Rockland to Honor Flanagan Family

https://knox.villagesoup.com/p/rockland-to-honor-flanagan-family-with-naming-of-recreation-center/1630830

ROCKLAND — Dan Flanagan and the Rockland recreation center were synonymous for generations of young people in the community.

And the Rockland City Council will honor Flanagan, who died on New Year's Day at age 80, by naming the community building the "Flanagan Community Center." Councilors voiced support for the naming at their Monday night, March 6, meeting, with a formal vote scheduled for March 13.

"He not only taught about basketball, but he taught about life," said Susan Ware Page, who is one of a group of local businesspeople who worked on the proposal and will raise money for the sign that will be affixed to the building.

She said it was incredible how many people he touched over three generations of Rockland-area children.

"He raised more than five children," she said of Flanagan, who had five children, but taught basketball to an untold number of youngsters.

The family found papers after Flanagan's death in which he wrote down his memories of the recreation center.

Flanagan's father -- James Flanagan Sr. -- was the recreation director at the building during the early 1940s and young Dan recalled as a child of 5 or 6 years old helping to lug coal from the coal bin to the furnace in the cellar.

The building was constructed in 1936 as part of the Works Progress Administration. People in need of jobs during the Great Depression were provided jobs that paid 15 cents per hour, which his research showed was a fair wage for those times.

He also recalled up to 400 people attending biweekly country and western shows at the community center.

His father coached the high school basketball team during World War II and Flanagan grew to love the sport.

"I can recall leaving a window unlocked on Saturdays, so I could sneak in on Sundays to shoot hoops by myself," he wrote in the paperwork found by his family.

During renovations to the building in the 1990s, Flanagan wrote that historical artifacts were found inside the walls, including matchbooks from the 1940s that encouraged people to buy World War II bonds. Coca-Cola bottles from the 1940s were also found inside the walls.

The supporters of renaming the community building have created a Facebook page, named Flanagan Community Appreciation. Page said the sign will not cost taxpayers anything. People interested can go to the Facebook page and contact the group.

Rockland Girls Basketball team, 1922

https://www.facebook.com/Rockland-Historical-Society-533542906709726/?fref=photo

Thanks to a few Facebook links forwarded by family members, I got a look at a photo from the Rockland Historical Society.

Here's what they wrote on Feb. 28:

The 1922 Rockland High School girls state champion basketball team. They finished the season with a perfect record of 12-0 and outscored their opponents 430-20! Among the opposing teams were Brunswick, Bangor, Hallowell and Skowhegan. Pictured from the top, left to right: Agnes Flanagan, Dorothy Breen, Coach William J. Sullivan, Kathleen Blethen, Clemice Blackington, Helen Griffin and Eileen Flanagan.


Here's what they wrote on Feb. 28:

I think Aunty Ag, Agnes Flanagan Fleagle, stands in the rear behind the coach. Her sister Eileen holds the basketball in the bottom of the picture.

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

Flanagan Family Oral Histories: Rose Virginia Flanagan Webre

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

Flanagan Family Oral Histories: Edna Melvin, Friend And Neighbor

A next-door neighbor and close friend of the Flanagan family for many years, Edna Melvin had a tremendous memory and remembered the past with great clarity. Most names and places came easily for her and she was a great resource. I visited her a number of times in a Rockland nursing home and her good cheer and easygoing nature were the only things that surprised me more than her command of the facts. She died in 1992. I interviewed Edna on March 15, 1991 and June 6, 1991.

Left to right: Eileen Flanagan, Agnes Flanagan, Margaret Flanagan, Mary Cushing Flanagan, William Flanagan, Rose Flanagan, John Flanagan, Eleanor Flanagan, John Flanagan, Alice Flanagan and Carol Flanagan. On the running board, Anthony "Jud" Flanagan, Arthur Flanagan and James Flanagan.



I'm about the only one left. Most of Mrs. Flanagan's friends are gone. Most of the old neighbors are dead. But she had a lot of friends. The McCarthy's was with 'em. You could get a lot of information there, but they're both dead.

It was a beloved family. The Flanagans were the family in Rockland. Not only nice people but their children were all athletes and they played in all the games -- baseball, basketball, football.

Oh, people always were invited to eat with them. I always used to be invited if I went over there around dinner time. You know, Miss Flanagan would make great big soups, chowders, you know. She would make great big soups and the children used to come home at noon time for their dinners then.

That's when I was in school. And she, no matter who came in, she always said, "Won't you sit down and have something to eat?"

Well, they had benches next to the table. They would line the children up -- oh, three of four of them on that long bench.

There was always enough room. Ooh, she was a wonderful cook. She used to make great big cakes, pies, have holiday dinners, birthday dinners for all the children. 'Course you remember she had 14 children.

When I moved there, there was 14 children. But they were gradually getting up in age. We didn't have 14 there too long because they were getting growin' -- growing up. And the boys did any kind of work they could find. I know they did. They their work in different places. There was always room for a Flanagan.

She was always happy. No matter what, she always had a smile. She could always laugh. She had a lot of cares on her mind -- she was such a good Christian lady it didn't make any difference what happened. She was a very thoughtful person, very kind person. I couldn't say nice enough things about her.

Miss Flanagan was always with a smile. Always. I never saw her otherwise in my life. Except when her children died. She greeted everybody when they came in the house, you know, to say a prayer.

She began doing things after the children grew up. She was always ho,e. As far as I know, she never began going out until her children were grown up and out working. Yes, the older children looked after the younger children.

Mr. Flanagan was always very sedate, very proper in every way. He was all business. He was a very valued employee down at the post office, most valued. I know that for a fact. As I say, he was very proper.

Oh, I guess he kept a garden. It was right between the Flanagan house and my house. He had that whole -- oh, it was right from Lower Street out as far as he owned, almost, a big garden and he gave to everybody. He used to give us most everything he had. Like cucumbers and corn and peas, beans -- all those things. You know, vegetables.

He was always doing things for neighbors. I don't know too much what he did about the house, inside, because he was always working.

Mrs. Flanagan died of cancer. She was stricken very suddenly with it. She was getting ready to go to a St. Patrick's Day party down at the recreation building. She had refreshments all made and she couldn't go because she couldn't hold a thing in her stomach. It grew from that to worse and worse. She did go to the hospital, but they brought her back home because there was no help.

I felt so terrible when I found out for sure that there was no hope for her. I said, "What am I going to do?!"

And she said, "Remember, Edna, there will always be a Flanagan." And think of it. We've got a Flanagan living in my house now.

She always could laugh, remember that. nothing ever, ever stopped her from laughing -- except course when she's lose one of her children/ That would be different. But then she never wavered -- she was so true to her faith.

Whenever the opportunity presented itself, she'd love to talk about it. But she was never a pusher, no. She would answer anything that someone wanted to know. She was always ready and willing to answer the,.

Of course, you see, I haven't always been a Catholic. I went into the Catholic Church about 40 years ago. I was an Epsicopalian.

Oh no. Oh no. They're not the same. What they'll say to me is what's the difference. I'll say there's so much difference there's no use to try to talk about it.

Well,I can tell you about some of the rooms in the house. The front room in the house upstairs was the mother and father's room. That's where she died. Second floor.

The stove was right there by the dining room door on the first floor. It went into the living room, a space there. It was kind of little. And they had an oil burner there. an oil burner in the kitchen, ayuh. And of course they had the big kitchen. Then they had the dining room. They had a nice dining room.

The house was cold. Like all of us in years gone by I've been awful cold in my house because we didn't haven o oil burners. They were really better equipped than we were ' cause they had oil burners and I had to shovel coal.

And you know the living room. And you know the sun porch on the left side of the house. It was built for Eileen when Eileen had tuberculosis and she couldn't get out of there. She died there.

I remember when Eileen died because I was up there every day. She practically lived in the porch upstairs. They built it. In the sun.

James Flanagan practicing his golf game with what appears to be the sun room Edna Melvin mentioned in the background.