Big Dodgers baseball fan. Started when the Dodgers were in Brooklyn. She stayed a fan after the team moved to Los Angelos

via Facebook Oct 16, 2020
Yes...Packy...so, I did meet Andy and Clare. I remember meeting one of your brothers. .. 
Yes, I grew up in southern California. My grandmother (Leone Farrell) lived with my parents (Bill & Patricia Bryan ) till she passed away at 97. 
Haven't been to new York since 2002.

From Patricia Bryan:189
Leone did not approve that my father (Andrew Harry Farrell) married Harriet Casey so quickly after my mother Clare died. Leone thought that it would have been more proper to wait a full year.

While this was a traditional view, Andrew’s children knew that he was incapabile of living without a wife to take care of him. So we accepted the timing and welcomed Hariett into the family

Packy and Leone were the godparents of Patrick Dennis Farrell of Falls Church VA

Ernest Ruther drowned, Louisville, Nebraska, while fishing with William P. Farrell, 19 July 1930. Mary Ellen Kane has copy of news article from Lincoln paper.111,194

Packy and Leone had a “finished basement” in their house in Valley Stream, NY. It was considered very deluxe in the late 1950s. The big attraction for the kids was a real slot machine. Uncle Packy kept a tin of dimes that we kids could use to play. Of course, we were not allowed to keep any winnings. He said that he adjusted the internal odds to cause the maximum possible payout.
Pat Farrell, 11 Jan 2016

Autobiography
William P Farrell

Edited by:
Patricia Anne Bryan

U.S. History
Dr Gerald Fecht
May 12, 1978

Five years, six months and six days after the start of this twentieth century, I was born to Nellie Elizabeth Burke Farrell, wife of Daniel Joseph Farrell, at their home in South Omaha, Nebraska. One week later, I was christened William Patrick Farrell and nicknamed “Packy” after a professional boxer with the name of Packey McFarland.

At the age of four, I “hopped” a ride on a horse drawn dirt truck, and when it came time to jump off I didn’t jump clear of the wheels and was “run over.” After I recovered, my mother took me over to see the home my father was building for us. So happy to be on my feet and around again, I raced ahead to the site and climbed out on the roof of this two story residence with a steep roof. My mother, seeing me from a distance, sent my older brother to rescue me. But I played cat and mouse with him, and my mother, seeing me frolic on the roof, fainted. By the time she had recovered, I was back home. I was restricted to my room as a penalty, but not for long. My mother went shopping and left a sitter in charge. I set fire to my room, and when it became unbearable, I told the sitter “my room is on fire, I’m going to the candy store.” This is my memory of being four years old.

Despite my shortcoming, my parents thought I was smart ………..

I had to wait a full year. Grade school for me consisted of four years of public school and five years at a Catholic school.

My first job was working at a blacksmith shop during the summer vacation. Customers would leave their teams (horses) to be shod. Upon completion of the shod, I would deliver the horses to the owner and collect the charges. THe prestige part of the job being I had a beautiful pony to ride while delivering the horses.

In the house where I was born, it was heated in the winter by a “base burner” which was put up in the “parlor” or living room. The upper rounded portion was a network of isinglass which cast a red glow when the hard coal was burning. In this same era, people in residential districts had wooden sidewalks, and if affluent, replaced the rotted walks with a brick sidewalk. All shoes in these days were “high button” shoes and a “button hook” was needed to button up the shoes. If the button hook was misplaced, were were late for school.

Groceries and meats were delivered. Seldom did one shop for groceries. A telephone call to the store was all that was needed for delivery. Vegetables and fruits were sold by door-to-door vendors when in season. Out of season fruits and vegetables were unheard of. It was general practice to buy them when plentiful by the bushel, and then store them away in the vegetable cellar and can the fruit.

When I was five (1910) I would walk over to the main street ……………unreadible……

and streets were congested. At the approach of an automobile, the horses would panic, and if unattended, would run away. Long after the change from horses to motor cars, the funeral coaches and hearses were the last to change over. The slow ride to the cemetery and back was somehow part of what a funeral should be.
Auto makers in the early days made only two styles – a two passenger open roadster, and a five-passenger open touring car. As an extra, you could buy “side curtains” to enclose the car. THere was no such thing as a starter. One had to crank the car – a crank located in the front of the car. Very often when cranking the car to start the engine, it would “kick” and you would have a broken arm. I would say that every person who owned prior to 1981 had at least one time broken his or her arm cranking a car.

Doctors were kept busy setting arms and treating youngsters (high school and below) who had cut their feet on glass or metal. From the time school let out in May and started in September, I didn’t wear shoes (no need for the button hook).

I won the gold medal for having the highest grads of the eighth grade graduation class of 1919. I always had a job of some sort. During late grade school, I had a newspaper route, and in the later years of high school, I worked for a department store, delivering “special delivery” packages after school and on Saturdays – all by streetcar.

During the summer vacation, I worked for my Dad on construction. He specialized in building schools in western Iowa and eastern Nebraska……………unreadible………. My brother, brother-in-law and I understood the construction business. Normally this would have been a profitable business, but the timing was not good. The great depression was on and the only one doing any building was Uncle Sam, and with relief help. We disbanded, and like everyone else, we went to work for Uncle Sam.

I took and passed the Civil Service exam to work for the US Army Engineers on river construction work, building dikes and revetments on the Missouri River below Omaha, Nebraska. A dollar in salary in those days would buy a lot of groceries.

I will never forget the time I was assigned to a pile driver crew. The fireman whose job was to provide plenty of steam (coal fired boiler) for the pile driver, gave me a quarter and said, “what do you think of it?” This startled me because I didn’t know what he meant. But I quickly realized what was intended, and I said “it looks good, but the milling around the edges needs more work.” I gave it back to him and he didn’t say a word. The next week, he said “what do you think?” and handed me a new quarter. I said “It will pass.” I later learned that I was the only one of the twelve on the crew who had not graduated from the MIssouri State Pen in Springfield, Missouri.

For the Army Engineers in 1936, I transferred to the National Park Service. They needed surveyors to stake out roads so the Civilian Conservation boys could build park roads. I transferred from the Park Service to the Public Works Administration, which was building public buildings and public roads. The jobs that were assigned to me were mostly college dormitories and not water systems. On one job in western a Nebraska town, the contractor was to drill deep enough to provide 300 gallons of water per minute. It seemed the deeper he drilled, the less water we encountered. In the test, the well could not get much more than 100 gallons per minute. The drilling went on for weeks and weeks. A hobo stopped by one day and said, “for a square meal and a few dollars, I can get you the 300 gallons per minute out of that well.” When I returned the next day to my usual inspection trip, I could hardly recognize the construction site. It looked like an earthquake had taken place. They were busy lowering the electric pump and setting up the 500 gallon tank so that we could run a test. After five minutes of steady pumping, I timed and measured the output. It ran 350 gallons per minute, and I certified the well, as it met the contract requirements. It seems that the hobo was a wildcat oil driller, and could always get water but no oil. He had the contract get a ton of dry ice (carbon dioxide), put it down the well and cover the shaft to seal it off. This was done in the afternoon, and sometime during the night it exploded and opened up all the water-bearing strata adjacent to the shaft.

I was again transferred to another Civil Service job within the four northwestern states, with headquarters in Seattle, Washington. This included the design and construction of the Seatle-Tacoma airport and the construction of the Seatle-Alaska airway. While working on the Alaska airway, the Navy wanted officers experienced in airport construction. I was given an appointment at the local airport in the Seabees (…………unreadible……****  ???? *** ) I was assigned to Okinawa to supervise the repair of the existing landing strips and the construction of new runways.

The experience of being in the Navy during the war holds one memory that I won’t forget. I left Hawaii by plane for Okinawa. The plane was a DC-6 with fore part stowed with military supplies, with bucket seats on the sides, and six overstuffed chairs located in the aft. This was a Navy plane, but I noticed the six soft seats were occupied by Army officers. Since I had very little training, I really didn’t know a general from a sergeant in the Army, nor did I  receive any instructions about rank and its preferences. Our first stop was Johnson Island where we had something to eat while refueling. I noticed these Army officers would always get the soft seats. Those metal bucket seats were terrible and most fellows preferred lying down on the deck, but the deck space was limited. We stopped at every island that had a runway, and at each loading the soft seats would be filled before I got on. We stopped at Wake Island and I decided I would get on early and get a cozy seat. It was not long before we left for Kwajalein that the officer said to me, “you have my seat.” I ignored him. He repeated, “you have my seat.” and I gave him the old reply, “I don’t  see any nameplates on those seats.” He said, “I know, but I outrank you.” I told him to try the hard seats for awhile. He then contacted a Navy deckhand and told him to get me out. The deckhand did not get any better treatment from me. So now comes the pilot – a Navy Commander – and he said “I know your position, but ‘RHIP’.” I said “what is that?” and he said, “Rank has its place.” He said, “Do me a favor and let him have the seat.” I gave it up, but with a few choice words to the Army officer. It wasn’t long before one engine quit, and then another engine conked out; then another caught on fire, and we were not making it on one engine. The pilot told us of the situation. In the meantime, there was only one good spot on the deck to lay down and I got it. The pilot said “we are going to hit the ‘drink’ (out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean). Everybody hit the deck, ‘cause we are going down.” This Army officer comes to squeeze in by me on the deck, and I told him “You SOB, get back in that chair or I’ll take that life jacket away from you.” He obeyed. Nothing ever happened. It worried me until I went off active duty.

I returned to the C.A.A. after Navy duty, and I was assigned as State Airport Engineer of the State of Idaho, with offices in Boise. Idaho is a nice place. It has a lot of natural beauty and resources. The people are really friendly, and go out of their way to be of assistance. Although not my religion, I believe the Mormons in Idaho are concerned with brotherly love, and I considered them to be more of a fraternal organization than a religion.

While flying with an attorney, in his place from Boise to Bonners Ferry Idaho, we were about ten miles south of Moscow Idaho when he said “is that plane taking off ahead of us?” I said “no, there is no airport up here big enough for a plane that size. He said “Maybe it's a flying saucer. You keep your eye on it and I will speed up a little to follow it.” ……………………unreadible……………… distance over hills, gullies, etc., but as we strove to catch the object, it outdistanced us and left us out of sight. The attorney flew back to Portland Oregon that afternoon and appeared on a radio news program. When I would tell people of this experience, they would smile and smugly say to themselves “he is a nut.” So I quit telling people. I know I saw a UFO and I don’t care to discuss it. The above was the next day afte the first sighting of the first UFO.

As previously noted, I was born and raised in Omaha Nebraska. It so happened that a lot of my childhood playmates became involved with an insurance company, and as we drifted apart, only Christmas cards brought us together again. My friends would always write “Why don’t you come with us? We can use you.” I would always reply, “You can hire a college graduate who has specialized in business and insurance cheaper than the salary I get as an engineer.” Later, I became disenchanted as a government employee and made a deal with my friends in the insurance business. They sent me from the home office in Omaha to New York where they were having some difficulties. While being borrowed from the home office, I was offered a chance to run the Brooklyn agency. I took the challenge and worked 20 years until I retired.

I regret that I wasted so many years in the engineering and construction fields. I wished I had started while younger in the insurance business.

Knowing years ago that retirement was more than quitting a working routine, I adopted a hobby, something to keep me interested and occupied after my retirement. So in 1962, I started to learn about numismatics from scratch. I was so ignorant, it was embarrassing. Fortunately, I was able to buy about $50 worth of rolls of coins from the bank every week. I would go through the coins and sort them as to dates and mints of origin. I kept them all in my ignorance, and stored them away. Luckily, the coins (mostly silver) appreciated in value, both by the numismatic value and the bullion value. In 1970 I got my inventory of coins up to around $30,000, and since then I have sold off between $3,000 and $4,000 every year. Yet I have maintained an inventory of $30,000 or more without buying any coins. I would have liked to have had a coin shop, as I enjoy talking to people about coins, but a coin shop is dangerous. I would not mind being robbed, but most coin dealers are hit over the head or injured in some way. It still gives me enjoyment every day, and I spend a lot of time handling correspondence, as I advertise in coin periodicals. I advertise under an assumed name, and do all of my trading from a post office box. As a diversity, I play duplicate bridge.

I maintained my reserve status in the Navy and retired as a Commander with retired pay in 1965. I retired from Mutual of Omaha Insurance Company in 1968.

My wife is a native of western Nebraska and lived for a while near the Black Hills of South Dakota. We were blessed with three children. The oldest, a boy, was born when I was in the construction business. He was the USA coach of the Olympic wrestlers in Munich. As a team they won more medals than any US team  in history. He now owns a wholesale sporting goods business.

The next child, a girl, your pupil, was born while I was working for the Army Engineers, and is married to a research engineer, employed by Hughes Aircraft Company. The youngest, a son, was born while I worked at the National Park Service, Department of Interior. He had been until recently an Assistant Vice President of Citibank. He resigned to get in the sports field. He is part owner and manager of two racquetball clubs in Long Island, New York.

My wife and I celebrated our 50th Wedding Anniversary recently, and our church made a big event of it. The church was packed on a Sunday afternoon, and the Right Reverend J. Daly, Bishop of the Long Island Diocese, had us repeat our wedding vows. A surprise reception was held for close relatives and friends.


   

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This document was written by Pat Farrell Bryan and she sent a printed copy of the report on paper to me, Patrick Farrell. I typed it into a document. The bottom two lines or so on each page were faded out and therefor unreadable.  These sections are marked as “…………unreadible…………” in this copy