I know you just heard from me but that was a lazy edition of this newsletter so I’m back again to send you something more interesting / thoughtful / fun / [insert nice adjective].
My grandaunt recently left the house she lived in for many years on Staten Island in New York City. Her daughter, my cousin Jeanie, sold the house and in the midst of packing things up, came across the following speech. It was given by my great grandmother Ann in 1961 at my great grandfather Edwin’s retirement party from the New York & Richmond Gas Company.
Times were very different then and this speech feels like a time capsule in certain ways. It’s a recounting of a life I never got to know but impacted me greatly nonetheless. The lives we live ripple through eternity until the water steadies and things go back to zero.
Anywho, I wanted to share this with you. To give the speech and my great grandmother and father new life, even if briefly. Please do let me know what you think of it.
Ed Murray, this is your Life.
On the cold and snowy morning of January 3rd, 1896, the first trolly car ran down St. Marks Place in Tompkinsville. At the same moment you let out your first cry. You were born the fifth son of Mary and Joseph Murray.
When your four brothers, Joseph, George, Fred and Bill, were brought to be introduced to you they took one look and shouted, “That’s Margaret?” You see you were supposed to be a girl and you were to be named Margaret for your God Mother, Margaret Tamplin.
Well, after the shock of disappointment was over, your mother solved everything by using your God Mother’s last name. That’s how you became Edwin Tamplin.
The first years of your life were comparatively quiet on St. Marks Place. You and brother Willie played and battled as all little boys do. Soon it was time for you to start school and off you went with the rest of the Murray boys to St. Peter’s School. You followed your brothers every morning and tagged along home after them every afternoon.
This went along uneventfully, with the exception of a few times. Your brother Willie, once while minding you, let you fall out of his wagon and you broke your collarbone. I suppose your mother broke something for him too.
When you were about 12 years old your father decided to move to New Bedford, Massachusetts. He felt there were better opportunities there for the family and he wanted to be near his brother and many of his old friends. So he sold the house on St. Marks Place and you all took off for New Bedford.
The move made quite a change in your lives but you soon met all your aunts and uncles and cousins and made many new friends and you were all quite happy.
After a few more years of school, you were ready to go to work. As New Bedford was mainly a mill town, it was quite natural that you should go to work in a mill. This you did. After a few years your mother and father decided to come back to Staten Island. Your family came back and lived at 590 Richmond Road.
Your cousin, John Silva, came to live with you as he had a job on Staten Island. He met a girl named Mae Stanley and she had a girlfriend named Anna Hagan. Well that was the beginning of the end or the beginning.
John and Mae were married and you and Anna Hagan were best man and bridesmaid.
When your brother George’s building business slowed down, you took a job with the New York & Richmond Gas Company, temporarily. That was in December 1924.
Well, after a strenuous four year courtship, you and Anna Hagan were finally married on June 29th, 1929.
Remember the house at 1820 Clove Road? Your first married home where you skinned your knee painting the floors and where you cooked stacks and stacks of pancakes every Sunday morning for all our friends who stopped in for breakfast after mass.
After a few months you and your wife moved to an apartment at 1860 Clove Road, where on Oct 2nd, 1930, you heard this sound; (Eddie wails and tells an anecdote). You were a daddy. This was only the beginning. On July 16th, 1932, you again heard; (George wails and tells anecdote). Why stop here? On September 29th, 1935; (Tommy wails and tells anecdote). And to complete the picture on June 25th, 1937; (Ann Marie wails and tells an anecdote).
Through all these years, Ed Murray, you were faithfully serving the New York & Richmond Gas Co. You had moved from 1920 Clove Road to 1860 Clove Road to 17 Pelton Street in Dongan Hills, to 860 Fingerboard Road in Grasmere to 390 Oder Avenue in Concord and back to 11 Minna Street. It sure looks like the sheriff was after you.
You cannot say you have not had an eventful life, Ed Murray. And now after 36 years of good and faithful service with the New York & Richmond Gas Co., and reaching the glorious age of 65, you have been put out to pasture. No time clocks to punch. Sleep as long as you want in the morning. No more struggles through rain and snow. What a grand and glorious feeling.
We all hope the grass is green and sweet and the sun shines warm and bright and God gives you many years to enjoy the rewards of your labor and the love and appreciation of your children and grandchildren and yes, we hope, for your great grandchildren.
What a trip that was, eh?
In a lot of ways, my great grandfather’s life was common for that time. The loyalty and service to a company for most of one’s life. The seemingly wholesome way in which he met and married my great grandmother. The number of children each family in the account had even seems different than is common today. It’s interesting to see how, despite moving temporarily as a child to Massachusetts, my great grandfather really spent most of his life bouncing around between towns within a five mile radius of where he was born. That was common too, I feel. Getting married exactly four months before Black Tuesday too must have been a hoot. Can you imagine? I, on a whim, added the Google Maps link to various locations around Staten Island and in Massachusetts so you can follow along with his life. It’s funny, in a way. A lot of those apartments or houses aren’t even there anymore.
Well, that’s what I have for you today. Godspeed and excelsior.
Best,
Rob
P.S. Here’s a great song by the one and only Townes Van Zandt. It’s the inspiration of this edition’s subject line and preview line.