They're in the Mail!!!

Anyone who purchased a copy of our new book, Lowell Irish, should be receiving their copy very soon in the mail.  The publishers sent copies to me this week and I mailed out to those who reserved copies.  No worries to those who didn't, I still have plenty if you're interested.  Once again, purchasing directly from me will assure more of the profits can be donated to St. Patrick School and St Patrick Church restoration fund.  (If you don't receive your copy within 10 days, please let me know.)

If you can please join us on Thursday, March 10, 6:30 pm at Long Meadow Golf Club.  We'll have live Irish music, step dancing and recognition of our Anam Cara honorees.  Join us for a pint and a bit of craic.

Lastly, I'll be joining Brian O'Donovan on his Celtic Sojourn music program on WGBH (89.7) Saturday, March 3rd at 3:30.  Listen in if you have a chance.  Celtic Sojourn is a weekly must for those who love Irish music.

Goodbye Mr. Keyes

Lowell Cultural Resource Inventory

It is with a heavy heart I announce the passing of the Keyes Block (the old Cosmo building on Market Street).  Probably the oldest building in the Acre, the old boy has passed due to old age.  There were attempts to resuscitate the poor soul, but alas its last days have come. 

Originally called the Bull Block, it was built in 1833-34 by Abner Bull and passed through several hands until Irish immigrant Patrick Keyes bought it in 1866.  Keyes and his family remained as occupants in the upper floors until 1906.  Keyes operated a grocery store on the ground level and became active in Lowell politics.  His children all attended local school and many became teachers in the city’s schools.  His story is representative of so many others who came to Lowell as an immigrant and sought their fortune and new life in America. 

The iconic brick structure built in the Greek revival style had a number of evolutions.  In the 1830s it was witness to the Irish/Yankee riots.  In the 1840s it saw the rise of the Paddy camps.  In the 185os the Know Nothings passed by on the “smelling committee” visits to Notre Dame Academy.  When the Civil War began Lowell’s Irish marched by after attending Mass at St. Pat’s on their way to battle.  After Mr. Keyes sold it in 1906, it was at the center of the Greek community where shops sold feta and black olives.  Finally, many will remember it as the Cosmo and the hangout of some of Lowell’s livelier characters. 

When the bricks begin to fall to the demolition ball, one of Lowell’s earliest buildings will fade into history.  I have this thought.  Maybe we could take the granite lintel and sills that date back to the erection of Bull Block and put them to good use in the Acre.  Maybe use as curbing in an Acre garden or outline where the shanty once stood in St. Patrick’s churchyard as a memorial.  I’ve contacted the owner, Mr. Kazanjian.  Let’s see what happens.

Winter: An Acre Memory

Whether you believe in global warming or not you have to agree that winter is just not what it used to be.   We lived over a mile away from St Patrick School and no matter the temperature we would be bundled under several layers and sent out to make the trek down Broadway and through the North Common to get to school by 8:15, and then make our way home again later in the day. 

There were no Thinsulate gloves or North Face parkas.  No, we had good, sturdy, but bulky, coats from Stuart’s or Zayres.  It was always bought two sizes too large so you “could grow into it.”  My hat was one of those ear flap jobs with the strap that went under your chin.  It would leave a red mark around your face for a couple of hours, but kept that hat on in high velocity winds.  Of course there were the leggings which were usually hand-me-down from my cousin Armand.  He was taller and they usually dragged more snow and ice along with them adding to the weight of winter wear.  I had a bad habit of losing gloves.  It was not uncommon for me to have one glove and one mitten.  I was forced to wear whatever was left over.  One time I had to go to school wearing my sister’s red mittens with pretty, little snowflakes on them since I lost every pair of gloves I owned.  To round off the ensemble were the black boots with clips.  How I hated those monstrosities!  Your shoe always got stuck in the boot, and I could never get the hang of those dang clips.  When Spring arrived you might be given the opportunity to change the black devil boots in for a pair of “rubbers.”  What might get a chuckle out of kids today was an everyday word for us.  How times change.  If you weighed yourself before and after donning all the extra goods there was probably a 25 pound difference.  I can recall with sheer terror the Sister standing over me with a look between anger and pity as I writhed on the floor trying to get the leggings, boots, or oversized jacket off. 

Walking home from school after a snowstorm was tantamount to making your way through a Marine Corps obstacle course.  First were the snow piles.  Few people shoveled the sidewalks and the plows would make mammoth piles on corners.  Most people would walk around them, but not us.  We’d scale each peak as skillfully as Edmund Hillary climbed Everest.  The next task was to dodge the slush puddles as the cars went by, otherwise you got a mouthful of melted snow mixed in with whatever made up those black chunks that the day before was pure snow.  If you survived that, there was the constant danger of being impaled by the giant icicles that hung from the tenement roofs you passed by.  Every now and then you’d see some come crashing down and smashing to the ground.  My mother would always warn us to look up to see if any icicles might be falling.  She swore she had a cousin who had an icicle go right through him like a wooden stake through a vampire.  Of course if we were looking up we might get hit by a car, but that was all part of survival of the fittest.

But winter also had its many joys; sledding down the big hill by State Teacher’s College, or waiting for Bachelder Street to be closed by the city and start sledding at Wilder to see if you can make it all the way to Walker.  We’d build snow forts and stay in them all day. (Today the safety police would tell us we were in danger.)  We’d eat snow right off the ground.  We all knew about the yellow snow.  Better yet we’d break an icicle of a fence and suck on that.

By the time I’d get home my boots would have to be emptied of snow.  My glasses would steam up from being outside.  My Mom would put all my wet clothes near the stove to dry off.  If we were lucky she’d make cocoa, real cocoa with milk and Hershey’s, not out of some packet.  They’d be chicken soup or better yet tomato soup and grilled cheese.  At night I’d lay in bed and look at the ice forming on the window (no central heating in a tenement) and listen to the plows scraping the cobblestones out on Walker Street resting up for the next day’s adventure to begin again.

ANAM CARA AWARDS _ 2016

The Irish Cultural Committee of St Patrick Parish is pleased to announce this year’s honorees. Barbara Bond (St. Michael Parish), Eileen Sullivan (LAOH), Dr. Colm Donnelly (Queen’s Uni. Belfast, NI), James F. O’Donnell Jr. (O’Donnell Funeral Home), The Immigrant Families Past & Present of St. Patrick Parish. They will be recognized at the Acre Forum on Thursday, March 10 at 6:30 pm at Long Meadow Golf Club. To find out more about this year’s honorees go to LowellIrish.com  and look under events.

Smallpox in the Acre - 1837

Harvard Uni. Medical Library

Rumors have wings.  The fragility of life was well-known to those who lived in the 19^th century.  Childbirth, cholera, dysentery- each added to the toll that would be brought by cart or hearse to the burial grounds of the city.  But one word brought more fear into the community than any other- smallpox.  When Dr. Green heard whispers of the pestilence making its rounds in the Acre, he took immediate steps.  That very afternoon Dr. Green and other Health Commissioners made their way into neighborhood going door to door seeking out the truth.  Dr. Green must have recalled ten years earlier,  when he was the sole physician in the town of Lowell and when the first case was reported in the mills.  According to own memoir about half of the girls working in the mill at that time took off in every direction to get away from the pox.

For years the good Doctor had been advocating vaccinating the population.  At times he went right into the corporations to give the virus.  He prided himself in recording 700 inoculations by doing so.  The conditions for spreading the disease in the Acre were ripe.  The commissioners had been advocating good soil, good water, and good air to keep away the spread of the disease.  The Acre was sorely in want of all three conditions.  Descriptions of the period told of the close quarters and squalid living conditions of the Irish.  Streets were dark in midday due to the cramped conditions.  Sewers flowed freely spreading vapors and death.

Dr. Green could not understand why the Irish did not bring their sick to him at first sight of sickness.  The first few days of the disease was evidenced by fever and chills; common ailments for sure.  As these symptoms dissipated a rash quickly formed and then the pustules.  Those who took care of the sick were often those who helped spread the disease.  Those angels of mercy who went house to house helping their neighbor may have done more harm than good.  The Irish may not have been very knowledgeable of how the contagion spread, but their greatest fear was in having their children taken away.  And it was the children that it struck first.  There were the three Hickey children; John, Margaret, and Johanna.  The Quinn children as well, along with the McGrath, O’Connell, and Donahue wee ones as well.  They were just the beginning.  If the children were found, they might be taken from their families and never seen again.  That was their fear.

The Doctor wrote, The crowded state of this population, their peculiar habits of associating together, especially about the sick, their want of cleanliness, their neglect of Vaccination & the fact that the disease had been most studiously concealed three weeks constituted a train of peculiarly threatening circumstances.   There was considerable resistance to the physicians entering every room on the Acre with the assistance of magistrates in bringing the sick to the hospital.

The Doctor had his way and the epidemic was stopped before it could take a greater toll.  Dr. Green continued his vaccination campaign.  He wrote a paper on the smallpox epidemic in Lowell.  He went on to be the leading physician at St John’s Hospital for many years.  A school was even named after him for all his years of service.  Surely many lives were saved by his efforts, but reports continued throughout the century and into the next.  The Sisters of Notre Dame had to close the school for 2 months in 1870 due to an outbreak.  The Lowell Sun even reported outbreaks into the 1930s.  Surely we should give a nod of thanks to Dr. John O. Green

(As usual thanks to Walter for sharing some great research.)

Pre-order Your Book Now!

The time has come! Lowell Irish is now available to order. Various websites have already started pre-orders for the book, but purchasing the book directly from Lowell Irish allows a significant amount of your purchase (up to 10 times a much) to go directly towards St. Patrick's School and the St. Patrick's Church Renovation Fund.

Lowell Irish will be published and ready to ship on February 22, 2016 and will be selling for $21.99. If you would like it mailed, shipping will be $4.50. You may also pick up the book on March 10, 2016 during the book signing at Long Meadow Golf Club in Lowell, MA.

If you are purchasing directly from Lowell Irish using the PayPal button below and would like it autographed, please write how you would like it to be inscribed while you are checking out.


Checks may be made payable to David McKean and mailed to the following address:

David McKean/Lowell Irish 

1 Benrus Street 

Nashua, New Hampshire 03060 

As always, please contact us at dadumc@comcast.net if you have any questions.

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The Mission Angel - 1890s

Church & School, 1890s

The Sisters of Notre Dame, who still staff St Patrick School, faithfully kept a journal of daily activities from 1852 until 1958.  The Annals, as the volumes were referred to, were daily accounts of Masses attended, rosaries recited, and happenings within the school.  By custom the writers remained unnamed, though there are hints of authorship periodically.  One thread that runs throughout the decades was the visits made by the “mission angel.”  This was the Sisters’ way of saying who was being transferred, very often with little or no notice.  This fictional entry is a combination of facts gathered from the Annals of the Sisters recorded in the late 19^th century. 

The Portress has been busy today.  Many come to the door begging food for their children.  Our pantry is not heavily loaded, but we spare what we can.  As Mother Superior says one never knows when it is the Christ Child who is knocking at the door.  Many of the boarding students have gone home to celebrate Christmas with their families.  Those who remain behind are invited to dine with us in the Sisters’ refectory.  You can tell the students are not used to our custom of dining in silence.  I look at up them and see them looking rather uncomfortable while one of the Sisters reads the lives of the Saints as we eat our meal of soup and bread.  The fast before Christmas has begun meaning no meat until the holy day.  It was only a few years ago that I was a student like them, sitting in the same seats looking at the Sisters wondering if I had the call.

I sit here in the Sisters’ dormitory; our beds separated by a simple white sheet.  Already I hear the snores coming from Sister Fidelia’s bed.  On the other side are the rasping coughs coming from young Sister Lourdes.  Dr. Green says he cannot do much more for her.  I am fortunate to have a window that looks out into the convent gardens.  A number of years ago Mother Desiree, may she rest in peace, had a tall brick wall surround the entire school and convent property.  At the same time we were forbidden to join the parishioners in sitting with the congregation.  An opening was made between the convent and the church.  We were to sit behind this wall to attend Mass and all other liturgical functions.  Our Mother General feels this separation will help us focus on our devotions.  One of the priests comes to the opening to distribute Communion.  Looking at the bare trees and mounting snow can make one doubt her call.  Though we are not allowed to have personal conversations I have heard stories of Sisters who have returned to their families.  They have walked right out the door.  But my guardian placed me with the Sisters when I was a young girl, and the Sisters have become my family. 

After morning Mass on this Christmas Eve the church doors were closed, and we were allowed to decorate the church for the Christmas feast.  Garland was strung from the ceiling to the altar.  Wreaths were hung on every column.  There are 22.  I counted them.  Some of the older women from the parish were allowed to help us.  It was nice to speak with someone new.  The best part of today was that I was given the chore of setting up the manger in our chapel.  It is a most beautiful place.  It was recently completed, designed by the famous Patrick Keely.  The colors are pink and blue and very uplifting.  Not as grand as the parish church, but it is where we spend many hours of the day reciting the Divine Office, rosaries, and being in the presence of our Eucharistic Lord.

But my heart is heavy this Christmas Eve.  I sit here waiting to hear the bells of the steeple of St Patrick church ring in Christmas.  It is the custom of many, some as far away as across the river and into the city center, to wait until they hear the bells ring before they make their way to midnight Mass.  I sit here holding the little note that the Mission Angel has left on my pillow.  I leave to go to our academy in Roxbury right after Christmas.  I must say good bye to this place that has been my home as long as I can remember.  I recall the words of our foundress, Julie Billard.  “Ah qu’il est bon, le bon Dieu.” (How good the good God is.) 

The bells break the silence of this cold December darkness.  They ring out calling me.  Silent Night, Holy Night.

Lowell Irish, coming to a bookstore near you!

It's official!  It's been over a year in progress, actually decades, but we've got the final word that the book I've been working on these long months will be published this March.  Lowell Irish is a collection of stories and reminiscences of Lowell's Irish community, from its beginnings in the Paddy Camps, through the trials and tribulations of settlement, during the pains of the Civil War, and leading to the rise of Lowell's Irish in business, service, and politics.  The final chapter is a series of personal accounts of growing up Irish in Lowell by members of the present Irish-American community.

I've been collecting stories like these for years in hopes of preserving what our ancestors strove so hard to build.  The history of Lowell's Irish community could fill volumes.  It was near impossible to choose which accounts and photos could be entered in a single volume.  It will be to someone else to write volume two.

We've already planned the first book signing for Thursday, March 10th at Long Meadow Golf Club, 165 Havilah Street, Lowell, MA 01852 at 6:30 pm.  There will be live Irish fiddle and guitar music, stepdancing and appetizers.  Please don't feel the need to purchase a book, just come to share a bit of craic!  (That's Irish for fun!)

Part of the proceeds from the sales of the book will benefit St. Patrick School and Restoration Fund.  (Ordering the book directly from me will enable me to send more proceeds to our charities.  Price yet to be determined from History Press.)

Lowell's Irish Magician

Larry Crane

Lowell’s Irish Magician

By Rosemary K. Nunnally

Professor Crane, the Irish Wizard, the Great Irish Magician, and Larry Crane were all stage names for Lawrence McCrann of Lowell.   Lawrence was a well - known magician in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. He was a vaudeville entertainer, amazing audiences in the days before the talking pictures.  When Lawrence died in December of 1950, the Lowell Sun said “His mastery of the mystic art of magic earned him the reputation of being second only to the fabulous Houdini”.

Lawrence McCrann was born in Boyle, County Roscommon, Ireland in August of 1877.  The family came to Lowell about 1885.  Patrick McCrann and Mary Gallagher had five sons and five daughters.  Lawrence started his career a magician in Lowell, performing for small audiences.  As he perfected his acts, he traveled to England and Ireland, supposedly performing for royalty.  Upon his return to the U.S., he was billed as “Professor Crane, of the Old World”.

Lawrence entertained at theaters and halls throughout the country.  His travels can be traced through newspaper reports and advertisements of his show. In 1897 he was at the Keith Theatre in Boston.  The Duluth News Tribune in Minnesota detailed his act called “Cremation” in October of 1906. The Trenton Evening News said of Larry in August of 1908: “the first Celt to make any pretentious bid for popularity in the role of a wizard is Lawrence Crane, the Irish magician.  His feats in magic and puzzling illusions are punctuated with Celtic wit and humor that enhance their entertaining qualities”.  The Daily Illinois State register reported on his performance at the Majestic Theatre in December of 1913: “Crane’s work is successful, not only because of the magician’s personal eloquence of manner and cleverness of words, but because of the apparent difficulty of the tricks which were carried out”.

When Lawrence was back in Lowell visiting family and friends in 1905, the Lowell Sun

 reported “Prof. Crane, from the old world, is a shining example of what a poor Lowell boy can do if he has the brains, ambition and perseverance”.

As radio shows and movies became increasingly popular, vaudeville shows declined.  During the 1920’s and 1930’s theaters across the country began shifting to cinema presentations.

Lawrence McCrann lived in Boston during the 1930’s and 40’s.  He was listed as an actor in the Boston City Directories.  He resided in a hotel at 567 Tremont Street, which is now home to luxury condominiums.

Lawrence died December 14, 1950 at the Boston City Hospital.  His funeral was at St. Patrick’s Church. He is buried in St. Patrick’s Cemetery with his father and brother James.  No headstone was found on his grave.

When Hurling was Played in Lowell

1920 Tipperary hurling team that played in Lowell

Last week for the first time since 1954, the national Irish sport of hurling was played at Fenway Park.  Called the fastest sport in the world, two of Ireland’s greatest teams Dublin and Galway faced off to a crowd of 28,000.  The number who showed up exceeded expectations, though they were small compared to the 80,000 that may be at a game in Ireland.  The history of the game goes back to ancient times, over 2000 years, and has its origins with the Celts arriving in Ireland.  The great mythical hero Cu Chulainn was said to have played the game.  The field at Fenway was converted to a pitch where players using a hurley (a thin wooden stick-like bat) batted a hard leather ball (called a sliotar) attempting to get it in the opponent’s net or goal.  It’s sort of a mix of soccer and field hockey.  There are four quarters with few time outs.  Players are constantly on the move.   The Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA), which sponsored the event, has a long history and promotes Irish sports in Ireland and internationally.

This led to an investigation to Irish sports in Lowell with some interesting finds.  The GAA was founded in 1884.  Just four years later, they sent 50 Irish hurling and other athletes across the US to gain support for the association and regain interest in the sport.  The athletes played in major cities and even spent time in Lowell.  Players marched through the streets of the city and were toasted at a banquet at the American House.  The players wore jerseys and green caps with the harp and shamrocks on them.  The games took place along the field by the river.  Many Lowellians welcomed the players into their homes.  It appeared that the game was already known in Lowell since teams were prepared to contest the “Gaelic Invasion.”  A notice appeared shortly after, that a team of young players was being formed at St. Patrick’s and practiced regularly on the North Common.

The greatest years of GAA sports in Lowell came in the early 1920s.  There was a great resurgence in Irish culture and language connected with the move towards Irish independence.  At that time there were 2 GAA teams in Lowell.  There was a Gaelic football team and a hurling team, named St. Enda’s ( a 6^th century warrior-king from the Aran islands).  The team was made up of native and American-born players.  Most notable was William O’Reilly, who was a well-known player in Ireland before becoming a laborer in Lowell.  The Lowell team often played their rival, the Sinn Feiners from Lawrence at Spalding Field (Alumni Field).  The St. Enda’s team drew great crowds, over 2000 by newspaper accounts.  In 1921 they played a match of two 30 minute rounds against the Young Irelands of Boston.  The city had to offer special trolley cars on game day to service the crowds.  The matches must have gotten a little rowdy when a Lowell team played in Lexington.  The police told them to move on.  The players and spectators crossed the town line into Arlington.  The Arlington police told them to disperse and as the crowd fled an Arlington officer fired his pistol in the back of a fleeing Lowell player. 

By the 1930s interest had again waned and Gaelic football and hurling were no longer being played in the city.  Many in Lowell were former players who would still travel to Boston to watch visiting teams from Ireland and recount the old days of striking l’ash go leor (a strike of perfection).