Jim Walsh My father was a working-class guy and an entrepreneur. I think. But he, like all of us, defies categorization.
He was both those things and more. Much more. Like all of us.
He was born in 1903 and grew up across the street from a fire station in Hartford, Conn. As a boy, on Saturday mornings he would open the apartment window and climb out onto the fire escape to watch the fire horses go through their paces across the street. Fire horses! Some 50 years later, he saw Neil Armstrong exit his spacecraft and step onto the surface of the moon.
Dad had health problems growing up and, as a result, attended a “fresh-air school” where classes were held outside or with the windows open. Sometimes, the students wrapped themselves in blankets as they were being taught. In the opening decade of the 20th century schools were often designed to circulate as much fresh air as possible.
The Valley Road School in Nahant had that kind of design. Dad had a bachelor uncle, Francie, who owned a tobacco farm outside of Hartford. Even before his teenage years began, Dad worked on Uncle Francie’s farm.
There was an implicit promise that the farm would be one day his. After high school, he attended Storrs Agricultural College for a year. It would later become the University of Connecticut.
His life was unfolding before him. He was one happy guy..
. until, while he was at Storrs, Uncle Francie decided to get married, and dad’s agricultural future slipped away. Then his mother died.
On h.
