TRACING THEIR JOURNEY: A NEW BEGINNING FOR IRISH IMMIGRANTS IN 1850 CLEVELAND

On April 22 nd , 1928, Sarah Jane Quinn stood on a dock in Belfast, Northern Ireland, waiting to board the Montnairn.She was eighteen, the oldest of seven children, had a pound in her pocket, and was destined for Quebec, Canada.She joined the chorus of thousands of female Irish emigrants who left home to secure a better economic situation for both herself and her family back in the old country.She spent the better part of the next decade first as a domestic in a private home, and then as a waitress in the service industry.A good portion of her income was sent back home to support the family left in Ireland.Sometime in her late twenties, she met and fell in love with a man from Cleveland, Ohio who was in Quebec on a work assignment.They married, moved back to the United States, and Sarah gave birth to a daughter, Barbara Sue.Her husband Martin was drafted, and served overseas in Sicily during the second World War as part of the Army Corp of Engineers.Upon his return home after the war, and for reasons beyond Sarah's control, they divorced.An immigrant, alone and without many marketable skills, Sarah managed. 1 She took up work in a local restaurant, the same employ she had left in Canada.She and Barbara were poor.At first, Sarah rented a bed in a house.Then she secured a room in a house.Finally, she provided an apartment for her and Barbara when Barbara was in the sixth grade.Sarah never owned a car, a 1 Sarah Jane (Quinn) Straka became a United States citizen on November 12 th , 1943.v house, or a large bank account.The American Dream eluded her through no fault of her own.But she held fast to her Catholic faith, and to the family that would emerge when Barbara married.Sarah Jane was my grandmother.I didn't know the woman described above.By the time I knew Sarah, she was an elderly grandmother.She loved her grandchildren, Johnny Carson, and her faith.I spent many Saturdays with my grandmother.She made the best cup of tea, always had candy in the candy dish, and her ham and butter sandwiches were legendary.We would laugh about the Johnny Carson show from the previous night, and watch old Jerry Lewis, Elvis and Godzilla movies.One year, I had given up television for Lent.She absolved me from my Lenten observance, cautioning me not to tell my mother.She said that Lent had no hold in Grandma's house.She never spoke of home.I never thought to ask her about it.I wasn't raised in the Irish community of Cleveland.I was raised Catholic, and I was raised in Grandma's living room, on her davenport, on many a Saturday afternoon.She was not only my grandmother, she was my friend and companion.She died when I was seventeen.While she was alive, we never learned about our Irish family in the old country.In 2006, after an exhaustive genealogical search initiated by my mother, Barbara Sue, we connected with our long-lost family in Ireland.In October of 2006, my mother and I traveled to Ireland to meet our cousins and Grandma's youngest sister, Veronica.(Picture 1) We visited the Quinn family plot, sat in a pew of the church where she probably attended Mass, and spent an afternoon on vi the property where she was raised.(Picture 2) The picture included is the only structure on the property that still survives from Grandma's time.The family who now owns this property is also named Quinn.We drank the best tea, and ate butter and ham sandwiches, just like Grandma used to make.We concluded the visit properly with a drink.I cannot adequately express the impact this visit had upon me.I also cannot understate the appreciation I have that John Carroll University gave me an opportunity to explore Irish history as a program of study.This study was congruently personal and scholastic.I wasn't raised in the Cleveland Irish community, so understanding of my heritage came at a much later date.But I am the proud descendant of a strong, Irish immigrant woman who eventually made her home in Cleveland, Ohio.It is, therefore, my extreme honor to dedicate this thesis on Irish immigrants in Cleveland in 1850 to my ancestor, my grandmother, my childhood companion and friend: Sarah Jane Quinn Straka.You are the bravest woman I have ever known.

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