Nana, Babe’s mother, in photo circa mid-1930’s.
Julia and Patrick O’Connell; photo circa 1880
The death of her father resulted in the separation of Babe from her older sister, Mary. When they did get together on weekends, it became apparent that Babe’s farm life and Mary’s city life were fundamentally different. Babe wanted to run and play while her sister wanted to sit and read. It was a classic case of country mouse and city mouse.
Babe sported blonde to light brown wavy hair and a fair skinned complexion, a combination that typified the Irish. She burned easily in the sun and her face flushed red when overheated. As an adult she would attain a height of 5 foot 7 inches and walked with a bit of a forward stoop. Babe was everyone’s friend and had a powerful presence.
December 27, 1927 was a landmark event in Babe’s life. She was only 3.5 years old at the time and the weather outside was very cold. The adults were outside slaughtering and dressing turkeys to be given as Christmas gifts and Babe was left alone. And in a moment of mischief, she accidentally ignited a broom in the oven. She then tried to extinguish it by beating it against a pile of papers left to start the oven. And when that didn’t work, she beat the broom against the curtains, greatly accelerating the conflagration. Babe knew she was in trouble so she gathered some bread, butter, and sugar and hid in the pantry, eating it in consolation.
Julia found Babe in the pantry and asked her to follow her quickly upstairs to retrieve the family money she hid under a loose floorboard. Julia found the money and her purse but dropped her purse on the way down the stairs. Julia fumbled in the smoke looking for it and out of the haze a neighbor, Ed Lucas, found Julia, Babe, and the purse and escorted/carried them safely outside.
The farmhouse erupted in flames but was spared a total loss due to quick work by the men and the fortune that heavy rains had recently filled a nearby gravel pit. Considering the grip the fire had on the house and the car garage, it is a wonder it was saved. Scorched boards can be seen today in the attic. But surprisingly, no adult criticized Babe’s behavior that day. It was considered an accident and that was the end of the matter. That is a tribute to the patience of the O’Connell family, especially to Julia. Babe admits suffering from nightmares about the fire and her role in it into her 60’s. And when Babe inherited the damaged building later in her life she said on more than one occasion it would have been better had the farmhouse just burned to the ground.
Photo of the farmhouse and car garage circa 1928 that clearly exhibits the roof area repaired after the 1927 fire.
Babe was schooled in the old Victorian way. She attended the prestigious Academy of Our Lady (later called Longwood Academy) on Chicago’s south side and learned the fine arts of piano, violin, chorale, charm, tap dancing, and manners, as well as the basic core curriculum of English, mathematics, history, and geography. She was a lady of refinement when she finished at the Academy. But her life had a distinct duality. While she was refined in her schooling and manners, she was still a farm child at heart and remembers how Guinea hens would chase her around the yard and how mink would gain access to the chicken coop and kill the lot.
Babe took up golf as a youngster and exhibited some talent. She was selected from a competition at age 9 and awarded pass to a clinic teaching her the game. It gave her the opportunity to play with her mother, who picked up the game at the request of doctors suggesting it would be good for breaking up her abdominal adhesions.
Babe met her husband to-be, Bob, in 1939 when Bob came to the farmhouse to date her sister, Mary. Babe and Bob, however, discovered they were the better pair. They were married in 1943 when Babe was 18 and Bob was 23. Babe’s mother, Nana, was not thrilled that Babe was marrying before she had learned a profession. But they married nonetheless. There is an amusing report that when Bob asked Nana for the hand of her daughter, Nana was sufficiently confused (knowing he had dated both girls) and asked “Which one?”
Babe and Bob home from the hospital with their first child, November 1943.
German men and Irish women were common marriages in the Palos area. They complemented each other well. German men liked to work and Irish women liked to raise children, and together they had a herd before they knew it.
When Bob returned from the European theatre of WW2, Babe’s mother signed over what remained of the farm (3.6 acres) to Bob and Babe while Babe’s sister, Mamie, moved to Joliet, Illinois to raise her family and continue her teaching career.
Babe was purebred Irish and ultimately had thirteen children with Bob. Her children exhibited the mix of Celtic and Viking bloodlines as some were dark haired while others were strawberry blondes and redheads. And all save three had light complexions and many of these had a crop of freckles.
Babe contributed a number of genetic trademarks to her offspring, including male pattern baldness, light eyebrows, double-jointed thumbs, flexible fingers, and skin so fair it was prone to sunburns and keratoses.
Thirteen children, anyone would agree, was a heavy load and it affected Babe’s most basic decisions, like naming her children. Babe had one daughter who believed her formal name was Kathleen Mary and found out late in life her registered name was Mary Claire. Babe also had a son who believed his name was Lawrence Thomas, but Babe had actually named him Craig Michael. Likewise, she had a son who thought his formal name was William Claire but discovered it was Claire William upon filing for a marriage license. Babe was overwhelmed with demands made on her in an operation of this scale and apparently ran out of names. She used Claire as a default until she got home and then asked the family what they thought. Each time, the family reacted like it encountered a leper. “No way!” the kids would complain and proceed to choose a different name. The problem was nobody ever fixed the official records.
One may wonder how thirteen children could sleep in a three bedroom home if one of the bedrooms was the parents’ room. Mercifully, there was a sort of revolving door regarding occupancy in each of the children’s bedrooms. As older brothers left for the armed forces, younger ones replaced them. It was not uncommon, in those days, for four or more children to share each bedroom in two sets of bunk beds, with spillover into the parents’ room. Under those conditions, perhaps the biggest miracle was that Babe and Bob ever had time alone to produce thirteen children.
Neighbors and friends gasped when we discussed how Babe coped with thirteen children. To this day I am unsure whether their gasps were attributed to pity, admiration, or both. But Babe gave it all away, seldom purchasing anything new for herself. She did have a particular penchant for shoes, however. Bob would complain she was the Imelda Marcos of Palos as she had some 20 pairs, many stored in their original boxes. Babe used a few of these shoe boxes to hide cash, but quickly forgot in which box the money was stored. This didn’t bother Babe; however, as she thought this was a good savings technique for the hereafter. She claimed she would need the shoes for walking the heavenly streets and would need the cash in case she finds a Marshall Fields store.
Our mother was responsible for the task of feeding 13 children and 2 adults. It wasn’t bad enough that my mother was required to feed her fifteen; she was also called on to feed everyone’s friends. One memorable Easter Sunday our Pakistani friend, Khalid, called and asked if he could come over for dinner. He said he would like to bring along his