Born To Be a Newspaper Man

by Martin J. McGowan Jr.

Gertrude Dies

Kevin was born on a busy day of the week for me-press day. That was the day every week when the Appleton Press was printed. All hands were needed to get the pages printed, folded, inserted together if there was more than one section, mailed and delivered.

Betty was in the Kaufman hospital across the street from our house. There were four other children under age seven at home and I had to be at work. Betty asked a regular baby sitter, Mrs. Abrahamson, to take over at home until I was more available. She was also busy that night and couldn't come.

So Aunt Gertrude was called on to pinch hit for one evening. Naturally she agreed. She was always willing to help. I don't know why we let her do it but she walked all the way from the apartment on main street to our house in the high part of town, at least a mile, if not more. She took care of things but must have been tired.

It must have been the next day that she reported a problem. She had a bulge on her right temple which the doctors said was an aneurysm. The Appleton doctors couldn't deal with it there so it meant a trip to Minneapolis immediately. I drove her to St. Mary's hospital in Minneapolis, where my cousin, Frances Mary McGowan, was a nurse.

Gertrude survived the surgery but she was almost comatose afterward. Frances Mary's mother, my aunt Helen McGowan, came to see how she was. For some reason Gertrude was asked if she had any wishes. She said she wanted me to have her silverware, which had been developed by my grandmother. We still have that silverware along with a set Betty and I developed over the years. These two sets will go to our two daughters.

Gertrude died shortly thereafter and some of the family gathered at the home of my uncle, John McGowan, for supper and a discussion. The doctors asked for permission to conduct an autopsy. I couldn't see the need for it and Frances Mary advised against it. Apparently, she had been present when they had been done and she said it was rather gruesome, what it did to the body. My answer was needed soon and I gave permission on the premise that the doctors might learn something.

Gertrude's body was brought home and a wake was held in her apartment. That seemed to be the custom in those days. The funeral homes, like the one we chose in Appleton, were part of a furniture store and there was no suitable place for a review. My cousin, Terry McGowan, sat up with the body overnight.

The next day when the family gathered to take the body to the church for a Mass I realized my father had not been there the previous night. When the time came to close the casket, I saw he was greatly moved. That was the only time in my life where I saw my father cry.

He had good reason to do so. He had just lost a pillar of the family, the only remaining sister, the first born of the 10 in the family. One sister died at birth and two sisters died as young women. Although my father was regarded as the head of the family as the oldest son, Gertrude was the anchor. When her brothers had too much to drink at family gatherings and tensions rose she sat quietly and was the calming influence.

She suffered from migraine headaches most of her life. She was always taking some powders out of a paper container to ease the pain. That condition left her looking unhappy much of the time. But she could relax with her friends playing Bridge, which she played well.

After the funeral the cousins, nieces and nephews as well as sisters-in-law gathered in her apartment and selected items they could use in the way of furniture and clothing. As the administrator of her estate, I forget how I disposed of the rest of it. It turned out she had \$2,000 in Postal Savings she had accumulated as postmaster, which she left for me. Betty and I used it to take a belated honeymoon trip to the east coast. I had her attend all the major league baseball games we could find on the trip. She contracted a viral infection on the way and was miserable most of the time.

Gertrude's passing was a great loss to me as well. She was my surrogate mother, always there for me, traveled to see me in college, organized a high school graduation trip for me with her cousin, Rose Breen, and my cousin, Jack McGowan. She let me live with her when I was single and gave up her home for us after I was married and had a family. She worried about our children, accompanied me and Mickey to the hospital when he contracted polio. She couldn't have done any more for me if she was my mother.

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