Our Patriarch--James A. Nolan

                                                         
December 31, 1999

Dear Family,

The least known, most overlooked Nolan is our patriarch,  James A.  He was

born James A., Jr. on December 31, 1886, and left us on January 23, 1939,  a

few weeks after his 52nd birthday. Today is the 113th anniversary of his

birth.

Most of us, his children, still speak of  him as  "Daddy" . The youngest of

us would say, "Daddy we hardly knew ya."

Mother often spoke of the significance of December 31st in the life of our

family.  There would be an open house at 105-11 220th Street to celebrate

Daddy's birthday.  Neighbors, clients and fellow parishoners from SS. Joachim

&  Anne would  stream through the house.  My sister Marie recalls that it was

some time before she came to realize that not everyone was celebrating her

father's birthday on the evening of December 31st.

I must confess I have no direct memories of all of that.  My memories of

December 31st focus on an annual trek I made with Mother  to SS. Joachim &

Anne Church for a New Year's Eve service.  Father Herchenroder or Father

Witterholt would read the names of all of those who had died during the year

so that we might pray for them.  Marie and I attended a similar service on

All Souls Day this year.  Our pastor,  Father Lou, read the names of  family

members lost during the year, including my brother, Frank.  When we lighted

candles and recited appropriate prayers, those New Year's Eve services so

long ago in the old white wooden church in Queens VIllage  seemed near at

hand.

Toward midnight on New Year's Eve, we would join Mother and Sophye on the

sidewalk in front ot the house, banging pots and pans, and tooting horns.  On

December 31, 1956,  Marie  and I were newlyweds, living in the small two room

apartment Mother had originally set up for Bob and Shirley.  We have a

memorable picture of us with Mother & Sophye, together with my brother-in-law

Jim McNichol and his fiance, Joan Heaney,  banging the pots and tooting the

horns to welcome the New Year,  1957.  And of course, no New Years's

celebration was complete without herring on crackers,  with maybe a bit of

horseradish.  We should not forget that my Grandma King's maiden name was

Gleitz.

Though my father had eight children, he lived to attend few of their

graduations and none of their weddings,  He never knew  the joy of sharing in

the lives of the ninety + grandchildren and great-grandchildren  who are his

progeny.  Before his own early death he had experienced the loss of his first

wife, Elizabeth; his daughter, Veronica; his brothers Frank and Warren; his

sister, Mary;  his mother and father, James  A. and Mary; and Mother's

parents, Johanna and Francis King.  He also suffered through many bouts of

poor health.

Despite these  many adversities,  my father had a successful career in the

law,  and was a strong and loving presence in the lives of his wife and

children, as well as in his large extended family.

This has been a difficult year  for us.  We still feel keenly the loss of my

dear brother, Frank who, though he was twelve years older than my father,

seemed, by current standards, a relatively young man, full of life.  We were

shocked by the terrible illness which afflicted Stephen Koch.

But there were joyful moments as well,  the weddings of Frank's and Kenneth's

sons, and Bob's grandson, and the births of new great-grandchildren, Maggie

and Timothy.  And we are relieved to know that Stephen has come a long way

back in his recovery.

So, as we await with hope the arrival of the 21st century, let us briefly

look back 113 years to the 19th century, and say to our Father:  Happy

Birthday, Daddy;  Happy Birthday, Grandpa;  Happy Birthday, Great-Grandpa.

You did good!

Happy New Year to all!

Love,

Warren & Marie

Grandpa Nolan's Letter to 5-Month-Old Son

                                                                          January 3, 2002

Dear Family,

It was 1917 and the great war in Europe had been raging for more than three years.

On February 1, 1917,  Germany began unrestricted submarine warfare, confident of  dealing Great Britain a crippling blow before the United States could effectively intervene.  President Wilson quickly broke off diplomatic relations with Germany.

On March 18, 1917, three American merchant ships were sunk by German U-boats without warning and with great loss of life.

President Wilson hesitated, then made a dramatic appearance before a joint session of Congress on a rainy Monday evening in Holy Week,  April 2, 1917.  He called for a declaraion of war against Germany, stating:  "The world must be made safe for democracy." On Wednesday, the Senate voted 82-6 for war.  In the early hours of Good Friday, the House voted 373-50 for war.  The President signed the declaration of war on the afternoon of Good Friday.

On May 29th a young father - just thirty - recently widowed and still  in mourning, considered the possibility that he would be drafted into military service and might never return from the war.  He sat down and wrote an eight page letter to his infant son.

The young father was my father, James A. Nolan.  The infant son was my brother, also James A. Nolan.  Jim celebrated his 85th birthday on December 16, 2001.  December 31, 2001 was the 115th anniversary of my father's birth.

Below I have transcribed the remarkable letter which my father wrote on that day.

(Note:  The letter is reproduced as it was written, without editorial change.  Because my father's handwriting was, in places, somewhat difficult to read, and my copy of the letter was poor,  I have used question marks to indicate where I was not confident as to the word used, or to indicate a word or phrase that was not discernible.)

..........................................................................................................................

                                                                              273 Etna Street

                                                                                   Brooklyn, N.Y.

                                                                                        May 29th 1917

Dear Son James:

              You are only five months old and some days as your father writes you this long letter.  Your mother, the best and loveliest of God's creatures, died the day after you were born December 17th 1916.  You were born December 16th 1916 at 134 Euclid Avenue, Brooklyn, N.Y.  Dr August G. Maron and your father and the nurse were present.  Your mother saw you and held you in her arms for a little while and then said "good night" to Papa and while asleep took convulsions which lasted twenty-two hours and resulted in her death.

               Your mother was born in Brooklyn, the daughter of William J. Warren and Carrie G. Warren who both died while your mother was very young, about four or six years of age.  Your mother,  I will hereafter call her "Bessie" - her full name was Elizabeth Gertrude Nolan - was born February 17, 1892.  Her brother William is still living and at this writing works for the New York Central Railroad at Niagara Falls, N.Y.  He is younger than Bessie. He is married and has a little boy, who is your first cousin.  Your mother's grandmother (Catherine Williams) is still living at Little Sisters of the Poor Home for the Aged at DeKalb & Bushwick Avenue.  She is almost seventy-four years old.  She has seen you and has prayed for you and Bessie ever since you were born.  When Bessie lost her mother the family lived on Marion(?) Street Brooklyn N.Y. near the g! ood Catholic family named McGill.  Miss Emma McGill, a very good maiden lady, virtually raised Bessie.  The family adopted her - not legally - and orphan though she was Bessie received every advantage in life.  She sang sweetly but softly, she played the piano nicely - she played with a touch all her own  - her personality was more than pleasing, her appearance almost beautiful and her love for Papa and Papa's for her rich and beautiful - one for the other.  We were married June 25th 1913,  at the Church of Our Lady of Lourdes on Aberdeen Street Brooklyn.  Father McAdam married us in the evening and we had a big wedding.  Aunt Grace and Uncle Willie, my younger brother and sister, stood up for us.  We spent our honeymoon at Lake George, N.Y.  We took up our home at #134 Euclid Avenue and lived there until after you were born and Bessie died.

               You were baptized at the Church of the Blessed Sacrament Euclid Avenue and Fulton Street Brooklyn.  Father John M. Kiely who knew Bessie and I well - christened you James.  Emma A. McGill was your godmother.  That was as Mother - Bessie and I planned it before you were born.  My brother Joseph was your godfather.  Bessie is buried in a plot in St. John's Cemetary, Queens County, in a newly purchased plot.  The grave in which she is buried is the second grave from the left.  I paid 250 to enclose the plot.  I paid $100 towards the ground.  My mother paid $100 toward the ground and my brother Frank $25 and my brother William $25.  The plot contains eight graves which will permit of 24 internments.

               Your mother and father for almost two years before mother's (Bessie's) death attended Mass at eight o'clock and received communion weekly.  That is a practice which will keep you right all your life.  Keep it up and God will pour down his love and blessings upon you all you life.  If it be God's will  your father and your mother too  if she were here to advise with you  would love to see you a Priest of God.  If God gives you the vocation  may you prove a good one.

               After Bessie died  I broke up home and went back home to my mother and father at 32 Essex St, Brooklyn N.Y.  For four months my mother tried to mind you but she lost her sleep nights and broke down in health, and Papa had to get out  one morning with you or else Grandma Nolan would have passed away with your care.  I went temporarily to Miss Emma  A McGill your godmother and for a few days stayed there.  Then I decided that the best thing for you and me was to establish our own home again.  Accordingly here we are.  Grandma Nolan consented to allow Grace my sister and a good friend of Bessie's to stay with us until we could find a housekeeper.  But no housekeeper was available and sister Grace and I are here with you keeping house.  Grace loves you and had done a great deal for you so far.  If you can show your gratitude at some ! time in after life do so.  On Sunday evenings and Wednesday evenings Grace receives her gentleman friend and Papa and you have a quiet evening at home and so far you have been a very good boy.

               The nations of the world are at war and Good Friday last our own country joined the war forces against Germany.  The real cause of  it was the use of the German submarine against peaceful passenger ships and the wholesale slaughter of our people.  Congress has passed a Conscription bill which makes your father liable for draft.  I am not afraid to go but I do not like to leave my half-orphan boy to the mercies of the world in my absence.  God will take care of you I am sure if I am called away from you.  This letter is written you so that if I am called to defend my country and taken away perhaps never to return you may have something to remember your father and mother by.  I am a lawyer with only a small practice.  I have earned enough thank God in our married life never to deny either Bessie, your mother, or you or myself anything moderately ! right and proper.  I studied law at night, working and supporting myself as a stenographer and clerk by day.  Your mother was a stenographer and was employed as a stenographer in the office of the Corporation Counsel in Brooklyn, before her marriage.

               Your mother procured(?) me to join the Church choir and I have found much recreation learning the bass part of the various Masses.

                Let me give you a  ??????  in life - from experience.

                Be careful of your companions - chose the best - not the richest.

                 Do not waste your time.  Keep busy every moment. Idleness is th chief ally of the devil.  God loves those who work hard and keep

                 occupied.  Offer it all for the Honor & Glory of God.

                  Keep your bowels regulated and go to stool at least once a day.

                  Read good clean books.

                  Practice frequent communion.

                  Leave liquor alone - your father or mother never touched it.

                  Smoke, but not to excess.

                  Suffer patiently for Christ's sake.

                  Be kind, patient and charitable.

                  Always give in to those you love, even though you are right and they

                  are wrong., but let them know they are wrong.

                   I will write more some other time perhaps - Pray always for your

                   mother and father.

                                                                         Affectionately

                   xxxxxxx                                              Papa

                                                                          (James A Nolan Jr)

..........................................................................................................................

My father was not called to military service, whether because of his single parent status or because of some medical condition, I do not know.  His brothers Walter and Joseph did serve in the military.

After being cared for by Aunt Grace, my three and one-half year old brother James found a new mother  in July, 1920 when my father married Mary Catherine King - my mother. She was twenty-two.  They had seven children, tragically losing their second daughter, my sister Veronica, in April, 1926.  Veronica was a toddler - about twenty months old.

My parents married life was short - less than nineteen years.  After my father's death in 1939, Mother went on alone for forty-six years, the center of a loving and constantly growing family.

At the beginning of this new year, may God's blessing be upon all the young parents in our family, and especially upon those who will be bringing new life into the world this year.

                                                                       Love to all,

                                                                       Warren

                

Happy Birthday, Brother James, From Warren

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)