Guest post: More thoughts on Capt. Bill ...

The following is a guest post by Sharon (O'Malley) Cassidy, Capt. Bill Mooney's first grandchild (and the star of "On the Frontenac, Summer 1939"). Sharon shares some delightful recollections of Cap and his fondness for cigars. We love these stories, and we know you will too. For that reason, we plan on holding Sharon to the promise implicit in her last sentence, namely, that this is only the first installment and that she'll be sharing even more of these memories going forward.😉

Where was Captain Bill?

Did Spanish Flu containment regulations keep Captain Bill from home?

Cleveland newspapers first published that the Spanish Flu had arrived to the United States on September 12, 1918; the first Ohio case was diagnosed at the end of the same month.  As Chuck Hallinan previously reported, Cleveland’s city's health commissioner, Dr. Rockwood, responded suggesting that Cleveland would be spared the full force of the epidemic.  Unfortunately, his hopeful but unfounded guidance came just as the number of cases exploded. His reluctance to order immediate quarantines or bans on public gatherings may have been justified – people generally do not respond to rules that radically change lifestyles with just the possibility of being harmed.  Rather than coercion, the good doctor chose to rely on voluntarism and cooperation to contain the influenza recommending that public and group leaders take suitable precautions.

However, the body count quickly mounted.  On Friday, October 11th, Dr. Rockwood declared the Spanish Flu an epidemic.  On that day, a number of nurses at St. Luke's hospital had fallen ill from the disease after marching in the Liberty Loan parade on Sunday Sept. 30.  He declared schools, dance halls, theaters, movies, churches, and "other public meeting places, (excepting the “Liberty Loan” meetings places – we had a war to fund) be closed starting Tuesday, October 15th.

Interestingly, the bans were similar to today’s Covid-19 bans, with at least one exception: a ban on the common practice of spitting.  “Police Chief Frank Smith stated that ‘[i]n the view of the present situation, every member of the police department must understand that it is just as important to arrest and prosecute people who spit on streets, sidewalks and street cars, as it is to apprehend burglars and thieves’” (Cleveland Plain Dealer, Oct. 6, 1918).  

Source: Free Library of Philadelphia

Source: Free Library of Philadelphia

Dr. Rockwood sympathetically (but lacking a statistical basis to do so) declared the epidemic over on Armistice Day (November 11, 1918).  The logic seems to have been: If the Great War is over then let’s call this germ war over too.  The likely rationale would be Dr. Rockwood’s realization that the public was going to enthusiastically celebrate the end of the war and ignore the bans in place anyways. The Germans may have surrendered but, as we know, the germs did not.

Was it Chemistry? Or a Miracle?

A question arises.

A few months ago, an email from Emily (Hallinan) Mavridoglou asked: When, where, and how did Art Hallinan and Dorothy Mooney meet? "How hard can it be to figure that one out?" we thought. But sometimes a question that at first glance appears to be simple turns out to be a little bit more complicated. This is one of those times.

Where did they come from? Part 2: Mooneys & Morans.

As noted in Part 1 of this post, almost all the Hallinan & Mooney ancestors can be traced to Ireland. (The lone exception is the Morris family. More about them below.) While getting more specific than "Ireland" isn't always possible, we can identify at least a county of origin for most of the ancestral families, and for some we can be even more precise.

Where did they come from? Part 1: Hallinans & Laracys.

With the exception of one family, the Hallinan & Mooney ancestors can be traced to Ireland. (The exception is the Morris family. More about them later.) Given the significant gaps in 19th-century (and earlier) records, getting more specific than "Ireland" isn't always possible. Still, for most of the immigrant ancestral units it's possible to identify at least a county of origin, and for some we can cite even more precise locations.

The Great Mackinac Island Car Caper of 1938.

Last month, Vice President Pence's visit to Mackinac Island ruffled a few feathers because it involved the VP's eight-SUV motorcade cruising around on the formerly car-free resort island. Inevitably, the incident called to mind a much earlier breach of Mackinac's strict anti-internal-combustion-engine protocols. This one took place more than 80 years ago, and the culprits were that pair of Painesville anarchists, the Notorious Hallinan Brothers, Paul and Art.

Episodes in Ye Life of Ye Florist.

(An introduction to C.C. and Jane Hallinan — and their business — can be found in The Little Shop on Erie St., located here.)

C.C. and Jennie Hallinan closed the greenhouse and nursery in 1943, when their younger son (and business partner), Art, was drafted into military service during World War II: the work was too much for them alone, and the war's tight labor market made it difficult to find able-bodied hired hands. They kept the flower shop open. By the time Art was discharged from the Army in 1946, however, he had decided to pursue a career in accounting. With some regret, C.C. and Jennie, now in their seventies, chose to close the shop and retire, to "take it easy and do a little traveling," as they told the Painesville Telegraph.

The Hallinans in 1946.

The Little Shop on Erie St.

The short gentleman at the lower left in the photo above is Mr. Stoopnagle (first name unknown, unless it was "Mr."). The taller fellow is the young Arthur J. Hallinan, Sr. — before he added the “Sr.” to his name. This appears to be the only surviving picture of Mr. S. At first glance, he looks like a garden-variety garden gnome. But far from being merely decorative landscape-candy, this gnome had a more complicated and utilitarian life: he was a working sprinkler head, with a hose attachment (presumably somewhere in his nether regions) and orifices that sprayed water for the refreshment of nearby plants. And, oh yes, Mr. S. had one remarkable gift in particular: he could talk. More about that in a bit, but first a little background.

On the Frontenac, Summer 1939.

As mentioned in the first Evangeline post, Capt. Bill's position as master of various freighters permitted him to take family and other guests on the ships' voyages. As a follow-up, Chuck O'Malley has sent an outstanding video clip with scenes from one such voyage — on the Frontenac in the summer of 1939. The cinematographer is Capt. Bill's son-in-law Bob O'Malley Sr. The cast includes Cap and three of his children: Eileen, Dorothy (in the black-and-white plaid), and Tom. But the star is either a very young Shirley Temple or else Bob and Eileen's daughter Sharon O'Malley Cassidy.

An Evangeline update.

Another picture of Evangeline ...

Among the responses to the posts about Evangeline Moran Mooney (part 1 here) was an email from Chuck O'Malley with a picture of Evangeline that I don't believe I had seen before. Chuck thinks he got his copy from John Mooney. Here's the picture:

Evangeline Charity Moran Mooney - Part 3.

(Part 1 is here, and Part 2 is here.)

The 1918 influenza ...

• There were two waves of influenza in 1918, and a third in early 1919. The first wave, which began in March and peaked in July, was comparatively mild, with relatively few deaths and quick recoveries. People called it the "3-day fever", an illness that passed much the same as seasonal flus usually did.

Evangeline Charity Moran Mooney - Part 2.

(Part 1 is here.)

Angie & Capt. Bill in Cleveland ...

• Capt. Bill and Angie first took up residence in a rental house at 9407 Detroit Ave., on Cleveland's west side. After a year or so, they moved to another rental, at 4908 Franklin Ave. Capt. Bill's maritime title appears to have confused the editors of the 1911 Cleveland City Directory, since they listed his occupation as "police."

Evangeline Charity Moran Mooney - Part 1.

This year marks the 100th anniversary of the Great Influenza of 1918, the flu pandemic that killed 50 million or more people worldwide. Not by coincidence, this year is also the 100th anniversary of the death of Evangeline Charity Moran Mooney, who died from complications of the flu on December 15, 1918, two days before her 34th birthday, at her home in Lakewood, Ohio.

Angie (as she was known to friends and family) left behind her husband, William (Capt. Bill) Mooney, and their four children: Bill (who was 3 days shy of his 8th birthday), Eileen (who had just turned 5), Dorothy (3 years and 2 months old), and Tom (age 5 months).

This is some of her story ....