December 16, 2002 HAPPY BIRTHDAY BROTHER JAMES!
Yes, James! You will remember that in our Queens Village home you were always James. For Mother, it was always James, Marie, Robert, Francis and Kenneth. It was only later, beyond 220th Street, that Jim, Mary, Bob, Frank and Ken evolved. And Joan and I? Well we had those plain vanilla names for which there was no easy substitute, though Joan pinned "Huck" on me one summer because I would run around without shoes.
Today is your 86th birthday! You were born on December 16th, 1916 in Brooklyn. For our historically challenged younger generations of Nolans, that was about four months before the United States entered World War I, and about five months before the birth of your fellow World War II sailor, John F. Kennedy.
As for every child your birth was a triumphant event in the family. But for you - and for Daddy - it was also a tragedy because you lost your mother, Bessie (Elizabeth) on the following day.
Our father's sister, Grace, my godmother, became your interim mother. You had a special tie to her all the years she lived. We are all familiar with the remarkable letter Daddy wrote to you, his infant son, in May of 1917, when he feared being taken away from you by the Great War. He told you about your mother, and gave you lifetime counsel about both your praying - and your pooping.
You were a little boy of three and one-half in 1920 when a new mother came into your life - Mary Catherine King - "Mae" to some. How many times over the years did you entertain us with your story, somewhat elaborated, about how you accompanied them on their honeymoon! Recently you have taken to referring to her as your stepmother. For many years, I did not know about the sad circumstances of your birth, but throughout all my life I never heard you refer to her in any way except as "Mother".
In 1924 the family moved to Queens Village. For a while you attended P.S. 34, across the street from SS. Joachim and Anne church. But when the new SSJA school was built you entered the fifth grade - then the highest grade - and were in the first graduating class with your pals, Joe Keating and Gerry Stork. My Marie and I went back to SSJA a few years ago for the 75th anniversary of the founding of the school. Your old 220th Street pal and classmate, Joe Keating, was there and asking for you. You were followed at the school by your six brothers and sisters. Our old school is still going strong with more than 500 students, many of Haitian background.
Tragedy touched the family again in 1926 when you lost little Veronica. That must have been tough for a nine year old boy.
Along the way you become an educational prodigy, graduating 8th grade at the age of 12, and completing Brooklyn Prep at the age of 16. You set the pattern for your four younger brothers going on to Jesuit high schools, Regis and Xavier. After Brooklyn Prep you entered a six year undergraduate/law studies program at the old St. John's University in Brooklyn.
Coming on the scene in 1932, my first memories of my big brother were of your law school days - not studying, but going to parties. You were a pretty happy-go-lucky guy in those days, hanging out with Ed Hahn, Jim Fallon and Bill Reilly - the crooner. I have an enduring memory of you raiding my piggy bank before a big date. Somewhere along the way there was a girl named Kay.
But at home , things were not going well. During the 1930s, Daddy was in and out of the hospital. Frank and Ken were born in 1934 and 1936. You told me the story of how Daddy summoned you in 1938 and made it clear you needed to get a job. He sent you to see an old friend, Judge Richards, at the East New York Savings Bank. (You told me Judge Richards and his wife had wanted to adopt you after your mother died.) Judge Richards gave you a job as a young attorney for the bank for the princely sum of $12.00 per week. Except for World War II, you were to spend your whole working life there.
Daddy died on January 23, 1939. Mother, just 40 years old, was widowed with seven children, the youngest just two. There was no social security. Three rental properties in Brooklyn provided a small income, but rents in those days were $25.00 per month. Without knowing all the details we do know that during our growing up years, you were always helping her financially, first from your small bank pay, then from your naval officer's salary, and later, while you were raising your own family, you found a way to help.
I remember a snowy day in 1943 when you left Queens Village to begin your training as a naval officer at Notre Dame. When I got to Notre Dame in 1954, and would pass Morrissey Hall, I would often think of you living and training there.
Soon you were in the South Pacific as a young ensign on the U.S.S. Biloxi. From the maps and stories in the Long Island Daily Press we at home could have some idea what was happening in your life. We also had your heavily censured V-mail letters.
There was a happy, rainy day in May, 1945, when you were back in Queens, marrying your sweetheart, Kay Connolly. We local yokels from Queens Village were pretty impressed by the reception at the Belmont Plaza on Lexington Avenue in New York. Mother's first grandchild, Mary Jo was there - sort of. In the pictures my very big sister, Marie, sheltered herself behind a covey of her younger brothers. You had to return to the Pacific to finish the job. Happily the war against Japan ended in August. Many years later you told me how your ship went to Japan to recover Allied prisoners, and how you visited the site of one of the A-bomb attacks.
Returning to civilian life and to the East New York Savings Bank, you and Kay had a small apartment in Queens - Forest Hills or Kew Gardens or somesuch. You invited us all for a spaghetti dinner. You were the chef, preparing a special tomato sauce. I was a very impressed thirteen year old for whom spaghetti was something that came out of a can labeled Franco-American. I had also never been in an apartment building before.
Your first baby, Jimmy M.D., was born in 1947, and things went on from there. As my Marie noted when she came into the family in 1956, it was helpful that the next generation was color coded, your and Kay's redheads, Bob and Shirley's blondes, and Joe and Marie's brunettes.
I guess you thought all Nolan boys should be lawyers so you were a bit uncomprehending when you found a history teacher in the family. It was a bit ironic that, just out of the army, and with two new babies, I found my first teaching job at JHS 149 in Brooklyn, a few blocks from the East New York Savings Bank.
A few years later, I got a teaching job in West Islip, found a house and needed a mortgage. It was the summer of 1961. You and Kay were on a cross-country auto tour with Kay's sister Virginia and her husband, Bill Mitty. I guess Mother had your tour schedule, for we knew that you were currently staying at the residence of Bill Mitty's uncle, the Archbishop of San Francisco. And so it was that the mortgage process for my humble $14,800.00 abode on Raleigh Lane in West Islip began at the home of an archbishop. Of course, archbishops were in better repute in those days.
Jim, all the two dotters, including my four children, have wonderful memories of you, of your singing, joking and story telling, of your arranging "shows" in which they participated at family gatherings. We adults still tell your jokes. Recently I got a big kick out of telling you one of your jokes that you had forgotten.
We are sad that you have lost Kay, and that you are alone. But you have four great children who love you and care for you, some wonderful grandchildren, and a host of nieces and nephews scattered over the landscape for whom you have provided lasting, joyful memories.
And though our tight knit band of seven brothers and sisters was broken with the loss of our dear brother Frank, six of us are still here, standing strong, and you are our leader!
With much love on your birthday,
Your kid brother,
Warren (and Marie)
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