La versión en español está después de la versión en inglés.
This post is what happens when my brain is set on Random which, come to think of it, is its constant state. I recently, and don’t ask me why, was looking through an old family photo album for photos of my great uncle Max and great aunt Mollie who I knew had a hotel in Revere Beach, Massachusetts. San Geraldo, thanks to his fascination with genealogy and his work on his website (and genealogy book) remembered their last name. I had it wrong. I thought Max was my paternal grandmother’s brother, but it turns out Mollie was my grandmother’s sister.
I knew my mother and my aunt (my father’s sister) had gone up to Revere Beach for a visit in 1946, the year before my parents were married and while my father was still stationed in Germany after World War II. I knew there were a couple of photos that I was told were taken in front of the hotel. While browsing the album, I found photos of my grandparents with Mollie in Brooklyn that same year. So then I did some reading.
Revere Beach opened in 1896 as the first public beach in the United States and for a time was known as the Coney Island of New England. The beach’s popularity waned after World War II. The original streetcar and rail lines were removed and the beachfront fell into disrepair. The Blizzard of 1978 destroyed what was left of the boardwalks, bathhouses, and amusements parks.
I was only there in the early 80s long before it was restored and designated a national historic landmark. I didn’t think to look for the hotel at that time. Apparently, the group, Angel, was “famously” known to stay there in the 1970s. Does anyone even know who the group Angel was? Does anyone really care?
This is what I do when it’s too hot to spend much time outdoors. I just returned from the roof after hanging the bed linens. I’ll retrieve them when they’re dry. In 10 minutes. Check out the view from the roof. That’s what the streets look like this afternoon in Córdoba at 41˚C/106˚F (and still climbing). Not a soul in sight.
Este post es lo que pasa cuando mi cerebro está en modo aleatorio, que, pensándolo bien, es su estado constante. Hace poco, y no me pregunten por qué, estaba buscando en un viejo álbum de fotos familiar fotos de mi tío abuelo Max y mi tía abuela Mollie, quienes sabía que tenían un hotel en Revere Beach, Massachusetts. San Geraldo, gracias a su fascinación por la genealogía y su trabajo en su sitio web (y libro de genealogía), recordaba su apellido. Yo estaba equivocado. Pensaba que Max era el hermano de mi abuela paterna, pero resulta que Mollie era la hermana de mi abuela.
Sabía que mi madre y mi tía (la hermana de mi padre) habían ido a Revere Beach de visita en 1946, el año anterior a que mis padres se casaran y mientras mi padre todavía estaba destinado en Alemania después de la Segunda Guerra Mundial. Sabía que había un par de fotos que, según me dijeron, fueron tomadas frente al hotel. Mientras hojeaba el álbum, encontré fotos de mis abuelos con Mollie en Brooklyn ese mismo año. Así que entonces me puse a leer.
Revere Beach abrió sus puertas en 1896 como la primera playa pública de Estados Unidos y, durante un tiempo, fue conocida como la Coney Island de Nueva Inglaterra. Su popularidad decayó tras la Segunda Guerra Mundial. Se desmantelaron las vías originales del tranvía y el ferrocarril, y la zona costera cayó en el abandono. La ventisca de 1978 destruyó lo que quedaba de los paseos marítimos, los vestuarios y los parques de atracciones.
Estuve allí a principios de los 80, mucho antes de que lo restauraran y lo declararan monumento histórico nacional. En aquel entonces no se me ocurrió buscar el hotel. Al parecer, el grupo, Angel, era conocido por hospedarse allí en los años 70. ¿Alguien sabe quiénes eran los miembros del grupo Angel? ¿Acaso le importa?
Esto es lo que hago cuando hace demasiado calor para estar mucho tiempo al aire libre. Acabo de bajar de la azotea después de tender la ropa de cama. La recogeré cuando esté seca. En 10 minutos. Mira la vista desde la azotea. Así se ven las calles esta tarde en Córdoba a 41 °C (y sigue subiendo). Ni un alma a la vista.
• Mi tío abuelo Max y mi madre, verano de 1946. Mi madre tenía 19 años.
• Con la tía Florence, que tenía 16 años.
• Mi madre no tenía casi nada bueno que decir de la familia de mi padre. Solo teníamos una relación cercana con la familia de la tía Florence. Pero le caían muy bien Max y Mollie. Él tenía unas cejas estupendas.
• Las hermanas Eva y Mollie, calle Powell, East New York, 1946. No sé qué tipo de piel usaba mi abuela, pero Mollie usaba visón.
• Las hermanas con mi abuelo. Dale y yo no obtuvimos nuestra altura de este lado de la familia. Todo vino de mi abuelo materno, ya que incluso estos tres (todos bajitos) superaban a mi abuela materna.
• Después de la época de Max y Mollie (años 50 o 60).
• En la actualidad. Apartamentos.
Click to enlarge and see if you can find anyone walking these streets.
Haz clic para ampliar la imagen y comprueba si encuentras a alguien caminando por estas calles.
No “Mad dogs or Englishmen” in sight. It can be fun to explore family history. My maternal grandmother hated everyone – so I know very little about that side of the family. My father’s side of the family had some very colorful characters. I think I have written about the two wives showing up at a great uncle’s funeral, he never divorced the first one – and was married to the second one for over 20 years.
David:
I do enjoy your family stories. I have some stories I’d love to share but one or two of my cousins read my blog and I don’t think they’d like the stories I’d tell.
Okay. The keyboardist in the famous band Angel is hysterical. I think those guys invented the term “hair band”
Your relatives are a lot more interesting. Your mother sure was pretty. If I’m doing my math right, she was born the same year as my mother.
Doesn’t the picture of the sisters with your grandfather bring a sort of organized crime feel with it? Probably that hat which all men wore. And yes, the furs.
Mary Moon:
Check out this post if you want to see my gangster family: https://movingwithmitchell.com/2019/03/25/new-york-gangster/
Yes, I remember from one of your posts that both our mothers were born in 1927.
Definitely some gangsterness going on there.
I love having a nose around other people’s family histories – that’s why we like the BBC show Who Do You Think You Are so much, even if sometime we don’t even know the “celebrity” that is the subject. And that’s a great set of photos! Jx
PS “Angel” were crap, weren’t they? They may have been popular in The Netherlands, however, if they appeared on Top Pop…
Jon:
I’m like you and love learning about family histories. I was surprised by how bad Angel seemed to be. I think they’re biggest hit was being #44 on some chart for a cover they did of someone else’s hit.
Not a popular sentiment, I know, but I like furs. While I no longer approve of farm raised (do they still do that anymore?), I think it’s nice to be able to utilize the pelts of animals trapped for nuisance reasons.
Should I shut up before I dig myself in even deeper? (says the vegan who would totally approve of doing away with all animal agriculture)
Kelly:
Well, I’m not vegan, but I love animals and loathe hunting. Still I wear leather and I’m a carnivore, and I wish I didn’t find fur coats beautiful.
I’m afraid the I don’t remember the song or band. Enjoyed the old photos.
Kirk:
Don’t be afraid. They appeared to be awful!
I see the family resemblance.
Rade:
I always saw it from my grandfather to my father. And then from my father to me (I’m half and half). But I’d never noticed it between my grandparents and me.
Family stories can be interesting but, like you said, some family members read the blogs, so maybe the stories should stay hidden.
I have murder stories and pseudo-incest stories in my family tree.
Bob:
No murder and incest, that I know of, in my family. But social climbers, corruption, prison, and lounge acts among the cast of characters. Oh, how I’d love to tell the stories.
There are some interesting tales to tell.
The more readers you acquire, the more careful you have to be in blogging. The picture of the man between two women — it looks to me as if they’re holding on to him to keep him in the picture. One of my sisters was the age of your mother, sigh. In my family we knew almost nothing about my father’s family, living in the same town. I think it was my mother’s doing, but you couldn’t ask. You know how families have taboos, impossible to ask. Boud
Boud:
I am constantly censoring myself. I love your take on the trio photo. I noticed how happy the sisters looked when it was just the two of them and how NOT happy they look with my grandfather in the middle. My mother was already telling us when I was as young as 3 that her parents were nicer and she didn’t understand why I would want to visit my father’s parents. May I ask how many siblings there were in your family? It sounds like there was a vast age difference.
I have no memory of the band or the song and what is that guy wearing, the singer in the middle?!
My sister was into genealogy. She pushed our family lines back pretty far, one all the way to the 900s in Norway. She had so many pictures of family members generations back, 8 or 9 binders, one for each family line. When she died her youngest daughter came and took them all thinking her do nothing son who majored in some sort of medieval history would be interested in continuing which I seriously doubt will ever happen. So all that info is lost to me though I do have one thump drive my sister gave me with all she had at that point.
ellen abbott:
SG has become exceptionally proficient at genealogy research. But he head a good start. There was a book written in 1899 on his family genealogy. Amazing what he’s since found. He did find more info on my family. I had a 3-greats grandfather whose occupation was “beggar”! SG’s website will, we hope, live on, so younger (if not future) generations will have access to the info. Also, his genealogy book is in a number of libraries.
Great story!
41C? you are talking Arizona weather. At least you have the charms of Spain. We have a roasting desert.
Urspo:
Yes, at least it’s Spain. Córdoba is one of, if not the, hottest cities in Europe.