The youngest of the 14 Flanagan children, Rose Flanagan Webre, (1917 - 2012 ) had the best view of her parents both running the household and being themselves. While being the youngest may have prevented her from learning to cook because her older sisters could, her recollections shows how jobs were split up in the family and how they played. Her sisters Kathleen and Eileen, whom she recalls, both died of tuberculosis. Pat in the recollections is her sister Eleanor "Pat" Flanagan Rich and Jim is James Flanagan. "Gorham" is Gorham State Teachers College, from which she graduated. Today it is known as the University of Southern Maine. Rose Flanagan Webre was interviewed in Camden, Maine, on July 23, 1991.
Rose Flanagan Webre wih her mother, Mary Etta Cushing Flanagan, in Rockland
Mum was a do-er. All the priests used to come to her. When people are organized, they don't need a lot of time. It just fits into their way of life.
On Saturdays, she used to go from house to house with food baskets. Well, you know, she started the poor kitchen and I image from that she became aware of a lot of people who were in need at that time. She's go around and visit for a while and then we'd go down to the market and just buy brooms, milk power and anything that she thought that they would need. She used her own money and she didn't have that much, either.
When Agnes lived in Washington, she sent Mom some money to get her teeth fixed. Mum knew this lady that needed her teeth fixed so she gave her money to the other lady. She was always, always thinking of other people.
She was a good listener. You could tell her something and knew it was not going to be spread all over as gossip and people soon realized that. She used to drag all of us to church suppers. If they had a church supper, we would all go. And when she ran the church suppers in Rockland at the time, they'd all come to hers. So you see, that was that movement. Even she was real sick with cancer, this other lady said she would take it if Mum would just help direct the supper, which she did.
People would come to her. If you're a good organizer, you know, you get things done. She used to say, "If you want something done, always ask the busiest person."
I don't know why she did it. She just had that type of mind. She was active in the community. Everybody looked up to her and to the children.
My father is remembered differently by me because I was much younger than the others. He was always soft-spoken and gentle, but when he told you to do something, you better do it.
He always wore a suit. Always. He had a little curl on top of his head. See, this was when he was older. I used to brush that hair for hours. He'd fill his corncob pipe and he'd sit there and smoke it. And if ever the other kids wanted something, they'd send me in to ask him for it. They' knew I'd get it. They might get it. They might not, but they knew I would.
He was, you know, one of these quiet people. These people who just pull on their pipe and think.
He was always a silent backer for Mum. Anything she wanted to do, he was right behind her.
But with all the children that she had, as I remember, I never once heard Mum raise her voice. We did what we had to do because we lover her so much. And also, we knew that our father was right behind us, too.
We all had our own jobs to do around the house and we had to do them well. I cleaned my room every Saturday, cleaning from the ceiling right down the walls to the floor. You didn't fool around. We had to clean the house.
No one had specific jobs. You just did what you had to do. One week, you'd clean the living room. You might get the dining room next week.
I never did have to cook. You see, I was the tail end of the family. All I did was clean up. As a consequence of which, I never did learn to cook.
Oh, you should have seen Mum cook. We had a pantry, and as I recall, it had maybe one, two, three, four shelves in it where the dishes were kept. From Thanksgiving to Christmas, those shelves were lined with pies and cakes. We had blueberry, apple, coconut, lemon, mince, pumpkin pie and four kinds of cakes. I can't remember what kinds they were, but I can just see than and see her with them in the hall with these kids.
But they used to have people come in on Christmas Even and during the holidays to just drop by and have cake. And at Christmas time and Thanksgiving we have turkey, a roast and a roast pork.
I can remember sitting on the steps, waiting for my brothers and sisters to come home from school for lunch. I think they crossed five yards to get home in time.
And I used to run in and say, "Here they come!"
And my father would be at one end of the table and my mother would be at the other end. They wouldn't eat. They would just serve. And then, after they left, we'd have lunch.
My parents both died of cancer, cancer of the stomach. I was 16 when Dad died. That's all I can remember. I don't remember too much of my youth.
Mum died four years after Dad. She was ill and I guess she was operated in May. Then she died in August. I was in school when she first got sick. I was at Gorham for my first year of school.
School was three years at the time. And then I went out to California, the University of California. That was after I taught.
I was in the Navy for two and a half years, I think. I guess it was from 1942 to 1945.
Jim went down to enlist one day and they wouldn't take him. They said, "Jim, you have five children. You can't enlist."
"I want peace," he said.
He was so funny.
I have a few memories of Kathleen. I used to sit on her lap -- now these are just flashes -- and she played the piano. And she was going to teach me how. I was three when she died.
I was 10 when Eileen died. And you know, I don't have too much memory of her except I used to play gin rummy or solitaire on her bed. And she had a hospital bed.
And Pat and Cindy Grossman used to send Christmas presents. My mother used to put them underneath Eileen's bed because it was so high. I'd start down at the bottom of the stairs and creep up on my stomach instead of waiting to get up there. We'd creep up the stairs and, you know, sort of crawl up, under the bed to feel the presents.
She's say, "Who's there?"
It got to be a game.
I slept where I was put. That's where I slept. Not 'till everybody left and then I fixed a place to sleep at the head of the stairs.
Well, I can remember, we used to make a beeline for the bathroom when it was cold. You know, we had that Franklin stove in the boys' room. It was right off the bathroom. And then there was a stove downstairs that used to send heat up. It was cold, but when you woke up in the morning, sometimes you could make designs on the window.
Sharon Flanagan, Patricia Rich Brace and Rose Flanagan Webre, Rockland, 1993
Rose Flanagan Webre wih her mother, Mary Etta Cushing Flanagan, in Rockland
Mum was a do-er. All the priests used to come to her. When people are organized, they don't need a lot of time. It just fits into their way of life.
On Saturdays, she used to go from house to house with food baskets. Well, you know, she started the poor kitchen and I image from that she became aware of a lot of people who were in need at that time. She's go around and visit for a while and then we'd go down to the market and just buy brooms, milk power and anything that she thought that they would need. She used her own money and she didn't have that much, either.
When Agnes lived in Washington, she sent Mom some money to get her teeth fixed. Mum knew this lady that needed her teeth fixed so she gave her money to the other lady. She was always, always thinking of other people.
She was a good listener. You could tell her something and knew it was not going to be spread all over as gossip and people soon realized that. She used to drag all of us to church suppers. If they had a church supper, we would all go. And when she ran the church suppers in Rockland at the time, they'd all come to hers. So you see, that was that movement. Even she was real sick with cancer, this other lady said she would take it if Mum would just help direct the supper, which she did.
People would come to her. If you're a good organizer, you know, you get things done. She used to say, "If you want something done, always ask the busiest person."
I don't know why she did it. She just had that type of mind. She was active in the community. Everybody looked up to her and to the children.
My father is remembered differently by me because I was much younger than the others. He was always soft-spoken and gentle, but when he told you to do something, you better do it.
He always wore a suit. Always. He had a little curl on top of his head. See, this was when he was older. I used to brush that hair for hours. He'd fill his corncob pipe and he'd sit there and smoke it. And if ever the other kids wanted something, they'd send me in to ask him for it. They' knew I'd get it. They might get it. They might not, but they knew I would.
He was, you know, one of these quiet people. These people who just pull on their pipe and think.
He was always a silent backer for Mum. Anything she wanted to do, he was right behind her.
But with all the children that she had, as I remember, I never once heard Mum raise her voice. We did what we had to do because we lover her so much. And also, we knew that our father was right behind us, too.
We all had our own jobs to do around the house and we had to do them well. I cleaned my room every Saturday, cleaning from the ceiling right down the walls to the floor. You didn't fool around. We had to clean the house.
No one had specific jobs. You just did what you had to do. One week, you'd clean the living room. You might get the dining room next week.
I never did have to cook. You see, I was the tail end of the family. All I did was clean up. As a consequence of which, I never did learn to cook.
Oh, you should have seen Mum cook. We had a pantry, and as I recall, it had maybe one, two, three, four shelves in it where the dishes were kept. From Thanksgiving to Christmas, those shelves were lined with pies and cakes. We had blueberry, apple, coconut, lemon, mince, pumpkin pie and four kinds of cakes. I can't remember what kinds they were, but I can just see than and see her with them in the hall with these kids.
But they used to have people come in on Christmas Even and during the holidays to just drop by and have cake. And at Christmas time and Thanksgiving we have turkey, a roast and a roast pork.
I can remember sitting on the steps, waiting for my brothers and sisters to come home from school for lunch. I think they crossed five yards to get home in time.
And I used to run in and say, "Here they come!"
And my father would be at one end of the table and my mother would be at the other end. They wouldn't eat. They would just serve. And then, after they left, we'd have lunch.
My parents both died of cancer, cancer of the stomach. I was 16 when Dad died. That's all I can remember. I don't remember too much of my youth.
Mum died four years after Dad. She was ill and I guess she was operated in May. Then she died in August. I was in school when she first got sick. I was at Gorham for my first year of school.
School was three years at the time. And then I went out to California, the University of California. That was after I taught.
I was in the Navy for two and a half years, I think. I guess it was from 1942 to 1945.
Jim went down to enlist one day and they wouldn't take him. They said, "Jim, you have five children. You can't enlist."
"I want peace," he said.
He was so funny.
I have a few memories of Kathleen. I used to sit on her lap -- now these are just flashes -- and she played the piano. And she was going to teach me how. I was three when she died.
I was 10 when Eileen died. And you know, I don't have too much memory of her except I used to play gin rummy or solitaire on her bed. And she had a hospital bed.
And Pat and Cindy Grossman used to send Christmas presents. My mother used to put them underneath Eileen's bed because it was so high. I'd start down at the bottom of the stairs and creep up on my stomach instead of waiting to get up there. We'd creep up the stairs and, you know, sort of crawl up, under the bed to feel the presents.
She's say, "Who's there?"
It got to be a game.
I slept where I was put. That's where I slept. Not 'till everybody left and then I fixed a place to sleep at the head of the stairs.
Well, I can remember, we used to make a beeline for the bathroom when it was cold. You know, we had that Franklin stove in the boys' room. It was right off the bathroom. And then there was a stove downstairs that used to send heat up. It was cold, but when you woke up in the morning, sometimes you could make designs on the window.
Sharon Flanagan, Patricia Rich Brace and Rose Flanagan Webre, Rockland, 1993
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