Researching my novel — and attempting to discover my parents in the process

My beautiful parents at a dance, at either Sunset Ballroom or St. Francis College

When I was born on March 29, 1947, my father was 41 years old. My mother was just short of 40 and was able to reach her birthday in a few months.

That means that my parents had lived four decades before I came into existence. We had a pre-war and post-war family. My brother Jim was born in 1938 and my sister Patsy in 1939. It was almost like we were from different generations — and we were.

I knew my parents — but then again, in many ways, I never knew them. Particularly my father.

Though being a very public persona and a major figure in our community, when it came to allowing people to really know what made his emotions tick — he was very, very secretive.

I lived with my father through much of his later life, but as I try to decipher what was in his mind and heart and soul — I was often at a loss to understand him.

What I did know about my parents was this:

Hugh B. Conrad Sr. and Mary Finley Conrad gave back so much to the community with culture, character, and service. They were wonderful people, and I owe them a great deal.

Just wish that I had understood them a little better.

In reality, they were children of Irish immigrants, and therein lay the enigmatic nature of the two.

The novel

A number of years ago, I determined to write a novel peripherally based on the killing of my Uncle Phil Conrad by the Ku Klux Klan in 1924. I have researched what actually happened, and I determined that story would not really be a great novel.

In short, about 450 to 500 Klansmen and their followers invaded the small town of Lilly, Pa. on April 6, 1924. The reason was simple even though the local historical society did not realize it: The KKK hated Catholics — and Lilly was a small town or Irish and Italian Catholics who tore down the crosses that they tried to burn.

However, the story that I wanted to tell was fictional at its core. The question no one seems to know is why Uncle Phil was killed by the KKK. Was it really a stray bullet — or was it the man from Portage whom others later blamed?

For me, the question is this: Did my father know who killed his brother — and why was he unwilling for the rest of his life, 65 more years, of talking about it?

Or of talking about any of his inner emotions?

So, the father that I knew for 42 years was one who kept much of his emotions very, very close to his heart — and never let people inside.

Thus, I am making a fictional schematic of something that did not happen in real life. The brother of Phil Conrad promised to discover what happened to the killer and wreck vengeance upon him in this narrative.

My father never did that, but it makes a fascinating plot for a novel.

My parents with Jimmy in 1939

Why did the KKK hate Catholics?

Hatred of Catholics by Protestants was brought to the shores of America by the British who tried to destroy the Irish for centuries. That focus was carried on through the Twentieth Century and still exists today.

People like the minister Billy Graham, who later in his life tried to change his history, met in Switzerland in 1960 to plot the destruction of John F. Kennedy in his run for president. These ministers despised the Catholics

Why?

Fear of Catholics was brought to the American shores by British Protestants steeped in dark conspiracies about the power of Papists. Though many of the colonists were fleeing religious prosecution, it was not long before some were practicing what had been preached against them in Europe. In 1644, a mere twenty-five years after the first cargo hold of kidnapped and enslaved humans was brought to Virginia from Africa, the colony passed a law prohibiting Catholic settlers.

Timothy Egan, “A Fever in the Heartland: The Ku Klux Klan’s plot to take

over America, and the woman who stopped them,” 2023

Much of that remains in America a century later and is at the root of the hatred we have in contemporary society.

The Catholic animus has disappeared from Northern Ireland after former Sen. George Mitchell negotiated a peace deal in 1998 that has essentially held together. However, it is still in America as the hatred from an American leader against the current Catholic pope have indicated.

Exploring my parents

The part of this story that is at the root of the KKK animus is the role of Irish Catholics. Three of my grandparents were born in Ireland and immigrated to America. Katie Brady was the mother of my dad and Uncle Phil. There were six children in their family.

Patrick Finley was my maternal grandfather and Mary Norris my maternal grandmother. They were both Irish immigrants who came to the U.S. as endentured servants to the Simon Cameron family in Harrisburg, Pa.

My mother talked about her family. My father did not talk much about his — and that reticence may have something to do with his Irish ethnicity.

My father talked seldom about the KKK invasion, only in generalities in his last years. Never did he talk about Phil and his relationship with his brother, which was apparently very close.

Fortunately, the youngest in the family was my Aunt Helen, who was the last to survive and who finally did tell me about the family, about Katie Brady, and some tidbits about Phil and Hugh Conrad.

My dad suffered from dementia/Alzheimer’s in his last years, but the amazing part of this is that his memory of some of his past was more acute than in earlier years. Still, he did not explain why he kept his emotions locked inside him for many years.

Therefore, the character whom I have started to create in the novel is someone who did not exist in life. That gives me a great deal of literary license. I have learned much about the KKK riot and what happened, but its effect on my dad is not clear.

Helen said that he was reluctant to talk “because he had seen so much that night.” In addition, she said that their home was filled with state police over the next few days, and her brother disappeared. They had no idea where he went or where he was. A few days later, he reappeared for Phil’s funeral.

She said that my dad and Phil were very close, and that Phil was quite a character. She told many stories about him, so I can create a character based on what she had said about him.

Pursuing the emotional ties

What I wanted to know about my parents was how much their Irish culture affected their personas. They were both community leaders and looked up to by the community. I am grateful to my mother for generating in me a love of reading and the importance of excelling in education. He earned a college degree in the 1920s when few women ever did.

And my dad did talk about his disappointment at not being able to pursue an appointment to the U.S. Naval Academy or earn a college degree. He had to pay to keep the family together, something that Phil had been doing as a conducter on the railroad.

So, he did talk about that disappointment, which was surprising, but not about the pain that he felt during his life because of the KKK riot.

And nothing about Phil. Never. And I was with him until his passing in 1989.

My novel ends about ten years before I was born — and those are the years that my father kept sealed for so long.

My mother’s emotions were somewhat more complicated, but she did talk about her family and her early life. For that, I am grateful today.

And I love them very dearly today.