CHAPTER SIX
Settling in the New Land
In early 1851, Manuch met Kathryn Greene, a neighborhood lass and daughter of the family referred to him by Captain Phelam Reardon of the Rory O’Moore. He had called upon the Greene’s in December of 1850, while idled by Winter. He was living on the beach and had occasion on a Sunday afternoon, to walk up to Kentucky Street the home of the Greenes and introduced himself.
“Mr. Greene? My name is Emmanuel Martin. I shipped aboard the Rory O’Moore from Rochester to Buffalo. Captain Reardon recommended that I look you up in Buffalo.” said Manuch.
“Phelham Reardon is it? That rascal from County Clare?” said Mr. Greene.
”sure and away lad, come on in.”
Manuch entered the Greene home and was introduced to Mrs. Greene.
“It is my pleasure Mrs. Green,” said Manuch as he was introduced.
“And its Phelham Reardon you know is it?” she asked
“Yes Mrs. Greene,” Manuch replied.
“And how is the man’s Health?” Mr. Greene asked
“Oh, he is fine, Mr. Greene,” said Manuch. “ I last last saw him in Charlotte harbor several months back. I’ve been working aboard the Oneida during the shipping season.”
“Ah, its a lake sailor, you are then?” said Mr. Greene.
“yes sir,” said Manuch.
The talk was pleasant and the Greenes friendly. They invited him to stay for supper that day. Manuch, like most single men are always hungry and always appreciative of dinner invitations. Mr. & Mrs. Green were joined by their daughter Kathryn and her two brothers Patrick and Liam. They all sat around the dining room table and said grace.
“ Bless us Oh Lord and these thy gifts which we are abot to receive this day and our Thanks to the good lord,” said Mr. Greene.
“Amen,” they all chorused.
The Green family was raucous and good natured. They joshed each other as Mrs. Greene passed along the plates and filled each with heaping mounds of roast beef, potatoes and gravy. Mr. Greene was switchman for the railroad. Both the lads worked at the Union Steel Company. All worked hard and ate well.
“Is it Catholic you are then, Emmanuel” asked Mr. Greene between bites of his beef. “ We let no protestants in this house,” he said pointedly.
“Aye sir, “ said Manuch. “I and my family have always been Catholic.”
“And its Spain, your parents come from then?“ said Mrs. Greene.
“Yes, Mrs. Greene. My family lives near Bilbao, in the Northwest of Spain” said Manuch.
“Sure that’s terrible far isn’t it? asked Mr. Greene.
“It is a long way from Buffalo, Mr. Greene.” said Manuch. “I lived for a time in Cork, before coming here,”
“Did you now?“ chimed in Patrick. “Sure our grand Da came from County Kerry, near Cork. He helped dig the Canal.”
The pleasant banter continued for several minutes. The Greenes regaling him with tales of the elder Mr. Greene, when he and his pals had helped dig the Erie Canal in the 1820’s.
“Sure me Da said the foremen would place a barrel of whiskey a few miles up the road and tell the lads, they had but to dig their way up to it, and it was theirs.” smiled Mr. Greene, “The work progressed quickly after that.”
Young Kathryn was a shy girl. She sat at the table and ate delicately. She enjoyed listening to her brothers and parents banter with Emmanuel.
“ And our Kathryn has both reading and writing, Emmanuel.” said a proud Mr. Greene. Isn’t that grand?”
The girl was uncomfortable in the spotlights and only smiled awkwardly at her fathers compliment.
“Maybe you could join us at Nine O’Clock Mass, next Sunday, Emmanuel?” said Mrs. Greene. “I am sure your mother and father would want someone to look after your spiritual welfare as well.”
“I would like that, Mrs. Greene,” said Emmanuel, looking at the shy Kathryn. “I would like that very much.”
For the rest of that week, as Manuch found day work here and there, he thought of young Kathryn. It had been a long time since Annie had passed and he thought it time to make the acquaintance of another woman.
On Sunday morning, he was up early, and prepared himself for Mass. He had little in the way of clothes, but those he wore were clean and presentable. His rough boots also glistened from a new polishing.
He walked up from the beach to St., Patrick’s and waited outside the church for the Greenes. The came along presently, all five of them.
“Good Morning to you Mr. & Mrs. Greene,” Manuch said pleasantly. He nodded to Patrick, Liam and Kathryn as well.
“Top of the morn’ to you as well, Emmanuel,“ said Mr. Greene. “Its nice to see you again.”
Emmanuel and the Greenes then walked into the Church and sat in the pews along the pulpit side. They listened intently like all of their neighbors, to the rhythmic chanting of the ancient ceremony. Father Flaherty gave an impassioned sermon admonishing his congregants against the ravages of strong drink and intemperate language and asked that they pray for forgiveness for their sins that week. After Mass, Manuch found himself next to Kathryn as her parents greeted various of the neighbors and caught up on the week’s news i the neighborhood.
“Would you like to go for a walk after Mass?” Manuch inquired of Kathryn
To his surprise, the girl replied eagerly.” Yes, Emmanuel, I would like that if you first ask me Da,”
“I will do that then“ said Manuch and made his goodbyes.
The following Sunday, Manuch asked Mr. Greene for permission to walk with Kathryn after Mass.
“Is it only conversation you are after then?“ inquired Mr. Greene pointed. “Katie’s brothers will rip you limb from limb should you mean otherwise.”
“I assure you Mr. Greene. I have the best intentions” said Manuch sincerely. My Mother and Father trained me to respect a woman above all else.”
“Aye that's good then, : said Mr. Greene.” But keep along South Park and have her home for afternoon dinner.”
“Yes sir, Mr.Greene. I will indeed,” Manuch said happily.
I this manner, in succeeding weeks, Emmanuel became acquainted with young Kathryn Greene. They walked after Mass and shared their young lives and laughs with each other. It was a friendship that soon blossomed. Manuch told her of his Annie and her passing.
“It must be hard for you,” she said. “that's terrible sad.”
“Aye, it is hard when I think of her,” Manuch said.” But I think she is in a better place now. And I can but think she would want me to go on with my life.”
“Yes. I am sure she would Emmanuel,” said Kathryn. “ I know I would were I she.”
After several Months of walking out and attending many dinners at the Greene home, Manuch one Sunday had a serious talk with Mr. Greene.
“Mr. Greene, I would like to ask your daughter to marry me,” he said slowly. “Would I have your approval sir?”
Mr. Greene lit his pipe and took a few moments ti reply.
“You would care for her and d be good to her lad” he asked kindly
“Aye sir, I would,” Manuch replied.
“I know you have a berth on the Oneida and have the carpentry skills, lad” said Mr. Greene. “And you would attend church regularly and raise your children Catholic then?” he asked.
“yes sir, I would” Manuch said.
“Well then, you have me permission, Emmanuel. And welcome to the Family.” Mr. Greene said. “ I will hold off telling the Mrs. until you’ve had a chance to ask katie,”
Emmanuel did ask Katie on their next walk. He told her of his conversation and she smiled at her Da’s comments.
“Me Da is a wonderful Father,” she said lovingly. “He has been a good husband and father to all of us. I am surprised that he surrendered me up so easily.”
“Well I really think it was the twenty dollars and promise of free beer at Radigans that drew him in,”laughed Manuch.
“Get on with ye, Manny,” said Kathryn. “And yes I will marry you even if you have been terrible slow in the proposing. Sure I’ve had me eye on you since first you came for dinner. The Good Lord Bless Phelham Reardon for sending you to us.”
They were married in a brief ceremony at St. Joseph’s Cathedral in 1852. Nine months later in June of 1853, their first child arrived, William. He was followed in succeeding years by John, Mary and Henry. The local wags used to call children born less than a year apart
“Sure Emmanuel, you are siring a brood with me sister,” said Patrick Greene one Sunday at dinner at Mr.Greens’ home.” The Lord is good to bless you with such fine children.”
“Aye, the Lord has been good to us Patrick. And your sister is a strong woman and a good mother to them.” said Manuch.
“Katie with five young ones. Who would have ever thought? said Patrick. “Sure I always thought the girl knew nothing of the relations of a man and a woman.”
“She didn’t know anything at all,” said Manuch in an embarrassed manner.” When we first were married, she supposed that praying for a child was all it took.”
“Praying for a child is it?” said Patrick. “ there must be a grand lot of praying in the neighborhood then. For the young ones keep coming regularly to all around us.”
Both men laughed at the reference. That is as far as either would go in mentioning matters that were between a man and his wife. The Irish were a bawdy and profane lot, but talking about such matters between a husband and wife was something they would rarely if ever do. Even spouses were tight lipped with each other about sex. It was considered a wife’s duty and a man was expected to be quick about it and go on his way. Once the children arrived, a man was usually on his own. “Herself” would then have “None of that foolishness” to trouble her. She had the children to raise.
In 1854, Cholera struck Buffalo. The poor sanitation and unclean water supplied had festered and erupted. Hundred died, thousands were sickened.
Municipal teams would walk the neighborhood crying” Bring out your dead, bring out your dead.” It was almost medieval in its dark presence.The same epidemic had claimed many hundreds in the early 1830’s here as well. The Greene’s lost brother Liam. The neighbors many other sons. It was a hard time for all of them. The hospitals were small and ill equipped. The working class poor often had to look out for themselves. The sickness came and snatched many from their lives as quick as a wild animal seeking her prey. But the Martin family came though it with out further loss and the ir lives went on.
With a growing family to feed, Manuch sought more responsibilities from Captain Langer. His long experience at sea made him a useful hand to have aboard a vessel at sea in gale. Manuch approached Captain Langer on one long run up to Toledo.
“Sure Captain, I am grateful for your employ but my family is growing and I need to bring in more. Is there a berth that pays more I can be helping you with, sir?” Manuch said.
Captain Langer looked at Manuch and said quietly.” You are a good seaman, Martin. I am pleased with your work. What else is it you are after doing?” he asked.
“Well sir, I’ve the reading and the writing. I thought perhaps I could help out with the ships accounts when we are in port and in the off season.” said Manuch.
“Let me think on that Manuch,” said Captain Langer. “I will talk to the owners and see if there is a possibility of that coming about.”
“That's grand of you Captain,” said Manuch. “Grand.”
It was a turbulent time in America. Growing tensions between North and South threatened to tear the new nation apart. These lofty philosophical differences didn’t mean much to Manuch. He had a family to feed. The grain boats and livestock herds poured forth from the midwestern breadbasket. America was becoming a land of plenty that could feed not only herself but ship foodstuffs to Europe and beyond. It meant business for the ship owners and steady work for sailors. Captain Langer was as good as his word. Manuch helped with the ships accounts when in port. He was also needed during the off season to tally accounts at the owner’s warehouse on Elk Street. His children grew and prospered.
Abe Lincoln was elected President of the United States in 1860. Manuch voted for him twice as did every other sailor, dock walloper and seaman who wanted to continue working. The Grand Old Party, the Republicans, controlled all the business in waterfront the area. You voted for their candidates regularly or you didn't work. Things like citizenship, voter registration and all such other legalities were controlled by the ward bosses.
On night in late October, at Danny Burke’s saloon, the ward bosses had gathered a group of the lads who worked along the docks and on several of the ships in port..
The draft beer flowed freely and the lads were all smiled up from the ale. “Here lads,” said Dinny McCarthy their host, “ I want you each to walk into the voting booths next Tuesday. Find the line with Seamus Gorman’s name on it and pull the lever for him. Do you understand?”
“Aye” said a sodden chorus of the befuddled. They all knew that they would do so or face Dinny the next day.
“And I want you lads to then walk over to Elk street and vote for Seamus again, do you hear?” said Dinny forcefully.” I’ve names for all of you lads to use at the Elk street precinct. And any lads who then walk back up main and vote for Seamus a third time will get three dollars cash money and free beer that night here at Burke’s Tavern. Now, each of you, see me afterwards then.”
In this manner the esteemed and honorable Seamus Gorman was swept back into office by the enthusiastic votes of the ward bosses finely tuned machine. Sure even those that lay in repose at the various cemeteries showed up to vote that year or at least that is what the voting roles showed for that election.
“Elections are a grand thing,” said Manuch as he savored his fourth beer at Burke’s that Tuesday night. “A Grand thing.” He would always then refer to his election day boon as his “egg.”
As climactic an event as the American Civil War only had impact on the populace if you were drafted into the army or lived in the areas that were in the war zone. Most of the other poor and the working people in the cities struggled as usual to put bread on the table. The younger men were caught up in the frenzy of the titanic event. Locals lads filled out the ranks of the newly formed Buffalo Regiment, the 100th New York Volunteers. Some of the wealthier families paid substitutes to go and fight for theeir sons. Among their ranks, a young Grover Cleveland managed to escape the carnage.
All across the North, army recruiters raised local regiments of Irish and gave them grand blue uniforms and rifles to fight with. The New York 69th Regiment was to be come known as the “Fighting Irish” and distinguish itself in a dozen battles over the next several years of the war. They marched into battle to the bagpipe and drum sounds of the “Gary Owen,” an ancestral Irish fighting song. Their losses of course were horrendous. In many cases the lads were staring down their gun barrels at the sons and grandsons of other Irishmen who had arrived a generation or two before them, who now fought for the Southern states. It was an ugly and brutal war that claimed the lives of over 500,000 young Americans. Just after the war, it claimed one more.
“Did you here himself is dead?” said Scooter Scanlon one night at Radigans.
“Who is that” asked Manuch idly.
“Why Abraham Lincoln, the President of the United States, that’s who“ said Scooter importantly.” Some actor rascal named Booth shot him down at the Ford Theater in Washington.”
“Go on with ye, you are after pulling me leg,” said Manuch
“On me mother, it’s the truth “said Scooter. “The man is fallen and his funeral train will pass though Buffalo, so tis said,” Scooter continued.
“Tis terrible sad, then“ said Manuch.” he was a great man.”
“Aye, he was that“ agreed Scooter “There is to be a grand rally at the train station and the ward bosses would like us all to go.”
“I’ll go then“ said Manuch. “For its goodbye I would like to be saying to the man, though I have never met him. I will bring the Mrs. and the kids as well. For they should see him off so they can tell those who come after us of it.”
On April 27 of 1865, the Lincoln Funeral cortege train pulled into the Exchange Street station in Buffalo. The hissing steam engines were banked and then shut down. The crowd was large though somber. All looked onto the black engine draped with funeral bunting with sad faces. Though they knew not well the momentousness of the man or his achievements in the recent war they had a feel for the greatness of the man. They were simple people but this was also a simple and sincere man whose courage had touched al of their lives.
The Mayor and several aldermen gave grand speeches about what a wonderful president and leader that the man had been and how sad the nation would be there afterwards.
Manuch’s children fidgeted . They knew not yet of death or
greatness. The train and the crowd had them agog with interest.
“And who is the man on the train then Da?” asked young William.
“It is Abraham Lincoln,” said Manuch to his son. “He was the 16th President of the United States. A bad man shot and killed him in Washington”
“Why would he do that?“asked young William, puzzled. “was he mad at him for something?”
“It was the war son, “replied Manuch. “Some men from the South are still angry that they lost the war. They thought by killing Mr. Lincoln it might help their cause.”
“Did it then? “asked Wille.
“No lad, it didn’t. I fear that their will be a terrible price to be paid by the South for this murder.” said Manuch. And there was.
With the Peace at Appamattox Court House in 1865, came a boom time in westward expansion in America. The rapids at Sioux Ste.. Marie, that separated Lakes Erie and Huron, were bridged by canals. That opened up the vast shores of Lakes Huron, Michigan and Superior. Grain, cattle and foodstuffs now competed with Iron ore from the Mesabi range in Minnesota for space on the ships eastward. You could now sail and ship freight from Europe and the Atlantic Ocean to the cold and rocky shores of northern Minnesota.
The Civil war had introduced for mass use two new elements into Great Lakes shipping. Iron ships and steam engines now became common place on the lake shipping lanes. Just as the railroads had made the Erie Canal obsolete, the new steam powered vessels replaced the graceful wooden sailing ships. Some mourned the rapid passing of these elegant wooden ships, with their clouds of sail canvas scudding before the winds. Most working men, like Manuch appreciated the bigger boats and shortened times for shipping cargo. It meant more work for everyone associated with shipping and freight hauling.
Captain Langer and his company purchased one of the new steam driven vessels, the S.S. St. Lawrence. Captain Langer took the reliable and sturdy seaman Emmanuel Martin with him when he fitted out the new ship. Manuch was then some 60 years old, a time well beyond the norms of the life span for folks of that era. But, he was sturdy from a life of hard work and privation. Captain Langer saw to it that Manuch’s duties were more clerical than physical.
“I’ve use for you as a clerk aboard the St.. Lawrence Manuch, if you are willing then” said Captain Langer.
“Aye Captain,I am“ said Manuch. “And I am thankful to you for the opportunity sir” he said.” You have been terrible grand to me sir.”
“Yo have been a good sean Manuch,” said Captain Langer.
“Do you think that's it the end for the wooden ships then, Captain?” asked Manuch.
“Well not for some time, but yes, I think so “said Captain Langer ”at least as Cargo vessels anyway. The steam ships can carry much more freight, do it in quicker times and not have to worry about the winds.”
“that's good then Captain,” said Manuch ” For I‘ve had my time aboard wooden ships. Things are moving faster now a days and we need to keep up with them, don’t we?
“Aye we do Manuch. Its a new time in America, when people and cargo are on the move.” said Captain Langer.
Emmanuel’s son William was now 16 years old and ready to make his way in the world. Any added income that he brought in would also help out the Martin Family budget.
“It’s work I am after Da, “ said Willie one morning. ”Sure you and Ma need the help with food and things.”
“Aye, things are tight with all the mouths Willie. Its time for you then,” said Manuch. “Let me ask after a few friends first.”
The Riter’s , friends of Manuch’s took young William on as an apprentice carpenter and slater at the Howard's Iron Works on Chicago Street. The roofs of that era were either hardwood or slate shingles. Both types were in
need of constant repair on the warehouses, factories and local office buildings. J.W. Riter was good to the young Martin lad. He did his work and they paid him fairly. The extra income was a great help to Kathryn and Manuch Martin and their growing family. Young Willie was a capable carpenter and good at his job. As was the local custom soon earned the nick name “nails” Martin.
“Is it the hammering you be doing on the roofs then” asked Brother Henry one day.
“Yes, it is Henry. I help replace the slate roofs “ said Willie.
“then you use the nails often“ he persisted, “Then, ‘nails’ we will call you Willie” said Henry and the name stuck.
Like most of the local Irish, almost everyone had a nickname that their friends called them by. Most in some way related to their jobs, their physical appearances or some odd habit they had associated with them. Some were more colorful than others. “Shithooks Reardon,” “Harbor lights O’Brien,” “Diapers Griffin,” and many other names floated soft on the laughing tongues of their friends. Many of the names even crossed the generations. The Callahans, father and son inherited the moniker “Bingo.” The Martins would find “Manuch amongst several of their line. The other lads were all called by diminutive forms of their names. Sure a John became Johnnie and a Bill, Billie. Few cared enough to insist on the correct form that their Mothers had given them. “What's in a a name they would say? “
Brothers John, Emmanuel jr. Henry and sister Mary were also growing up. They went to school at St. Brigid’s in the Catholic elementary school system that Bishop John Timon had founded in the area. That godly man did more for the immigrant Irish than anyone else bothered to. He saw to it that the children got an education and had chance in the new country. He had been appointed by himself the Pope in 1847 and assigned to the Buffalo Diocese. He had soon wrested control of things from the proper German and French Catholic and made a better life for the immigrant Irish who lived like low beast in their shacks and hovels in the First Ward of the City. The Darlin' man had even moved the seat of his see from the grand edifice of St. Louis Church on Main street to a poor wooden affair that was St. Patrick's. The Irish loved the man like no other. Many decades later a grand new High school would be erected and named for the man that helped his people so much. Many of Manuch’s descendants would pas through its portals and remember the great man.
Buffalo was then heavily populated by German Americans, prosperous burghers who had come from Germany in the early 1800’s. They were brewers, printers, farmers and other successful tradesmen. One group of German farmers, fleeing religious persecution in Germany, had settled in West Seneca six
miles to the South. They were named the Society of True Inspiration. They would move on a few decades later to found a farming community in Iowa called Amanna. It still exists to this day.
Very proper and successful, the “upper class” German Americans had little use for the immigrant Irish. Local shops and businesses would advertise for jobs with the initials NINA under the jobs banner. It meant “No Irish Need Apply.” As blatant as the discrimination was , the Irish knew that you couldn’t correct these inequities with well meaning legislation. They needed t to accomplish parity with sheer economic effort and success. The Irish did this with a will.
The Irish had the advantage of the language here in America. They could put shoulders to the wheel and work their way out of the slums. There was plenty to build in the great new land of America and the Irish set to it, with a will. They labored as miners, dock workers and track layers, hod carriers and masons, domestics and shop clerks. Many is the modern city, in America, that was built with the sweat of the Irish.
And sure, didn't the proper natives think Paddy had the brains of a potato and was over fond of the barley? They didn't expect any of us to be good at what we did. It was the wit and the blarney that were our allies.
Soon, the lads had infiltrated the Police and the Fire Brigades. Tamany and other political machines banded together the Gaels and gave them clout in state houses and city halls. Hundreds of thousands, who fought in the American Civil War, earned their citizenship with the barrel of a gun. The Irish were becoming a political force in the social fabric of America.
The coming tidal wave of immigration, from 1880 to 1920, would bring a flood of immigrants from southern and Eastern Europe. They competed with the Irish, the Chinese and others for the scarce menial jobs. It was Politics that gave the Irish an edge. They were great talkers and well suited for the verbal labyrinth that is the grand game of American Politics.
From these political strongholds, they were able to secure the municipal jobs and contracts, that meant prosperity for their own. The public schools were easier for them, because they shared the language. Clerks, civil servants, Doctors and Lawyers soon peopled their rise through the middle classes. Socially, they were still considered as upstarts. But, even these walls soon crumbled, under the onslaught of the financial rise of the Gaels, in American
Society.
Like a rising tide, the people of Buffalo’s first Ward found their niche in American Society. Rugged pioneers like Emmanuel Martin were now passing into history. His Children William, John, Emmanuel, Henry and Mary would found families of their own and the Clan Martin would grow larger and spread further and further afield.
Young William was now a sturdy young man, a local carpenter and roof slater. He met and married Elizabeth Smith. Young Lizzie had emigrated from Glasgow, Scotland by herself and arrived in Buffalo during the early 1870’s The girls pluck, in making the journey alone from Scotland, attested to the fierce independence of her character. Though working as a maid in the homes of local patricians, she acknowledged no one as her superior. She was the fiery lass who would introduce into the Martin clan the idea that though humble of circumstance they were as good as anyone on the planet.
“Sure Mannie.” she said to her son one day. “They put their pants on one legs at a time as do you, do they not?”
“They do indeed, Ma,’” Mannie replied and he remembered the lesson his mother taught him that day, walk tall and bow to no man.
It was an aura and a personna that served well all of the Martins who mixed with the “blue bloods” in the decades to come.” Call no man sir, we are as good as anyone on the planet.”
William & Elizabeth made their home on Louisiana Street. William and all of his brothers frequently saw old Emmanuel. He was too old to work now and Catherine had passed on. He taught the boys to swim and fish and row the dinghies out into the rough waters of the Lake. He was a doting Grand Da to them as William Sr. worked long hours at his trade. From Emmanuel Sr., Bill & Lizzie’s growing family would learn much. William jr. (Willie) was the oldest of William’s children and old Emmanuel’ favorite. He talked much to him of the many problems experienced by the immigrants and the need to change things. It was from these beginnings that young Willie got his ideas for Public office latter in life. William Sr. named his next child after old Emmanuel. He would be dubbed “Manuch” as he grew older, just like his grand dad. Danny, Jim and Ralph were all characters in their own right. Daughter Jennie was a favorite of all of the Martins.
It was the 1880’s in Buffalo. Shipping and commerce of all types made the city a trade center for the world. Grain, iron ore and foodstuffs poured in from the West to her Lake Erie Harbor. Immigrants, manufactured goods and supplies of all types flowed westward to fuel the greatest expansion in American history. There was work for all and the Martin Clan prospered along with the rest of Buffalo.
Old Emmanuel, now in his early 80’s, still managed to entertain the grand and great grand children with his stories of life as a Lake Sailor on the steam ship St. Lawrence. He talked of his home in Espana, his stay in Eire and his voyage across the ocean to Canada and Buffalo. The children listened wide eyed and remembered. Snatches of those conversations would survive well into the next two centuries. The Martins had a tradition of story telling like the old Irish. Over and over again stories of family history and intrigue would be repeated around the dinner table or camp fire, until all remembered the people and events like they were but yesterday.
William’s son Danny made his life in Erie,Pa. and soon owned
a successful boiler factory spreading the Martin clan into NW Pa. Maunch (young Emmanuel) was a waterfront grain scooper. Ralph and Willie owned saloons. Willie’s on lower Main st. Ralph’s further over on Washington street. The Martin Clan and it in-laws had spread all over the first and second wards of Buffalo, intermarrying with many of the larger families of Buffalo's Clan na gael. They were poised to greet the coming new twentieth century, a clan of immigrants who had come to America and carved out a life for themselves. They stood aside for no man and called no man sir.
One of of William’s sons, Emmanuel, worked as a grain scooper, unloading grain from the ships in the harbor. It was hard and dirty work, but it paid well. The ship owners contracted with local suppliers, like Saloon owners Fingy Conners, to supply them with men to unload their ships. Fingy ran a prominent saloon and naturally picked the men for work who drank in his saloon. In this manner he not only got paid for his services, the men drank a portion of their pay in his saloon. He was but the largest of many such entrepreneurs, but among the most flamboyant. He made so much money, that he was able to move up to a Delaware Avenue home with the upper crust. Naturally, the established folks looked on in horror at this uncouth product of the docks who was now their neighbor. It was the stuff of modern comedy. In later years Hollywood writers would dream up similar situations like the Clampet Family in Hollywood. It was the stuff of high humor.
Down on the docks, it wasn’t quite so funny. In 1899, there was a strike by the laborers, protesting such indentured servitude by men like Connors. The men resented the favoritism involved in the selection of who went to work and the need to spend a chunk of their pay at saloons like Fingy Connors. Fingy called in the authorities and some good squads. One night at Radigan’s a few of the lads were having a beer. Casually a large man leaned into speak with them.
“Is it no work, you are doing then?” said one of the goons, a red haired giant with a plug ugly face and a nasty air about him.
“Not for that fecker Connors, “ the striker repiled. ”Him that would
steal the coppers from a dead man’s eyes.”
“Is that so,” the goon asked, remembering the mans face. for later ”and who might you be lad?”
“Sure it’s none of your fecking business, is it then? “said the man whose ire was raised. “Go on with ye, or we will give you a sound thrashing. For Fingy doesn’t run everything down here yet.”
The giant looked sore tempted to swing on the defiant drinker, but thought better of it as several of the lads neighbors wandered over to watch the coming argument..
“I will remember your face, lad,” he said ominously as he backed out the door of the Saloon.
“You might want to be after watching out for that lad,” said Spoons McGuire. “For I hear tell that great ape broke some heads last week after a meeting.”
“Aye, I will watch him, right up until me cudgel cracks his noggin,” said the defiant one. “Mr. Connors has to learn sometime that we are not all sheep here.”
There was some violence and hard feelings. All unloading stopped while the dispute raged on. Finally, Buffalo’s Catholic Bishop Quigley helped mediate a settlement and the men went back to work. Only a few were killed and injured in the trouble.
It was just after this time that Emmanuel Martin Sr,
founder of the burgeoning Martin clan passed on at the age of 93. As was the custom at the time, Emmanuel was waked in the parlor of his son’s house on Louisianna Street.
“Sure doesn’t he look grand?” asked Spoons Kelly to no one in particular.
“Aye, he looks as healthy as he did in life,” agreed Bumper Morgan.
“Do you think they have a wee drop more of the creature left then?”
“They do indeed Bumper,” said Spoons. “His son has a bottle of itself in the kitchen. And there is a keg of beeer in the alley as well.”
The neighbors and friends of all the Martin family gathered to send the redoubtable seaman off into the far beyond. It was also a well recognized social occasion where beer, whiskey and food were available to all who knew the man or claimed to.
“Sure doesn’t the number of a man’s friends multiply when he isn’t here to deny them,” asked Paddy Riley quietly.
“They do, they do indeed,” said Jimmy Ryan. “Tis the way of things.”
The corpses inability to flee from newly claimed friends was considered a social plus. A fair amount of local politicians would drop by for some kind words to the family. They would also stay for a while chatting the many voters present. The length of time spent at a wake would usuallly correspond to the nearness of the next election day.
“He was a wonderful man, your father,” said Alderman McAlister. “We were great friends and I will miss him terribly.”
“Thank you Alderman. It was good of you to come,” said William Martin.
In the back of the parlor, sons Emmmanuel, John and Henry stood watching the exchange with William and Alderman McAlister
“Sure, didn’t Da hate that slick lipped son of a bitch?” asked Henry.
“He did that,” said John.”Told us all never to vote for the prick.”
The wake would the go on well into the night until all had expressed their kind thoughs or had too much to drink and been carried off. The sons would then sit around a kitchen table and recount humorous stories of those who had attended the wake.
“Did you see that rascal Gobbler Burke?” John asked “He must have eaten enough food for three men and swallowed a weeks worth of beer.”
“The lad does have a capacity.” agreed William
“And Brigid O.Malley,” Henry said “She cried for over an hour. Didn’t Dad think her a shrewish old witch?”
“He did,” said John with a smile “Sure even the meanest among us
are over come with grief at these things,” he said with a slurred speech that indicated his nearnessto sleep.
“Well, twas nice of them all to come, for whatever reason,” said Henry.
“It was that,” said son William..” Da would have been proud.”
“Sure, tis the oddest of customs that the Irish have to throw a grand party for you on the one day they know you can’t be there,” said John philosophicallly.
The boys thought about this comment for a few minutes, quiet for perhaps the first time this evening.
“Let’s raise a glass to a man who has no like,” said William
“Aye, they don’t make them like Da any more ,” agreed John.
“May the Roads rise to meet you, Da. And the winds be always at your back.” said William quietly, echoing a timeless Irish ritual.
“May the rain fall soft upon your fields and the sun shine warm on your face. And until we all meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hands.”
“Here, here, “ said the boys. They then all allowed a shot of the creature to crawl down their throats.
Old Emmanuel’s passing was the end of an era. Men like Emmanuel Martin had crossed an ocean in wooden ships and settled in a new land, founding a family that would grow and prosper for centuries. His story would live on in the minds of his children and those who came after. He was but part of the grand saga would always be remembered. The whisper of him was carried on at dinner tables, picnics at cottages along the beach and any other place that the Martins gathered. He would be remembered as the first who had come across from Eire.
I
