By Jathan Janove
Family rifts are as ubiquitous as they are damaging.
In 1971, a spat between my Aunt Inga and her older sister Julie (my mom), effectively ended relations with the entire side of my maternal family.
My last memory was a gift sent to me by John Lowery (Inga’s husband) for my Bar Mitzvah. It was the book My People: The Story of the Jews, by the Israeli Foreign Minister Abba Eban. In the inscription, John wrote that I should be sure not to forget my “Other People.” He was referring to my Irish Catholic side. (My mother converted to Judaism when she married my father Ethan.)
For almost the next half-century, my life continued without interaction or knowledge of the maternal side of my family. For three years in Chicago, I lived within a 10-minute car ride of aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews, and my maternal grandmother who lived to age 89. I had no idea.
Things changed due to a first cousin I’d never met. Jimmy Lowery, who was born after the schism, became curious about his mom’s older sister and what her family might be like.
Thanks to the Internet, Jimmy tracked me down. After my initial shock (Who are these people?!), I became curious. I was sad to learn that without knowledge, I’d lived so close to my now deceased grandmother and my now deceased Aunt Belle who babysat me when I was an infant.
Fortunately, my uncle John Lowery is still alive at 84 despite multiple bouts with cancer, a heart attack and open-heart surgery. For the past 16+ years, he has been taking care of Inga in their home of 45 years. (Inga suffers from Alzheimer’s and dementia.)
Despite chemotherapy and other health challenges, John remains positive and upbeat. We’ve spent many hours catching up. I learned that he’s a fascinating human being. Also, as my Jewish relatives would say, he’s a real mensch.
Irish Heritage & Love of a Grandmother
John’s great grandparents immigrated to the U.S. from Ireland. Five of their 10 children were born in Ireland. His “Grandma Maggie” was number six. She grew up in a house where they talked in brogue, and she continued to do so.
John’s mom had a very hard birth and needed to convalesce. Grandma Maggie moved in. “I fell madly in love with her,” John recalls. “She talked about County Mayo where the family came from. She sang to me Irish songs, including ‘Oh, Johnny. Oh, Johnny. You make my sad heart jump with joy.’”
Then tragedy struck.
When John was four, he went for a walk with his grandmother. A car veered out of control, jumped a curb and headed right at them. Grandma Maggie grabbed John and swung him out of the way as the car crashed into her, breaking her pelvis, legs and other bones. Confined to a wheelchair thereafter, she lived for only another four years.
80 years later, John says, “Her death broke my heart. She was kind, beautiful, loving and tough. The songs she sang warm me still.”
Grandma Maggie instilled in John a lasting love of Ireland. He sometimes daydreams about getting a small house in the countryside in Galway, Ireland, an ancestral home. “I’d plant vegetables and flowers and live near enough to town so that I could join other musicians for sessions. We’d sing the old Irish songs. There’d be lots and lots of music.”
Falling in Love
John met my mom’s sister as a fellow newbie schoolteacher. They became friends. Romance sprouted on a group ski trip. Neither knew how to ski and took lessons to learn how to snowplow.
John decided to show off his new “skills” and took off down the steepest hill. Shot like a bullet, snowplowing of no use, he managed to crash without serious injury.
Inga thought this was hilarious. Laughing heartily, she said, “You are a crazy man!”
They’ve been inseparable for seven decades.
A Dramatic Life Change
At St. Ignatius High School where John attended, there was a gym teacher, “a big guy with a big mouth,” John says. One day John was shooting baskets before gym class began. The teacher walked up from behind and hit John on the chin. He went to the ground but quickly got up.
No doubt the gym teacher was unaware that John’s older brother Martin was a professional prizefighter and had been giving John boxing lessons since he was six.
“After I got up, I hit him with a left shovel hook to the belly, followed by a right cross to the liver. He dropped like a sack of potatoes.”
John took off for home. A call came from the school, informing John’s mother that a criminal complaint had been made, and an arrest warrant was being issued against her son. She became terrified.
Fortunately, John’s Uncle Pete was a police sergeant. After John explained what had happened, Uncle Pete went to the school and said if they pursued the complaint, John would file a cross-complaint against the teacher for having struck him first.
The school dropped the criminal complaint but expelled John from the school.
Joining the Army at Age 15
In those days to help make ends meet, the kids in John’s family worked at early ages. Uncle Pete’s wife worked in the Chicago Records Division and provided the kids with birth certificates that generously listed their ages. Although John was 15, his birth certificate said he was 18.
After being expelled from high school and in a quandary about his future, John enlisted in the Army and left Chicago.
The Army proved to be a great experience and career move. John traveled throughout Europe and won the Army’s European Theater Welterweight boxing title. Thanks to the GI Bill, he was able to go to college and become a schoolteacher.
However, his abrupt departure from Chicago at a young age caused his mother a lot of anguish, “To this day, I feel bad about it,” John says.
Choosing a Career in Education over the “Sweet Science”
After leaving the Army, John entertained the thought of becoming a professional prizefighter. He changed his mind after seeing a fighter he remembered from before the Army. “He was an incredibly good amateur fighter. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d become a world champion.” Having since turned pro and no longer fighting three-round amateur bouts, the man had become “punch drunk”, permanently brain-damaged at a young age.
John does treasure many memories of his boxing experiences. This includes the legendary Sugar Ray Robinson, whom John considers the greatest fighter of all time. Robinson was training at John’s gym for an upcoming championship fight with Carmen Basilio. His sparring partner hadn’t showed up.
“Sugar Ray looked at me and said, ‘Do you want to go a round?’ I said ‘Sure!’ and climbed in the ring.”
John insists Sugar Ray Robinson didn’t take it easy on him. “He hit me from about every angle you can get hit and knocked me down twice.” This is not a complaint, “I loved every second of it!”, John says.
Free Transportation on the Chicago L Train
Since 1892, Chicago has had the “L” (for “Elevated”) train system. John’s childhood home abutted the L tracks. When John was 10 and not able to afford the three-cent fare, he often climbed up on the roof of his house. As it passed John’s house, the train would slow down around a curve. At that point, the 10-year-old would leap into the air, coming down on the side of the train. John would then grab the metal bars on the outside of the windows. Pressed against the train, he’d hold on until arrival at the next station. John would jump down, hop in the train car and ride for free.
(John’s parents passed from this Earth never knowing of this activity.)
Segregated Chicago
John grew up in an extremely segregated city. His all-white working-class neighborhood was no exception. However, thanks to boxing, John got to know and become friends with many African Americans.
After hitching a ride on the L train, he often went to Sherwood Park to watch Black baseball teams compete. This was before Major League Baseball was integrated. Eventually, some of the men noticed this little white kid avidly watching the game. Since they didn’t have an umpire, the players invited him to come behind the plate and call balls and strikes. John loved it!
John’s African American prizefighter friends from Johnny Coulon’s gym led to his love of jazz. His friends would take him to Black neighborhoods, hotels and clubs on Chicago’s Southside. John recalls listening to Dorothy Donegan performing in the lounge at the old Sutherland Hotel. According to John, she was a great jazz pianist and sometimes did first-rate impressions of female singers of her time including Billie Holiday, Dinah Washington, Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughn. “What a talent!”, he says.
Reflecting back, John wishes other people had experiences like his. They’d understand that among other things, racism means lost opportunity for great relationships and great experiences.
Is there a John Lowery in your life?
Family rifts aren’t just a source of pain; they represent lost opportunity. As we’ve recently experienced, political differences have exponentially increased this pain and loss.
In your family tree, how many potentially wonderful people do you not really know? What are you doing to find out?
My then unknown cousin Jimmy took the initiative. I’m most grateful he did.
Jathan Janove is Principal of Janove Organization Solutions, http://jathanjanove.com. Through consulting, executive coaching and training, he works with employers to create fully engaged workplace cultures. He also practiced law in Salt Lake City, Utah and Portland, Oregon.
