An Irish Face

Mickie at 11 months

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."

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.

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.

Me (Shirley) & son Clayton Curo standing by
Mickie's name inscribed at the
Honolulu memorial. August 2013.

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

Father/Army vs Son/Navy

 

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.