Thomas P. McKeon

Tom McKeon–immigrant, husband, father, working man, historian–wait, historian?  How do the words “working man” and “historian” wind up in the same description?  Tom McKeon was a working-class immigrant with little formal education, who came to America with a few shillings in his pocket.  Yet, Tom was so keen to pass on information and so adept at keeping alive the stories of the past that the designation “historian” makes perfect sense to those who knew him.

Thomas Peter McKeon was born in Kilmactranny, Roscommon on 25 June, 1916. As was not uncommon in rural Ireland at the time, Tom attended a poorly heated one-room schoolhouse that serviced the local farming community.  What was unusual was that being pulled out of school at age seven or eight to work on the farm, Tom was allowed to continue studying with the single schoolmaster, Mr. Lynch.  Lynch saw great promise in the boy, who loved to read and learn, particularly history.  Lynch indicated that he thought Tom might become a teacher someday.  That dream came to an end when, at age 15, Tom lost his father.  The death of the head of the household meant that Tom, the youngest of four surviving children, had to leave school to work on the farm.

Becoming a farmer didn’t stop Tom from reading everything he could get his hands on. And he became active in the local theater production as a youngster as well.  As he moved into manhood, Tom became smitten with the lovely Una Flanagan. He courted Una for ten long years. Even when Una moved to London to work during the war years, Tom persisted with letters and tokens of affection, biding his time until Una might decide to return home.  Persistence paid off when, against the wishes of her family, Una accepted Tom’s proposal and the couple married and moved to the very modest Mckeon family farm.

Life was hard on the farm.  Tom augmented his earnings with a job as a postman.  Being a mail carrier in the back country of Ireland in the q940s meant traveling by bicycle from house to house, often miles apart from one another, delivering letters, the occasional package and-most of all-gossip.  Tom’s stock-in-trade was stories.  He weaved yarns and repeated news to folds who often didn’t even have radios.  He became part of the fabric of the social life of the area.

Meanwhile, Una tended the house and farm and cared for Tom’s ailing mother, Bridget. When Tom’s mother Bridget passed on after a years-long illness, the couple saw their chance to move on. Along with their new daughter, Mary Teresa, they planned to immigrate to America.  Tom contacted his sister Margaret, who lived in Kearny, New Jersey.  Margaret had married a widower, Dan Mulligan, who had grown children of his own, and they’d started a new family together.  It was necessary to find a sponsor in American would vouch for the applicant, affirming that they would have a place to stay when they reached the country and would not rely on state aid.  Dan agreed to this, and when the new immigrants arrived, on the SS America in 1951, they lived for several months with the Mulligan family on Elm Street in Kearny.

Tom and Una found a small apartment in nearby Harrison, and the situation could not have been more different than their previous life in the Irish countryside.  Situated on heavily-trafficked Harrison Avenue, the crowded building was across the street from a noisy factory, Worthington Pump, where heavy equipment could be heard day and night.

Una’s sister Francie followed behind them from Ireland in short order and moved inot the three-room apartment, sharing a bedroom with the growing Mary Teresa for several years.  As the family grew–sons Thomas and Sean were born in the late 1950s–Tom and Una managed to buy a house in Kearny.  Their home, but in Harrison and in Kearny, soon became a kind of “way station” for many immigrants–family, friends, and friends of friends–arriving from Ireland.  With modest means of their own, they opened their doors when they were asked.  This practice continued into the 1970s and 1980s as new generations of Irish arrived.  Some stayed for a summer or two, while working and saving for their university days back in Ireland. Others moved on to settle here in the States.

Seeking the company of fellow Irish, Tom and Una became deeply involved in the Irish-American community in Norther New Jersey.  The couple attended dances almost weekly-an important part of the social scene for Irish Americans.  Soon Tom was helping to organize these dances and other cultural activities.  He brought traditional Irish Ceili dancing and a Feis, or Irish cultural festival to the area.

The list of Tom McKeon’s participation in Irish organizations is substantial.  He served as president of the Untied Irish Institute and member of the United Irish of West Hudson and the Friendly Sons of the Shillelagh.  Tom was a founding committee member of the annual Irish Festival at the Garden State Arts Center in Holmdel.  That widely known event had its origins in a smaller festival first organized by Tom and other members of the United Irish Institute and held at Gunnel Oval, a recreational area in Kearny.

Tom’s flair for the theatrical, which he expressed in his youth in Ireland, resurfaced. Along with fellow members of the United Irish Institute, Tom participated in a theater troupe that produced plays by Irish playwrights.  The wit and humor of those dramas won over many audiences, bringing Irish culture for the working-class towns of New Jersey. 

Tom was named Man of the Year by the Ancient Order of Hibernians in Kearny and was honored as the 1979 Grand Marshall of the Newark Saint Patrick’s Day parade.  He was a grand knight of the Knights of Columbus and a member of the Saint Cecilia’s Church Senior Citizens group.  He also served as vice president and secretary of the Day Association in Harrison and a member of the Giblin, McGovern and John Cryan associations.

Later in life, he donated a Celtic cross from his boyhood town of Boyle to the town of Kearny.  The cross remains the centerpiece of the Monsignor Joseph A Carroll Park along the Passaic River in Kearny. 

One of Tom’s proudest accomplishments was his key role in founding the annual Easter Sunday March through downtown Newark, and Catholic Mass at Saint Patrick’s Pro-cathedral.  Held each year since the 1970s, the event memorializes the Easter Rising, an armed insurrection in Dublin during Easter Week 0f 1916 that ultimately led to the establishment of an independent Irish Republic. From the start, the march has been led by the Saint Columcille pipe band. The Catholic mass includes unique elements that reflect the occasion, including a reading of the Proclamation of the Republic.  The “Presentation of the Gifts” is a standard part of the Catholic Mass, when the bread and wine are brought to the altar along with monetary offerings collected from the congregation.  On this special day, however, offering of Irish music and dance are also presented at the altar, as well as the gift of the humble potato, a s symbol of the Great Famine, the period of mass starvation in Ireland between 1845 and 1852.

The swirl of bagpipes, the Irish and American flags flapping in the chilly breeze, the procession behind the Celtic cross that bore the names of the martyrs who died on that fateful Easter Monday in 1916.  It all became a time-honored Easter tradition for many families in the area. Decades later, the march and the mass are still attendant by hundreds of participants each year.

Tom’s legacy lives on in other ways.  He and Una had five grandchildren, all college graduates, and four great-grandchildren.  One grandson is living in Dublin, raising tow of Tom’s great granddaughters in an Irish household.  So the story has come full circle.

What many who knew Tom remember most are the stories.  He remained a voracious reader all his life and was able to distill the knowledge he absorbed into meaningful stories that explained Irish history and politics to younger folks around him. With a glass of beer and a sip of whiskey to lubricate the throat, Tom waxed poetic for all and sundry to enjoy.  His humor and charm is still missed by many.