Cornelius John Regan was born one-hundred-fifty years ago in Fisherville, New Hampshire. He was the second child and first son of Irish immigrants John Regan and Mary Quinn. Following traditional Irish naming practices, the first-born son was named after the paternal grandfather. The American Cornelius would be known as Neil; his grandfather in Kilmichael, County Cork was called Conn (Cornelius is the English equivalent of the Irish name Conchobar).
This is the youngest Neil we have in a photo. (Private Family Collection)
I have previously written about Neil on his birthday. I shared how his Irish Republican tendencies emerged at the sight of a certain flower and how he got a kick out of sharing his birthday with Flag Day. Today, I will share a quick memory from Neil’s granddaughter (and my mom), Eileen Regan McCormack.
Neil was the only grandparent Eileen knew. Neil moved in with his son, John, and John’s wife, Agnes, shortly after they married in 1941. So, Grandpa was in place by the time Mom came along a few years later, and he would be a presence in the home for the next seven years.
Eileen remembers her grandpa always reading while sitting in his chair by the dining room window. He read books and the newspapers, and when she was around, he often read aloud to her. Eileen specifically recalls him reading the “Little Lulu” comic books to her. While not part of his usual literary repetoire, he enjoyed the mischievous antics of the silly little girl as much as Eileen.
Neil, Agnes (McMahon) Regan, Otto and Mary (McMahon) Fuchs, Edgar and Margaret (McMahon) Nelson, 1944. (Private Family Collection)
Eileen and her grandpa were a good pair, both of them quiet, easy-going, and shy. Neil also fit in perfectly with the McMahon clan his son married into (see photo above).
Neil passed away on June 30, 1951. He was waked at the Regan home in Minneapolis and brought back to Clontarf for the funeral Mass at St. Malachy Catholic Church and burial.
Mom and I began sorting through the research we had compiled on the 300 Cashel Street house in Clontarf, Minnesota. It has been fun looking through the folders and making sense of the floor plans Mom drew up nearly twenty years ago!
It is challenging to write about a house that no longer stands. It would be wonderful to walk around the house to see how it fits into the environment. But that’s OK…at least we have some photos of the place before it was dismantled.
300 Cashel Street, north side (Private Family Collection)
We realized we didn’t know when the house was built, and then we realized we only had property deeds for 1906-1934.
I called Carla Roberts, the department head of the Swift County Land Records Office, and asked if they could tell from their records when a house was built. Carla said to me that information is not usually included in the records held by their office since they are concerned with the transfer of land titles and deeds. She suggested we visit the Assesor’s Office (just across the hall from her at the Swift County Courthouse in Benson, Minnesota). We may see a change in taxes assessed, indicating new construction took place.
Too bad there were no building permit requirements. Mom and I wonder if there might be any building information in the Clontarf Township Records. I believe those are located at Swift County Historical Museum. We, of course, made tons of photocopies.
We are planning a trip to Clontarf in July, so we will visit the Land Records Office and the Assessor’s to see if we can find records before 1906 and ascertain when the house was built. We can’t remember if we looked at any earlier deeds and didn’t make copies of them. This is why it is essential to always keep good notes with your research!
We also need more details on what happened after 1934. In 1934, a foreclosure involved the Home Owners’ Loan Corporation (HOLC), a government program established to offer homeowners in default options for refinancing to avoid foreclosure. Obviously, the program was not successful in the case of the Regan family. We are looking into HOLC for further information. HOLC was a New Deal program during the Great Depression – check out this great site for tons on the New Deal.
Up next…a former resident of 300 Cashel Street has a landmark anniversary of their birth on Wednesday, so check back for a special tribute.
I posted this photo last Sunday for Mother’s Day because it features two special moms in my family (my great-grandma and grandma). I am sharing it again today because of what is behind them: the house.
McMahon Family, 1914 Clontarf, MN (Private Family Collection)
This photo hung on the wall above my grandma’s kitchen table for years. Grandma would often glance at the picture and smile while we chatted, played cards, or had something to eat. The photo sparked Grandma’s memory, and a family story or tidbit from her past, relatable to the current activity or conversation, would follow. Regardless of what the memory was, Grandma would always have this to say in conclusion: “You know, your grandpa’s family moved into that house several years after this photo was taken, and that is where he grew up.” Grandma loved making that connection.
Recently my mom and I came across a folder in our Clontarf archive labeled 300 Cashel Street, the address of the house in the photo. The folder includes notes, hand-drawn house plans, photographs, and copies of property deeds. Nearly twenty years ago, we began looking into our Clontarf, Minnesota roots with the ultimate goal of writing a book. We love to research and have done tons of it throughout those years but have not yet written the book. There are many explanations (excuses?) for this, but the scale of the project is somewhat overwhelming.
So, we decided to start small. We will use the house on Cashel Street to tell part of the story. We are not sure what this project will look like, but we are motivated to take the excellent research we have done out of the archive and shine a light on it. What can this little house on Cashel Street tell us about early twentieth-century life in a Minnesota railroad community? Stay tuned to find out!
In the 1970s or 1980s, my mom embroidered the saying, “Mother is another name for love,” and placed it in a green-painted frame as a Mother’s Day gift for her mom. I can see it hanging on grandma’s wall, and I remember when I was young, considering the idea that my mom could possibly love her mom as much as I loved both of them.
I have shared this photo several times, but it is my favorite for Mother’s Day.
McMahon Family – 1914 (Private Family Collection)
My great-grandmother Mary Foley McMahon is with her seven children outside of their Clontarf, Minnesota, home. My grandma(Agnes) is standing on the chair before her mother.
“All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.” — Abraham Lincoln
I am confident I have already seen the recipient of the “Worst Film” medal, which will be awarded at the end of my St. Patrick’s Day Film Festival. I guarantee that no movie could be worse than Far and Away. I had heard that Tom Cruise puts on a terrible Irish accent, and it was pretty bad, but at least he tried to sound Irish. Nicole Kidman spoke in a generic accent, a cross between South Dakota and South Africa. Very odd.
Throughout the first part of the movie, I was never sure if it was supposed to be a spoof or if it was a serious drama. I invited my sister to watch with me, and a few minutes in, she commented, “I think Ron Howard let the interns make this movie.” Regan really wanted to quit, but I wouldn’t allow it. We watched all 140 dreadful minutes. My apologies, Regan.
I needed a palate cleanser after that, and the black comedy set in Dublin, Intermission, was just that. Fast-paced action with many interconnected storylines, Intermission is hilarious. You can’t go wrong with the cast, which includes Colin Farrell, Cillian Murphy, and Colm Meaney. Meaney was also in Far and Away, but I don’t hold that against him.
Here is the list of movies I watched over the past week, including links to movie trailers. I have more than enough movies to carry me through the weekend. It is nice when St. Patrick’s Day is on a Friday because I feel entitled to an elongated celebration.
I thought I would share a few pages from the family album featuring Fran, my first cousin once removed (she and my mom are first cousins). Am I choosing today to share these photos for any particular reason? Perhaps, but Fran doesn’t like to make a fuss, and neither will I.
Fran (Private Family Collection)
Fran’s mom was Mary McMahon Fuchs, the eldest sister of my grandma Agnes McMahon Regan. Agnes, her parents, and five siblings moved to Minneapolis in the mid-1920s, while Mary stayed behind in Benson to work and help their Aunt Maggie. That’s where Fran was born, in the house her mom and dad shared with Aunt Maggie. Fran was the second of five girls in the family.
Fran is in my grandma’s arms, with sister Lorna and a friend looking on. Benson, MN. (Private Family Collection)
In the 1930s, Agnes regularly visited Mary and her growing family. Often she and a friend would don traveling clothes (jodhpurs, jackets, and tall boots) and hitch a ride from the city, making their way 140 miles west on Highway 12 to Benson. Although eight years separated the sisters, Agnes always said that she and Mary were best pals, and these visits were happy times (look – even Aunt Maggie is smiling in the pic below).
The gang in Benson. (Private Family Collection)
Fran thought the world of her Aunt Ag, and I know the feeling was mutual.
Lorna, Kathy, and Fran, Confirmation. (Private Family Collection)
When Fran graduated from Benson High School, she moved to Minneapolis to work. She lived with Agnes and her family for a couple of years. The whole gang would drive out to Benson on the weekends. I don’t have any photos of Fran from that time, so this one will have to do; Fran and her sister around Mary’s table in Benson, a bit later.
(Private Family Collection)
The years go by, and so much in life changes and becomes almost unrecognizable, yet family can always connect us – to one another and the past. In Fran, and my mom, I see the women I knew – Grandma and Aunt Mary – and all those I never knew, those who came before any of us.
I think the world of Fran. I hope she has a lovely day!
A couple of weeks before St. Patrick’s Day each year I pull out my Irish and Irish American DVDs and host a film festival. Usually, I am the only attendee, although this year my mom seemed genuinely disappointed that she missed the double feature of In America and The Secret of Roan Inish when I mentioned it. Those two movies are so good they definitely deserve encore screenings closer to the big day.
I just realized that I don’t have a single movie about St. Patrick in my St. Patrick’s Day Film Festival. I should check these out. I ought to be able to squeeze one into the lineup.
Take a look at the list of movies I’ve watched so far. These are all from my collection of DVDs, but I believe most are available to be streamed if you would like to host your own film festival.
I have some good ones yet to watch, like Brooklyn, The Dead, and Intermission. I found an unopened copy of Far and Away in my drawer. I have heard it is terrible, but I will give it a chance. My dad loaned me a few DVDs, including The Wind that Shakes the Barley which I have not seen in years and can’t wait to watch.
This is what is up next: the 1997 gem The Matchmaker starring Janeane Garafolo.
What’s your favorite Irish or Irish American movie? Share it with a comment!
I am getting old. I’m not saying this because I am over fifty and my hair is gray, but because I said this to friends last weekend when we were planning a night out:
“Let’s go somewhere quiet…so we can chat.”
Turns out my friends had the same idea and the four of us spent a lovely Saturday evening gathered around Ace’s dining room table, catching up, laughing, and snacking on chips and guacamole, chocolate-covered pretzels, and brownies. The evening was low-key and comfortable and felt old-fashioned (the Hamm’s may have added to the nostalgia).
My mom often reminisces about the regular family dinners, get-togethers, and card parties of her youth. Often hosted by her parents, John and Agnes (McMahon) Regan at their South Minneapolis home, the evenings and Sunday afternoons were sometimes held at McMahon and Regan cousins’ homes peppered throughout the city.
Here are a few snapshots of my Irish American family around the table. The common denominator of these photos is the McMahon family – three generations of descendants of Francis and Catherine (McAndrew) McMahon. Once the McMahons moved to Minneapolis from the Clontarf area in western Minnesota, they branched out making matches with those of non-Irish heritage. Names like Fuchs, Freitag, Nelson, Oien, and Bebus joined the McMahon family tree. My grandma Agnes was the only of her siblings to marry fellow Irish American (and Clontarf native) John Regan.
Minneapolis, 1943 (Private Family Collection)
My grandma Agnes McMahon Regan is on the right, resting her head in her hand, next to my grandpa John Regan. The others are identified only as, “Foley girls – Aunt Bid and Uncle Tim’s.” Aunt Bid was Bridget McMahon. Mom says this is most likely is at Aunt Bid’s kitchen table. Maybe the others are Kit, Cecilia, or Loretta Foley?
McMahons al fresco, 1965 (Private Family Collection)
Rose McMahon is on the left, with her sister Mary McMahon and husband Will Herr. Could this be at Mary and Will’s fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration in Bristol, South Dakota? Written on the back is, “Eileen and John Regan may be at next table.” Mom can help me out with this.
Benson, Minnesota, about 1963 (Private Family Collection)
From left: Fran Fuchs Lainsbury, Dody Fuchs Abbott, and their mother, Mary McMahon Fuchs at the table in the Foley house in Benson. That’s my Aunt Mary (actually a great aunt, but always just Aunt Mary to us). I think Aunt Mary looks so cute here. I only remember her when she was twenty years older.
Wedding, about 1963 (Private Family Collection)
Some members of the McMahon family gathered at the wedding of Mary Fuchs (possibly). From the bottom left: Frank, John, Aunt Rose McMahon, Ella (John’s wife), Benie Oien, Rose “Dodo” McMahon Oien. I bet Frank’s wife Bertha took the photo unless Frank had a penchant for handbags (“Frank, hold my purse for a minute while I take a picture.”) I wonder where John and Agnes are sitting? And who is that guy standing on the left, behind the table, like he is in the picture?
Does anyone else wish we could step into old snapshots like these and stay for a moment, just long enough to catch Bertha asking the table for a smile and to hear John laughing? And maybe even long enough to pull Dodo aside and ask her why old Aunt Rose is sitting between John and Ella.
Note: Mom told me that the guy at the left behind the table is her cousin Jim Nelson. So, if this was a modern photo, he would have squeezed himself in somewhere to be part of the shot! Also, mom thinks this may have been Dodo and Bernie’s wedding (that would explain Bernie’s natty ensemble.
It was never the couch; never the sofa. For Grandma, it was always the Davenport.
That Grandma called the multiperson upholstered seating apparatus the davenport had nothing to do with her Irish heritage, but everything to do with regional and generational influences. I am sure that many members of the Greatest Generation in the Midwest used the term, but Grandma was the only person I ever heard call it a davenport, so I have forever associated the word exclusively with Grandma, and thus, cozy comfort and love.
“Come on in and sit yourself down on the davenport.” was the invitation equivalent to Grandma’s hand smoothing the hair from my tear-soaked face or a boiled dinner she made with enough potatoes for an army. Grandma’s davenport was like a warm hug.
Here’s my grandma in the 1960s, sitting on the davenport. I am not sure it is her davenport – Mom will let us know. That lamp does not quite look like Grandma’s style.
Agnes McMahon Regan, 1960s. (Private Family Collection)
Here’s a davenport full of family. Eileen Regan, Margaret McMahon Nelson, John Regan, and Agnes McMahon Regan at the Regan house on Tenth Avenue in South Minneapolis in the late 1950s.
(Private Family Collection)
One more group of Irish Americans on the Davenport, although “Cousins on the Couch” has a better ring. Tom McMahon, Carol and Betty McMahon, and Eileen Regan in 1962.
(Private Family Collection)
I have observed a few other prominent settings in my collection of family photographs, namely the dinner table, the sidewalk, and next to a car. Stay tuned…
UPDATES per Mom (2/22/2023):
Photo #1 of Grandma was taken at the Roth family home. The Roths were members of Holy Name parish and they belonged to the parish book club, as did Agnes and John Regan.
Photo #2 correction made – sitting next to Eileen is her aunt Margaret, not Rose.
Mom thinks Photo #3 was her high school graduation party. She remembers the dress she was wearing: yellow with eyelet trim at the neck and sleeves. I didn’t ask, but I assume Grandma made it!
The Irish in America 