25 March 2011

Flanagan Family Oral Histories: Carol Loretta Flanagan

My grandmother used to call her older sister, Sr. Carol Flanagan (1909-91), "Tar." It was short for "Tar Barrel," but Grandma pronounced it "Tah" in her Maine accent. I didn't find out how she got that name, but Sr. Carol proved invaluable in many ways. She identified people in family photos and shared many family stories, along with punctuating conversations with her laugh. Sr. Carol was a member of the Sisters of Mercy for more than 50 years, working as a nurse and then in her retirement tending to the gardens at the convent mother house on Stevens Avenue in Portland. Perhaps she became interested in the religious life through her father's sibling, Sr. Cecilia Flanagan, who was also a Sister of Mercy. I didn't ask her about becoming a nun. But by just listening, I heard about other parts of family life, such as my grandmother, Alice Flanagan Roper, having one foot a size larger than the other. I interviewed Sr. Carol on June 19, 1990 in Portland, Maine. I left out part of a sentence from the original transcript because a song lyric she recalled her sister Agnes makes little sense with "gave yourself you belong to me."







Mum formed that ladies' club. It was Knox County Ladies Auxiliary and they did a lot of things for the hospital, volunteering. She also founded the milk club for babies. And that's how we used to go up to the old football filed, that's where she'd sell soda and hot dogs and ice cream. The milk fund. A fund for underprivileged babies. She and Father Flynn.

They did all that charity very quietly. He'd come down and they'd talk things over. First thing you know, they were doing something for somebody. Besides, she'd go out through all the neighbors and she'd help them with their babies or help them with their sickness, give them some of our food.

She used to buy extra stuff for the Staples across the way from us and she's get extra fish from the fish man an send it over there to them so they could have it for one of their meals. She was always sending them something.

Natural born nurse, my mother was. She took care of us kids when we had measles and scarlet fever. We had that and infantile paralysis. I remember that and how we were confined o our room. They put a rope across between the three so we wouldn't go out into the hall. We were kids then, and that's how John used to limp, he and Alice. Their limbs were affected, their legs.

Alice had one foot was one size larger than the other so she had to buy extra shoes. And when she got tired, she'd limp. Did you ever notice that?

But could she ever play basketball. I think she was just as good as Eileen.

Eileen was a good player. She could shoot baskets. Do you know, when we played Camden once and I was rotten that day and Alice was getting all the basket, they gave me the credit for it? She never said a word. We never would have won if she wasn't so good. Boy, could she play. Agnes could play, too.

Mum cared for the neighborhood and doing this or doing that or helping somebody else. She was always doing something for someone. She'd leave us home 'cause we were old enough then. And one day she went out and she said, "I haven't time to get supper, so you can get it and also make the chocolate cake."

I said. "Gee whiz, Mum, I can't make a cake."

She said, "Well, you try it."

I did, and it was flatter than a pancake.

Then when Dad was sick and he could be around the house, she had to go out again somewhere and said said, "You make the biscuits."

I said, "Mum, I never make biscuits."

"Well," she says, "You try it."

So I made biscuits and remember him and Jud sitting down for something to eat and I passed him the biscuits and Jud says, "For cripes sake, are you trying to kill us?"

You could pick one up and bounce it against the wall it was so hard.

All Dad said was, "Never mind, you'll do better next time around."

But I always remembered that. And I could make dumplings after that and I could make biscuits.

Oh, Mum was a wonderful cook. Margaret was just like her. Oh. she must have done that for the Smalls (neighbors). I don't know how she did it or just natural to her, like Agnes.

You noticed Agnes when she cooks, didn't you? She's got al these things and follows it exactly. Agnes is a good cook, but she has to have recipes. She won't do it without something in front of her. Mum could do this and do that and we'd say, "Mum, how did you make those cookies?"

She'd say, "You mix a little sugar and some flour and salt and throw in a handful of nuts and a little butter."

But she didn't tell you how much. It always seemed to come out right for her, even with the bread.

And Dad used to help her make the bread. We made that at home and they'd make loaves of bread and those rolls. They had great big things that you make the dough in. You had a thing you put down in it an stir it up and to keep it down in place. We took flat irons an put it down on top of the cover, so when it would raise during the night it wouldn't fall down over the sides. Those were funny days.

Dad worked different hours. My mother always had a special place for him at the table.

She'd say, "Your father's coming home and you're not to disturb this."

And she's make his tea and have his dinner ready and she knew when he was coming home 'cause he worked different hours and different times. And I remember, too, when he'd sit around at night after he'd come home. We had an old rocking chair we set in front of the stove in the kitchen. He'd sit there and we'd all gather around. We'd sing and he'd sing with us and smoke his pipe.

That's how Agnes learned the boys to dance. She learned John to dance and Jud to dance and Jim.

But you know what's funny about John? He was left-handed like myself, but when he danced he held his arm way out, holding his girl and everybody would stay clear because his arm was right out stiff. Nobody could get around it. And he loved to dance. And we'd sing away.

Oh yeah, we went to the movies but before we would go to the movies, we had to do our chores. That was a big treat back then in those days. We'd go on Saturday afternoon on Park Street. There was a theater down there. Mum would send us in the afternoon.

We had chores in the house. All of us each had a chore. Someone had to clean the bathroom. Someone had to clean the living room. We had the boys' room and I always got it. I said to Alice, "I don't know why I always get the boys' room."

She said, "Well, you do it the best."

But if the chores weren't done, we couldn't go to the movies. They had to be done first and we always saw to it they were.

During Lent, we had to pay attention to our spirituals before we could go out to any dance or entertainment we wanted. We had to go to the stations of the cross first, or vespers, as they called them then in those days. They don;t do them so much now. They were Wednesday and Friday in Lent. We couldn't go any place unless we did those things first and did our little penances.

Jud and John and Jim used to play golf in the back yard. They'd dig little holes and putt. They had little putters.

I used to go out and try to play baseball with them too. Jim used to go out in the driveway and he said to me one day, "Come out and I'll pitch to you."

He did and nearly knocked me over. Those balls would steam up and I'd have the glove in front of me and I'd catch it and boy, would my hand would sting.

Bill could pitch baseball, you know. He  burned his arm out though, one afternoon at Oakland Park. He pitched two no-hit games and that was the end of his pitching because he ruined his arm. Bill was strong. I remember that too.

I used to swim and Alice used to play tennis, and could she play tennis, and Margaret used to bowl. The boys played golf and they used to caddy. They always loved golf , but I don't remember them doing anything else.

When Agnes played basketball she was what they called a side center in those days. She'd get the ball and feed it to Eileen and she'd put it in the basket. So they were champions. I don't think they had state champs in those days -- they would be division champs, more or less.

We used to claim championships but I don't think we ever really were. I think we lost one game and it was the last one in '28. We always had good teams.

In those days there always seemed to be a Flanagan on the team. They'd have those rallies, you know, and I remember Superintendent Toner coming in one day at the rally and he'd say, "Well, I have one more thing to say -- in again, up again, one again, Flanagan!"

And it brought down the house, of course.

I don't know if everyone played basketball. Rose was always at the plays or something. She was always in a play. Dramatics, you know. Pat was a wonderful when they had those high school plays. And Eileen and Agnes was always in them.

I could never do things like that. I was kinda dumb, you know. But they could do it and Agnes was a great actress. She'd bring down the house 'cause she'd get a funny part, and could she ever play it. And at the coffee parties at the church, what they call a coffee party, we'd always have a party down in the basement.

There was a stage down there and she took a funny part once and she played and she sang,"Put on your winter underwear when the wind is cold ..."

And she was so funny! And she had on the funniest rigs and some kind of wiggly hat on her head. And could she ever act! They had her come up and do it over and over again. And whenever there as a play they would always ask Agnes to be in it. She could steal the show, you know.

They were all good at acting. They were always in something at school.

I was the first to leave home because I told Mum I wasn't going to clerk and I wasn't going to be a secretary.

"Well you gotta do something," she said.

"Well, maybe I'l be a nurse," I said.

So before I knew it, she had papers in front of me. And she had called Dad's sisters in Portland and she said, "Carol thinks she wants to be a nurse. Could you do something about that?"

She said this to Aunt Margaret. So they sent me the paper and that's how I went to nursing school.

Jud went to Providence College. He and John went to MCI.

John went to night school. He got his college degree while he was working. That;s when he met Anne, his wife. She was a nurse. He used to bring her to see me, John would. And I guess I was just a little probey in those days.

I was not a novice, not quite a novice, just a little portionate. And they come to see me one day and 'course I was full of it in those days. And I remember her saying, "My, my, such liberty."

His wife said it. She was all prim and proper. Such a lovely person. She was a nurse too, you know. Such liberty.

I said, "What have I done now?"

I didn't know what they expected.

I didn't have much contact with Arthur, except when I was done there in Jersey, taking that course in septics, I think. I was down there six months and he was working in an armory, an armory manufacturing place. I made machinery for the war. He'd drop over to see me because he was quite near. And he'd always bring me a little bottle of wine. Agnes and Pat do that tradition.

We always had wine at home - we'd make it. Mom would always make wine, dandelion wine, dandelion beer. She'd make cherry wine. We'd go out and pick the cherries off the bushes in those days. Go out and pick the blossoms, too, for the dandelions. These were things you did when you were kids, you know.

She'd give us a little. Always had it when we went to bed. We always had a little nip at dinner.

One day she had some in the ice box. We had an old, old ice box out in the shed. Those days we had lots of ice. You took your food in there and she had put a little bottle of dandelion beer in the ice chest and Dad went out to get a drink because he was thirsty. And it had fermented, or something.

Well, he was a little bit over.

That's when Mum said, "You know dear, your father never was a drinking man."

He couldn't. He took it and it's just send him right off just like Danny Flanagan. We had to stop doing it. Danny Flanagan. That's why Danny's got a yen for it too, you know.  Just a little bit, and they were off. Little bit of beer, little bit of wine, something like that, and it would set them all off.

He lectures about it now, you know. It's a dangerous thing,  he says, so don't you do it 'till you know what you're getting into.






Anthony Judson Flanagan and his aunt, Sr. Carol Flanagan, Camden, Maine, September 1989

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