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Mickie at 11 months
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Edward Aloysius Joseph O'Connor, Junior, was born on
February 11, 1923, at the Sunshine home on Park Boulevard close to the San
Diego Zoo. He was the third and last
child born to Edward and Lulu O'Connor. His
two older sisters, Peggy, less than 3 years old, and Connie, only fourteen
months old, were described by Lu as "sweet, lovely little girls." Although
named after his father, the new baby soon came to be known as Mickie, Mikie and later on
Mike, with the explanation being that when the delivery physician, Dr. McCall,
handed the baby over to Lu, she said "Why, he is a regular little Irish
Mick[i], isn't he?" According to Lu, "he was such a lovely
baby, with an Irish face, but yet a face like mine, blond hair and deep blue
eyes which later changed to hazel. Every
part of him was perfect, just perfect."
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| Mickie in his early teens. |
The family moved around quite a bit in the 20's and 30's before Edward secured a job with the Customs Service. When Mickie was born, the family was back
living in La Jolla where Edward was working in an automobile sales and repair
shop and industriously studying accountancy. Then they moved up around the Los
Angeles area for a short time, but came back to San Diego again when finances
got tight. For a while this family of
five lived in a tent in the backyard of the Lord grandparents, Richard and Ida,
on University Avenue in San Diego.
Hoping to find better employment in Oregon, they moved there only to
find that may have been a bad decision.
Not much work was available in Oregon and after living in a few places,
even moving in with Lu's sister, Minnie, for awhile, they eventually came home
to San Diego.
With very little information about Mickie's early years,
this story picks up while he was attending Calexico Union High
School in the late 1930's. He received
his highest grades in the school band, playing the upright string bass and sousaphone,
I believe. In his senior yearbook La Aurora, 1941, a few entries from his
friends indicate that he was a good musician and that he must have been considering
enlistment in the U.S. Coast Guard.
On June 30, 1942, Mickie lawfully completed his
Selective Service Registration in the 5th draft registration under the 1940
Selective Training and Service Act, which included men currently between the
ages of 18 and 20. On the reverse side of his registration form, he is described as: White with Hazel eyes, Brown hair, a Ruddy complexion, and one small scar on left ankle, and while usually documented, his height and weight are not listed.
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Although his father
was an Army person
through and through, Mickie decided to go Navy. |
Mickie was awarded an Air Medal[ii]
with 2 Gold Stars, and while not confirmed yet, it was probably for his participation in the
Truk strikes (see article to the right).
Mickie was an Aviation Radioman, first class, in the
United States Navy when his plane went down in the Pacific waters near
Honolulu, Hawaii, seventy-fve years ago, on June 8, 1945. Mickie is technically listed as Missing in
Action or Buried at Sea. His name and
rank appear in the Courts of the Missing[iii],
a centerpiece of the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, located inside
Punchbowl Crater in Honolulu.
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Me (Shirley) & son Clayton Curo standing by
Mickie's name inscribed at the
Honolulu memorial. August 2013.
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On August 17, 1993, some 48 years after his death, Lu wrote one of her most
poignant stories[iv],
"Down in Pacific Waters" about losing Mickie, or Mikie, as she had
taken to calling him by then. I will transcribe it for you here as I don't want
to paraphrase her thoughts on this matter.
Mikie was to spend the rest (of his life) in the
Navy. My son! Grief, impossible to measure, incredible that it could last so
long, that it would be so unbearable more than 48 years later.
Mikie went to a Naval Air School in Boulder City,
Colorado. Then he was sent to a Gunner's School in Kentucky (?). There he met
the "girl of his life," he wrote me And on his next leave, after
coming to see me for a day, he went via a __seat on a Navy plane back to see
her. My memory isn't working. He left
his Navy jacket back there and wrote me to have her sent it to him. The Navy wouldn't let him write her to do it.
I wrote her. It seems she had already sent (it) to him, via a buddy of his, a
buddy I never heard of. But Mikie got the jacket.
And one day in early June (1945), I received a
telegram, saying that Mikie had gone down with his plane out in the Pacific
Ocean. And a few days later, I received a call from a Navy Chaplain, telling me
the same thing. Trying to make it easier for me, he said: (even as I write
this, I am crying. But I must get it written! I must!)
A letter, later from the pilot of Mikie's plane,
told me that the squadron were in Honolulu on R&R. The Navy required the
squadron to spend one day a week on maneuvers. The pilot said their plane was
leading the squadron when the left wing came off, literally came off. The plane
started (to) spin, he yelled for the boys to get out. They were unable to do
so. And the plane carried them both to a watery grave in 10,000 feet of the
Pacific Ocean. My son!
I went back to the Naval District, where I was
working, a week later. I could not talk about it to anyone without crying. (I
still can't.) It seemed everyone wanted to hear. Finally, my boss, a shoe shop
owner (and a dear man), told them to stop. But---their eyes followed me every
time I moved. I hung on by the skin of my teeth. The work had to be done. The
Navy ships had to have their supplies.
Then I would come home at night, go to my room, and
let the tears flow. For weeks! I seemed not to be able to help it.
Connie and Ernie were living with me. Ernie had been
in the Army in Europe and was taken a war prisoner. He spent---I am sorry,
Ernie, I can't remember the time you spent as a War prisoner, what camps you
spent it in, the stories you told us of the camps. I know you told us. I seem
to have mislaid the memories.
The girls, Peggy and Connie, decided that I should
not be allowed to talk about Mikie or his death. They told me, I must not! They
meant well. Would it have helped me to have been able to say his name or his---?
I don't know! I shall never know! But I wanted to!
I think there is one more story of that time, I must
tell.
Mikie had been gone for about 6 months. I had taken
to having dreams about him. Dreams when he was a boy. And then one night I had
a dream that ended them all.
I dreamed: I was concerned about Mikie, about him
being so cold down in that ocean water. Wasn't the water colder down where he
was than it was on the surface?
So I took a Navy and an Army blanket and went down
to him. I found him quite easily. He lay on the floor of his plane in his wool
Navy suit. The other boy lay a few feet away.
I said, "Mikie, I have brought you a blanket. I
know you must be cold."
Mike said, "Mom, am I glad to see you. Thanks
for the blanket," as I spread it over him and tucked it in under his chin.
"Mom, could you put the other blanket over Jim. He's cold, too."
I looked at the other boy lying there. I looked at
Mikie in the Navy blanket. I said, "Of course, I will." I moved over
to Jim, covered him with the Army blanket, heard his mumbled "Thank
you."
And I woke up. I lay there and thought of that
dream. It seemed so lifelike, so real. Could I stop feeling so bereft now?
Could I feel my grief, but with dignity? Not so weepy?
I tried! I tried not to weep every time of his name,
every time I even heard his name! And I succeeded, I felt.
Yet here I am, 48 years later. A woman living in a
Retirement Center, thankful that she has her two daughters, and her grands, and
her great grans, and great, great ...
...days ago, someone asked me if I didn't have a
son? With tears in my voice and my eyes, I answered "Yes, I had a
son." I had a son!
I recently found a letter from Edward to his Commanding
Officer in Italy, requesting a 30-day leave to go home after Mickie's death, as
he stated, "I fear for the effect upon my wife." But it was "Disapproved
because of prohibition of compassionate leave by MTOUS directives." Edward
had already been serving overseas for a couple of years in WWII and at that
time was stationed in Italy at the
Headquarters Allied Commission, working in the Finance Sub Commission, Budget
Sub-Section. He evidently had not been home since June of 1943 and stated so in his request for leave, but Lu had to
berar the pain of Mikie's loss by herself.
On November 2, 1993, Lu wrote a poem[v]
also about the death of her only son, Mikie.
He Was Gone
It came --
that message --
On a gray day
in June
A day gray
with fog
And heavy with
sorrow
He was gone,
my son,
My only son
was gone
Down with his
plane
In Pacific
waters.
The fog grew
heavier
The sorrow
more dense
No sun pierced
the gloom
No
cheerfulness the sorrow
He was gone.
He was gone
Down with his
plane
In Pacific
waters.
Now, years and
years later,
I still feel
the fog
I still sense
the sorrow
That message
conveyed
He was gone.
He was gone
Down with his
plane
In Pacific
waters.
God help me!
Am I never to
cease
To sorrow, am
I never
To cease to
mourn
My son, my
only son
Gone down with
his plane
In Pacific
waters?
And Lu chronicled Mickie's life with the following:
To Mickie
Edward
Aloysius Joseph O'Connor, Jr.
Born February
11, 1923
A typical
Irish Mickie
Hence: Mickie, Mikie, Mike
At eight
years: Mom, I wouldn't even want you to know there was such a word-- on his
fight.
At sixteen: I
don't feel like I have too much time to make up my mind what I want to do when
I grow up.
At seventeen:
But why do I have to wait until I finish this year of school to enlist?
At eighteen: I enlisted in the Navy Air.
At twenty
three: Went down with his plane in 10,000 feet of water in the Pacific Ocean.
Ed O'Connor, ARM 2/C
Torpedo Squadron Six
Air group Six
% Fleet Postmaster
San Francisco, ca.
Died: June 8,
1945
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Father/Army vs Son/Navy
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Afterthoughts:
I think I only have one afterthought to share this
time. Honestly, I had decided to skip a week
between my last post and the next one, but this week I realized out of the blue that it
was nearing the 75th anniversary of Mickie's death in WWII. I then made the decision to quickly write a
brief tribute to him. Gran would appreciate that. This post was really pretty
easy to develop, as most of the information came straight from Gran's life
story book and her poems. So in the process of gathering the other information
I have for Mickie, this post just kept getting longer and longer. But that is
okay, right? It would have been really great to know him, to have had him in
our lives, wouldn't it? When I first saw the picture of Mickie as an early
teenager, walking down a sidewalk, apparently whistling, I realized a striking
similarity to 
my grandson, Delson Curo, now age 21. That same family
resemblance has now filtered down to his first child, Harlow Fae, born December
6, 2019. I like to think it is that O'Connor blood coming through as strong as
ever.
[i] Times are different now because it probably would not be
politically correct in 2020 to refer to an Irishman as a "Mick," as it
is known to be a derogatory term for an Irishman in the U.S. and U.K.
[ii] The Air Medal (pictured left) is a
military decoration of the United States Armed Forces. It was created in 1942
and is awarded for single acts of heroism or meritorious achievement while
participating in aerial flight. Any further awarded Air Medal came in the form
of a Golden Star that could be worn on the ribbon. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Air_Medal
[iii] Learn
more about the memorial at https://pearlharbor.org/the-courts-of-the-missing/.
[iv] My
Grandma Dotes, Anecdotes of 93 years of the Life and Times of Temperance Lulu Lord O'Connor.
[v] My Wanderlust and
Others by Lulu Lord O'Connor.
