A Young Girl Signs a Promise

When Agnes Tully Stevens was only four years of age, her older sister Mary Monica—or Mae, as she was often called—must have gone through some event which inspired her to think seriously about personal commitments and her future. I can see now, from research, that she had some cousins—and possibly an uncle or two—who chose a lifestyle having such an impact on their health as to possibly influence Mae’s opinion on the matter. But I can’t say for sure. 

Regardless of whatever happened leading up to November, 1892, fourteen year old Mae Tully chose to respond to an appeal from the Paulist Fathers who spoke at her church. Mae Tully took a pencil and signed a “Total Abstinence Promise” at Saint Anne’s Church in Chicago, promising to avoid all “intoxicating drinks” for “10 years from now.”

The card itself, most likely written by the Paulist Fathers, included what would now be dismissed as a stilted and old-fashioned approach: a list of reasons why such action should be taken. I can hardly image any substance abuse specialists adopting this hundred year old methodology today. And yet, considering all the grief and tragedy endured by the family of Mae Tully McGonagle’s own nephew, the card hardly misses the mark for accuracy.

Total * Abstinence * Promise

Made

At the Mission given by the Paulist Fathers

In The

St. Anne’s Church, Chicago

November, 1892.

            For the love of God and for the good of my soul, I promise to abstain from intoxicating drinks.

                        Name ……………

                                    For…………years

 

 A’s REASON.

I feel that by making this promise I can encourage others, who may need it, to do the same.

B’s REASON.

I have noticed that those who make and keep such promises are better Christians, have better health, longer life, and pleasanter homes than habitual drinkers.

C’s REASON.

I cannot afford to be constantly drinking. I have a family to support, and they need all I can earn.

D’s REASON.

I must do some penance for my sins; such self-denial is pleasing to God and meritorious for me.

E’s REASON.

I am afraid of giving scandal to my children or to others; should any one by my example become a drunkard, what could I answer in the day of Judgment?

F’s REASON.

Drunkenness is a great cause of sin, cruelty, and crime; I intend to avoid even the occasion of it.

G’s REASON.

Once I was a victim of the drink habit. I am resolved never again to submit to its slavery.

H’s REASON.

When the demon of discord caused by drink enters the house, the Angel of Peace departs; I prefer dwelling with the Angel of Peace than with the demon of discord.

Means Well

As I move through the collection of family papers saved by Agnes Tully Stevens, I’ve run across some items which still puzzle me. One such piece was a post card that I posted here in mid-June, from someone called Sister Mary Agnes. In her message on that post card, she did insert the name Eileen in parenthesis, just in case her great aunt didn’t remember which relative wrote the note.

Years later, Eileen surfaces again, this time to write a note of sympathy after the passing of Agnes’ son Frank. Since her 1944 post card, Eileen—or, we can presume, still Sister Mary Agnes—is now teaching at a school in Guatemala. Quetzaltenango, the second largest city in the country, is home of Colegio Teresa Martin, a Catholic institution of long standing, where she is evidently serving as an instructor.

Unfortunately, since the time of that first post—and even the speculations I meandered through the following day on her possible connection in the McGonagle family—I’ve not yet been able to determine her identity and position within the Tully and Stevens family constellations. That is still a task awaiting another trip to Chicago and a visit with some relatives who might know.

In the meantime, here she is, surfacing once again within this collection of letters, still corresponding with family though her own life has removed her miles and miles away. And yet, for all the kindness of the condolences, she seems to have an awkward way of expressing herself, as if imposing upon the other party the burden of actually reaching out to make that connection. I’m sure, despite the awkward gestures, she really does mean well.

                                                           Colegio Teresa Martin

                                                           Quezaltenango, Guatemala

                                                           March 22, 1966

Dear Aunt Agnes,

            In one of mother’s last letters, she told me the tragic news of Francis’ death. I had meant to write before this, but since I’m teaching nine hours a day, I find it quite difficult to get letters off to the States. I am really very sorry to hear about Francis. Somehow I felt closer to him than to the other members of your family.

            How have you been feeling? And Patsy, too? I suppose Mother told you I had been in the hospital. I don’t have all my energy back, but am working almost as hard as I was before I took sick. At that time I was teaching 13 hours a day in the classroom. Now I have only nine. I try to rest two hours a day—one in the morning and one in the afternoon. It’s hard to rest in a country where one can see so much to do. It would be nice to have some of the family come down and visit with me a little while—say, to pass a vacation or something like that. I have a very lovely little apartment of five rooms. It is a little on the expensive side, but it is nice and quiet. I had been looking for a nice quiet place for a long time. In January, I finally succeeded in renting this one. Of course, the apartments here are nothing like the apartments in the U. S. but I am very much satisfied with this one.

            Is Frank’s family going to stay in New Mexico, or will they move back North. Did his wife have a profession so that she can get a job easily?

            Dear Aunt Agnes, I don’t want to make this a very long letter because I want it to be an expression of sympathy and I doubt if you would like to talk at length in a sympathy letter, so for this time, I shall just say I am very sorry, and I shall be sure to include his soul in my prayers and daily Mass.

            I can write more some time later, or if you care to know something about what I’m doing or about the country here, you may write me and give me some guide questions. Then I shall know what you are most interested in. That will give us a chance to keep in touch with one another, that is if I can find time to squeeze in a letter now and then.

            Love and sympathy to all,

                        Eileen

More Hats and Bonnets

Along with the photographs of the beach trip found in the papers of Agnes Tully Stevens, there was one more picture. Unlike the others we’ve seen over the past several days, this one does not include the type of background you would expect for beach scenery. And although the outfits worn by those mystery people in the Wrightsville Beach series were extraordinarily formal—at least by today’s standards—for beach attire and summer vacation garb, the outfits do not look much different than those featured in today’s photograph.

 

Although I suppose there is the possibility of a story line of someone taking a photo at the start of the trip—the Tully family was, after all, living in much-chillier Chicago—this picture might have nothing whatsoever to do with the oceanside holiday we’ve been considering. However, it was included along with the others from that 1911 excursion. I consider it a fitting close to the series of unknown faces.

Whether the extended family—that mystery family for whom I’ve found no clues—was linked to Agnes’ sister’s McGonagle family, or to possible Flanagan relatives of Agnes' mother, Catherine Malloy Tully, I don’t know yet. But I can hope—as long as Google keeps searching and as long as Blogspot keeps hosting blogs—that these pictures will continue to be accessible for someone to stumble upon.

Someone, perhaps, who does know.

A Plant Provides a Hint

There they are, in all the pictures I’ve posted over the past few weeks: the mystery family. The extended mystery family, complete with baby, children and even pets. Uncles, cousins, and even grandmother figure prominently.

True, I don’t even know their names, though I can guess.

Though many remain nameless, I spot similarities and try to group some of them together.

All I know is that they are on holiday at the waterfront. I presume, from the handwritten note on the reverse of some snapshots, that the location is Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina. This location is confirmed from the “Abananza Studio” label on the postcards. The date, given on one of the pictures, is 1911. The one thing I know for sure is that these pictures all came from the papers of my husband’s grandmother, Agnes Tully Stevens.

And yet, I find myself so starved for confirmation on the identity of these folks that I grasp at little details. The dog pictures, for instance. And this strange, tropical-looking plant that I found in one under-exposed, wallet-sized photograph.

The picture is of a man holding a baby. Despite the setting of the photograph being outdoors in nice weather—and at the waterfront, too—the man appears to be wearing business attire. Other than missing the suit jacket, he looks very much like the couple at the far right in the group photograph I posted yesterday.

And there, peaking out from behind the couple in yesterday’s shot, is a renegade jumbo-leaf, much the same as those in today’s photo of father and child.

Can a mere leaf—no matter how large—reveal enough information to posit a guess as to location and identity? While I’m no farther ahead in the name game, at least I can feel better than tentative that this dad is at the same place, at the same time, as the group portrait shown yesterday. And if this is still a photo from 1911, the only baby eligible to fill the bill—at least as Tully family relations go—would be Mary Monica Tully McGonagle’s daughter Lillian Angela McGonagle. And yet, if this is so, where are all the other children of Mr. and Mrs. Dennis Austin McGonagle?

The only way to confirm, of course, will launch me on a quest to connect with some distant cousins. This, you realize, may call for another trip back to the old Tully home town: Chicago. Thankfully, that is the kind of thing one might attempt during a summer holiday.

A City Girl Moves to the Country

In order to do the sleuthing necessary to discover the writer of the postcard featured in yesterday’s post, I have to lay out the cast of characters from which to select our possible subject. This, as I discovered from puzzling over dozens of links yesterday, has not been an easy search. However, before we get to the analysis, let’s first uncover the back story.

An older sister of my husband’s grandmother, Agnes Tully Stevens, found herself at the age of twenty three moving from her lifelong world in Chicago to a country town over four hundred miles away. Mary Monica Tully—or May, as everyone called her—owed her new course in life partially to the wife of her neighbor and family doctor, Thomas McGonagle. His brother, newly a widower, was ready to remarry. The only hitch: he lived in a bucolic setting which was the very opposite of the surroundings in which May had been raised.

Along with her willingness on June 3, 1902, to say “I do,” Mary Monica gained an instant family of two young children and a farm in remote New Lexington, Ohio. How she adapted to country life I’ll never know, unless a diary manages to surface among her possessions passed down to her immediate descendants. Judging from the papers habitually accumulated by both her sister Agnes and her sister Lily, it may be possible that the new Mrs. McGonagle left such mementos. But what I can share today will be limited to what I’ve garnered from online resources.

May and her husband, Dennis Austin McGonagle, had nine children together, plus the son and daughter he already had with his now-deceased first wife, Ellen Clementine Bennett. Beginning with Anna Catherine in 1903, May added six daughters and three sons to the McGonagle family. The youngest, Joseph Edward McGonagle, born in 1919, ended up giving his life in service during World War II, dying somewhere over France on March 8, 1944.

Somewhere within that range of birth dates—from 1903 to 1919—one of those children must have borne a daughter who later responded to the call to join a convent in the Perry County area. That someone, writing about her “great aunt” Agnes to Agnes’ sister Lily in 1944, would have to be about the age of twenty or older by that date, if she were already in the convent, putting her date of birth around—or previous to—1924.

The trouble is that, for Mary Monica and Dennis Austin McGonagle to have a grandchild born before 1924 would require the child’s parents—one of whom would be May and Dennis’ child—to be old enough in 1924 to have children of their own. That leaves, for possibilities, the McGonagle children Anna, Ethel and Agnes. While Anna did have a daughter named Mary Eileen, that child definitely would not be the candidate to become Sister Mary Agnes of the postcard pictured in yesterday’s post. Mary Eileen married and had a daughter of her own—not indicative of someone about to choose a cloistered lifestyle.

And the rest of the grandchildren? Whether born early or late, none of those granddaughters were named Eileen, nor did they remain single and childless.

Trying to find the order to which Sister Mary Agnes was affiliated became a challenge, too. Mentioning “Carmel” in the postcard brings to mind some of the Catholic history of the Perry County region around New Lexington and its neighboring village, Somerset—the home of the first Catholic church in the state of Ohio—which leads one to think of connections to Saint Mary’s of the Springs. However, the signature line used by Sister Mary Agnes, “Yours with Good Shepherd,” may point to a different Order. At any rate, neither of these labels provided Google hits when combined with either “Eileen” or “Sister Mary Agnes” that would be of help in this particular search.

So who is Sister Mary Agnes? For the current time, that will have to be a question that remains unanswered. Since there are a number of other letters yet to be transcribed from among Agnes Tully Stevens’ papers, perhaps a clue will emerge there to allow us to determine her identity.


Photograph: Portrait of the family of Austin and May McGonagle of New Lexington, Ohio.

Writing to Lil

As I mentioned yesterday, among Agnes Tully Stevens’ personal papers passed along to her grandson were some letters that were actually meant for her sister Lily. Lily was Agnes’ older, unmarried, sister who remained in the family household in Chicago. Examining these items addressed to Lil allow me to piece together a picture of not only Lil’s own story, but the details of family life in the Tully household.

A postcard dated January 12, 1944, shows the link between Chicago and a tiny rural Ohio town called New Lexington—a link which, a few years later, proved significant in my husband’s own story when his Chicago-born father chanced to meet a country girl from New Lexington. The link was originally owing to a Chicago doctor’s recently widowed brother, who just happened to live in New Lexington. A young lady in the doctor’s south Chicago neighborhood just happened to catch the doctor’s wife’s eye and get her started scheming and doing some matchmaking. That, in turn, ultimately led to the marriage of the Ohio widower and that young lady. The young lady, in turn, happened to be a sister of Agnes and Lily Tully.

Years later, one of her descendants felt the call to enter the convent. This postcard is a snapshot in time of that young lady's correspondence with her great-aunt Lily Tully, following a visit back to New Lexington to be with family. While her note here serves to introduce her, we’ll check into more of her story tomorrow.

 

Dear Aunt Lill,

Am just preparing to go back to Carmel. Had a very pleasant visit with the family but do not regret having to go back. Give my love to everyone and remember me in your prayers.

Thanks to Great Aunt Ag for her Christmas card.

            Yours with Good Shepherd

            Sister Mary Agnes (Eileen)

Photograph: Front lawn of Saint Aloysius Academy and Cadet School in New Lexington, Ohio.

Post-Wedding Plans

With a lovely wedding and reception behind them in New Lexington, Ohio, newlyweds Frank and Norma Stevens head up north to Frank’s lifelong home town, Chicago, where undoubtedly the two of them spend a few days with Frank's now-widowed mother, Agnes Tully Stevens, and arrange to meet with the many more relatives who were unable to make the long trip to central Ohio. As you will soon see, this "hello" visit will also turn into a "goodbye" as the couple prepare to embark on a two-year-long (at the very least) adventure, far from the confines of what either of them once knew as home sweet home.

The Times Recorder continues its report:

 

            When the couple left for a wedding trip to Chicago, the bride was wearing a forest green frock with black accessories and the orchid from her bouquet.

            Since her graduation from New Lexington high school, the bride has been employed in the office of Dr. R. J. Bennett. Sgt. Stevens, who is with the U. S. Airforce will be stationed in England and Europe for the next two years. Mrs. Stevens will accompany him to England where they will make their home for the present time.

            Out of town wedding guests were from Chicago, Detroit, and various parts of Pennsylvania and Ohio.

As Norma is one of New Lexington’s hometown gals, the Times Recorder of course includes mention of her past links to the area. In addition to the requisite nod to her high school alma mater, there is one interesting observation I need to include with today’s post: that of her recent employer.

The former Norma Flowers worked as an assistant in the dental offices of Robert J. Bennett. Knowing what you now know about Perry County, it will come as no surprise to you to hear that Norma and the good doc are related. They are actually third cousins. Indeed, they are also second cousins once removed.

Go figure: it has to do with the large Snider/Snyder family, longtime residents of Perry County, Ohio. Here’s how it lines up:

On Norma’s father’s side, his mother was Anna Maria Snider, whose cousin was Sarah Rebecca Snider, Robert Bennett’s maternal grandmother. Add those two generations forward to that first-cousin standing, and you get third cousins. Easy.

Sarah Rebecca Snider had a sister, Emily Catherine, who married a Gordon. Their daughter Bertha Gordon was Robert Bennett’s mother’s cousin. Bertha Gordon eventually married Joseph Metzger, and their daughter Bertha—a name that should start to sound familiar—became Robert’s second cousin. Add Norma to the mix and voilà! You have a second cousin, once removed.

I haven’t lost you yet, have I? Good—there’s more.

Because Dr. Robert’s surname is Bennett, I couldn’t help but take a peek at my database to see what the relationship might be to good ol’ Ned, the guy who got this whole thing started. And you know what? Austin McGonagle’s young wife, Ellen Bennett, who died shortly after Ned's mother was born, was one of Robert Bennett’s aunts. Thus, Ned and Robert are first cousins, once removed.

Large family circle.

Small world.

And one nineteen-year-old child of that legacy is about to step out of that small world and into the post-war world of military life in the midst of the now-crumbled British Empire.

The Wedding Party

As you have been forewarned, this week will bring a few more details regarding the wedding of Francis X. Stevens and Norma Flowers in New Lexington, Ohio. The main reason I’d like to take this review of the newspaper article slowly is not merely to correct the few errors (my corrections appear within brackets where necessary), but to explain the incredibly dense relationship network among those residing in Perry County, home of the bride.

An internet friend of mine once posted a saying that sums up the relationship issues in Perry County: "If you go back far enough, you'll find everyone in Perry County, Ohio, is related to everyone else." In more practical terms, a couple other genealogical researchers I’ve met online have explained the impact of that quote: before accepting any offers for dates in high school, Perry County girls had to engage in a serious discussion of who was related to whom. After all, you wouldn’t want to turn out liking a guy, only to find out he was a second cousin!

I imagine Perry County would be a gold mine for sociologists studying networks. Though a beautiful, rural locale, Perry County is not a place outsiders flock to. You will sense a bit of this predicament when I explain the relationships mentioned in this Flowers-Stevens wedding article.

The Zanesville, Ohio, Times Recorder article continues with a brief mention of the wedding party:

            Mrs. Ned Winegardner, as matron of honor, wore a gown of aqua taffeta with matching mitts and bonnet. She carried a bouquet of yellow daisy mums. She wore a rhinestone necklace, a gift from the bride.

            Kenneth Stevens [should be Edward; Kenneth was the bride’s brother] was his brother’s best man. Ned Winegardner was usher.

You may be thinking that the name, Ned, seems vaguely familiar. It is. Ned is the relative who first introduced Frank to Norma. I called him a cousin in a previous post, but that is not entirely correct. More precisely (if there were such a designation), Ned would be a step-cousin-once-removed from Frank.

Here’s the nitty-gritty of how that works: Frank’s mother’s much-older sister, Mary Monica Tully, married widower Dennis Austin McGonagle. By his first marriage, Austin had had a daughter, Mary Esther McGonagle, who lost her mother, Ellen Clementine Bennett, when the child was only two years old. When Dennis married Mary Monica, Frank’s Aunt Mae raised Mary Esther as her own child, along with the rest of the soon-to-be large family.

Still with me? Good. There's more.

Mary Esther eventually married James Albert Winegardner and they had a family of their own. Their firstborn, Ralph Edward Winegardner, for reasons unknown to me, received the nickname Ned.

"Ahhh," you say. "Finally: there's Ned!" Stay with me, though, for there's more.

With the age difference between sisters Agnes and Mae, the end result for Frank and Ned was a little over three years—not much of a difference, once the two became adults. Perhaps it was that little discrepancy in their ages that allowed Ned—and, in turn, Frank—to get to know Norma, who, though only two years younger than Ned, was nearly six years Frank’s junior.

Ned’s wife brings up another long chain of relationships. A year and a half before Frank and Norma’s wedding day, Ned had married Madonna Fisher. I don’t suppose Norma knew this at the time of her wedding, but she and her matron of honor were actually fourth cousins. I won’t engage you in the genealogical tedium of that calculation just now—but be assured: both Norma and Madonna were from families long (as in nearly two centuries long) established in the New Lexington area.

You have already met Ed Stevens, Frank’s brother who served as best man at the wedding. I have to laugh at this error made by the newspaper: they weren’t entirely off track with this mistake. At least someone in the bridal party had a brother named Kenneth! But, to set the record straight, it was Edward Stevens who did the honors for this happy occasion.

As we continue with details from the Times Recorder tomorrow, you’ll get to meet more of the very-intertwined families of Perry County, Ohio.

Leave It To The Newspapers

How many times do you recall being party to an announcement to be printed in your local newspaper, only to be disappointed that those bastions of “just the facts, ma’am” have somehow gotten something wrong?

Even wedding announcements are not immune to that quirk of the information industry. Witness this clipping from a—thankfully— unidentified Ohio newspaper, found among Agnes Tully Stevens’ personal belongings, regarding her son Frank’s upcoming marriage to Norma Jean Flowers:

Flowers-Stephen Vows Exchanged

NEW LEXINGTON, O., — Mr. and Mrs. John A. Flowers of near New Lexington announce the approaching marriage of their daughter, Norma Jean to T. Sgt. Francis X. Stevens, USAF, son of Mrs. Wm. A. Stevens and the late William A. Stevens, of Chicago, Ill.

T. Sgt. Stevens is a nephew of Mr. and Mrs. Austin McGonagle, New Lexington.

There will be a nuptial high mass at St. Rose church, November 5, at 8:30.

Swell People and Tough Breaks

Always a people person, Frank Stevens rounds out his five page letter to his brother Ed and his young wife in Chicago with comments about their mutual relatives—mostly siblings, especially those whose darling babies are starting to take center stage around the old Stevens household. Frank’s been gone from home so long that he has not actually met these grandchildren of his dad and mom, but he sounds just as present in their lives as if he is right there with them, instead of half a world away in the south Pacific.

            [One of Will and Agnes’ grandsons]  must be pretty good looking with his hair cut like a boy’s, I believe he has a lot of the old nick in him—should turn into quite a lady killer, make his uncle Ed look like an amateur. So me little god-daughter is a good baby huh? Well she just takes after her uncle Frank, ask your mother in law I was the bestest baby ever. Too bad I had to grow up. From Mom’s last letter it sounds as if the kid is allergic to damn near everything, maybe he will snap out of it later on—of course mom always did baby him too much and that might have a lot to do with the way he is now. His brother Frank is allergic to just two things: wild women and Canadian club.

While Frank is running away from wedding bells as fast as he can, it sounds like plans may be afoot for his sister, who has been writing a few letters, too.

            Pat stops me, she never has known just what she want to do, that’s just what she needs though—a house full of kids and a husband that doesn’t beat her too often. Is the proposed victim that shavetail that has been over in Europe? Don’t know the lad myself but I’ve heard that he is a pretty nice chap. Well Pat is a good kid and I hope she knows what she’s doing, she’s sort of a feather-brained character though

I had to chuckle at the insight Frank had into his brother’s predicament in his new role as father. And Frank remembers some relatives on Ed’s wife’s side and wants to keep in touch with them, too.

I see that Dee-dee is now known as daddy Ed, guess he proved himself with the last addition. Never knew Ed to go this long at any one stretch before without a car, incidently I hope that Pat hasn’t thrown the clutch out on the Chevy as I’ve got a lot of running around to do when I get home again.

            The wash job that little [one of Ed’s children] gave the house must have really been something, I trust that Ed (Daddy) had a man to man talk with the offspring when he came home that night, it must be hell trying to bawl out a kid for doing the same thing that you probably did yourself as a youngster. If that’s one of the thrills of being a mother I for one am glad that I am physically incapable of becoming one, washing didies and cleaning up after a three foot tornado aren’t my idea of a lot of fun. I’ve been meaning to write to Tom and Elsie for quite some time, think I might get a letter off to them tonight, they sure are swell people and I think a lot of them.

When Frank gets to this last part of his extraordinarily long letter, he touches on a subject for which I had meant to provide more background information (and will in the Spring when we move on to that side of the family). It is indeed a sad conclusion to a now many-months-old story. And Frank awkwardly tries to inject some humor into a situation that perhaps hit him too close to home for his personal comfort.

The young man, Joe, that Frank refers to here is a cousin serving in the Air Force (at that time, part of the United States Army). Joe was part of the crews flying missions from England over Germany. In 1944, Frank’s aunt and uncle in Ohio received word that their son was missing and presumed dead—but evidently a search for confirmation was still being conducted. Yet one sad additional part to the story was that Joe’s young bride, Harriet, was expecting their first child.

I’m not sure who told Frank the news about Joe, but considering Frank’s own situation in the war at that time, it may have been just too difficult for him to take. One sometimes develops a tough exterior to survive the waves of devastating news that keep hitting. That’s how Frank sounds now as he awkwardly tries to cope with the confirmation about his cousin—the news that the family now knows, at long last, what has become of Joe McGonagle.

            Kind of a tough break for Harriet but at least she knows that Joe is really gone, did she lose her baby or did she finally have it? From the way Bill McGonagle talked she is a pretty good looking girl. Ad. Stevens F. X. USN make a special study of young widows low rates call after six. Really shouldn’t kid I guess but what the hell tears never fixed anyone and a good time would probably make the kid feel a hundred percent better.

            Johnny just came up and said “Sugar Report.” I said, “Yes, but don’t tell my brother Ed. We’re trying to keep it a secret.” So anyhoo Irish said “Sure and give Mutzie me love and a little regards to her old man.” See baby we all loves ya like mad. Haven’t got a group picture of the three of us but will see what I can do and some singles. Have to wrap this up now as its beginning to take on all the aspects of a book, won’t tell you to be good but as always be careful, take care of yourselves kids and I’ll do the same at this end, night now

                                                            Your affectionate brother

                                                                        Frank