Keenan, Charles, 1904-1975, Jesuit priest

Person

Keenan, Charles, 1904-1975, Jesuit priest

• Charlie Keenan

12 July 1904-05 June 1975

Born: 12 July 1904, Belfast, County Antrim
Entered: 06 April 1925, Los Gatos CA, USA - Californiae Province (CAL)
Ordained: 24 June 1937, Milltown Park, Dublin
Professed: 02 February 1943
Died: 05 June 1975, Belfast, County Antrim - Oregonensis Province (ORE)

Part of the Gonzaga University, Spokane WA, USA community at the time of death

Transcribed CAL to ORE
by 1936 came to Milltown (HIB) studying 1936-1938

◆ The Mungret Annual, 1925

Letters from Our Past

Charles Keenan SJ

Charles Keenan left us last October to join the Californian Jesui't noviceship—but on account of the tedious negotiations with the American immigration authorities, it was not till March that he sailed on the SS Carmina. He has written long and often, and describes his adventures and misadventures very vividly.

It was not so easy to get into America even after reaching it, and his first experiences were not prepossessing. One of the officials at Boston was not content with his papers, because they did not indicate clearly enough whether it was for ten years or for life that he was to stay in the United States!

I must be held over for a Board hearing. So I was brought into another room, where I found sixteen others, fourteen third class and two cabin passengers. It was now 8 pm, Saturday, so we had to wait till Monday morning before the Board would meet. A bus came and we were all taken to the US Immigration Station, East Boston. We were all honest and decent people, who had committed no crime against the laws of the country, yet we were forced there to associate with, undesirable aliens and ex-convicts who were awaiting deportation. They were not good enough to be allowed to stay in America, but they were, apparently, good enough to live, eat, and sleep with us. I would not complain of the food, nor of the uncomfortable beds, nor of the confinement, but I must and do protest that it was an warrantable outrage of us to force us to associate with these men, who could not speak a dozen words, apparently, without an oatlı or something worse. That is not my feeling alone, but the feeling of us all. Let the give you an idea of how the “dormitory” was fixed up. There were rows of metal posts down a big room, and between each two posts six beds or bunks, Each bed was a metal frame containing a wire mattress. We were each given three blankets, to which I was glad to add my steamer rug. All this would not have caused me so much inconvenience - I could easily put up with roughing it for a night or two (for I have done as much at home when a dozen or so of us were cut off from home one night by the rioting), but then, I had just across the passage-way neiglıbours whose conversation as they lay abed I prefer not to describe.

Across the dormitory was drawn a wall of steel netting, and an official sat all night at the entrance door. The living-room, or day-room, where the men, congregated during the day was similarly guarded. I noticed that the women’s day-roon was not wired, but a lady at a desk kept them similarly under observation.

We were kept in the day-room all day on Sunday, without even an hour's exercise. We liad an hour on Monday in a little concrete walk overlooking the harbour - a steel wire vetting fence on one side, the building on the other, and a guard at either end.

On Monday came deliverance and the friendliness and courtesy he met from members of the Board did much to counteract his first un pleasant experience. He conveys very vividly the first raw impressions that America made on him:

“About 4.30 the Steamship Co sent a motor to take me from the care of the US. Government, and I had a sample of American driving. He jerked along the streets, about twenty miles per hour, in clear parts, reduced abruptly to nothing when another auto. crossed us. Betweet-times he wouid turn around to address a few remarks. to me, sitting in the back. It was exciting. All of a sudden there was a crash of glass ahead of us, and my driver shouted “he's got a man!” But he hadn't. A small two-seater before us had just missed a man crossing the street, so nearly that his hand-bag smashed its glass. With the usual jerk we stopped, and in about ten seconds there was as pretty a “jam” in the traffic as anyone could wish to see. Three motors, a lorry and a horse and cart were the immediate participants, while a line of profane drivers stretched down the street. Finally my driver wriggled out and dashed on down the street, dodging around the pillars of the Elevated Railroad and in and out the traffic; with the usual stream of remarks to me in the rear. Finally he landed me at the South Station where he handed me over to a lady who wore the “Travelers Aid Society” badge. She took me in hand and got my ticket etc, etc, and put me on the New York train.

New York, of course, “hit him in the eye”, and Americans will read with some complacency his impressions of its traffic, lights and bustle.

In “business New York” one's chief impression is the traffic - 99% automobiles.

They come not singie spies but in battalions. They come in streams, cars separated by about a yard. A very lively monkey, or an exceptionally active kangaroo might cross in safety while the stream flows; but ordinary humans, unendowed with wings, must wait till the traffic cop stops the stream and lets the pedestrians cross in a bunch. For some minutes the traffic flows one way; then a stop and the cross traffic flows; so back and forth all day.

At the corner of 5th Avenue and Broadway and of 5th Avenue and 42nd St. (The Streets) stand little signal-cabins on iron pillars. On all four sides are lights, facing the traffic. When a light shines green the traffic facing it moves on; yellow, it stands still. And green and yellow they flash in and out all day as the never ending stream of traffic rolls on. All the streets leading off these thoroughfares are one way streets.

I was down to see the lights of Broadway - “The Great White Way”. I expected to be disappointed in them - but was not. They are wonderful, and need to be seen to be believed. But it seems to me a needless waste, for the New Yorkers don't heed them. So they told me. Publicity pays up to a certain point; but in my opinion the American is so screamed at from boarding and sky-sign that he ceases to heed them."

We can follow him in his passage across the centre of the States from sea to sea.

When I awoke, we had left Omaha far behind and we were mounting up to the mile level. This was, perhaps, the most interesting day of all. All day long we travelled through the snow fields, while the horizon was a succession of white-clad peaks and pine forests. In every open place there were rows of fencing, sometimes three deep, to prevent snow-drifts blocking the track, while in places where this would not serve, long wooden tunnels, sometimes a mile long, were built over the track. We reached our highest point on Thursday, - 8,000 feet, at Sherman. From that place on, it dropped, till at San Francisco, the elevation was 8 feet.

They are curious little places, these little mountain towns! Perched away up in a snow desert; a dozen or two of houses, a few stores and a depot; and the inevitable water tank. This latter is a huge iron tank raised on pillars and is an indispensable appurtenage to everyone of these little towns. It is generally the first thing to be seen and the last to disappear.

On Friday morning we awoke to find our car sitting solitary and alone on a siding in the depot at Ogden, Utah. So we got out and were enabled to stretch our limbs for half an hour or so, and enjoy the Utah sunshine. We could see a range of high, snow-topped mountains, which looked glorious in the rising sun.

After leaving Ogden, we passed over Great Salt Lake, on the Great Salt Lake Cut-off. Formerly, the railroad ran up round the north of the lake, by many various bends and gradients. At length it was decided to build a road across the lake, which was done. If I remember aright, it is 103 miles fron end to end. It is built on piles, on which are laid sleepers, upon which in turn a bed of earth and concrete about seven or eight feet deep has been laid. There are three tracks across it. It is as level as a billiard-table, and the turns it saves would turn a train around eleven times. This, I gathered from a little booklet which was given to everyone at breakfast. On the cliffs along the sides, here and there, one could see the old water mark of the prehistoric Salt Lake, about twenty feet above the present level.

Once we had left Salt Lake behind, we came into very uninteresting country. All day long we passed through desert country, where the only vegetation was a little kind of shrub about a foot high. Yet out in this sterile, and as far as I could see, waterless plain, there were little towns though what the people do for a living I could not make out, unless, like the proverbial islanders, they take in each other's washing. Occasionally they had platforns designed, apparently, for loading cattle, but all the cattle I saw in the day's run would not have filled one freight-car. Away on the horizon one could see an endless succession of snowy peaks; a pleasant contrast to the arid heat of the plains. On Thursday the coaches had to be heated, to-day the electric fans did not succeed in keeping them comfortably cool. The best place was the observation car, out on the open platforin! By the time I awoke on Saturday morning, we were in California. We had not a very good welcome on our first sight, for it was raining. But I took heart of grace on seeing the greeness of the grass and the flowers, and upon noticing the mildness of the air. We were scheduled to reach San Francisco at 10-30 am, but the engine, after having faithfully towed us about a thousand miles, got “that tired feeling” and had to be tinkered at for an hour or so, before it could be induced to undertake the last lap, and so it was al nost noon when we pulled into the depot.

At length his wanderings came to an end; he reached after his stormy Odyssey a safe and peaceful harbour, as is seen from his letter from the Sacred Heart Novitiate, Los Gatos, California, April 18th.

I have been here now for twelve days, but thought it better to defer writing to you until I should have got my cassock, which I did this morning. So I can now settle down to steady work, my wanderings over, for some years.

This is really a beautiful place. We are up on a hillside and can look right down into the streets of Los Gatos, a little town of about 3,000 inhabitants. The country is covered with wooded bills and canyons, interspersed with grape-fields or orchards of prunes, figs, apricots, and even oranges. The climate is wonderful. Here in April we have the heat and sun, and more, of an Irish summer. I refer to what the summer used to be in Ireland. It is almost extinct there I think. Speaking of Ireland reminds me that about three-quarters of the Brothers here have real Irish names. It is almost like being back in Mungret to hear names like Cahill, O'Donnell, Healy, etc. The novices here are all really very nice, and there is a wonderful brotherly spirit amongst us. Certainly, I got a very hearty and encouraging welcome when I met them all this morning after I had received thy cassock.

IE IJA