Photo Album
 Memories
In the 1860s, Mary Lombard and James Curtayne of Killarney, County Kerry
were married. Their marriage was blessed by seven children, the last of
whom was my grandfather Daniel. When Daniel was but two years old, in
1883, both parents died, leaving John, 18, and Kate, 17, to care for their
siblings. Realizing that if they didn’t act quickly, most of them
would end up, probably separated, in an orphanage. They decided that their
only hope was America. With no money for the boat fare, they each prepared
a little bundle and all seven were off to the next ship leaving for America
– as stowaways. It was no simple affair with young children and
most specially, little Daniel.
At high sea, they were caught!
 After
a severe scolding, the captain, a right and good man, employed the older
boys to shovel coal and Kate cared for the others. Arriving in New York
City they managed to find a room, and the following day, in spite of their
fatigue, they found jobs – selling papers, sweeping sidewalks, shining
shoes, etc.
After the first week’s salary and the rent paid, they were able
to rent a second room. Kate was there to care for the children and clean
and cook some meager meals, but the Irish community often came to the
aid of these dear orphans – a pot of soup, some fresh bread, some
hot stew, a few pennies here and a few pennies there. Things got better;
soon John, Kate, and Nellie married; James and Ned (twins) and Will remained
bachelors; little Daniel was enrolled in the public school and as it happened,
he was the only one who did go to school.
Will, second to the youngest, wanted to go “west” to find
gold as so many did. However, he landed in Arizona, and digging, he found,
instead of gold, a hot water geyser on which he built a laundry. With
an unending supply of hot water he made his fortune.
 My
grandfather, Daniel, finished school, entered the New York City police
force and was sent to the Bronx. In 1904, he married Sadie Harnett and
moved to a little house at 1816 Waterloo Place in “Irishtown”
in the Bronx. On April 11, 1906 my father, Edmund Vincent (called Vince)
was born and soon after, another boy, Walter Stanley. Grandpa spent his
whole active life in the police force and Walter followed him.
My father went to Fordham High and worked his way through Fordham College
selling hot dogs on a street corner and tutoring students in German. It
was said that he spoke German with an Irish brogue. His big ambition was
to become a lawyer and he continued at Fordham Law School to arrive at
this end. In 1939 he married Helen Grace Smith of Brooklyn and left his
beloved Bronx. Their marriage was blessed by three girls. One of them
tells a story which I think describes Vince’s character and temperament.
 Almost
every month we went to visit our grandparents in their little house on
Waterloo place. We loved to go because we loved them and also we always
had a treat. We arrived home in the late evening and always, Mary, the
youngest, fell asleep on the way. Dad would take her in his arms and carefully
carry her into the house and up to her room. Lovingly, he undressed her
and put her in her bed. This went on for a couple of years.
Many years later, not long before Dad’s death, Mary was speaking
to him and said, “Dad, I have a confession to make.”
“Do you!” said Dad.
She went on to say, “Do you remember our visits to Grandpa and
Grandma in the Bronx?”
“Sure!” he said.
 “Remember when
you carried me up to bed when we got home?”
“I do!” said Dad.
“Well, Dad, I wasn’t asleep, I only pretended to be.”
And Dad replied very simply, “I know!”
Submitted by: Sister Mary Alphonsus
Little Sisters of the Poor, San Francisco, California
|
