What Doesn’t Kill You…..

The topic for Week 24 of 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks, is Hard Times.

This is the story about my dad’s family, The Jakiela Family.

Their story, as I know it, begins with my grandfather, Charles, born in August of 1890 to Ignacy and Catharina (Murdzck) Jakiela. He would have a brother born in 1893 and a sister in 1894.

His mother died in 1894, the same year his sister was born, which makes me think her death might have been related. Charles was not yet 3 years old.

His father married Victoria Borek in October of 1894.

Charles left for the United States in November of 1906 when he was 16 years old. He traveled with a cousin, Pawel Murdzck with Charles heading to Southington Connecticut and Pawel to Braddock Pennsylvania. I don’t know if they ever saw each other again.

Charles made his way to Palmer Massachusetts and the fabric mills. There he met his wife, Antonia Liro who immigrated in 1910 and had headed north to live with her sister Aniela and her husband Joseph Mikula and their children.

They were married in 1912 and made their way back to Southington where she gave birth to Steven in 1913 and Edward in 1915, and Charles worked for a Peck, Stowe, and Wilcox which manufactured tools and was the largest employer in Southington.

Life might have been good for a time, Charles continued to work at PS&W, and Antonia took care of their 2 young sons but then World War I came along.

Charles completed his draft registration card and family lore says he wanted to go to war because he “of his love for the country that took him in”. After hearing about some of the anti-immigrant sentiment, I wonder if he felt like he had no choice. Whatever the reason, he headed to Camp Devens in Ayers Massachusetts in May of 1917. He became a citizen of the United States June 26, 1918 under the May 9, 1918 while at Camp Devens.

He headed sailed out of Boston on the September 4, 1918 along with the 301 Trench Mortar Battery of the 76th Division. Just in time for the Meuse-Argonne Campaign in France which would lead to the end of the war.

I don’t know how he fared in the trenches, but on the way back to port and the transport ship to take him home, his train ran over an unexploded munitions over a trestle. The bomb went off and he ended up in the river. This is another family story. A friend from home who was also on the train, saved his life. He came home with a scar running from his forehead to the back of his head. But he came home!

He arrived back in Boston Massachusetts on April 26, 1919 aboard the SS Santa Rosa from Pauillac France.

Charles and Antonia wasted no time in restarting their family and Helen was born in March of 1920! Followed by Walter in November 1921 and my dad, John, in June 1924.

The town directory shows Charles went back to Peck, Stowe & Wilcox and they lived in a variety of rentals in the area of the factory.

Everything came to a halt in the early morning of April 1, 1927 when Antonia died from pregnancy complications and Charles was left with five children, the youngest not quite 3 years old. Sound familiar?

I’ve told this part of the story a few times. Charles was devastated. He gave my dad to his godmother, and brought Walt and Helen up to Massachusetts to be taken care of by their Uncle Joe. Steve and Eddie stayed with him in Southington. When they moved to Wallingford in February of the following year, the family was brought back together again. I think that’s where the story I heard comes from, that the kids ran away from him, and he realized it was time to bring them back.

Charles drank, had a hard time holding a job, and wrote many letters to the Veterans Administration asking for more money. When they moved to their last rental on Prince Street, Eddie, now a teenager worked for the baker next door. After a few weeks of not getting paid, he asked the baker for his pay. The baker informed him he had a deal with his father that Eddie was working for their rent.

I was told he was a talented craftsman and that he made a beautiful wooden cross for Antonia’s grave. Uncle Joe would send him fabric from the mills and he would sew pillow cases for the house, and one time he made a wardrobe in the basement. The only problem was it was too big to get upstairs. So he took it apart and remade it. That’s where my dad got his talent.

My Auntie Helen told me they attended Whittlesey Avenue School, but when it got crowded, they were sent to Colony Street School. She liked Colony better because at Whittlesey the children from the fancy homes on Main Street were snobs. The kids in the Colony Street area were on a more economic level with her family.

They were fortunate to have St. Peter and Paul’s church to go to. Walt and John were altar boys and Helen cleaned the church. Did Charles ever attend? I don’t know but Charles got angry when my dad couldn’t say his prayers in Polish.

Charles died in May of 1935 in a hit and run accident while walking home one night. He was identified by the letter in his pocket from Stanley Judd of New Britain offering him a job that he would have started the following week. My father was not yet 11 years old.

Life might have been good before Charles went off to war but I think he came home, obviously injured, but also suffering from PTSD. Poor Antonia, how did she survive financially during the year and a half he was gone? How did Charles survive with five children to take care of, and have to work?

All five siblings grew up to have families and were successful in their lives. They persevered through the hard times and were always there for each other.

Thinking of them, I think of our professions and jobs that my sisters and I have had. Janice is a retired pediatric ICU nurse, Gail worked for years as a paraprofessional in elementary school following the same child from first grade through fifth grade and then would start all over again with a new child, I worked in an elementary school library, in the cafeteria, and then became a big sister to a first grader being raised by his grandmother. We all saw children and parents going through hard times and we all rose to the challenge to make their lives a little better while in our care.