I wrote
this as a Father's Day tribute for my
six adult children, five boys and one girl. Each of the men in this
story had already passed when I wrote it. I wanted them to know the
father's that they had become and were becoming were influenced by
the father's that came before them. And the gift goes on!
There
used to be a saying many years ago that “The hat makes the
man.” Do hats really make the man? Of course not! But there
must have been something that stirred some reason for the statement.
Country singers are often seen wearing a cowboy hat. Some men wear a
ball cap, while others might wear a fedora, a golf cap or even a
Greek fisherman hat.
The main men in my life all wore hats
except
one. That one would be my grandfather on my father’s side of
the family. My mother’s father always wore a fedora. I cannot
remember ever seeing my favorite grandfather, my Grandpa James,
wearing a hat of any kind. He did, however, have a beautiful head of
white hair. That hair was like a trademark for my grandpa, a kind of
human hair hat you could say.
I
would like to tell you about “My Three Dads” and what
really made them who they were and how being who they were has
influenced my life. But to tell you about each one of them requires
me to also tell you about their dads. Grandpa James Wolfe was born in
Ireland. After coming to this country, he married his sweetheart who
was also born in Ireland, Maggie Monahan. They had six children.
Edward James, my father, was the youngest.
Grandpa came here as a
young lad to work laying streetcar tracks. He saved his earnings and
as a result sponsored members of his family so that they too could
come to the states for a better life. Grandpa owned a grocery store
and a saloon in Limerick, an Irish settlement in Louisville, Ky. My
Grandfather James and Grandmother Maggie were staunch supporters of
St. Louis Bertrand Catholic Church that was nestled in the heart of
Limerick. Grandpa James died when I was sixteen years old, at the age
of 93. Grandmother Maggie died of pneumonia when my father was just
11 years old.
My
father attended Presentation Academy which was a private co-ed
elementary school at that time. He graduated from St. Xavier High
School in 1904. My father, who was a short stocky fellow, was
pictured often in a Panama hat and puffing on a cigar. He was about
twenty-five years old when he married my mother, Aline, who was
nineteen at the time. Together they had nine children. She died four
days after the youngest child was born when she developed pneumonia.
Pneumonia was a real killer back in those days. Penicillin had yet
to be discovered. Dad was left to raise all those children as best he
could. I was the 8th child and 11 years old when
Dad died.
My
father wore “many hats” during that time. Grandfather
James had set him up in business, owning and operating a service
station. I do not think he knew much about cars other than driving
them. That must have been a disaster because the business did not
last long. My father then began selling life insurance for New York
Life Insurance Company. He remained one of their top salesmen until
he retired due to ill health from Parkinson Disease.
I
remember hearing some funny stories about the way Dad did business.
Everyone talked about what a good salesman he was. It seems that he
accumulated many possessions, such as tables, lamps, and chairs in
payment for premiums when his customers could not meet their
obligation. I am sure my mother must have had fits over that since
she had little mouths to feed, and tables and other items came home
instead of money. He had to pay for the insurance out of his own
earnings.
Another
time, so the story goes, he needed a car to make his house calls, and
the family car had broken down. He answered a “for sale”
ad for a large car, which he needed to tote the family around. When
he called on the woman selling the car and asked her what she would
take for it, the price was way beyond my father’s ability to
pay. But he offered her a much smaller amount for the car and the
women told my father, “I would rather give it to charity than
take that amount for it.” He assured her that he was the
perfect charity to give the car to and he proceeded to tell her about
his wife and house full of children. As the story about this event
has been told to me, the woman felt so sorry for him that she gave
him the car.
My
father had a beautiful Irish tenor voice. He sang with the Kentucky
Opera Association and was a regular at our parish church. I can
remember him singing during Lent and Holy Week. He also was well
known around town for singing at weddings and funerals. I suppose the
income from those engagements helped to support the family. My best
memory of his singing was at home when he was bathing or shaving.
He
was a true man of faith and an avid member of the Third Order of St.
Dominic which required its members to say a certain set of prayers
daily and to attend regularly scheduled meetings. I can remember many
evenings coming into the parlor of our home and finding him saying
his “Office,” the prayers of the Third Order. I cannot
remember him forcing any of us to pray but his example certainly
influenced my life and the lives of my siblings. He could always be
found on Sunday morning at the first Mass of the day at our parish
church. His rule for church still stands out in my mind. If we were
too sick to go to church, we were too sick to play the rest of the
day – period.
During
the terrible Depression of 1929 and the years of tremendous loss that
followed, my grandfather owned a large amount of property but lost
everything he had. At the same time my father’s sister, Mary
Agnes, and her husband John Reilly, who lived in Chicago, lost their
wealth and property in the stock market. They moved to Louisville and
both families moved in together with Grandpa James.
At the
age of 54 my father died after suffering for quite some time from
Parkinson Disease. My Dad #2, John Reilly, was already in place due
to the Depression of ’29. I was 11 years old at this time and
it felt very normal for me to adopt him as my dad.
I don’t
really know much about Uncle John’s father, William, but I do
know that his mother had died when he was a young child, and he was
raised by his father and three old maid aunts. His father was also a
man of means so young John was given the absolute best of everything
and as I understand was doted upon by his aunts. He attended a
Military type-high school run by the Jesuits and received numerous
accolades even as a freshman scholar. He was the first freshman to be
honored on Dean’s list. He also was a college graduate –
a rarity at that time in history. He explained to me that his bald
head was a result of his having to wear a hat all day in school when
he was in college. I do have a picture of him in his cap & gown
and it truly was a uniform for college classes.
Before
the depression Uncle John and Aunt Mary Agnes traveled a lot. They
had no children and traveling became a major part of their life
together. Uncle John gave Travelogue Talks on Ireland and various
other places they had visited. He became quite well known for his
presentations.
He loved
music and for a long while worked for the Aeolian Corporation selling
player pianos and parts. When he finally got a job in Louisville it
was working at Baldwin Piano Company on Broadway. He became their
top salesman for many years receiving honors for his work in the
field.
As a
child growing up, I took piano lessons. Practicing was never a
problem for me because Uncle John sat right next to the piano in a
small rocking chair, puffing on his cigar, and listening while I
practiced. He always encouraged me and kept me interested even though
it never really came naturally for me to play. In other words, I
never became an accomplished musician.
In all
the early family pictures with my grandparents, my mom and dad, Aunt
Mary Agnes and Uncle John, and my mother’s family, all the men
wore hats. In the summer, they wore straw hats that were flat on the
top. I think they called them Panama hats. My mother’s father
was always pictured with a hat on as well as my Uncle George. Kathy
has some of those pictures in the archives.
Working
at Baldwin Piano Company where the ticket office was located for all
sorts of classical-type entertainment, Uncle John got free passes to
concerts and performances. My younger sister and I attended operas,
concerts, and shows and as a result we considered ourselves “Rich
Little Poor Girls.” We were introduced to the fine arts and
even at times dressed in formal attire for the occasion.
When we
were young Uncle John and Aunt Mary Agnes took us for car rides to
the airport, which was Bowman Field, the only airport at the time. We
also went to the train station to watch the trains arriving and
leaving, made frequent trips to the Ohio River to see the Idlewilde,
a paddle wheeled boat that today is the Belle of Louisville. Taking
long drives out into the countryside was another of our frequent
thrills. One time we rode on the Monon, the train that had sleeper
cars, and spent a week in Chicago where Uncle John and Aunt Mary
Agnes used to live.
When I
learned to drive, Uncle John taught me. He had the patience of Job. In
the summers during high school days, I worked in the ticket office
at Baldwin Piano Company or in the Sheet Music department. I drove to
work every day for at least two years with him at my side, but I had
never driven alone.
When I
met Dan, my future husband, he and Uncle John hit it off immediately.
They were both musicians, small in stature and both perfect
gentlemen. Dan always came for a date dressed in a shirt and tie and
treated me with greatest respect. Uncle John was always referred to
by everyone who knew him as a “gentleman.” So, it was
easy to see that Dan was a shoo-in with Uncle John. They were very
much alike.
When I
went to get my marriage license, Uncle John had to go along because I
was not quite 21 years old – 21 days short of it. He had to
sign the papers, and I had to swear that I wanted him to be my legal
guardian. He said it was worth the whole $7.00 to have it in writing.
He used to say that I did not belong to him very long, but he was
proud to say, “I had the honor and privilege of giving her
away.” And I had the honor of him escorting me down the aisle
at my wedding.
At
this time Dad #3 came on the scene, Dan’s father, Mike Creed.
However, Uncle John continued to be my father and lived to see and
enjoy his nine grandchildren. I had six and my sister, Rosie, had
three. Uncle John lived with Dan and our family for about 18 months
after having his first heart attack. The second attack took his life
at the age of 79. But not before he was involved in the excitement of
our building a new house and attending the first Catholic Mass
celebrated in English. Two things that he said were high points in
his life.
Mike’s
father, Michael John Creed, worked for the railroad as a night
watchman. He and his wife Rosa had three children. Mike was the
youngest and only boy. Michael John was a huge man who climbed many
steps to get to the watch tower where he would set off the signals to
drivers approaching the main railroad crossings. He had a heart
attack and died one night while he was on duty. Mike was just a
little boy at the time.
In those
days there was no help for a mother raising children alone. The
family helped all that they could, but Rosa struggled to take care of
her children. Mike used to pull his little red wagon up to the
Haymarket and collect orange wooden crates to take home for firewood.
He also got the cuttings from the vegetables that vendors threw in
the trash. He took them home so his mother could make soup from them
to eat for dinner.
After
Mike’s mother died, he went to live with his Aunt Mary and
Uncle Frank Pontrich who were florists in New Albany, Indiana. He
lived there several years but felt that his sister needed his help
because she had small children and her husband, who was a paper
hanger, had a drinking problem and they had very little money. Mike
quit school and lied about his age, so he could go to work in the
woolen mill on Goss Avenue. Later he moved up in the world and found
employment at Belknap Company. There he worked in the catalogue
department. Even though he had no formal education above sixth grade
he took every opportunity he had to study. He kept Math and English
books hidden in his room and studied every night after dinner when he
was living with his married sister. After Mike was married and had
children, he and his wife, Ruth, went to night school and finished
their high school education.
Mike
was a self-made man who could add three columns of figures faster
than I could enter them in the calculator. Before he left Belknap’s
to take a job with Washington Mutual Insurance Company, he had been
designer in Belknap’s catalogue Department. Mike worked at
Washington Mutual until retiring at the ripe young age of 80.
Mike
enjoyed retirement. He loved to travel so he and Ruth traveled
extensively and went on cruises and vacations with their
grandchildren. These vacations were always educational, giving the
children opportunities to learn how to order in restaurants, the
importance of tipping the servers, and the fine art of dining. With
six little months to feed, Dan and I rarely had an opportunity to go
to a nice restaurant to eat but our children were not deprived of
that experience.
Mike
passed on to his own sons the value of hard work and the importance
of family. My husband, his younger son, passed on those same values
to our children. Every one of our six children has strong work ethics
and outstanding family ties that they are coming to realize are a
real blessing these days.
Mike died after suffering a heart attack at
88 years of
age. I cherish the memory of his referring to me as the daughter he
never had. The feeling was mutual because I consider him one of “My
Three Dads.” I remember him when he was best man at our
wedding; loved watching him teach our children the value of a dollar;
wearing a ball cap when he worked in his garden growing vegetables
for us to pick and put in the freezer for the winter; and how classy
he looked when he dressed up for special occasions. He often wore a
fedora.
I
thank the dads in my life for the values and respect that each of
them has shown to me and passed on to my children. Many years ago,
when I was teaching school, I read a report on families and parenting
that said that children expect mothers to teach values and live by
them but when a father teaches them and especially if he lives by
them, he gives a priceless gift to his children. How truly blessed I
have been that all the men in my life did both! Does the hat make
the man? Maybe!
