Rory & Ita (37 page)

S
he first saw the letters in 1963, after her father’s death.
Dear Sister Ellie – I am elated to hear you are going to be married, and if you make your husband as good a wife as your sister Mary made me, he can thank his stars
. ‘They were from a John J. Beekman, in Hempstead, New York. I read two of them.’ Ellie was her mother, Ellen. ‘And I remembered: there were little poetry books in the house when I was a child, with the name John J. Beekman on the covers. And I realised that the wife of this John was my mother’s sister, and that her name was Mary.’ Another letter was addressed to ‘Dear Sister Ellie and Brother Jim’. ‘But I’d only barely started the letters when my stepmother came in and told me that I’d no right to be reading them, because everything now belonged to Joe, and to put them away. Which I did.

‘Pearl was in a very disturbed state after my father died. I decided, out of sensitivity for her feelings, I’d leave the things as they were, for the time being. I left the letters in the bureau.
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There were photographs as well; some of them had writing on the back, and press clippings. They meant nothing to me.

‘But I was quite elated. I’d found out that I had
relations in America and that, at least, I had this Mary. They stayed there for many years, but I never forgot them. I knew they were there.’

‘I always wondered, it was always in the back of my mind: who was she? I even remember, when I was younger, walking around and wondering, saying to myself, “That person could be related to me!”’ She knew very little about her mother. ‘Nothing really. Just the few little things I remembered. There was a neighbour on our road, Mrs McGahon, and she used to go walking with my mother, pushing the prams, and she said that my mother was always in good humour. Then there was Mrs McManus, who lived beside us; I remember her saying it too – she was always in good humour. That was all I knew about her.’

She didn’t know that her mother’s maiden name was O’Brien. ‘Not for years and years. It was kind of in the background, a memory of the name “O’Brien”. But not for years. Her name was never mentioned. I’m sure this happened for some good reason. Not to cause upset for her children or possibly to avoid upsetting my father, who must have been going through a dreadful time. The awfulness of his situation only really dawned on me when I was an adult myself. I certainly lay no blame on him. The saying “Little children should be seen and not heard” was very much adhered to in 1929, and neither my sister nor my brother nor I would have dreamt of asking questions. And the arrival of a stepmother when I was ten certainly put paid to any chance of questions, or answers.

‘All my life I wondered how things would have been if she’d lived. Apart from one photograph which, in the
style of the times, made her look a lot older than she could have been, I had no idea what she looked like. My appearance was no help in that regard. I remember, as a young teenager, crossing Enniscorthy Bridge, and an old lady looked at me and said, “Which of the Bolgers are you?” All through the years, I wondered had she brothers or sisters? If so, where were they? Had they children? The only memory I have – it came suddenly to me, only recently – is of a box coming to the house, at Christmas, after she died. I can’t remember what was in it, other than it was wrapped in white paper. It was for me. Who it came from, I don’t know. Some mention was made that whoever had sent it had been related to Mammy. But it’s so vague, I can’t confirm it, and it’s the one and only memory I had of her family.’
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There are five letters, all written by John J. Beekman. The first is dated February 14th, 1921. The last is dated February 14th, 1929. The others are dated February 16th, 1921, September 10th, 1922, and August 9th, 1925. The first three are typed; the ink is light blue. The remaining two are handwritten; the ink is black. All five letters are in a white envelope, addressed to Mrs James Bolger, 25 Brighton Gardens, Terenure, Dublin – Ireland. The envelope was franked on the 14th of February, 1929, in Hempstead, New York.

‘Joe died in 1974.

‘If I’d mentioned the letters to him when he was alive, he’d have said, “Take them; look at them.” But I didn’t,
because I didn’t want to upset my stepmother. Some years later, after she’d gone into a nursing home, I had a good look at the letters. I glanced through them, and then decided to bring them home. I remember feeling – not sentimental; that doesn’t cover it – but, certainly, highly emotional. So, I brought home the small black folder, with all the letters in it. There’d been more letters the first time I’d seen the folder, in 1963. And the paper cuttings; I presumed that they were related in some way to the letters – but they were gone. The black folder also contained what I presumed was my mother’s wedding ring. It was a beautiful deep gold. She must have had a small finger; the ring fitted on my hand, which is quite small.

‘There were three photographs. One was of a little girl in a long white dress. The writing on the back read, “Cornelia Van Cartlandt Beekman. Born Feb. 22nd 1909. Parents – John J. and Mary E. Beekman.” Another was of a lady dressed in a long black dress. The writing on the back read, “Mary – your sister – taken June 1926 – Cherry tree in the background – which aunt Emily and Mary ate their fill and said it was first real cherry feast they had since they left Ireland.” The third photograph is of a young
woman standing in front of the same cherry tree, and, written in pencil on the back, “Cornelia Beekman. Taken June 1926”.

‘I read the letters.
Dear Sister Ellie –
Ellie was my mother –
I am elated to hear you are going to be married, and if you make your husband as good a wife as your sister Mary made me, he can thank his stars, why don’t you come over Mary is anxious to have you and the children are and have been yearning to see you
– I’d say what happened was, Mary would talk with him and he would type it out –
come over for a visit and stay awhile with us and your husband as well, make it a honeymoon trip, you will enjoy your stay, as the spring is coming, and the country will look beautiful, now is the pleasant, season, we wish you a life of happiness and luck, you can make this trip, a honey moon and some time in a few years, we can make a trip over there, I have always, been anxious to go to England and Ireland and France, we expect you to come, let us know when you will sail and we will meet you on your landing, come without fail, as the children are looking to the day, to meet their aunt and uncle –
the children were my cousins –
with love to yourself and Jim – Your loving sister and brother – Mr and Mrs John J. Beekman
. It clicked then, I think, that this was the man who had written the little poetry books that had been at home when I was a child.
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Not one of them remained, but my father never threw a book out in his life.’

The first letter is typed on headed notepaper: ‘City of
New York Insurance Company – Cash Capital $1,000,000.’ The company logo is a detailed sketch of the Manhattan skyline. The directors are listed, four on each side of the logo: Eldridge G. Snow, pres.; Frederic C. Buswell, v. pres.; Clarence A. Ludlum, v. pres.; Frank E. Burke, v. pres.; Charles L. Tynor, v. pres. & treas.; Wilfred Kurth, v. pres. & secty.; J. Carroll French, secretary.; Vincent P. Wyatt, asst. secty. John J. Beekman’s name is on the left side, below the names of the first four directors, followed by the word ‘Agent’, and his address, 89 Main Street, Hempstead, N.Y. The letter is dated February 14th, 1921.

The second letter was written two days later, also typed, on ‘The North River Insurance Company’ notepaper – ‘Capital $1,000,000 – incorporated 1822.’ The company address is 95 William Street, New York. Again, ‘Agent’ follows John J. Beekman’s name.

‘Dear sister and brother: – Received your letters yesterday –
they must have had letters from Mammy and Daddy the day before –
and wrote you yesterday, Mary says she will do everything she can for you, and I will do what I can, and will be elated to see you, and we think you certainly will like your visit here, as the spring is coming and the country will be at its best, I tell Cornelia, she will have to behave when you come over, she says no she wont –
Cornelia sounded like any other little girl; she was the little girl in white in the photograph –
she is anxious to see you
.

‘In those days, myself and some other women cleaned our local church after ten o’clock Mass, every Monday morning. As we cleaned, we chatted quietly and, as we were cleaning
His
house voluntarily and free gratis, we decided He wouldn’t object. I was telling the women about the letters, and a friend of mine, Kitty Murphy, told me that she had a cousin in the New York telephone exchange,
and she would forward the details to her, the name “Beekman,” with special reference to the Hempstead area.
Joe and young Joe, spent Saturday and Sunday with us, he and I went to the show (and in Lent, too) but I go to Mass every morning during Lent, so you see, that is my lenten portion this year, and then Sunday afternoon Joe and one of my brothers went to the show-Movies and Vaudville, Mary was there Saturday night, she goes often, it seems to be all the vougue in this country, I don’t know whether its effects are good or not I doubt it, but it prevails nevertheless, I must confess I enjoy them myself
…

‘After a few weeks, Kitty presented me with a list of around a dozen people named Beekman, with their addresses. I was delighted. I wrote to them all, telling them who I was, and asking them could they be related to me. I waited impatiently for weeks. A strong part of me was optimistic.

‘
… you will have quite some visits to make after you get here awhile, we will meet you, if we should not be there on the arrival of your boat sent us a telegram collect, and we will go down and meet you, you better do that if possible, I called the British Counselate on the phone and he said I could do nothing in regards securing you a Passport only write you a letter, as I done yesterday the
15
th –
with the situation in Ireland, the War of Independence, it must have been difficult for Daddy to get a passport, with his Sinn Féin involvement
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–
you and Mary and Jim will have a great time, and we have room for you and will be glad to have you with us until matters change –
I wondered would they have come back, if they’d gone over –
if you need money let us know how much and I will send it by postal money order, come over as soon as possible so
you will enjoy the spring season, before it gets too warm, with fond affection, be here by Easter and before if possible, we are anxious for your coming – with love and blessings – your loving sister and brother – John and Mary
.

‘I got two replies. One was from a Howard Beekman. He thanked me for the letter and said that he wasn’t related to me, but that his cousins on his father’s side were related to me, and he’d spoken to them. That gave me great hope. The second letter was from Jack Beekman. Jack said that he was my cousin; he was Mary and John J. Beekman’s son. He was delighted to hear from me, but was no good at writing letters, and had handed my letter on to his sister, Connie, and that she was going to write.