Shock and Tragedy at a Famous New York City Beach

 This week’s theme for 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks is “Shock.”  When I read this theme, there was only one incident I could think of as a candidate.   I hope my writing is sensitive enough for the task ahead. 

By May 1929, my grandmother, Louise Fennelly Woodward had been married to her husband, Adrian Theodore Woodward, for nine years.  They had two children, Nancy (7) and Adrian (2) and lived at that time in Arverne, New York.  Louise was 31 and Adrian, a patent attorney, was 33.  They had gotten married in 1919, just after Adrian’s honorable discharge from the 159^th Aero Squadron in World War I as Sergeant First Class.   And now, in what must have provoked lots of laughs, they rented a house at 6911 “Louise Avenue” in Arverne. 

The Rockaway Peninsula in Queens, NY has prime beaches close to New York City. 

 Arverne is a suburban neighborhood of New York City, in the borough of Queens, but adjacent to the Atlantic Ocean on a long thin peninsula that creates an exceptionally beautiful beach and shoreline.   The beach, generally known as “Rockaway Beach,” was and is still renowned for pristine sand and ocean access, and its close proximity to New York City.   The adjacent hamlet to Arverne is called Rockaway Beach.  

Louise was born in 1897, the second-born of five children, four girls and one boy, born to John Fennelly and his wife Catherine Prendergast in Worcester, Massachusetts.  The one boy was named Anthony Fennelly and he was only 24 in 1929.  These were the prohibition years, actually prohibition ran from 1920-33, so by 1929 prohibition was well underway.  In contrast, the infamous stock market crash of October 1929 had not yet occurred in May 1929 so we may still call this time period the Roaring Twenties.

But Memorial Day at the end of May (previously called “Decoration Day”) signals the start of the beach season in many places and so it was around Rockaway Beach as well.  With an older sister that lived in Arverne, next to the famous Rockaway Beach, 24-year-old Anthony came down from Massachusetts to visit his sister and her young family and take advantage of the beach opening.  It was probably a visit that was looked forward to by both of them with happy hearts. 

 

Rockaway Beach, with its pristine sand on the Atlantic Ocean, has always been a popular destination and always a scene of drownings with its dangerous rip currents. 

Tragedy does have the very minor benefit for later generations of creating documentation of a death.  On May 26, 1929, Anthony drowned while swimming in the Atlantic Ocean at Rockaway Beach.  It seems other swimmers made attempts to save him but were unsuccessful, according to the newspaper article below from The Standard Union newspaper which ran in Brooklyn until 1932. 

 The Standard Union Newspaper article from May 27, 1929. 

 It is hard for me to imagine the shock my grandmother must have gone through, with her only brother drowning just blocks from her home while on a visit.  He was 24, physically fit and a good swimmer according to family lore.  However, “the Rockaways,” as the area beaches are called, are notorious for rip currents, which pull a swimmer out to sea.  A quick internet search revealed numerous drownings at the Rockaways this year, nearly one hundred years later.  By the 1930 census, Louise and her family had moved to a different house on Thursby Boulevard in Arverne, which perhaps helped her cope with this tragedy. 

 

 

 

 

Fun Nuns Were Step Sisters, Too

 

When growing up, I didn’t think I had step relatives.  I did have nuns as relatives, and only later fully understood that they were step sisters to my grandmother.  The nun role far, far eclipsed the step sister role. 

When the nuns visited each summer, it was a momentous event at our house.  Grandma lived with us in New York, so the two sisters would come from Massachusetts to visit her.  My mother would start weeks before cleaning the whole house, planning menus, arranging outings and special events, coordinating neighbors to stop by and visit with the sisters, and I would give up my room to the two sisters.   They came from the Sisters of Providence Mother House in Holyoke, Massachusetts, and would generally stay for two weeks.  Holyoke is a small city in south-west Massachusetts.  We occasionally visited them in Holyoke too.  

 Sisters of Providence Mother House (convent) in Holyoke, MA, about 1932.  Courtesy of sisofprov.org webpage. 

Their presence was such a big deal because they were nuns.  But they were pretty easy house guests, to my mind, and they were unpredictable and fun.  Much more fun than you might think.  Besides the whirlwind of events we went to, it was pretty easy to suggest a stop for ice cream, for example, to which the sisters would exclaim immediate excitement and so my parents stopped.  We went to shows down at Jones Beach and musicals at Westbury Music Fair.  My parents and grandma were probably exhausted when they left but I had a pretty good time.

It was only in the later years when I realized the step-sister relationship they had to grandma.   I asked a few questions but not enough.  Like so many of you, I wish I had asked more!  But I have been able to piece together most of the story.  

 Sisters Felicitas (left) and Emerita, with me, in the front yard of our house in New York in 1969. 

My grandma was Louise Fennelly Woodward. She was born in 1897 in Worcester, MA, the second born child of John Fennelly and Katherine Prendergast.   Her older sister, Irene, was born in 1896, following the marriage of parents John and Katherine on 9 October 1895 in Worcester, MA.   Three other children followed:  Mildred, Anthony and Veronica.   

 This 1895 marriage record of John Fennelly and Katharine Prendergast was supplied by the Massachusetts Archives.  Note Prendergast is spelled incorrectly. 

But there were older children from John’s first marriage to Maria Maher, who must have died around 1890-91.  I have not been able to find much on Maria (more work to do) but it appears she was mother to four children:  Nellie, Gertrude, Jennie and John, and that they lived in Connecticut at the time.   Of this group, it is Nellie and Gertrude that I will focus on.  But I knew them as Sister Emerita and Sister Felicitas. 

Emerita and Felicitas entered the Order of the Sisters of Providence in 1904 and 1903, respectively, and adopted their new names.  I know this information conclusively from a lovely memorial write-up the current Historian at the order sent to me following my inquiry.  (If you have relatives who lived a religious life, consider reaching out for details, the process was simple.) 

Emerita, who was much the quieter of the two sisters, was born in 1885 in New Britain, CT, followed two years later by Felicitas.  Roughly speaking, these sisters were 10 years older than the older sisters from the second marriage.   When you are young, ten years can seem like a lifetime and I wonder if the gap between the older sisters and the younger children was awkward.  By my calculations, Felicitas would have been 16 when she entered the order in 1903 and Emerita 19 when she joined in 1904.   From today’s vantage point, I wonder about the judgment in allowing these two young girls to commit their lives to the sisterhood at such tender ages.  But, of course, these events happened from a different vantage point and perhaps it was widely celebrated. 

 Sister Felicitas in 1911, eight years after she entered the order.  The Historian of Sisters of Providence found this photograph in the archives. 

In the 1900 census (such a great resource), John and second wife Katherine were living in Worcester with a large household including the four eldest children from the first marriage, and three of the younger children, Irene, Louise, and Mildred an infant.  Anthony and Veronica were not yet born.  John was a brass moulder and Katherine had come to America from County Mayo, Ireland, around 1885, marrying John Fennelly in 1895. 

I do remember hearing conversation among the sisters and my grandmother which revealed that Katherine was a devout Catholic and somewhat stern mother and step-mother.  However, with that many children to shepherd, one could say that Katherine had the imperative to keep order.  

 The Sisters of Providence Historian sent me this undated photo, where Sisters Felicitas and Emerita are sitting in the very front. 

Sisters Emerita and Felicitas had successful careers as nurses within the order.  Emerita died at age 84 in 1970, and Felicitas at age 91 in 1978.