I was 11 years old when my maternal grandfather, W.D. Callaghan, died at the age of 69. My mother was consumed with grief. She adored him and always spoke of him with the deepest love and affection.
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William Daniel Callaghan
1891-1960 |
W. D. Callaghan was a “self-made man,” my mother said. He was the son of a small town newspaper editor, Cornelius R. (C.R.) Callaghan and his wife, Joanna O’Connor Callaghan. Both were first generation Irish Americans whose parents had settled in the northern Ohio town of Bellevue. Their son Bill served in the U. S. navy during The Great War. Afterward he made a career for himself in the insurance industry.
People say that he was a brilliant salesman combining natural charm with a keen intelligence. He “married up” winning the heart and hand of Anna May Bernet, the beautiful, highly educated eldest daughter of railroad executive John J. Bernet. Together they had four children, John B.(Jack), Mary Joan, Helen B. (my mother) and W.D., Jr.
My memories of my grandfather are few. I mostly knew him through the stories my mother told about him. He was an outdoorsman who loved fishing and duck hunting. I recall my mother describing how proud she was when he invited her to go with him on a bitter cold winter morning—not to hunt, but to observe the wildlife on their Geauga County farm. She told us how their footsteps crunched the snow making it difficult to approach the deer and wild turkeys without frightening them.
One memory of my own became family legend. My grandfather had broken his hip while vacationing in Florida. We met my grandparents at the airport but my grandmother had arranged to have a private ambulance take my grandfather home. As we followed the ambulance, we noticed that the driver made what we thought was a wrong turn. In fact, my grandfather had instructed the ambulance driver to stop at the nearest liquor store to buy him a bottle of bourbon.
W. D. Callaghan, Inc., my grandfather’s insurance agency, was located in Cleveland’s Terminal Tower, a prestigious address in the heart of the downtown business district. I remember taking the Rapid Transit downtown, getting off at the last stop (the Terminal Tower) and riding up the elevator to my grandfather’s office. What a mysterious place! Dark wood, thick carpet, and on one of the walls there was a drawing of a large bull moose, which, at the time, was the mascot of The Travelers Insurance Company.
The last years of my grandfather’s life were difficult. He had trouble walking and suffered from a variety of illnesses. In the end, he succumbed to cancer of the throat—a particularly painful disease.
I remember returning home from elementary school to find my mother in tears. It was my first experience with death, and my mother’s grief showed me how serious it was. But I also remember my grandfather’s funeral and the consolation and hope it gave to my mother and grandmother.
W. D. Callaghan died 58 years ago. His wife and children have all joined him. May his memory live on in us, his grandchildren, and our children’s children.
