Patrick Hugo Conway (known as Hugh all of his life), my father, was a gentle man who, to the best of my knowledge, never hurt anyone deliberately.
He didn't, as he got older, care too much for being out or about other than being a victim of the so called 'sundowner's syndrome'. In the '50s and 60's that term meant that he never stayed happy too long in one place and followed the setting sun anticipating greener grass in other fields.
On December 13, 1923, after living a spoiled existence on the farm in Appleton as the youngest of 8 children (2 born of Silas and Margaret, 6 born of Silas and Mary), he joined the Navy and went to sea. As long as I can remember he carried his discharge record around in his pocket virtually every place he ever went. At the time he was discharged from the Navy, November 28, 1929, the discharge records were designed to be carried and were bound in a small, pocket sized hardback folder (I have his original, virtually worn out, discharge packet). His conduct ratings, except for one time in June 1928 in China, were always the maximum 40. For some reason in June 1928 he got a cold 20. I don't know what he did to cause that but it must have been a doozy.
From February 1928 to August 1929 he served on the battleship U.S.S. Beaver in Amoy and Tsingtao, China during the China War (See the movie 'Sand Pebbles' starring Steve McQueen for a better picture of that war) and in his later years he was proud to be a member of the VFW. The old guys would sit around and tell war stories to each other. He said that until he was old and decrepit he wasn't aware that the China Wars were considered as a foreign war for Americans so he never knew he could join until he was about 70 years old. He was a member of the VFW in Lawrenceburg. According to his retelling, the U.S. ships pretty much just laid off the China Coast but didn't do too much except lobe an occasional round onto a predetermined target and, since he didn't determine it, he had no idea what they shot at. As he said, "I was the Striker. I didn't aim it or shoot it".
On February 1926, and this was his favorite story to constantly, over and over and over, tell us kids about, He was a Striker in the gun turrent #4 of the U.S.S. West Virginia and his turrent made the highest final score ever made in a short range battle practice. According to his discharge record the entry reads: "Member of crew of Turrent #4. U.S.S. West Virginia in Short Range Battle Practice 1925-1926. which turrent made the highest final score ever made by a 16" turrent in this type of practice". Whenever he could get us to sit around and listen to his exploits that story was always told. He was also fond of telling about his friendship with the Navy's 'Strong Man' who's name I plain just don't remember but dad would tell us about the competitions his friend won and how he would tear thick telephone books in half, etc. and etc.
He was Honorably discharged from the Navy from the U.S.S. Maryland in San Pedro, CA November 28, 1929 and had many jobs before becoming a garment cutter. He worked as a salesman of some type or the other in Lawrenceburg for awhile, then he went to work in the steel foundries in Pennsylvania for awhile. I really don't know how many jobs he tried before becoming a garment cutter about 1935 but he had his share. He always kept coming home to Lawrence County and stayed for quite awhile in Cochran, GA with Aunt Ginny and Grandmother to be able to stay close to Uncle Bryan who was in the Atlanta Federal Prison at the time. It is my understanding, from his stories that it was in Cochran that he learned the garment cutters trade. Apparently he was the best at the business as he was widely sought after by garment manufacturers.
His first love was the guitar. He was an excellent Blues guitarist and, until he got older and his hands started to shake a lot, he could do a Blues run that would give you chill bumps. I have also heard him play violin (fiddle), banjo and mandolin. I have to admit he was very good on a harmonica too. When I was a kid he would still play with impromtu groups and he and musician friends would get together and have an old time 'hoe-down' now and again but raising a family kind of quashed any long term musical ambitions. He gave me one of his guitars a few years before he died and I still have it. The arthritis in my left hand from a frostbite injury prevents me from playing anymore but I still keep it in it's case. He was 42 when he married my mother and she was 17. Dad played with a band in Lawrence County in those days and that's how he and mother met.
From then on he just stayed home and traveled from one place to another in search of the ever elusive 'perfect job'.
He walked virtually everywhere he ever went, even after we finally got a car, which mother drove. I never knew of him to ride to work with anyone unless a work acquaintance or a friend saw him walking and offered him a ride. He would always find us a place to live within 2 or 3 miles of his workplace. When I was a young boy he had a motorized bicycle which he would ride to work and back but the last time I recall seeing that thing was about the age of 7 or 8.
When he was a young man he would drive a car but one time he had a pretty serious car wreck on the same road where uncle Bryan got killed, about the same place, and never drove a car again. He did teach mother to drive in an old Nash Rambler a short time after they married.
Until the cigarettes and the fabric lint he breathed in most of his life started to rob him of air he would walk everywhere. Even when he was in his final years and couldn't walk more than a few feet without having to sit down and catch his breath he would walk where ever he wanted to go. It would just take him longer as he had to stop and get his breath much more often.
My dad taught us values, respect and consideration of others, kindness to others less fortunate than we, how to care for and respect animals, how to work hard and earn everything we got, Never to take what we hadn't earned and many other things I took for granted until he died and then I realized too late that we never thanked him and rarely ever told him we loved him and that is my greatest regret.
He didn't, as he got older, care too much for being out or about other than being a victim of the so called 'sundowner's syndrome'. In the '50s and 60's that term meant that he never stayed happy too long in one place and followed the setting sun anticipating greener grass in other fields.
On December 13, 1923, after living a spoiled existence on the farm in Appleton as the youngest of 8 children (2 born of Silas and Margaret, 6 born of Silas and Mary), he joined the Navy and went to sea. As long as I can remember he carried his discharge record around in his pocket virtually every place he ever went. At the time he was discharged from the Navy, November 28, 1929, the discharge records were designed to be carried and were bound in a small, pocket sized hardback folder (I have his original, virtually worn out, discharge packet). His conduct ratings, except for one time in June 1928 in China, were always the maximum 40. For some reason in June 1928 he got a cold 20. I don't know what he did to cause that but it must have been a doozy.
From February 1928 to August 1929 he served on the battleship U.S.S. Beaver in Amoy and Tsingtao, China during the China War (See the movie 'Sand Pebbles' starring Steve McQueen for a better picture of that war) and in his later years he was proud to be a member of the VFW. The old guys would sit around and tell war stories to each other. He said that until he was old and decrepit he wasn't aware that the China Wars were considered as a foreign war for Americans so he never knew he could join until he was about 70 years old. He was a member of the VFW in Lawrenceburg. According to his retelling, the U.S. ships pretty much just laid off the China Coast but didn't do too much except lobe an occasional round onto a predetermined target and, since he didn't determine it, he had no idea what they shot at. As he said, "I was the Striker. I didn't aim it or shoot it".
On February 1926, and this was his favorite story to constantly, over and over and over, tell us kids about, He was a Striker in the gun turrent #4 of the U.S.S. West Virginia and his turrent made the highest final score ever made in a short range battle practice. According to his discharge record the entry reads: "Member of crew of Turrent #4. U.S.S. West Virginia in Short Range Battle Practice 1925-1926. which turrent made the highest final score ever made by a 16" turrent in this type of practice". Whenever he could get us to sit around and listen to his exploits that story was always told. He was also fond of telling about his friendship with the Navy's 'Strong Man' who's name I plain just don't remember but dad would tell us about the competitions his friend won and how he would tear thick telephone books in half, etc. and etc.
He was Honorably discharged from the Navy from the U.S.S. Maryland in San Pedro, CA November 28, 1929 and had many jobs before becoming a garment cutter. He worked as a salesman of some type or the other in Lawrenceburg for awhile, then he went to work in the steel foundries in Pennsylvania for awhile. I really don't know how many jobs he tried before becoming a garment cutter about 1935 but he had his share. He always kept coming home to Lawrence County and stayed for quite awhile in Cochran, GA with Aunt Ginny and Grandmother to be able to stay close to Uncle Bryan who was in the Atlanta Federal Prison at the time. It is my understanding, from his stories that it was in Cochran that he learned the garment cutters trade. Apparently he was the best at the business as he was widely sought after by garment manufacturers.
His first love was the guitar. He was an excellent Blues guitarist and, until he got older and his hands started to shake a lot, he could do a Blues run that would give you chill bumps. I have also heard him play violin (fiddle), banjo and mandolin. I have to admit he was very good on a harmonica too. When I was a kid he would still play with impromtu groups and he and musician friends would get together and have an old time 'hoe-down' now and again but raising a family kind of quashed any long term musical ambitions. He gave me one of his guitars a few years before he died and I still have it. The arthritis in my left hand from a frostbite injury prevents me from playing anymore but I still keep it in it's case. He was 42 when he married my mother and she was 17. Dad played with a band in Lawrence County in those days and that's how he and mother met.
From then on he just stayed home and traveled from one place to another in search of the ever elusive 'perfect job'.
He walked virtually everywhere he ever went, even after we finally got a car, which mother drove. I never knew of him to ride to work with anyone unless a work acquaintance or a friend saw him walking and offered him a ride. He would always find us a place to live within 2 or 3 miles of his workplace. When I was a young boy he had a motorized bicycle which he would ride to work and back but the last time I recall seeing that thing was about the age of 7 or 8.
When he was a young man he would drive a car but one time he had a pretty serious car wreck on the same road where uncle Bryan got killed, about the same place, and never drove a car again. He did teach mother to drive in an old Nash Rambler a short time after they married.
Until the cigarettes and the fabric lint he breathed in most of his life started to rob him of air he would walk everywhere. Even when he was in his final years and couldn't walk more than a few feet without having to sit down and catch his breath he would walk where ever he wanted to go. It would just take him longer as he had to stop and get his breath much more often.
My dad taught us values, respect and consideration of others, kindness to others less fortunate than we, how to care for and respect animals, how to work hard and earn everything we got, Never to take what we hadn't earned and many other things I took for granted until he died and then I realized too late that we never thanked him and rarely ever told him we loved him and that is my greatest regret.
Patrick Hugo Conway (known as Hugh all of his life), my father, was a gentle man who, to the best of my knowledge, never hurt anyone deliberately.
He didn't, as he got older, care too much for being out or about other than being a victim of the so called 'sundowner's syndrome'. In the '50s and 60's that term meant that he never stayed happy too long in one place and followed the setting sun anticipating greener grass in other fields.
On December 13, 1923, after living a spoiled existence on the farm in Appleton as the youngest of 8 children (2 born of Silas and Margaret, 6 born of Silas and Mary), he joined the Navy and went to sea. As long as I can remember he carried his discharge record around in his pocket virtually every place he ever went. At the time he was discharged from the Navy, November 28, 1929, the discharge records were designed to be carried and were bound in a small, pocket sized hardback folder (I have his original, virtually worn out, discharge packet). His conduct ratings, except for one time in June 1928 in China, were always the maximum 40. For some reason in June 1928 he got a cold 20. I don't know what he did to cause that but it must have been a doozy.
From February 1928 to August 1929 he served on the battleship U.S.S. Beaver in Amoy and Tsingtao, China during the China War (See the movie 'Sand Pebbles' starring Steve McQueen for a better picture of that war) and in his later years he was proud to be a member of the VFW. The old guys would sit around and tell war stories to each other. He said that until he was old and decrepit he wasn't aware that the China Wars were considered as a foreign war for Americans so he never knew he could join until he was about 70 years old. He was a member of the VFW in Lawrenceburg. According to his retelling, the U.S. ships pretty much just laid off the China Coast but didn't do too much except lobe an occasional round onto a predetermined target and, since he didn't determine it, he had no idea what they shot at. As he said, "I was the Striker. I didn't aim it or shoot it".
On February 1926, and this was his favorite story to constantly, over and over and over, tell us kids about, He was a Striker in the gun turrent #4 of the U.S.S. West Virginia and his turrent made the highest final score ever made in a short range battle practice. According to his discharge record the entry reads: "Member of crew of Turrent #4. U.S.S. West Virginia in Short Range Battle Practice 1925-1926. which turrent made the highest final score ever made by a 16" turrent in this type of practice". Whenever he could get us to sit around and listen to his exploits that story was always told. He was also fond of telling about his friendship with the Navy's 'Strong Man' who's name I plain just don't remember but dad would tell us about the competitions his friend won and how he would tear thick telephone books in half, etc. and etc.
He was Honorably discharged from the Navy from the U.S.S. Maryland in San Pedro, CA November 28, 1929 and had many jobs before becoming a garment cutter. He worked as a salesman of some type or the other in Lawrenceburg for awhile, then he went to work in the steel foundries in Pennsylvania for awhile. I really don't know how many jobs he tried before becoming a garment cutter about 1935 but he had his share. He always kept coming home to Lawrence County and stayed for quite awhile in Cochran, GA with Aunt Ginny and Grandmother to be able to stay close to Uncle Bryan who was in the Atlanta Federal Prison at the time. It is my understanding, from his stories that it was in Cochran that he learned the garment cutters trade. Apparently he was the best at the business as he was widely sought after by garment manufacturers.
His first love was the guitar. He was an excellent Blues guitarist and, until he got older and his hands started to shake a lot, he could do a Blues run that would give you chill bumps. I have also heard him play violin (fiddle), banjo and mandolin. I have to admit he was very good on a harmonica too. When I was a kid he would still play with impromtu groups and he and musician friends would get together and have an old time 'hoe-down' now and again but raising a family kind of quashed any long term musical ambitions. He gave me one of his guitars a few years before he died and I still have it. The arthritis in my left hand from a frostbite injury prevents me from playing anymore but I still keep it in it's case. He was 42 when he married my mother and she was 17. Dad played with a band in Lawrence County in those days and that's how he and mother met.
From then on he just stayed home and traveled from one place to another in search of the ever elusive 'perfect job'.
He walked virtually everywhere he ever went, even after we finally got a car, which mother drove. I never knew of him to ride to work with anyone unless a work acquaintance or a friend saw him walking and offered him a ride. He would always find us a place to live within 2 or 3 miles of his workplace. When I was a young boy he had a motorized bicycle which he would ride to work and back but the last time I recall seeing that thing was about the age of 7 or 8.
When he was a young man he would drive a car but one time he had a pretty serious car wreck on the same road where uncle Bryan got killed, about the same place, and never drove a car again. He did teach mother to drive in an old Nash Rambler a short time after they married.
Until the cigarettes and the fabric lint he breathed in most of his life started to rob him of air he would walk everywhere. Even when he was in his final years and couldn't walk more than a few feet without having to sit down and catch his breath he would walk where ever he wanted to go. It would just take him longer as he had to stop and get his breath much more often.
My dad taught us values, respect and consideration of others, kindness to others less fortunate than we, how to care for and respect animals, how to work hard and earn everything we got, Never to take what we hadn't earned and many other things I took for granted until he died and then I realized too late that we never thanked him and rarely ever told him we loved him and that is my greatest regret.
He didn't, as he got older, care too much for being out or about other than being a victim of the so called 'sundowner's syndrome'. In the '50s and 60's that term meant that he never stayed happy too long in one place and followed the setting sun anticipating greener grass in other fields.
On December 13, 1923, after living a spoiled existence on the farm in Appleton as the youngest of 8 children (2 born of Silas and Margaret, 6 born of Silas and Mary), he joined the Navy and went to sea. As long as I can remember he carried his discharge record around in his pocket virtually every place he ever went. At the time he was discharged from the Navy, November 28, 1929, the discharge records were designed to be carried and were bound in a small, pocket sized hardback folder (I have his original, virtually worn out, discharge packet). His conduct ratings, except for one time in June 1928 in China, were always the maximum 40. For some reason in June 1928 he got a cold 20. I don't know what he did to cause that but it must have been a doozy.
From February 1928 to August 1929 he served on the battleship U.S.S. Beaver in Amoy and Tsingtao, China during the China War (See the movie 'Sand Pebbles' starring Steve McQueen for a better picture of that war) and in his later years he was proud to be a member of the VFW. The old guys would sit around and tell war stories to each other. He said that until he was old and decrepit he wasn't aware that the China Wars were considered as a foreign war for Americans so he never knew he could join until he was about 70 years old. He was a member of the VFW in Lawrenceburg. According to his retelling, the U.S. ships pretty much just laid off the China Coast but didn't do too much except lobe an occasional round onto a predetermined target and, since he didn't determine it, he had no idea what they shot at. As he said, "I was the Striker. I didn't aim it or shoot it".
On February 1926, and this was his favorite story to constantly, over and over and over, tell us kids about, He was a Striker in the gun turrent #4 of the U.S.S. West Virginia and his turrent made the highest final score ever made in a short range battle practice. According to his discharge record the entry reads: "Member of crew of Turrent #4. U.S.S. West Virginia in Short Range Battle Practice 1925-1926. which turrent made the highest final score ever made by a 16" turrent in this type of practice". Whenever he could get us to sit around and listen to his exploits that story was always told. He was also fond of telling about his friendship with the Navy's 'Strong Man' who's name I plain just don't remember but dad would tell us about the competitions his friend won and how he would tear thick telephone books in half, etc. and etc.
He was Honorably discharged from the Navy from the U.S.S. Maryland in San Pedro, CA November 28, 1929 and had many jobs before becoming a garment cutter. He worked as a salesman of some type or the other in Lawrenceburg for awhile, then he went to work in the steel foundries in Pennsylvania for awhile. I really don't know how many jobs he tried before becoming a garment cutter about 1935 but he had his share. He always kept coming home to Lawrence County and stayed for quite awhile in Cochran, GA with Aunt Ginny and Grandmother to be able to stay close to Uncle Bryan who was in the Atlanta Federal Prison at the time. It is my understanding, from his stories that it was in Cochran that he learned the garment cutters trade. Apparently he was the best at the business as he was widely sought after by garment manufacturers.
His first love was the guitar. He was an excellent Blues guitarist and, until he got older and his hands started to shake a lot, he could do a Blues run that would give you chill bumps. I have also heard him play violin (fiddle), banjo and mandolin. I have to admit he was very good on a harmonica too. When I was a kid he would still play with impromtu groups and he and musician friends would get together and have an old time 'hoe-down' now and again but raising a family kind of quashed any long term musical ambitions. He gave me one of his guitars a few years before he died and I still have it. The arthritis in my left hand from a frostbite injury prevents me from playing anymore but I still keep it in it's case. He was 42 when he married my mother and she was 17. Dad played with a band in Lawrence County in those days and that's how he and mother met.
From then on he just stayed home and traveled from one place to another in search of the ever elusive 'perfect job'.
He walked virtually everywhere he ever went, even after we finally got a car, which mother drove. I never knew of him to ride to work with anyone unless a work acquaintance or a friend saw him walking and offered him a ride. He would always find us a place to live within 2 or 3 miles of his workplace. When I was a young boy he had a motorized bicycle which he would ride to work and back but the last time I recall seeing that thing was about the age of 7 or 8.
When he was a young man he would drive a car but one time he had a pretty serious car wreck on the same road where uncle Bryan got killed, about the same place, and never drove a car again. He did teach mother to drive in an old Nash Rambler a short time after they married.
Until the cigarettes and the fabric lint he breathed in most of his life started to rob him of air he would walk everywhere. Even when he was in his final years and couldn't walk more than a few feet without having to sit down and catch his breath he would walk where ever he wanted to go. It would just take him longer as he had to stop and get his breath much more often.
My dad taught us values, respect and consideration of others, kindness to others less fortunate than we, how to care for and respect animals, how to work hard and earn everything we got, Never to take what we hadn't earned and many other things I took for granted until he died and then I realized too late that we never thanked him and rarely ever told him we loved him and that is my greatest regret.
Inscription
S1 US Navy
