on a wild goose chase because I find no such city or town. On both marriage records, Sarah lists her birth place as Cumberland, Maryland, which is in Allegany County. Yet both the 1900 and the 1920 Census list Pennsylvania as her birth place.It was not until I discovered Sarah’s two marriage records that I learned the names of her parents — Joseph KENNEDY (1876-?) and Catherine DARNLEY (1876-1926). Sarah’s name was indeed Sarah Kennedy.
Sarah’s birth date remains a mystery. I am skeptical about the age Sarah recorded on her first marriage record (18 years old, which calculates to being born in 1894), because the 1900 Census record (with information provided by her father) identifies her birth year as 1898. The 1920 Census lists her birth year about 1899. Sarah ages herself identifying her age as 27 years old at the time of her second marriage, which would make her birth year 1897. Since Sarah’s correct birth year seems to fall between 1897-1899, this would make her only 13-15 years old at the time of her first marriage!
So I am at a total loss as to Sarah’s real birth date and place until I can find her birth record.
Childhood
Once I had good solid clues about the names of Sarah’s parents, and where she was born, I was able to locate her on the 1900 U.S. Census living with her father Joseph Kennedy in Lonaconing, Allegany County, Maryland. Sarah was two years old at the time (born November 1898), and although her father is identified as married, her mother is not living with them.
1900 U.S. Census. Courtesy of Ancestry.com. Click image to view a larger copy.
Marriages
I have not located Sarah on the 1910 Census, when she would have been about twelve.
Sarah married Frank WARD on 25 June 1913 in Mahoning County, Ohio. The marriage record does not indicate a city or specific church or other location. Sarah lists her age as 18 years old as of 19 November 1912, which would make her birth date 19 November 19, 1894 — four years earlier than her second marriage record and the 1900 Census record imply.
By the time of the 1920 U.S. Census (which I will blog about in detail later), Sarah was no longer living with Frank Ward. She lived with her mother, in Bellaire, Belmont County, Ohio, even though the census indicates she was still married.
At some point, Sarah and Frank divorced, unless Sarah committed bigamy with her second marriage, which is not out of the realm of possibility. I have not yet found a divorce record.
Marriage record for Frank Ward, courtesy of FamilySearch.org. Click the image for a larger view.
Sarah erroneously states no previous marriages, despite her first marriage to Frank Ward. Unless she was trying to cover up still being married to Frank Ward, I can’t think of any reason why she would lie about this. Remember, I have not found a divorce record for Sarah and Frank. And since Sarah already had children at the time of her marriage to Patrick Thomas, Patrick Tomas had to have known she was previously married (unless Sarah let him think the kids were born out of wedlock).Sarah married my great grandfather Patrick Thomas Flanagan on 10 April 1925 in Steubenville, Jefferson County, Ohio. Sarah claimed to be 27 years old at the time. This jives more with an 1898 birth year, as indicated on the 1900 Census, or an 1899 birth year as indicated on the 1920 Census — but would make her birth year 1897 according to the most recent birthday and age she records on the marriage application.
Sarah was also eight months pregnant with my grandfather’s older brother Patrick Joseph Flanagan (1925-1981) when she married his father Patrick Thomas. According to Patrick Joseph’s birth certificate, he was born 6 June 1925. Patrick Joseph was either two months premature, or Sarah was eight months pregnant at her wedding.
Marriage record to Patrick Flanagan, courtesy of FamilySearch.org. Click on the image to view a larger copy.
Children
Sometime after 12 July 1925, when their child Patrick Joseph Flanagan was baptized, Sarah and Patrick Thomas moved their family from Bellaire to Buffalo, Erie County, New York, where my grandfather was born on 23 May 1927.
Sarah gave birth to 5 or 6 or 7 children. The more records I discover and analyze, the more confusing it gets. I recently blogged about the mysterious newly discovered Walter Ward.
Left to Right: Patrick Joseph Flanagan, Michael John Flanagan, and possibly Harry Flanagan.
Catherine Mae Ward (b. 1914): Father Frank Ward. Birth record confirmed.
Joseph A. Ward (b. 1916): Father assumed to be Frank Ward. No birth record found. Orphan records identify him with surname “Flanagan”, as the son of Patrick Flanagan.
Walter Ward (b. 1916):Father Frank Ward. Birth record confirmed. No record of him ever again living with Sarah. Could be the legal birth name of Joseph. Could be a twin of Joseph’s, who died young.
Leonard Ward (b. 1917): Father Frank Ward. Birth record confirmed. Despite orphan records identifying him with surname “Flanagan”, as the son of Patrick Flanagan.
Harry J. Flanagan (b. 1920): Unknown if father was Frank Ward or Patrick Flanagan, or if he is Patrick’s son from a previous marriage (meaning not Sarah’s son at all). No birth record found yet. Patrick and Sarah were married 5 years later in 1925. Orphan records identify him with surname “Flanagan”, as the son of Patrick Flanagan.
Patrick Joseph Flanagan (b. 1925): Birth and baptism certificates, and orphan files, record father as Patrick Flanagan.
Michael John Flanagan (b. 1927): My grandfather. Baptism certificate and orphan files record father as Patrick Flanagan.
Catherine, Walter (who might be Joseph), and Leonard were all definitely born to Sarah’s first husband Frank Ward. Patrick Joseph and my grandfather Michael were definitely born to Sarah’s second husband Patrick Thomas Flanagan.
Harry’s father (even Sarah’s relationship as his biological mother) is not clear yet since I find no primary source documents identifying his parents, only secondary documents. But if Harry’s father is Frank Ward, Sarah and Frank were still together approximately nine months before 22 April 1920, when Harry was born. And if Sarah and Patrick Thomas are Harry’s biological parents, then they had him five years before getting married. It is also possible that Harry was born to Patrick Thomas and someone else before Patrick Thomas hooked up with Sarah. Harry considered Patrick Thomas and Sarah to be his parents, though, since he noted this on his marriage application.
Death
According to her prayer card and her burial record, Sarah died 30 June 1930. Her burial record shows pulmonary tuberculosis as the cause of death, and her boys’ orphan records indicated that the minor children had to be admitted to the orphanage because their mother had TB and was too ill to care for them. TB was also highly contagious; Sarah most likely caught it from her husband, who died from it in 1928.
Courtesy of Mount Calvary Cemetery Group.Photo courtesy of Find A Grave volunteer Phyllis Meyer.
Sarah was buried in Buffalo Cemetery in Cheektowaga, New York on 3 July 1930. I blogged about that discovery, and my unsuccessful attempt to find more information in her burial records. I don’t find any other Flanagans listed here in the Find A Grave database, including Sarah’s husband Patrick. I can’t imagine why Sarah was not buried with her husband, and I have no idea who paid for and arranged her mass and funeral.
My 19th week in Amy Johnson Crow’s “52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks” family history blogging challenge.
The challenge: have one blog post each week devoted to a specific ancestor. It could be a story, a biography, a photograph, an outline of a research problem — anything that focuses on one ancestor.
I’m closing the gap at just 4 weeks behind in this series (the challenge just wrapped up week 22). I initially blamed my tardiness on being super busy at home, work, and with my volunteer work. However, the extended lapse can be blamed on the recent diagnosis of some critical health issues that had wiped me out for a while (you can read about that on my food blog).
But I’m determined to chronicle at least 52 Ancestors this year, so I’m playing catch-up.
My beautiful Grandma (left), and a good friend.
My 19th ancestor is my grandmother Elsie Charlotte HAYES (1926-1992). I have written about Grandma before, but not as part of my 52 Ancestors series. What inspired me to write this post is graduation season. Elsie may be my only grandparent to graduate from high school. I know that her husband Michael John FLANAGAN (1927-1997), a poor orphan, never graduated, and joined the Navy at just 17 years old. My other grandfather Benjamin ROBLEDO (1919-1990), born to poor immigrants, did not graduate either. Both grandfathers’ naval records confirm this. And while I do not have any proof that my long-lost grandmother Rosie SALAS (1923-?) did not graduate, documents confirming she was raised in a poor migrant farming family make it highly unlikely she would have completed high school either.
Elsie attended Berkley High School in Berkley (Oakland County), Michigan. She lived and grew up in nearby Southfield Township, Michigan. Elsie graduated with the Class of 1944. It wasn’t until after her death that I came across her high school yearbook in her old photos and papers. I have since given it to my Mom, but not before scanning some key pages.
The front of Elsie’s yearbook.
Title page of the yearbook.
Berkley High was established in 1922, and Wikipedia mentions some sort of new school in 1949 (after Elsie graduated), but does not indicate if the school moved to a new location, if the old one was demolished and rebuilt, or if just new buildings were added. The actual school website is even less helpful, providing absolutely no information whatsoever about the school’s history. The City of Berkley has a city timeline (.PDF) on their museum page that provides a bit more info, but still no clarification if the current school site and any of the buildings are the ones that Elsie attended.
1919: Construction was begun on Berkley School on Berkley Avenue north of Catalpa. Looking at Google Maps, this location is across the street from the school’s present site.
1934: Berkley High School holds its first outdoor graduation ceremony at Angell School grounds for 54 graduates and 1000 attendees. Could this have been the venue for Elsie’s own graduation ceremony 10 years later?
My grandmother is in the fourth row, on the right.
Elsie was part of the Girl Reserves her sophomore, junior, and senior years. She is in the front row, at the far left end. According to current school documents, the Girl Reserves no longer exist as a school club.
I remember Mom telling me, when I was a young girl, how Grandpa used to taunt Grandma by making fun of and singing her school fight song “Maroon and Blue”. I asked Mom why, not understanding why Grandpa was being mean, and Mom explained that Grandpa was not being mean. He did this out of jealousy and hurt (Grandma compassionately knew this), because he never had the luxury of completing high school, but wished he had.
First half of the Berkley High fight song, “Maroon and Blue”.
Second half of the Berkley High fight song, “Maroon and Blue”.
To put Elsie’s high school years in historical context, the bombing of Pearl Harbor happened her sophomore year. The war ended in August 1945, 14 months after her graduation. Elsie must have lost childhood and high school friends in the war. Sometime between her June 1944 graduation and June of 1946, Elsie moved from Michigan to northern California (I think Oakland) with her sister Cassie and Cassie’s family, where Elsie obtained work as a messenger for the Retail Creditors’ Association (according to her marriage certificate). On 22 June 1946, Elsie married Michael John Flanagan, whom she just met only one month prior.
My 18th entry in Amy Johnson Crow’s “52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks family history blogging challenge.
The challenge: have one blog post each week devoted to a specific ancestor. It could be a story, a biography, a photograph, an outline of a research problem — anything that focuses on one ancestor.
I’m closing the gap at just 4 weeks behind in this series (the challenge is on week 22). I initially blamed my tardiness on being super busy at home, work, and with my volunteer work. However, the extended lapse can be blamed on the recent diagnosis of some critical health issues that had wiped me out for a while (you can read about that on my food blog).
My 18th ancestor is my grandfather Michael John FLANAGAN (1927-1997). I have written about Grandpa quite a bit, but not as part of the 52 Ancestors series. What inspired me to choose and write about him today is today’s marking of the 70th anniversary of D-Day, which has (rightly so!) been all over the news the last couple days. This anniversary got me wondering what my grandfathers were doing on D-Day.
I knew both served in WWII, and in the Pacific theater rather than the European one, but where were they serving on June 6th 1944? According to his Navy records, my Robledo grandpa (more on him later) enlisted 9 months prior to D-Day and was serving somewhere in the Pacific. But my Flanagan grandpa had not yet joined the service.
Michael’s Certification of Military Service shows he enlisted in the U.S. Navy on June 15, 1944 — nine days after D-Day. At the age of 17. Just one month into his 17th year.
What made him join as a minor? Why didn’t he wait until he turned 18? Was he afraid he might miss out on the war after hearing about the D-Day invasion and turning of the tide towards victory? Had he been wanting to join for a while, but just finally jumped all of the legal hurdles to enlist as a minor (with the date being just a coincidence)?
Our family always knew that Michael enlisted as a minor. But, I’ve blogged in the past that Michael was an orphan who lived in an orphanage before growing up as a foster child on a farm in upstate New York. He was never adopted — not even by his longtime foster parents.
The story Mom says Grandpa always told his kids is that he had to get his priest to sign and vouch (lying) that Grandpa, the orphan, was 18 years old, not 17 years old. Who knows if a priest would be willing to lie and do this — it’s possible, if the priest felt this was Grandpa’s best opportunity to get good job skills and make a career and life for himself. Particularly since he had such a rough life as a foster child. But Grandpa was the stereotypical Irish B.S.er who spun all kinds of tales, many of which his kids and grand kids believed into adulthood.
Last November, one of my cousins emailed me a copy of the following document, which was stored at his mother’s house. It’s a Letter of Guardianship from the Surrogate Court of Erie County, New York, dated May 31, 1944. It grants legal guardianship of my 17 year old grandfather to his longtime foster father Thomas Buckley. This made no sense to us. Hadn’t Buckley already been appointed legal guardianship?… I guess not. So why bother when Michael was 17 years old?…Michael would be a legal emancipated adult in a year.
The next month at my family’s annual Tamale Day Christmas party, my Uncle Flanagan brought me what military documents he received when Grandpa died back in 1997. In that packet of documents, we found a photocopy of the above, as well as additional documentation, making it clear that this legal guardianship was pursued so that Buckley could sign to allow Michael to enlist in the Navy as a minor.
The priest story was another tall tale from Grandpa. Not really a surprise.
This whole legal guardianship matter makes me quite sad. At 17 years old! Did Buckley think Grandpa was not worth establishing a legal relationship with until it provided a way to get him out of the house earlier than at 18 years old? Why not adopt him? Or did Grandpa not want Thomas and Ma Buckley to become his legal guardians or parents, preferring to remain a ward of the court?
I will never know the answers to these questions. Or for my initial question of why Grandpa decided to enlist at this time, instead of waiting until he reached 18 years of age.
To learn more about Michael’s military service, please read:
My 17th week in Amy Johnson Crow’s “52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks” family history blogging challenge.
The challenge: have one blog post each week devoted to a specific ancestor. It could be a story, a biography, a photograph, an outline of a research problem — anything that focuses on one ancestor.
I’m closing the gap at just 5 weeks behind in this series (the challenge is on week 22). I initially blamed my tardiness on being super busy at home, work, and with my volunteer work. However, the extended lapse can be blamed on the recent diagnosis of some critical health issues that had wiped me out for a while (you can read about that on my food blog).
But I’m determined to chronicle at least 52 Ancestors this year, so I’m playing catch-up.
My 17th “ancestor” is my Flanagan uncle, whose first and middle name, and biographical facts, are being withheld for privacy reasons. The real focus of this post is the following photo. However since the challenge is supposed to be tied to an ancestor or relation, I’m assigning my uncle to that role.
My Uncle’s 1970s wedding. My grandparents, Michael John Flanagan and Elsie Charlotte Hayes are in the middle. I’m in the front row center, wearing the pink dress and a scowl face.
This post came to mind because I shared this photo on Facebook today for Throwback Thursday. It is one of the only photos I have of my Mom’s entire family, and it is one of my very favorite family history photos. Because it is so awesome and so funny — the epitome of 1970s fashion. Check out the tuxes that my grandpa Michael John FLANAGAN (1927 – 1997) and uncle (the groom) are sporting. How about those disco era dresses my uncle’s sisters are wearing (Saturday Night Fever, anyone…)? Except for the dress and hat my flower child aunt in back is wearing. And while you can’t see it in this photo, most of the men are in leisure suits (my poor cousin on my left got stuck in a little boy’s leisure suit!). Ironically, my grandmother, Elsie Charlotte HAYES (1926 – 1992), is wearing the most normal looking dress…and she had hideous fashion taste, usually choosing polyester pants.
It must have been a long hot ceremony (probably a traditional Catholic one, out of respect for the bride’s family), because all of us kids are scowling, as are many of the grown ups.
The parents of the groom, my grandparents Elsie and Mike.
My uncle and his sisters, as children, at their home in Santa Fe Springs, California.
The groom, as a baby.
My uncle, the baby of the family, is quite a bit younger than my mom. He is about halfway between Mom and me in age. So he was just a young teen when I was adopted as an infant and joined the family, and Mom tells me how much my uncle used to love to play with me and babysit me. I remember nicknaming him “The Monster” as a little girl, because of how much he liked to rough house with me. I was the only niece or nephew he ever allowed to sleep in his bed when I spent the night at my grandparents’ house (because I was his favorite). Uncle absolutely adores kids and spends much of his retirement with his two little grandsons.
But I’m still his favorite 🙂
My uncle whisking Jeff and me away from our wedding reception on his speed boat. We held our reception at Canyon Lake, California, where my folks live, and I wanted a memorable exit. Uncle had a change of clothes stashed in the boat, and when it came time to make our departure, he took us across the lake to my parents’ house where Jeff and I could change and head off to the airport. We had a blast as boaters, water skiers, and beach goers on the lake this gorgeous day cheered us on. My nephew surprised us with the “Just Married” sign.
My 18th entry in Amy Johnson Crow’s “
