Family matters...

Today was my parents' 70th wedding anniversary. :-) They got married in Phoenix, Arizona, this day in 1951. Why they went to the trouble of going out of state to get hitched, I don't know, but Dad also married his first wife in Arizona, so maybe at the time it was a place to go for 'quickie' marriages? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Whatever the reason, it was the third marriage for both of them, and third time's a charm as they say!

The betrothed couple were accompanied to Phoenix by Dad's brother, Bill, and his wife Lila. I know from photos in the family album that they drove there in two separate cars: identical 1951 Fords, in fact, doubtless both purchased from their eldest brother's Ford agency in Ontario.

Strangely, there was no official wedding photo. (At least I never saw one.) There's only this day-after picture of them where they stayed, at the Desert Inn in Phoenix. Perhaps not the most glamorous place to spend their first night, but I suppose it served its purpose.


The newlywed Mr. and Mrs. Edward Shannon by the pool at the Desert Inn, Phoenix, Arizona, October 1, 1951.


The Desert Inn, 950 West Van Buren in Phoenix.

And according to the black-and-white postcard, after the ceremony, they had their wedding dinner Sunday night at the Green Gables Restaurant.


The Green Gables. The verso of the postcard reads (in Mother's hand): "This is where we had our wedding supper, following our wedding Sept 30, 1951, Sun - at 8:30 PM. Bill & Lila Shannon were our witnesses."

I only learned just yesterday that this was one of the earliest-ever 'theme' restaurants: sort of the 'Medieval Times' of its day. Cars were greeted in the parking lot by an armored knight mounted on a horse, and the servers all wore period costumes. (I can imagine my father hated every minute of this, but endured it for the sake of his new Anglophile bride.) The building still stands today at 24th and Thomas Road, but it's an office complex now. (At least it was spared the fate of becoming a Starbuck's.)

All my mother ever told me about her and Dad's honeymoon was that they went to Havana, Cuba, but I now know – also based on dated photos in the family album – that they swung up to Las Vegas on a roundabout way back to LA. There, they stayed at the old Last Frontier, one of the first resort hotels on The Strip. (Long gone, of course.)


Hotel Nacional, Habana, Cuba. It hosted a legendary casino in Batista's time.

Then, I suppose, they returned to LA and got ready to fly to Havana. I know from this telegram that they were at the Hotel Nacional on October 9. It surprised me to learn that this is still in existence; indeed, it appears to be THE place to stay in Havana to this day.


No idea who 'Pat' was - a secretary, I imagine. Couldn't have been my half-brother of that name because he was only 5 at the time.

Not sure how long they stayed in Cuba. Probably just long enough for Dad to gamble his money away in the country's famous pre-Castro casinos.

Anyway, the next 3 years until I came along would be a disaster for my father. He would lose his post-war fortune in a series of bad business deals his partner made with the Federal government, underbidding on contracts they were bound to fulfill, and adding insult to injury, the government also levied a $599,635.00 penalty on the partners: an absolutely crushing debt. (About $6.5 million today.) Those must have been dark days for my parents. I can only guess how dark, because those times were never ever spoken of in our house. (I only know about them because of surviving papers that attest to the circumstances.)

In any case, with Mom's help, Dad did get back on his feet eventually, and they lived happily (more or less) ever after!

PS: Today is also my mother's mother's 105th wedding anniversary!

 

So, I recently subscribed to this online newspaper archive for my Covina history project, and discovered scandal in my family's past. Turns out my father was involved in a fairly messy (and publicized!) divorce.


Virginia Lucas and Ed Shannon, date and place unknown.
The way she's looking at him...

I knew my father had been married before my mom, but Dad rarely spoke of his ex, and practically nothing about the details of their relationship. I did know first-hand that Dad had a problem with betting/gambling, though. Mom almost broke up with him over some heavy losses at the craps tables in Vegas in the Sixties.

I also knew Dad liked horses, and liked to go to the races, but we didn't go very often. Three or four trips to Caliente when I was little, and that was about it.

However, as you can see in these newspaper articles from 1941, betting on horse races was apparently quite a big issue with his first wife! I can imagine Dad was furious over these write-ups. They do make the affair sound pretty salacious.

           

What I can't figure out are the accusations of wife beating. I think that's just outright divorce court slander, because my dad was the most even-tempered man I've ever known. I know for a fact he never laid a hand on Mom, because she would have left him on the spot. (She had already divorced one husband before him because of physical abuse, and she was not the kind of woman who would tolerate shit like that again in any way, shape or form.)

What really negates those claims, though, is that after the war, Virginia ended up remarrying Dad, and this time having a child with him. Dad had become quite wealthy as a defense contractor during WWII, and acquired even more wealth after it as an oil wildcatter, so I guess all that money caused Virginia to have a change of heart and conclude that Ed Shannon wasn't such a bad guy, after all. ;-)

And not only were horses apparently not a problem for her anymore, she even partnered with him in actually racing horses at Santa Anita! Dad bought himself a real thoroughbred filly who he called "Who Dat" – a picture of whom was hanging on the wall in my bedroom the whole time I was growing up. This isn't that picture, but I like this one because Who Dat looks like she's grinning at the camera and Dad looks a little miffed as she seems to be getting a little pushy at the moment.






Anyway, there was a sad end to Dad's brief fling in horse racing, when Who Dat fractured a leg while training one day, and had to be put down. The only times I ever saw my father cry was after his little brother died, and the times he spoke about what happened to Who Dat.

Things eventually went south with Dad's second marriage to Virginia, too, though this time, HE divorced HER over her drinking. They parted ways for good in 1950, and Dad married my mom in 1951.

So now I know the whole story behind what Dad meant when he once cryptically told me, "I had to give up horses to marry your mother." ;-)

 

This is the last letter Lt. Lawrence Michael Fitzpatrick wrote to his wife – who years later would become my mother – before he was killed in action in France in the wee hours of February 16, 1945.

Some parts are so poignant to me. Larry talks about whether their children will have curly hair... evidently they'd already planned to name their son "Dennis Michael"... Larry's nickname for his wife: "Lily Pooks"... and note all the foul-mouthed language that our movies about WWII today so accurately depict.

A sentence of foreboding at the end. "Work to do tonight so I have to prepare." Lt. Fitzpatrick would die only hours later, before this letter was even mailed...

-----

#17

15 Feb 45
Alsace.

My darling,

I surely wish I had the time to answer all your letters. You ask ever so many questions which I want to answer but I just can't do it. Theres so many things which have to be done that a day is gone before you know it and lately I've been darn busy on a few other details which I have to do but which don't interest me at all.

Rec'd your #122 & 125 last night. That new song "You're never lonely when you love only one" must be very nice. The words are certainly grand and the sentiment is perfect. Sort of fits us to a T darling doesn't it? They'll never write a song which will express how much I love you though because that would destroy the illusion I have about you & me. Golly gee I wish I could tell you but its just within me and words can't say I love you and give that feeling the meaning it should have.

Yes, you can do what you think best with the allotment money. I'll even concede and say you can pay 1/2 your traffic fines with the allotment, but the other half with your hard earned money. That's a concession which I shouldn't make but being as how Shasta has wandering ideas since I drove her last I'll attribute them to me – but for goodness sake don't run into any telephone poles on Olympic Blvd. I'm sending most of my remaining money to the Bank for deposit– keeping only a small checking acct.

No I didn't receive the pictures you sent and still only 2 Xmas Packages. Doggone.

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Had a nice letter from your mom. She writes the nicest letters. I surely am crazy about your folks Lily Pooks, they're mighty swell.

So now you're an Asst. Secretary. I'll probably have to salute you when I get home. Gosh all I do is dream about stepping in the door or having you meet me at the Airport. What a day that'll be darling. You'll wear Something Purple that day won't you. Please. Oh shucks I don't care if you don't wear a thing I just want to be with you – but you'd be the prettiest picture on earth. I'll leave that up to you – and I bet any aspiring photographer who sees you will demand a picture.

Am still near Duke but I don't see him very often except when we need supplies and I have to cajole him into doing "G" Co a good turn.

I want you to meet Lt. Osborne. What a kick in the britches he is. When your letters don't arrive I find consolation talking to "airborne" as he's fondly called.

Too bad about Tom Walker. He was one of my dearest friends Lillian and there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for me. His loss will be felt by many for there were several families whom Tom kept on their feet, which no one knew about. He did so many favors for me I could never have repaid him. I'll write Frank soon and express my deep regrets about his son-in-law also.

You wish you had Curly hair and quote "Maybe my daughter will"! Now let's see – if Dennis Michael arrives first he'll probably have it – our daughter may. Then again maybe not. I wish I could give mine to you. Look when I

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don't comb it some days I grow [sic] thru mild torture when I finally do give it a combing.

We didn't have Services Ash Wednesday; things are too rough at times to permit Services. Will talk to Padre Maloney as soon as I get a chance. Some night I'll go back to Regt. and see if he's up.

Still eating delicious rabbit and goose dinners. A lot of them get killed by scrapnel [sic] and are no good to the people.

I've Spring Fever darling Honest Injun! The Sun is bee oo tiful today. Oh me alas my loved one is far from hyar. Grrr. I hate war! Yes I do.

Did you send that check to the Army Navy Club in DC? I surely hope you have rec'd the letter as I don't have the address.

Rec'd letter from Doris. She told me about Tom and I just dropped him a V-Mail. Hope he receives it as I'd like to hear from him. Has Jim Wade written "you all"? Also Cal. I haven't heard from him in a long while.

Now my letter must finish. Work to do tonight so I have to prepare. Quite a long letter for me, don't you think. Wish they could all be this long.

I love you darling and pray every night God will bring us together soon.

I'm yours always,
your husband
Larry Mike

 

On the first of this month, I managed to fall in my front yard and crack one of my ribs. It's only the second bone I've broken in my whole lifetime, and just like the first one, what caused it was a split-second moment of misjudging the position of one of my limbs in 3-dimensional space, a misapplication of muscle force to correct that misjudgment, and the gravitational pull of the Earth. In other words, clumsiness. Just plain, stupid clumsiness.

Consequently, I haven't felt like doing much for the last 2-1/2 weeks; at least nothing that requires the use of my upper body. Even breathing is painful. And sneezing, coughing, or hiccuping – OMG, it feels like I'm being stabbed in the chest with a knife.

So, trying to avoid exerting myself, I've been staying at home most of the time. In fact, my car's been in my garage since last Wednesday at 0930, so this morning will mark the beginning of my 7th day in a row that I haven't left home, or spoken with another human being.

I may not go into town today, either, since I have enough food in the house, at least for me, but I only have one can of dog food left, so for their sake, restocking before I run out would probably be a good idea. And thank goodness for my dogs. Without them to talk to and interact with, I would surely lose my mind living like this.

( The genealogy part. )

I don't mind, though. It's been a lot of fun thus far. Anyway, I've always been more interested in the past than the future – I guess in large part because I don't have much future left to look forward to. :/

 

The Shannon & Simpson Manufacturing Co. ballclub, probably around 1947. That's my dad, Ed Shannon, front row, second from right. Of the other players, I only recognize four. The smiling fellow front row center is Jack Warren, the company's salesman, and at far left is the junior partner, Art Simpson. In the back row, second from left is Bill Shannon, Dad's younger brother, and second from right is Harry Mazarro, the company's shop manager.



Click image to enlarge


I feel like I should know the thin, bespectacled man between Art and Jack. He looks very familiar. Is it Al Cope? Orville Chase? Ross Cabeen? I do wish people would take the time to write down who's who in photos like this! Mom was good at that. Dad, not so much. ^^

 

It's amazing the things you can find on the 'net, even when you're not really looking for them. Case in point: this 1940 aerial view of Covina – my home town – 14 years before I was born there:



The full-res version of the photo is viewable here.

What's particularly amazing to me is that I can see the actual house I was born in in 1954. (Yes, I'm so old, my mother delivered me in a house, not a hospital!) In the photo above, look at the lower left, second street up, you'll see a line of palm trees going from left to right. My birthplace is directly across the street from the sixth palm tree from the corner. Here is a closeup of the little house at 250 W. College St., Covina, California:




And even more incredible, I just found out that the doctor who delivered me is still alive! His name is Arthur F. Gore, M.D., he is now 96 years old, and he lives in Big Bear! Unbelievable! What a wonderful evening of discovery this has been. ^^

 

Got a neat birthday present to myself in the mail today: this old linen postcard of the Barker Hotel in Los Angeles which was the first place Mom and her sister lived on their own after they moved out from Utah. They shared a room there from 1936-1938.



click image to enlarge

I admit the postcard's not very impressive in itself, but in terms of my collection, finding a postcard of the Barker was kind of a holy grail type thing. I didn't even know one existed until I found it on eBay. Even then I was lucky as it was spelled "Baker Hotel" in the listing. If I hadn't already known through family pictures what the front of the place looked like, I'm sure I would have missed it...

 

This is the first photo of my parents-to-be together as a couple. How do I know? It says so on the back! The date is June, 1950. (They would be married a little over a year later, in September, 1951.) Although this is a familiar picture to me, I didn't know the location until fairly recently. I can now identify it as the lawn in front of Mom's old apartment at 1045 S. Norton St. in Los Angeles. I think I can also reasonably surmise that the photographer was Anne Rooney Swenson, Mother's roommate at the time...

 

This is one of my favorite pictures of my father. It used to hang in the basement office of his elder half-brother, Fred Bauer Nelson (1905-?1965), of Kansas City, Mo. Sometime in the 1980s, Fred's widow, Aunt Grace, sent me the framed portrait. I was delighted! I'd never seen this particular image of my father before.

There are no notes on the photo, but it really can only have been taken at one place: Dad's office at Shannon and Simpson Mfg. Co. – his first business. Date: probably 1945, or maybe one or two years earlier.



Click image to enlarge.


When I had my online retail store, I hung Dad's portrait on the wall behind my desk, so he was literally looking over my shoulder all the time. I know he would have been proud of me in those days. Even though my business ultimately failed, for once in my life, I gave it my all to make my dream happen.




Anyway, the only reason you're seeing this pic now is because I finally decided to bust the photograph out of its old framing. Not only have I always wanted to scan it, the frame and glass have also been in sore need of cleaning for awhile. Time to get the job done, son...

 

These are the earliest pictures I have of my father, Edward M. Shannon, Jr. (1915-1985).

    

I'm no judge of children's ages, but I'm guessing Dad is about 4 in the left photo, which would make the date 1919. And already at age 7 (right), he had more serene self-assurance than I would possess in my whole life. What an amazing man this boy grew up to be...



Here's another group portrait of the three Shannon brothers in Kansas City, Mo., doubtless taken the same day in 1922 as the one in my previous post. L to r: Billy, Bobby, Eddie.




After the move to Pomona, Ca., posing with the family's Dodge. L to r: Eddie, Bobby, Billy.




Eddie showing off in his baseball uniform, June 26, 1928.




The address of the Shannon residence was given as "551 Columbia."




And here is the house at 551 E. Columbia Ave., Pomona, today...