James O'Halloran - Family Anecdotes

Family Anecdotes

The following notes were written by Helen Spier, granddaughter of James O’Halloran. The notes provide slightly different birth information than that found in some published records.

1820: About this date, Grandfather James O’Halloran was born in Armagh, Ireland.

1827: His parents with their children emigrated to America, settling in Burlington Vermont. They had sailed from Cork.

They were Roman Catholics, and it must have been the case that some of the well-off parishioners became very interested in the affairs of the new Irish arrivals. Certainly one such family persuaded the O'H parents to let them take little Elizabeth to live with them. She was a bit younger than James, and a most beautiful child. Apparently, the arrangement allowed no interference with family communication, so she was not adopted but simply taken good care of, since her own parents were poor. But the circumstance led to her meeting and friendship with an outstanding young lawyer from Montreal, Marcus Doherty - who became a guest in the house when Elizabeth was in her teens. They married when she was quite young, and of course made Montreal their home. - (This family connection with Marcus Doherty would be one of the influences on James, causing him to be a Canadian citizen for the major part of his life).

James began a business while still a little lad at junior school, selling papers and taking unusual interest in the printing office. To the point, that he was able to have work in the office while he was still a young school-boy. By age fourteen, he interviewed the authorities in the university of Vermont to see if they would allow him to begin university work, at once. He admitted that up to then, he “had no Latin”, but asked if he might not try the first University year despite this. Adding, that if at the end he did not pass as well as the other students, he would not ask them to give him a further try. His efforts were successful. (For several years, near the end of his life, - there used to be a fresh, illuminated document, each autumn, on his mantel shelf; - the invitation to their oldest, living graduate, to attend the Commencement ceremonies at university of Vermont, Burlington). - His work meant not only the B.A. but also his reading of Law – So his anxiety to begin early, had sound reasons. Naturally too, he knew that he would be trying to earn his living while a student; and this led to his work as tutor during the latter part of the time. One season, while tutoring in the south, with some family there, he, and they, were distracted by events in the war between Mexico and the U.S. and James enlisted with the American troops, and went off to the border with them. His column was promptly taken as prisoners of war by the Mexicans, and when it became clear that they, the prisoners, were being lined up to be shot, James felt stupid at realizing he could speak no Spanish, since he had a hunch there was a mistake somewhere about this order. He decided on the next-best thing, and began to repeat the Pater Noster - It had an electric effect - Shouting, “Chretiano! Chretiano!!”- the Mexican officer countermanded, and the prisoners were presently freed completely. Apparently, the Americans had been mistaken for northern Indians and as the main body of American forces were close by the place, it was not the intention of the Mexicans to draw fire from there. The whole war must have been fairly short; but James' commanding officer did not forget him. The same officer was in command of troops in the western States when California was taken into the fold. He was in search of someone to be appointed first Chief Magistrate of the new State, and he wrote offering the post to James O’H. – This must have been close to 1847, as I think that 1847 must also have been the year of marriage between James and his wife. She was Mary Anne Finley, of Dunham, Quebec and she was 17 years old when she married James, who was about 27 then. – In re the offer of a big California post to him, he answered the officer with the explanation that he had arranged to practice law in Canada, where he had bought a farm for his parents, and was also about to be married, and therefore must decline the invitation. Dunham, prior to 1866, meant the Township of Dunham, which included Cowansville, Sweetsburg and many more square miles. The History of Dunham claims that it was the first of the so-called Townships. Long before that date, English-speaking citizens had been encouraged by the British Govt to buy land and develop villages, near the border with the U S. - Hence, the logical place for James O’H to invest in some small holding for the parents (I think that the O’H great-grandparents were never able to make headway with finances, and James would want them within reach wherever he settled down to practise law.)- The Dunham area would be among the first to have a court of law, serving rural places near Montreal. Modern Dunham is still a fairly small village - but in the 1840’s and 50’s, it was a larger place than the other villages.

Where James and Mary Anne lived for the first few years of their marriage, I do not know - somewhere in Cowansville as it was, in early days. The brick house on the main street, part-way to Sweetsburg, was built by James before the 8th child was born. This child was …



…the family to be born in the house where her parents spent the rest of their lives.

Aside from his law practice, James O’Halloran had many interests. For a time, he represented Missisquoi County in the Quebec Legislature, before and after the 1867 debates. He approved Confederation, but voted for delaying it, in favour of giving people more time to comprehend. He probably knew more about the vast problems in the U.S. at that time, than any of the others in Canadian politics, and was not easily alarmed by fears of annexation that some of his colleagues suggested. - He had what few other people ever experience: the gift of remembering word for word, whatever he read that was worth remembering. And he read enormously. The development of Canada in his day was tied up with transportation problems: hence, he knew railroad-minded people, and this explains, in part, his long association with the law department of the C.P.R. and as a side-line, with the Boston & Maine. All of his older life, until almost 90, he travelled certain days of the week into Montreal to his office in the C.P.R. building, returning to Cowansville that evening. (As a youngster, one of my treats was to drive with the gardener to the train to meet him, or to take him in the morning) He may have done this less often, by the time he reached 85 - But he was wonderfully himself, and well, until a very great age. - - In village matters when younger, he had been active in getting both the Catholic and the Anglican churches built. And he was certainly consulted often by both Priest and Rector, in all their concerns. Someone once asked him what he was going to do about his children, since he was a Catholic and his wife a Protestant. James answered that if his wife could bring up her children to be as good as she was herself, this was his best wish for them.

He meant what he said, always - and was so genuine in everything, that one knew he was deeply religious at heart, but felt that the sect to which one had belonged was personal, and not a matter for dispute. By the time that I came along, he began to show age in the whiteness of his hair and he looked as the Notman picture of him shows him, from the time when I can first remember him (high-chair age for me) until he died, when I was 21. So it is remarkable that he could be as companionable as he was, to a small grandchild. I slid down the stairs on its mahogany rail, to meet him quickly once -, when we were both dismayed to see that the brass buttons on my sailor suit had scratched the rail! He went to his library and came right back with the ink-pot, and carefully covered the tell-tale marks, - to the complete satisfaction of ourselves. But the ink was green, after all. So the other elders beheld the damage and no one was fooled. But, no one dared say anything - Helen was too small to have handled all that ink so deftly, and we just talked about other things.... He spoke most beautifully, and read aloud or quoted as naturally as he would talk. It was a treat if he asked at Sunday lunch what the text of the sermon was. First, a bit of rustle on the part of the Aunts, to remember and quote correctly. - Grandfather would take up the narrative, and finish that part of the scripture, or even lead up to it and end the verses, as though the Book were open in front of him - He must have been past 65 when I was at boarding-school, and spending some holidays at Cowansville. He wanted to know what I was studying at the moment, and I mentioned, proudly, that I had begun to read Virgil. -He just commenced with the first Book and went on for at least two pages -verbatim. This I knew, as I had had to memorize most of it as I went along. -But it must have been generations since he had looked at it!

The O’Halloran house in Cowansville must have been a great hive of industry for its first 50 years, with the large family of young people, and the many other relations who stayed or lived there. James' mother lived with them after being a widow, and partially blind. She used to do fine hemming for the household, and Mother and Uncle Jim, when children, always threaded numerous needles for the days’ work of their Granny. - Later, when the Finley grandparents were gone, their youngest daughter, Jane, came to live with the O’H’s - and presently, older nephews joined the family for their school holidays. Our Uncle Joe was only about 20, when I first remember staying in the house - and several of his own nieces and nephews were so close to his age then, that none of us ever called him “Uncle”. - Small wonder if the house always had a festive, hospitable air, to me, and I know that the Grandparents were never happier than when the place was filled by all ages of us... Music at home was a must, in those days, and James was almost as fond of music as of his books. So the older sisters and Mother could never remember a time when they could not read and play whatever music the occasion needed. Lessons in Montreal or from good organists elsewhere were provided for them, as long as they wished to study (They were a mystery to me, as I am convinced they knew as much instinctively, as from anything they were taught!)

The last few years of the household were very quiet, with only James and his dear “Sissy”, as he called Aunt Elizabeth. He was in his 90’s, and still active, until a short attack of pneumonia. Sitting up in bed, and wishing to have the Home Rule Bill for Ireland read to him from the morning paper, he listened with attention -, and this way, he died, as though falling asleep. This was the summer of 1913. He was 93.