Maude McKinley Connelly was born in 1892 and passed away on January 1, 1967. Maude’s mother was Bessie Price (Jewish), and the story goes that when she married her McKinley husband (Catholic), she was disowned by her family. At that time, there were such strong feelings that you stayed with your “own kind” when it came to marriage to preserve your identity and heritage. So it wasn’t common for blended marriages between ethnic and/or religious communities such as a Jewish and Catholic marriage back then.
Sadly, I don’t remember hearing many stories about Michael and Maude Connelly. What I do remember being told is that Michael was a very successful businessman owning a trucking company and a restaurant that I believe was located in Woodcliff Lake; but all was lost during the Depression. Consequently, in 1935 the Connellys moved to Allendale from Passaic where Michael and Maude became the managers of the Allendale Hotel, which became the new home for Michael, Maude, and their girls. This was the original site for the Allendale Bar & Grill. A couple years after making this move, Michael died suddenly of a stroke or aneurysm.
In September 1947, the Allendale Borough Council voted five to one to approve the transfer of Maude’s liquor license from the Allendale Hotel premises to the address of her new bar and grill, 67 West Allendale Avenue, following a stormy public hearing attended by more than 300 residents in the Fire House. Mrs. Ethel Braun Maratene, owner of the hotel property sought to prevent the transfer on the grounds that the “right” to the license was vested in the property. It was reported in The Sunday News that the hearing was heated and filled with recriminations. The audience was openly hostile to Judge Dwyer who represented Mrs. Maratene interrupting him with frequent boos. A former mayor also accused the councilman who voted against the transfer, of authoring the anonymous “Citizens Welfare Committee’s letter” urging residents to oppose the license transfer.
Threat of eviction from the hotel and eventual loss of business and livelihood prompted Maude to purchase the new property and construct the bar and grill addition. When being cross-examined by Judge Dwyer, she admitted that she took a gamble in going ahead before being granted the license transfer but said that under the law there was nothing else she could have done. She had been assured, however, that because of her good record during nine and a half years in the hotel there could be no bona fide reason for refusing the transfer. Construction permits issued by Federal authorities gave her added encouragement. So the Allendale Bar & Grill moved to its current location; Maude and her daughters lived in the house that was attached to the tavern. Through the years, the house was renovated to expand the dining room and kitchen areas, as well as adding another bar.
From the very beginning, Maude “Mom” Connelly was well-known for her generosity to those down and out. It was customary for the Allendale Police to bring drifters and hoboes lingering in town or along the railroad tracks to Mom’s kitchen door. I have memories of them being served a hot meal in her family dining room and then leaving with a bagged lunch for the road as the police moved them along. She also started the tradition at Mom’s Allendale Bar & Grill of a free corned beef and cabbage dinner every St. Patrick’s Day which continues today. Maude was also “Barracks Mother” of the local State Police detachment when located in the borough and then later Ramsey, and she also served as an air raid warden for Allendale during World War II. As a young child walking through town with my grandmother, she would be greeted by those passing, “Hi Mom,” and I can remember thinking, why don’t I see all these people on Thanksgiving?
“Maude Connelly, 75, Belle of Firemen” was how her death notice was listed in the New Jersey Bergen Record. The article reported that she was the only member of the Allendale Fire Department Auxiliary. The Fire Department did not have a regular auxiliary but made Mom Connelly a special member in view of her personality and service to the community (she lived in Allendale for over 30 years). There wasn’t a fire in Allendale that she didn’t provide hot food and drink to the town’s volunteer firefighters, either delivering to them at the fire site or serving them in her personal dining room following the fire. Because I spent many summer nights at her house, I recall as a kid helping to prepare the food. She attended the Firemen’s Conventions, and I have fond memories of the Firemen picnics and parades that we would attend in Allendale as well as surrounding local towns. These picnics and parades were very popular back then as a means to raise money for the volunteer firehouses.
I can’t help but think of some of her trusted and loyal staff and friends. Annie, who was so loved by my mother and aunts, was a young immigrant girl from Germany who was taken under the wing of Mom Connelly. She worked in the AB&G kitchen from the beginning; but more importantly, she became family. Legend has it she was a wonderful baker and very loyal to Mom. She vacationed at the shore with us and attended family gatherings. Casey Mahoney became Mom’s sidekick after Annie, and she seemed a permanent fixture there until Nana retired.
Schultz, the evening bartender, is a vivid memory for me as he was a happy, fun, and kind gentleman; and he is the only other person I remember seeing behind the AB&G bar besides Mom and Uncle Walt when I was younger. One night while I was helping Nana in the kitchen, I had a terrible toothache. She sent me out to the bar to ask Schultz for a shot of whiskey for my tooth, which I did, and he gave to me. I then proceeded to drink that shot standing right there at the end of the bar then returning the empty shot glass to Schultz. I remember his expression changing to a combination of surprise and fear, I think. Returning to the kitchen, Nana asked me where the shot of whiskey was. When I told her that I drank it, she became so upset and said, “You weren’t supposed to drink it! You were to bring it back here to hold the whiskey over your tooth to kill the pain.” She was so worried about being closed down by the ABC (Alcoholic Beverage Control). I was then sent upstairs to lie down so it could wear off.
I grew up working at Mom Connelly’s AB&G. In fact, many of her sixteen grandchildren earned money working in some role at the AB&G. When we were really young, our work was mostly making pizza boxes. When we needed spending money, we would go to Nana’s and make boxes. Even when most of the rooms in her house were already filled with piles of boxes stacked to the ceiling, I don’t ever remember her refusing me the opportunity to earn money. I believe we got paid by the box; what we wanted the money for determined how many boxes we would make at that time. I advanced from pizza boxes to washing/drying dishes; to cleaning the boarders’ rooms; to serving meals to her boarders as well as the members of the Allendale Chamber Commerce who met monthly in her personal dining room; to making pizzas, sandwiches; to waitressing for her customers; and eventually to running the kitchen on Saturday afternoons and other times when needed. Did I mention that Mom’s pizzas were hailed as among the best pizzas in Bergen County?
During the summer when Art, Cathy, and I worked in the kitchen, we would spend the nights at her house. In fact, we probably spent many of our summer nights at Nana’s. I don’t think we ever got bored there as we were busy working and just being kids hanging out with friends and doing things around town. When we were younger, one of the highlights of working in the kitchen was getting to ride in the back of the beer truck after the delivery. I believe the driver’s name was Red, and we would watch him roll the large beer barrels down the ramp to the dark and damp cellar below the tavern. If he wasn’t behind in his deliveries, he would let us climb into the truck, and with the large sliding door left opened, he would let us ride in the cargo area while he drove through town, as we waved to folks we knew along the way.
Thinking about it now, beer was a theme for us growing up and provided us some amusement, like the Miss Rheingold Contest. I recently read that this contest was one of the most successful advertising campaigns in history, launched in 1940 by Philip Liebmann, great-grandson of the brewery’s founder. Later, to up the excitement, the brewery allowed any young woman in America to audition, a kind of American Idol before its time. In 1957, the six-week campaign vote total was an astonishing 23 million, almost as many as in the presidential election the year before. Printed voting ballots were dropped in bars, liquor stores, and wherever else Rheingold beer was sold—like Mom Connelly’s Bar and Grill. This became an obsession for us as we felt a great responsibility to help “our girl” win. Sometimes it was a team effort as we wanted the same candidate to win, and other times, it became a competition between us because we each chose a different candidate. In the mornings, when we were helping to clean the bar room, refill condiments and silverware bins, etc., we would stuff the ballot box with slips for our girls. Not wanting to be too obvious, we would do that a couple of times throughout the day over the six-week period. I know we certainly did our part, as we had a few winners. Interestingly, in 1964 Rheingold was sold to new owners and that was the year of the last contest. I think a couple of years later, Rheingold disappeared. I also read that the “Miss Rheingold Contest” was probably missed more than the beer.
The cellar below the tavern was quite large as it stored the beer barrels, liquor, supplies, etc. We actually shied away from going down there because it was so dark and scary with many unidentified reflections. One summer, we must have been feeling particularly brave because we spent quite a bit of time down there when we weren’t helping in the kitchen. We moved things around, swept up the dirt and dust, and set up crates for people to sit on. As I remember it, there were large pallets from the beer deliveries that we used as a stage area, and one or maybe two light bulbs hung by a string over that area. That is where we decided to have a talent show. When Art and I were reminiscing about this, he reminded me that we got this idea from The Little Rascals, Our Gang show. I can remember practicing our dancing and singing, making flyers advertising the performance, making tickets to sell; and it seems we poured our heart, soul, and energy into this. We walked around town handing out flyers and feeling the excitement of getting ready for our grand production. No surprise here, but my memory is a complete blur when I try to remember who was in the audience for our final performance. No doubt, Nana was there, and I would venture to say maybe our mothers, but I can’t remember other members of the audience; and we certainly didn’t receive any bouquet of flowers after the final curtain. Art wasn’t much help remembering either.
Another part of Nana’s house that was a mystery—yet so inviting—was the attic. There were wardrobes filled with party dresses, wedding gowns, my mother’s naval uniform and other military uniforms, as well as photo albums, suitcases, and many other unidentified items. I wish I could go through that attic today, as I am certain we would find many family keepsakes and photographs that unfortunately were lost with the change of ownership.
Maude Connelly loved to make Christmas special for all of her family, to the point of hocking her jewelry at a pawn shop in NYC which would then be reclaimed in February/March. I was told this was a frequent habit depending on business. When I was very young, we would gather at her house on Christmas Eve where the younger kids were put down to sleep while the adults and older children went to midnight mass. The non-church-going uncles were left in charge of the kids sleeping. After mass, a spread would be put out on the dining room table where the adults gathered while my grandmother distributed her gifts. There would be stacks of presents everywhere throughout the living and sitting rooms, as you can imagine, since she had sixteen grandchildren, in addition to her five daughters and sons-in-law. What excitement we felt as she took each of us to our pile to open our gifts and enjoy the moment. At that time, I never thought about all the other grandchildren, because she made me feel like it was all about me—as she made all of her grandchildren feel, I am sure. That was such a memorable and happy time that I will never forget; but I also won’t forget when that tradition stopped, because her daughters disagreed as to whether the tradition should continue. When that tradition ended, my grandmother was broken-hearted and very sad. It was one of the few times I saw my grandmother crying, which upset me very much, and I thought I would never forgive those who made her cry.
When I think of Mom as a business woman, I think she managed her business more with her heartstrings and faith than directed by her business sense. Making money was not her bottom line. I believe she was happy and content as long as she made enough money to make Christmas special for her family and to make her annual trip to Miami, Florida, each January through February, for her rest and recreation. At that time, her daughters Margie, Cecil, and Bea took over for her. She probably also wanted enough funds to play the slot machines which she really enjoyed. Though she didn’t do it often, it was a pastime that brought her some hours of entertainment and fun.
I can still see her overseeing things in the kitchen and directing me to put more meat or cheese on that sandwich. She would say, “These men are working hard and need to be fed.” That was true for each customer, whether the person worked in construction or in the bank. That was her business plan: good food, generous portions, and reasonable prices. I smile when I think of her and today’s business standards and controls.
My grandmother was also very generous in lending her grandchildren use of her car. She maintained ownership of her Black Chevy Nova long after she stopped driving, and as we reached the age of 17 and got our driving licenses, we were allowed to borrow her car when she wasn’t using it, especially on the weekends when we wanted to go out. As long as we always brought it back by a set curfew and made sure gas was left in the tank, we had this privilege. She kept her car so her grandchildren could drive her to do errands, visit friends, go to the Jersey Shore, or into New York City. She liked having that independence and ability to get around.
Nana was born and raised as well as worked in NYC, and she loved it! She would take her grandchildren by train into New York for the day. First stop was always St. Patrick’s Cathedral to light candles and pray, then some shopping especially for her shoes and dresses, then Radio City Music Hall, a carriage ride through Central Park, the Empire State Building, or some other landmark or place of interest that she thought we would enjoy. Sure wish I could remember the name of a certain Chinese restaurant she enjoyed visiting for afternoon tea or an early dinner. She really came alive in NYC and had such energy as she would walk everywhere, until we would ask if we could take a cab to our next stop. Mom also enjoyed having her grandchildren visit her when she was in Miami. She would fly a few of us down for Spring Break to stay with her at the Park Hotel, which was a very modest establishment. Cathy, Art, and I made the trip together, which was my first time flying. Of course, Art was whispering in my ear the entire flight that we were going to crash, and I was a nervous wreck! I was praying the rosary like nobody’s business. We had a fun week of deep sea fishing, days at the beach, and dinners out. Cathy, a few years older than I, somehow got Nana to agree to let us go dancing at the USO one night. All was fun and well until Cathy stepped outside with a sailor, and my grandmother was there to greet them. She was upset, and we had to leave.
When Mom Connelly retired in 1963, she wanted the AB&G to remain in the family; and for that reason, she urged and actually pleaded with my parents to become partners in this transition of ownership. Uncle Walt was a full-time printer but worked at the bar on weekends; my Uncle Neil was a full-time employee at the tavern, which became his livelihood after he returned from WWII as an injured vet. He enjoyed telling the story to his bar friends and other patrons of how he lost his leg serving under General Patton. I know that his handicap did not stop him from becoming a bicycle enthusiast and he was well-known in the area for Sunday jaunts around Bergen County. It wasn’t unusual to drive along the road and see him riding his bicycle. My cousin Mike was working full-time at Mosstype in Waldwick but was also bartending part-time on weeknights and weekends.
I don’t know exactly what was discussed, but I know there were many conversations around our kitchen table. My parents were not keen on the idea of becoming partners in the AB&G, as my father, at the time, traveled during the week with his job and was home only on the weekends. Well, Nana made a hard sell to my parents, and they finally agreed to it, so she could retire. Mom retired, sold the business to three of her sons-in-law and grandson, and moved to 133 West Crescent Avenue. I am certain that her vision of the future did not entail the hurt and ill-feelings within the family that grew stronger through the years as the partnerships changed. Unfortunately, somewhat of a dividing line grew between her daughters’ families, even those not involved in the business, the first of many wounds, as feelings were hurt that all of the sons-in-law weren’t asked to be a part of the business transition. When my brother Jimmy returned from the Army, he bought my parents’ share, which I know was a relief for them. Eventually, Jimmy decided he wanted out of the business. He decided to move to Vermont, so he sold his share to Kevin. He was not the first to leave the partnership though, and through the years as ownership changes took place and differences developed between the partners, Mom’s family became more divided. I often wondered if Mom Connelly looking down regretted her plan and wished she had done things differently. Can’t remember exactly when, but after Mom retired and was living with us, she went on a trip to Atlantic City probably with her good friends, the Wilsons. Anyway, I believe it was there she had her first heart attack and was hospitalized there. It wasn’t common practice for our Allendale Volunteer Ambulance Corp to transport folks in a non-emergency situation, but because it was Mom Connelly, they made the trip to Atlantic City to bring her home to Allendale. I distinctly remember this because my best friend’s dad, Joe Kiss, told me what an honor it was for him to be chosen as part of the team that made the trip to bring Mom Connelly home.
To this day, I have regretted the night I didn’t stop in to wish my grandmother a Happy New Year and give her a good night kiss, which I did every night on my way to bed. Being that her bedroom was near the bathroom, my ritual was to stop in to see her. Some nights I would sit with her and chat as we watched her shows, and other nights it would just be a quick catch-up and good night kiss. The next morning, January 1, 1967, excited voices and commotion woke me up as the Allendale Ambulance Corp arrived to take Nana to the hospital as she was not feeling well. I was sitting at the kitchen table when they took her on the stretcher to the hospital with my parents following them. That was the last time I saw her alive. I remember my parents returning later from the hospital upset, and my mother going into her room, throwing herself on her bed, sobbing. Within hours, my aunts, uncles, and cousins arrived, gathering in the kitchen to discuss funeral arrangements. That was one of the saddest days of my life that I will never forget.
I was so blessed to have her as a grandmother and role model. It wasn’t till years later as a young woman and mother that I realized how invaluable the life lessons were that I absorbed and learned from this woman. “Mom Connelly” is a legend at the AB&G in Allendale, and she continues to be an inspiration to me.
The magic of Christmas lingers on,
Though childhood days have passed,
Upon the common round of life,
A Holy Spell is cast.
