Category: and More

Christmas Carols in Lawler—1950s Style

The following is a story taken from ‘Depot Street Memories—The Lawler Stories’ (available now as an e-book on Kindle and Nook for $3.00). It has to do with a decision my buddy George Timlin and I had to make on the spur of the moment. I’ll let YOU decide if we made the right choice. Either way…the statute of limitations has run out!

Chapter Fifteen

“Bless Me Father, for I Have Sinned”

It was one of these December activities that became a ritual and great fun for participants. One evening, a week or two before Christmas, a dozen or so boys and girls would get together to go caroling. We walked around town and knocked randomly on doors. When the homeowner answered, we broke into Jingle Bells, or Silent Night, or Frosty the Snowman, or some other song of the season, in mostly off-key voices.

More often than not, the folks who came to the door listened and then gave us a buck or two for our efforts. Although it was never stated, the unwritten rule understood by all was that any monetary gains from our venture were passed on to Mt. Carmel Catholic Church. At the time Lawler was 95% Catholic, and most donors to our caroling gig considered it to be just one more offering to the parish.

On this particular winter night, however, we sang at one of the few homes in town not inhabited by a family of our faith. The occupant was a business owner and nice guy who gave George Timlin and me an admonition as he handed us (as self-designated treasurers) a couple of bucks, “Now I don’t want this to go to the church. Buy yourselves malts with it.”

Neither of us said anything about it until it was time to go home. Fortunately, we happened to be the only ones who heard the man’s request. So as our group dispersed for the evening and went our separate ways, George and I discussed our dilemma.

“Wudaya think?” I asked.

“I dunno. Wudayou think?”

“Well. He did say that he didn’t want it to go to the church.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said.”

“Wudaya think?” I asked again.

Neither one of us wanted to make the decision that might land our sorry butts in Hell, or Purgatory at the very least.

“Well, what about the other ten in the group? You can’t buy more than a couple malts at Martin’s Café for two bucks,” says he.

“Good point,” says I. “I guess we gotta’ do what he asks and turn the rest in to Father Delay. And I think it’s a good idea if we just keep this to ourselves.”

So that’s exactly what we did. Sometime that next week we handed in most of the money to Padre James, but withheld a small amount to honor the request of the contributor. Within a day or so after that, George and I plopped a buck apiece on Dint Martin’s counter and ordered up delicious chocolate malts for ourselves. If either of us felt guilty at the time, it was not a subject that we discussed.

I had conveniently almost forgotten about it until the following Sunday when I happened to be serving Mass. Father Delay was at the pulpit at the end of the service making announcements, one of which was, “And a special thanks to the Mt. Carmel Christmas carolers who raised $23 for the church with their singing.”

I would have made it okay if I had not looked down from the bench, where the altar boys sat during the sermon, and spied my co-conspirator with a big grin on his mug. He opened and closed his right fist five times.

I got it. Twenty-five. “That would be twenty-five dollars, Father Delay,” he seemed to be saying. “Not twenty-three dollars. Sheridan and I nabbed two bucks from God to down a couple malts at Martin’s Café!”

Somehow I managed to avoid the church giggles that normally come at such times. But I’ve never forgotten that grin on Timlin’s face.

I assume that the statute of limitations has run out after the five decades. But just to be on the safe side, maybe I ought to go to confession. And if I do, there’s one thing for certain, I’m not taking the rap by myself.

George Timlin downed one of those malts, so he’s gonna’ share in the blame.

I’m not sure that he can be forgiven if I make the confession on his behalf—but it’s worth a shot!

Irish Heritage by Tom Brannon

 

 

MY IRISH RELATIVES

My Dad would have been one hundred years old in 2011. He was born in a small farming town in Lawler, Iowa. The population at the time my father lived there was about 500. I visited there when I was a young man and it seemed to me that many of the town’s people were related to me. I recall visiting the local cemetery and observing all my deceased relatives tombstones including my grandparents who were born in Ireland. I was told my grandfather was a successful farmer who lost his farm due to the great depression in 1929. He reportedly deposited his money from a successful crop in the bank only to have the bank close the next day. After losing the farm my grandfather moved to Independence, Iowa where he obtained employment with the Iowa State Hospital, running their farm industry. My Dad, upon graduating from high school in Lawler, left to find employment in Chicago, IL, where I was born.

Even though my Dad left Lawler as a young man he never forgot his life on the farm. He often talked about returning there and always spoke of being buried there. He continued all of his life, whenever he returned to Iowa, to visit Lawler and often sent money to the priest at the small Catholic Church.

Years passed and my Dad retired after suffering a serious heart attack. While living in Glendale, California my Dad and Mother decided to visit us in Japan in the 1970’s.  They insisted they come in August, and although we strongly discouraged their visit in August they insisted. August in Japan is when all of Japan shuts down for vacations and travel is extremely difficult. Japan’s four main islands are only as big as California, with a population approximately 150 million people, making travel difficult.

My parents arrived in Japan and at that time we were assigned to Yokosuka, about an hour’s train ride from Tokyo. I was worried about their trip as I knew my Mom would most likely be in shock at the difference between the United States and Japan. I was right. They no sooner arrived and my Mom asked why these people don’t speak English. Next she said for me to slow down or I was going to cause my Dad to have another heart attack. Wow, I thought this vacation is going to be difficult. We finally made it to the base, having driven by car from the airport in Tokyo.

Later I planned a trip for them to Shimoda, a beautiful fishing village, where Admiral Perry entered Japan and established trade with the country. Although the trip was only about 90 miles, it took over 12 hours to drive there. I thought my Mother was going to drive me crazy with her complaining why it was taking so long. I reminded her I had told her it was vacation time in Japan, and I had warned her not to come in August. Then when we got to the Oceanside inn where we often stayed she said, “Don’t tell me we have to sleep on the floor.” Bev and I left and then went to the Saki bar and had a few drinks to escape after an exhausting day.

 

 

The rest of the trip went well, however, the return trip and another 12 hour ride back to Yokosuka was much the same with complaints about the long drive. So, I thought I would take them to Tokyo, and put them on a bus for a tour of the city. We took the train to Tokyo and went to the Sanno Hotel. American food was available at the Sanno so that made them happy. Then after a bite to eat we took them outside to where the bus was leaving, they got on, my mother was astonished that we were not going with them. Again Bev and I went to the bar in the hotel and indulged in a few drinks to survive. Bev being a Baptist laughed and said, “Now I see why the Irish drink so much.”

Back home at our base things went well. However, my mother started asking my wife why hasn’t any one called and told her about her mother and how she is doing. She then started complaining she probably died and no one will call and tell her. Finally Bev got a little upset and picked up the phone and called the United States and got Grandma McClung on the line and said, “Tell Mary you aren’t dead.” My Grandma McClung and I were very, very close and she was fully aware of my Mom’s disposition. My Grandma lived well into her 90’s and was one of the smartest women I ever met. She had graduated from a four year Registered Nurses training course at the turn of the century, and was the youngest of 13 children.

Next I planned a trip farther north to a very famous shrine where the Emperor of Japan went annually. The temple was over a thousand years old. We had visited it previously. So off we went in my new car which I had purchased for my parents, and the car had air conditioning, which was unusual for Japan. It seemed finally the complaints from my mother were slowing down, although I attributed that to my mother being mad at Bev, after she made the phone call to Grandma and was told to quit complaining and enjoy herself.

So we finally made it to the famous one thousand year old temple. As we pulled up to the temple on the hill I said to my Dad, “How do you like that?” He stated “Tommy this is no nicer than the cemetery in Lawler.” I still laugh about the comment to this day. I have told all of the relatives from Iowa of my dad’s comments and they get a big kick out of it. The funny thing, after my parents returned to the United States they did tell everyone what a wonderful time they had and how much they enjoyed Japan and their visit.

  • A side note to this story is that my father died before my mother. So my mother buried my father at the famous Forest Lawn cemetery in Glendale, CA. That location is where all the famous people in CA and all the movie stars are buried. Recently they buried Michael Jackson in Forest Lawn. I visit the location whenever, I return to Glendale and without a doubt it is certainly the most beautiful cemetery in CA. It is also the most visited with the exception of Arlington in Washington. D.C., That location is where President Kennedy is buried. Unfortunately my dad did not get his wish to be buried in Lawler, Iowa.

 

  • One time years ago when we were visiting relatives in Iowa my wife and I drove out to the cemetery in Lawler. After walking around I heard my wife looking up and saying to herself out loud Paul, my dad’s name, this cemetery is not as nice as the cemetery in Japan.

John Lawler: Our Community’s Founder—Born in Ireland!

 This information comes from “ancestry.com:”

 

ID: I599

  • Name: John LAWLER
  • Surname: Lawler
  • Given Name: John
  • Sex: M
  • Birth: 4 May 1832 in Carlow Co., Ireland
  • Death: 24 Feb 1891 in Prairie du Chien, Crawford Co., Wisconsin
  • _UID: 7BD7AE03E5C2504B9CC9F4909EFA434851E4
  • Note:

According to a bio, John was the eldest son of Mary Cantwell and Patrick Lawler, who came to the US in 1836 and lived in New Jersey. At 15 [abt 1847] John started working for a railroad company in Middletown, New York. Three years later [1850] he became a foreman at the Erie Railroad docks in Piermont. In 1856, he and his new wife left for Chicago, and a year later, settle in Prairie du Chien. { The Columbian Biographical Dictionary and Portrait Gallery of the Representative Men of the United States, Wisconsin Volume, 1895, by D. I. Nelke, <googlebooks>, 9 Aug 2012}
“While in Piermont [Rockland Co., New York], he had become acquainted with a young Irish girl, Catherine Dinon, whom he married in 1854.” {‘The Life of John Lawler’, by William B. Flaherty, Wisconsin Magazine of History, Dec 1940, <http://content.wisconsinhistory.org/cgi-bin/showfile.exe?CISOROOT=/wmh&CISOPTR=13742&CISOMODE=print>}
John Lawler and his wife Catherine (Dinan?) had at least 13 children:
John D. 1855-1896;
Thomas P. 1857-;
Daniel W. 1859- ;
Louis Dana 1860-1885;
Frances J. 1862-1890,
Joseph C. 1865-1920;
Mary J. 1866-1894 m. Charles J. L. Lantry;
Vincent 1868-1869;
Augustine 1870-1871;
Katherine Emily 1874-1945;
Clement A. 1874-1923;
Ellen ‘Nelly’ Caroline 1876-1933;
and Julia P. 1876-1876.
“Born in a small village in Carlow county, Ireland, May 4, 1832, he came to America in boyhood. At fifteen [1847?], he began working for a railroad company in upstate New York. Almost immediately his fine talents came to the knowledge of his employers, and three years later we find him foreman at the Erie railroad docks at Piermont, New York. Continuing to advance, before he was twenty-one he had secured a desirable position on the Canandaigua and Niagara Falls railroad at Tonawanda, New York. Moving to Chicago in the following year [1853?], he engaged in general railroad work. The summer of 1857 found him in the Wisconsin town of Prairie du Chien, an agent for the Milwaukee and Prairie du Chien railroad….” {‘The Life of John Lawler’, by William B. Flaherty, Wisconsin Magazine of History, Dec 1940, <http://content.wisconsinhistory.org/cgi-bin/showfile.exe?CISOROOT=/wmh&CISOPTR=13742&CISOMODE=print>}
“John Lawler 1832-1891: railroad executive, businessman, philanthropist, b. Carlow County, Ireland. He migrated to the U.S. with his parents in 1836. As a young man he worked for various railroads in the East and, after living briefly in Chicago and Milwaukee, settled in Prairie du Chien in 1857, where he was station agent for the Milwaukee and Mississippi Railroad. A short time later he became general agent for the line; in 1861, it was taken over by the Milwaukee and Prairie du Chien Railway Company. In 1863 he became vice-president of the newly organized McGregor Western Railway Company, and in 1867 both lines became part of the Milwaukee and St. Paul. Recognizing the importance of the Mississippi River to the transportation system, Lawler gained control of the river ferry in 1859, received a contract to ferry rail traffic in 1863, and remained in virtual control of all rail traffic between Prairie du Chien and McGregor until his death. In 1864, he became president of the Northwestern Packet Company, which merged with the Davidson line in 1866. To meet the problem of transferring railroad traffic between Prairie du Chien and McGregor, Lawler at first utilized railroad barges and later financed construction of a pontoon bridge, which was completed in 1874. He was a director of the Northwestern Life Insurance Company and a regent of the Univ. of Wisconsin. Active in many local philanthropies, he was particularly interested in furthering Catholic education. He was one of the founders and financiers of St. Mary’s College and Academy and St. John’s (now Campion) College in Prairie du Chien, and gave liberally to Georgetown Univ. and the Catholic Univ. of America.” {Dictionary of Wisconsin History, <http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/dictionary/>}
“In April 1857 the railroad came to Prairie du Chien and determined the economic and social life of the community for a century. That summer a young John Lawler came as the station agent…. The railroad built a hotel on the Upper Mississippi known first as the Railroad House and later renamed Dousman House. About that same time John Lawler bought much of Fort Crawford and donated a block to Catholic nuns for St. Mary’s Academy…. Lawler made his money transferring railroad cars and passengers across the river first by ferry. In 1874 he launched the pontoon railroad bridge that operated until 1955 and was dismantled in the early 1960s. Lawler Park was named after John Lawler, Prairie du Chien’s greatest philanthropist.” {Crawford Co., Wisconsin, <http://crawfordcounty-wi-us.org/>}
“The width of the Mississippi River posed a challenge for further expansion of the railorad into Iowa. This problem was temporarily solved by disassembling the trains at Prairie du Chien and ferrying them across the river to be put back on the tracks on the other side. A better solution was found by two men named Michael Spettel and John Lawler, who designed a permanent pontoon bridge to span the river in 1874. Lawler took most of the credit for this invention, and made a small fortune through its operation.” {Wikipedia, ‘Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin’, <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Main_Page>}
“[Lawler, Chickasaw Co., Iowa] was named after John Lawler, of Prairie Du Chien, he being the active agent representing the railroad company when the town was laid out. “ {http://iagenweb.org/chickasaw/maps/mapsnames.htm}

John and Catherine are buried in St. Gabriel’s Catholic cemetery in Prairie du Chien, with a number of their children. There are photos of their memorial listing “John Lawler, May 4,1832—Feb 24, 1891, born in Cnty Carlow, Ireland”; and “His wife Catherine, Dec 23, 1833—Apr 1,1922, born in Cty Cork, Ire–died in Kansas City, Mo.” There is also a memorial for their children Vincent A., Augustine E., and Julia P. who died young; and another for their children Clement A., Ellen Caroline and Katherine Emily; with Mary and her husband Charles J. L. Lantry. {WIGenWeb, <http://www.rootsweb.com/~usgenweb/wi/cemetery/crawford.html>}
There is also a record made by WPA of graves for Louis D. 1860-1885; Francis J. 1862-1890; Joseph C. 1864-1920; Clement A. 1874-1923; S. D. Sturgis 1892-1949, son of John D.& Ella; and John D. 1855-1896. {St. Gabriel’s Cemetery, Crawford Co., Wisconsin, USGenWeb, <http://ftp.rootsweb.com/pub/usgenweb/wi/crawford/cemeteries/stgabriels.txt>}

  • Change Date: 12 Aug 2012 at 09:50:45
                                                                      Ancestry Hints for John LAWLER

 

Iconic Two-Sided Fountain Restored!

Thanks to all of you current and former Lawlerites who contributed to the complete restoration of that fabulous fountain…and just in time to be enjoyed by those who attended Lawler’s Irish Fest I.  This photo (below) was taken by Bonnie Kuehner and the following is a chapter from my book, “Depot Street Memories…The Lawler Stories:”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Lawler’s Two-Sided Fountain

            It was one of the coolest landmarks in Lawler, but that is not how we thought of it. To us, it was simply a great place to get a drink any time of the night or day. Standing proudly on the sidewalk south of the lumberyard was the town’s only public water fountain.

It was without question one of the most unique fountains in the state of Iowa. The concrete structure was built to serve humans from the sidewalk on the north, and horses from the street side on the south.

Only a half block or so from The Park, the fountain was turned on in the early spring and ran continuously through October. Occasionally we called a halt to our football or baseball games and ran over for a cool refreshing drink.

There was a cement block for little kids to stand on in order to reach the fountain. It had a two-foot high barrier between the front (people-side) and back (horse-side).When we were youngsters, it was likely the most proficient germ-spreading device within fifty miles. That is because most of us completely cupped the fountain with our mouths to inhale the delicious cold water. (If you instinctively said, “Gross!”—I couldn’t agree with you more.)

The back side of the fountain had a large bowl beneath a valve that could be turned on to fill up for thirsty horses (or wash our hands if we had eaten something sticky).

As this is written in the summer of 2009, the fountain is still there and, I’m told, is still a functional piece of plumbing. My hope is that it does not go the way of the town bell that was located about one hundred yards to its west. To my regret, the bell has long since been dismantled.

That wonderful two-sided water fountain has stood guard over Main Street for at least eighty years, and needs to be there for future generations of Lawlerites and their horses to enjoy.

 

 

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Your Encore Career: For Fun or Profit

Author’s Note:

Although the following piece is not directly related to Lawler, it ‘kinda sorta’ is. Let me explain. My first ‘real’ job began in 1957 at age 13, working for Uncle Chet McKone and Cousin Jack at the Phillip’s 66 Station on the west end of the business district. Eventually, we moved to the DX Station on the east end of downtown. After graduating from high school, I worked for a couple of years at the State Bank of Lawler before going to college.

Somehow, when I wasn’t paying attention, 56 years passed like 56 days since that first day at the filling station. As this is written, I am 69. I retired from corporate life in Des Moines at age 65, but made the choice to keep busy . The following piece has been sent to an author specializing in retirement topics. He wants material for a book that he’s updating and I have no idea at the moment whether he will use it. Either way, I want to share it with our Lawler website users. Hope you enjoy the story. (Bill)

Your Encore Career: For Fun or Profit

My final day as an employee in the corporate world, as a trainer for a major life insurance company in Des Moines, was on the last Friday in March, 2009.

My first official day as a self-employed writing coach, freelance writer, and author began three days later on the first Monday of April, 2009.

I jokingly tell my friends who knew that I once taught high school English, “My corporate career was really really good…but this encore career is even gooder!”

There were two factors leading to a seamless transition from reporting for work after a 25-minute commute  downtown, to walking a couple minutes downstairs to my basement home office:

1.) The previous 35-years I had written essays and articles for newspapers and magazines as an avocation. Occasionally there was remuneration, and more often simply the pure joy of seeing my words in print.

2.) I had the privilege of having a life coach for many years, Mary Duwe of Mosinee, Wisconsin, who kept me  focused on the task at hand.

During the final year on my job, each week during our one-hour phone session, Mary reminded me of our theme for the year: GET READY…GET SET!

She asked me how my plans were coming toward the next phase of my life. Something she said stuck with me like glue, “Bill, I’ve watched a lot of people retire and have noticed a trend that can be avoided. If they don’t have a plan for their lives every morning–their days turn to mush!” That possibility had absolutely no appeal to me.

With Mary’s gentle prodding and my desire to avoid sitting in a rocking chair at age 65, we made a plan that has worked out phenomenally well.

It helped that I was gifted with several related passions: I loved writing, enjoyed helping others write, wanted to write a memoir about growing up in the 50s, and now had the time to concentrate on all of the above.

To ensure that potential clients know I was serious, the following steps were taken:

  • An attorney helped me form a limited liability company (Sheridan Writes, LLC), so our retirement savings would not be at risk from some frivolous lawsuit
  • Established a business checking account and secured a business credit card
  • Created my own website (www.sheridanwrites.com) and a business email address (william_sheridan1@msn.com); and ordered professional looking business cards
  • Wrote a nine-word mission statement: “My mission is to help you tell your story!”
  • Networked to find my first clients. A friend who works with professional speakers led me to several folks who needed help writing books, magazine articles, and web content
  • Self-published my first book (Depot Street Memories—The Lawler Stories) to establish credibility
  • Presented readings at service clubs, libraries, retirement homes, and church groups encouraging audiences to write their own stories…even if only on a yellow pad…before those stories are lost
  • Sold a thousand copies of my printed version, and then uploaded it to Kindle and Nook as an e-book
  • Continue to submit articles to newspapers and magazines, most of which are published

Does that mean all I’ve accomplished in ‘retirement’ is work?

Not by a long shot. Renee and I ‘snow birded’ for the first time last year, leaving snowy Iowa to invest the month of February in Florida. I volunteer to teach AARP Driver Safety classes to seniors 5-6 times per year. I go out for lunch or breakfast with former co-workers four or five times per month. I meet my two bible study buddies weekly. My wife and I attend events at Des Moines Civic Center and movies on a regular basis. We’ve reconnected with old friends who were neglected when both did the 9-5 routine. And we go to a bizillion sporting and school events that our two grandsons participate in every year.

It’s been four years since my last day on a corporate job that I loved. As this is  written, I am now 69. Thanks to some great coaching and my own willingness to plan ahead, my days have not turned to mush. And as a couple, we’re having the time of our lives.

My advice to those still in the workforce: Develop a plan. Decide what would be fun and fulfilling. Follow through. Make the rest of your years the best of your years. You do have a choice.

Bill Sheridan

8106 Brookview Drive

Urbandale, IA 50322

 

William_sheridan1@msn.com

 

www.sheridanwrites.com

 

515.669.4913