Rory & Ita

  ‘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.* 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 15th – 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* – 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.

  ‘I was absolutely thrilled, and wild with excitement; I couldn’t believe it – I was sure New York was full of people with the Beekman name.* I felt pleased with myself; I felt I’d accomplished something. Then Connie’s letter arrived the following week. Connie was Cornelia Van Cartlandt, the little girl in the photograph. She was now Mrs Fred Reimor, a widow, with one son, Dirk. As well as Connie and Jack Beekman, I had two other cousins, Euphemia, called Phemie, and Robert, called Bob – all the children of Mary and John J. Beekman.† It was a long, long letter – she was as pleased as I was – and she gave me a good part of our family history.* There were a lot of holes but at least I knew why they were there.

  ‘My great-grandmother, a widow named Hyland, travelled from Ireland to America before the turn of the twentieth century. She settled in a place called Roslyn, on Long Island, New York. She was accompanied by two sons and two of her daughters. Connie remembered our great-grandmother, and described her as small and thin and good-humoured. The two daughters, Mary and Emily, eventually married two brothers called Daly, but neither of them had families. The fate of the two sons, Peter and Mike, was a bit vague. The Hyland family seemed to prosper. Connie put that down to the fact that, when they started out in America, they were employed by Quakers, and the Quakers were good, kind employers. I’d imagine, myself, that they were servants, but Connie didn’t say this. She did say that it was economic need that sent them to America.

  ‘My grandmother, Bridget,† another Hyland, was married to John O’Brien, and had remained in Ireland when the others emigrated. She had three daughters: Mary, Connie’s mother; Ellen, my mother, and Emily. The O’Brien family lived in Ballydonnigan, in Wexford.

  ‘My grandmother died – Connie had no idea of the year. My grandfather, John O’Brien, travelled to America, to join the Hylands. I don’t know what family he brought with him; I don’t recall – perhaps I never knew. But he couldn’t settle there, and he came back to Wexford. When I read that bit of news, I decided that I’d been destined to be born in Ireland, and from two Wexford grandfathers. Gran
dfather Bolger went to Australia, and came back. And Grandfather O’Brien went to America, and came back.

  ‘In time, Grandfather O’Brien remarried. There was no mention of a second family. Although her mother seldom spoke about her home in Ireland, Connie felt that the three girls were not happy. Mary, Connie’s mother, travelled to New York, to join the Hylands. Emily eventually married a man called Cleary, in Wexford. I know nothing of where my mother lived, or what she did before marrying my father.’

  The third letter is dated September 10th, 1922. It is typed on ‘City of New York Insurance Company’ notepaper; the company address, ‘56 Cedar Street, New York’, has been added, below the skyline logo. John J. Beekman’s address is still “89, Main St.” but with “cor. of Bedell St.” added to the line. ‘Dear Sister Ellie and brother JiM: – Received your welcome letter last evening and was elated to hear the good news, Mary will send baby over something in the near future – Máire was born in May; her full name was Mary Johanna – that is the name I wanted one of my girls named but Mary wouldn’t hear it, I love the name of Mary – Joe’s oldest is Mary also, I told Mary this A.M. that you and Joe both had Mary’s, Well, Ellie I feel sorry for poor Joe, this is why – some four years ago little Joe was playing on the ice with his sled and fell and went in the house with a bij bump on his head the applied home remedies, and thought no more of it, in about a week the little fellow went to sleep and slept for six weeks the doctors pronounced it the sleeping sickness, he recovered they sent him to school but he could learn nothing, recently they had him examined like they did many times before, the Specialist found that when he fell over four years ago he fractured his scull and the bone grew together crooked and is now pressing on his brain, and at times he is not himself at all, all the New York newspapers carried the story, he will have to operated on, but it is a delicate operation, Joe asked us to pray for him Mary had him remembered in a Mass, so you too pray for him, that is all we can do, we were at Joes about two weeks ago, but did not see Joe he had just left before we got there, its to bad he was a fine boy until that time, I am so glad you got along so nice – Could they have gone to America after all, in 1921? Or was he referring to Joe, the father, before he emigrated? And who was he? Was he my mother’s brother? My own brother was John Joseph, Joe, but there were no other Joes in the Bolger family – I just received Holy Communion this morning, my baby is here with me now, she is over five and goes to the Kindergaren – that must have been Euphemia, Phemie – that is the baby class at school they learn deportment only, and have a general good time the teachers read them stories and C. – it’s as if they switch; Mary is talking, then John talks – we were at Roslyn Friday evening we out for a ride and stopped there on the way home saw your aunt Emily – my great aunt – and had a long talk with your uncle Mike we were speaking of you, thought something might have happened you, not having heard form you in such a long time, and this time especially – was that a reference to the Troubles here; the Civil War? They were worried about Mammy and Daddy – we were at your aunt Marys one evening last week she was ill, throat trouble but is not out of bed so aunt Emily said she was over there, your cousin Emily Hyland was in the store last night – I was fascinated with all the Marys and Emilys; they really handed down the names.

  ‘About a year after I’d contacted the Beekman cousins, Connie visited Ireland. I was at the Royal Dublin Hotel in O’Connell Street to welcome her and her friends. Rory and Máire were with me. I knew her, and she knew me. We hugged and kissed. She was a tiny little woman. She was smaller than even my five feet. She was bright and friendly. We had dinner with them that night. They had landed in Shannon and had travelled by tour bus up through the country. They were very happy with the trip, but I noticed that Connie was very quick in recognising the tourist traps, and wasn’t at all interested in buying shillelaghs or shamrocks as souvenirs. We had a lovely evening. That was the 27th of August, 1977.

  ‘… your cousin Emily Hyland was in the store last night, she and her husband do not get on good it is his fault, she made a grave mistake in her marriage, its too bad, she is a good looking good disposition girl, your cousin Mary Hyland expect the Stork, she had three nice children, Well, I see Mike Collins has made the sacrifice, God rest his soul, I trust before many moons peace will again come to poor war ridden Ireland may God be merciful to her, let us hear from you soon …

  ‘That was Saturday, and they all came to us for lunch on Sunday. There was Connie, and her friend Violet, a very tall woman; she had red hair piled on top of her head. And a bright-green trouser outfit; she was a lovely woman. And there was Frank McManus, whose parents had emigrated to America from Queenstown,* when he was a year old, “a baby in arms,” but his parents had come from Fermanagh; and his wife, Henrietta, who had left Bremen, in Germany, when she was six months old. Connie told me that they’d all been friends since childhood. And my cousin, Bob Beekman’s wife, Jean Epp, who was also of German extraction. And I was told that Jean was more Irish than the Irish themselves; she was big into Irish music and Irish everything, and she collected Belleek china. So, they came in and, first of all, Frank said, “Hey Henrietta, this guy has a bigger TV than we have.” Connie gave me a paperweight, a brass American eagle, which her mother had given to her the day she started work. She also gave me a painted stone, a lighthouse, from Long Beach, and a piece of planking, cut from the barn of the Reimors’ farm, her husband’s home, in Cooperstown, Long Island. There was a painting of a red cardinal bird on the wood; Connie’s sister-in-law had painted it. They all sat down to the meal.

  ‘I had planned this lunch beforehand, and I’d planned on Irish smoked salmon to start with. But when we were having our dinner in the Royal Dublin the night before, Henrietta, reading the menu, had said, “Irish smoked salmon?” And Frank turned to her, and said, “No, Henrietta, that’s sheenie food.” I didn’t know what he meant, but I knew that it was rather a derogatory description,* so I decided against smoked salmon. And I’d bought tins of soup. I served the soup, and Frank, who seemed to do a lot of the talking that day, said, “Henrietta, there is nothing like good home-made soup.” At which, I went to the kitchen and said to Pamela, who was helping me, “Dump the tins. Quick.” I told Connie, in private, later, and we had many a laugh over it. It was Campbell’s soup.

  ‘… I wrote Emily some time ago I will soon get an answer, she like Mary very much, I mean she seems very fond of her, she too has a young daughter, I hear nothing from Peter, why dont you write Joe, if you don’t care to, let Jim, I feel for him in his trouble – Address – Mr Joseph O’Brien – 157 Dikeman Street, Brooklyn, N.Y. – U.S.A. I wished he was near us in the country the city here is no place to live, the air is so different, no one care for you there, everyone for themselves, but I don’t think his wife will ever come near any of his relatives, trusting to hear from you soon love to yourself and baby and Jim, before I close, There is a Henry Bolger Working in one of our banks and his father came here many years ago from vinegar Hill section,* his name is James ask Jim if he ever had an uncle James Bolger, I think he is some relative to Jim he has red hair, a fine fellow, I had him Henry ask his father what part of Ireland he came from, he came to America many years ago, write soon – John and Mary.

  ‘I think it might have been the following year that we went to America; I can’t remember exactly.’ It was in March. We were there for Patrick’s Day. Jack and Connie met us at the airport and, from then on, it was like a pilgrimage. We visited Roslyn, where the Hylands had settled, a beautiful little town on Long Island, very picturesque, quite touristy in its look. We saw, and prayed in, the church where Great-Granny Hyland and her sons and daughters had attended Mass. We saw the graveyard where they are buried. The funny thing there was, knowing we were coming to America, Jack and Connie had gone earlier to the Great-Granny’s grave; they wanted it looking its best. But the day we arrived, we hunted and hunted in bitter cold, but we could not find the grave. Connie said, “Knowing Great-Granny Hyland, I can imagine
her sticking her head up and saying, ‘Gotcha.’”

  ‘Two tall wooden houses were pointed out to me. These had been the homes of the two Hyland daughters and their two Daly brother husbands. The Beekmans, as children, had visited them regularly. They told me that their Beekman relatives were very nice people, but rather staid and serious.* They much preferred their visits to their mother’s relatives, where they had lots of fun. I don’t know how an Irish family ended up with the surname Beekman; I have absolutely no idea. It never crossed my mind to ask. Connie never mentioned how her parents had met. She wasn’t a secretive woman. It was just, I didn’t ask, and she didn’t say.’

  The fourth letter is dated August 9th, 1925. It is handwritten, in black ink, on ‘City of New York Insurance Company’ notepaper. In the list of directors, J. Carroll French had been replaced by Ferd. Ermisch, asst. secty. John J. Beekman’s address is now 151 Front Street, Hempstead, NY. ‘Dear Sister Ellie – I wrote you several letters perhaps they did not reach you at your old address. My parents had had a flat in Castlewood Avenue, in Rathmines; but, to my knowledge, Máire was the only one born there. I’d been born by the time this letter was sent – In cleaning my desk I found your present address. I have not much news to relate thank God, we are all well at this writing. I hope and trust you are the same. I reckon your children are able to walk and talk by now – I was only seven weeks old. They obviously hadn’t heard about me yet – Uncle Mike, Pat, aunt Mary and Emily are all well. I drove over about a week ago with Mary and Robert and Euphemia and took aunt Mary and two of her children Alice and Gordon to the beach we had a real good time, we go several times a week it’s only a 1/2 hours run from our place Long Beach. I haven’t saw Joe in some time. The last time he was up I brought him to aunt Marys uncles Pat and Mikes and aunt Emilys to all of his relativis here in Nassau County.