After years of successful hard work—finding himself on the board of a Chicago area foundry at a young age, then working his way up to
become president of the company—Charles A. Creahan must have thought it was finally
time to retire and enjoy the fruit of his labor. It was at this point that
newspaper clippings and documents began to reveal a glimpse of his personal life.
A passenger list of the S. S. Lurline, sailing from San Francisco on June 30, 1950, revealed that
the fifty seven year old Charles and his wife Mabel were about to enjoy a
vacation in Honolulu.
Two years later, Charles and Mabel surfaced as snowbirds in Florida. Mary Lou Wade’s
“Broward Society” column of the March 12, 1952, edition of the Miami Daily News divulged the fact that
Mr. and Mrs. Charles A. Creahan of Chicago celebrated their thirty-eighth wedding anniversary with a dinner party for their friends Friday evening at the Radio Club. The couple is vacationing until March 22 at the Warren Apartments. Among their guests were Mr. and Mrs. Edward Carpenter from Miami Springs, who were celebrating their thirty-ninth anniversary.
A couple years after that, the Creahans were sailing in another direction, departing from the Big Apple on the Holland-America Line’s S.S. Nieuw Amsterdam, headed for the port of Southampton. The passenger list, indicating their First Class passage, noted the Creahans had plans to stay at the Parklane Hotel in London. It was May 28, 1954, and the two travelers were now each sixty two years of age.
Perhaps there were many delightful trips ahead of them after
this point. I have no way of knowing, though, for that digital window opened up
to reveal that sliver of retirement life, then closed just as unexpectedly. I
couldn’t find any further mention of Charles and Mabel Creahan or their exciting
travel plans—or anything else, for that matter—until one final business report
a few years later.
Photograph, above: The Matson Lines' passenger ship, S.S. Lurline as it approached Pier 10 in Honolulu, circa 1930; courtesy the U.S. National Park Service gallery via Wikipedia; in the public domain.
Photograph, above: The Matson Lines' passenger ship, S.S. Lurline as it approached Pier 10 in Honolulu, circa 1930; courtesy the U.S. National Park Service gallery via Wikipedia; in the public domain.
And now this is the kind of information we're cautioned against sharing to avoid alerting criminals as to when our house will be available to rob.
ReplyDeleteFrom our perspective, Wendy, I've always been amazed at all the detail published in decades past in small town newspapers--as you mentioned, stuff we'd never put in print nowadays. The rich contextual portrait of our ancestors we're able to compose from such details is something our descendants, generations from now, will lack. Perhaps our first-person tweets and facebook posts will be their only substitutes--if, that is, those business-controlled archives become accessible.
DeleteI think back in the day, there were people to mind the house when the owner(s) were gone - the gardener, pool boy, maid and/or cook - that sort of thing.
ReplyDeleteThat is one beautiful looking ship!
I'm thinking back in the day, the only ones who were able to afford such travel were the ones who could say they had a gardener, pool boy, maid or cook!
DeleteI love those old snipits of life back in the day. We also joke about them...but it is a true slice of their lives....I think people were more honest back then and watched out for their neighbors places when they were on vacation. Maybe they lived in a gated community:)
ReplyDeleteIt's that watching-out-for-each-other that served in the place of the gated communities of current times. It's helpful to try and climb into the mindset of that bygone era. We sure don't think the same now...gotta be careful to not just make assumptions about those times based on what we take for granted now. Life was so different.
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