How do you sum up my Dad’s life and achievements in a standard obituary? It is impossible. His life and legacy is overwhelming. What deserves to be printed for the archives of local history, I don’t claim to know - but what follows is a snapshot…
On May 13, 2020 Lawrence P. Mulvey, Sr., patriarch of his family, passed away with a smile on his face. The love of his life, Patricia, had been at his bedside to comfort him. She brushed back his hair, and while hand-in-hand, she expressed her love and appreciation for providing such a beautiful, memorable life for her and their boys. She then told him to wait patiently at the dance floor for her so they can dance again like they used to. He passed away the following afternoon, content and at peace. It’s as picture-perfect as they could get. Pat and Larry were married on November 22, 1958 in New Bedford, Massachusetts. They both vowed to stay together in the good times and bad through sickness and health, till death do us part. They faced it all, and more, head on together. They were married 62 years. As you read on, the many accomplishments and sweet memories that built such a legacy would not have been possible without my mother holding the reigns. As the saying goes, behind every good man there’s a great woman. So with that said make yourself a cocktail, a beer, a scotch and soda extra lime and ice (Dad’s favorite), and read on.
My father was part of a traditional Irish family – made up of two hard-working, diligent parents, and twelve children. He watched his older siblings go off to war, earn jobs, and start families while he was still in grade school. He got through high school, and then started working for his father’s masonry business. When America entered the Korean war conflict, Lawrence enlisted and was stationed in Germany. He told me the women were not only huge in stature but could palm his face – I didn’t get the joke until I was older. When he got home, he was hired to COM Electric Company, and worked as a foreman. I didn’t realize what a demanding and stressful job it was until I was older. I remember as a kid growing up, dad shaving with a straight blade razor every morning while Ma made our lunches. Before he was done, he’d slap his face with Old Spice aftershave, give everybody a peck on the cheek and tell us to be good, and off he went. Same routine every day. A lot of times we wouldn’t see him for a couple of days – he had to work during blizzards, hurricanes, storms - he didn’t have the time to be scared and tired. He was well suited to the work thanks to his Irish luck; he was involved in no less than three manhole explosions and managed to come out of them unscathed. He provided a safe and happy home for all of us, and made sure we didn’t go without. I know my brothers and I made sure to thank him for that individually as well as all together numerous times throughout our lives, and most recently before he got ill. He knew how much he was loved and appreciated, right through to the end.
Our house was another point of pride for my Dad. It was the family gathering place. My parents hosted family clam bakes, cookouts, Christmas Eve parties, birthdays, holidays – you name it. If they throw a party for it, it happened at our house. Dad just loved to see and be with family. Now remember – he’s one of twelve. And each of those twelve siblings had more than one child. The guest lists have always been enormous.
As if that wasn’t enough, Dad found a way to make an event out of simple family vacations. It all started, I believe, with our first vacation skiing at Kings Grant Inn on Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire. My brothers and I hadn’t seen a mountain in real life before that. And it was another movie moment - all of us crammed into a station wagon with our faces plastered to the foggy windows in awe. My Dad white-knuckling the steering wheel, Ma holding her rosary as we pushed through a white-out blizzard at 25 miles an hour. It instantly became a ritual every February school vacation. It was better than Christmas vacation, we couldn’t wait. The crew grew and grew to include family friends and their kids. I remember many nights during those trips getting up at 3AM to hear a rowdy party still going on downstairs, long after the parents had told us kids to get to bed.
Fast-forward to when my brothers and I got older – add in our wives, girlfriends and children, his grown nieces and nephews - even our friends were invited. Dad never said no to sharing or spreading the wealth, as he always said. He was in his element when surrounded with the ones he loved and cherished. You can see it in every photo we took on those trips. They all show him with his arms around one of us, kissing on the cheek or laughing with his head back and mouth wide-open, red face and smiling blue Irish eyes.
He was a proud family man, and loved to watch his family grow. His beloved nieces Kathy, Karen, and Michelle and their husbands, Freddie, Ray, and Steve, became an extention of his ‘kids’. Right up until a couple years ago Kathy and Karen knew how to get him going, they would tease him about women's rights and such (in a gentle, respectful way on all sides). All of us guys would just take a step back and watch Archie Bunker try and set them straight. My favorite memory of one of these moments - when the girls gave him a gift, sitting by the fire at our cabin. He opened a beautifully wrapped box – and pulled out a lace kitchen apron with his name on it! The look on his face was priceless. He wore it every time he got into the kitchen that weekend – which was frequent; he was in charge of starting the coffee and sometimes making breakfast in the mornings.
I can’t talk about family without mentioning my Dad’s fourth son: Yogi, the Border Collie/Labrador mix my brothers bought for $10 and brought home without permission. Dad loved that dog, and Yogi loved him. I swear that dog understood everything you said. Among his things at Sacred Heart Home there are photos of his wife, his kids and grandkids, and a framed portrait of Yogi, fur wet with sea water, at their favorite spot at Horseneck Beach. I have a feeling Yogi will be the first one Dad looks for in heaven.
As our family grew, we developed more and more traditions. My brothers and I gave him his beloved grandchildren: Sarah, Kayla, Grace, Emily, Jacob, and Quinn. As a Dad myself now of Jacob ,20, I know you look for any opportunity to get together without imposing on their lives or work schedules. We did whatever we could – birthdays and graduations were recognized with pizza and cake, and then there were the seasonal adventures: going to get a pumpkin turned into a yearly hayride at Keith’s Farm, everybody scattered to find the perfect pumpkin, then back to Grandma and Grandpa’s house for a painting contest. Going to get a Christmas tree turned into finding a scrawny “Charlie Brown tree” for the deck outside as well as the giant tree for the living room, and of course, going back to the house to decorate while having hot chocolate.
That reminds me – Christmas was a moment when Dad really shined. He loved the holiday. We had multiple Christmas traditions – the fanciest of which was dressing up for dinner at Candleworks and the Christmas Carol at the Zeiterion Theatre. The tree-finding expedition became a highlight years later, but the real Big Night was the Christmas Open House. The whole family, plus every friend my parents or me and my brothers ever made, was invited as long as they brought an item for the potluck or a bottle of booze for the kitchen table-turned-bar. After food was eaten, the music books were brought out and it was time to walk the neighborhood Christmas caroling. The day of Christmas was quieter, with Mass in the morning and a beautiful feast at the house with my brothers and our families.
Dad was a good Catholic, and a parishioner of Saint Francis Xavier Church. He taught catechism in a way that made his young students understand and enjoy going, he simply listened and talked about life. Shortly after this, my Dad met Father Soto in New Bedford. He was a priest with no church, no congregation, and no money. He managed to get space in a basement of one of the empty churches in the South end of New Bedford to grow his congregation. He and Dad built a makeshift altar and a lot of folding chairs so Father Soto could give Mass in the basement. Eventually the congregation grew and moved upstairs to the marble and mahogany sanctuary and became a full-fledge Church. My Dad went on retreats and prayer weekends with Father Soto, and developed a deep connection with religion. His Catholic faith helped him through his many challenges, and was continuously strengthened by the faith of my Mom, who grew up in a very devout Catholic family. He passed this quality on to the rest of his family, and helped to ensure that his family got the best Catholic education possible at Holy Family-Holy Name School in New Bedford. He was a graduate of the Holy Name High School, and volunteered his time with the school in later years – serving as HFHN’s Chess Club Instructor. His tenure there lasted during the last few years of his youngest grandkids’ time there, and continued for years after. It was one of his favorite weekly activities.
Dad gave his time to anyone who needed help or advice on issues, especially in the town of Acushnet. He established himself as a go to guy to get your questions answered, and a vocal advocate of your concerns. Dad was also a visionary. The Acushnet River Valley golf course wouldn’t have come to be if not for his persistence and concern for the future of the town. The usual part – while being an integral part of establishing the course, he’d never touched a golf club before. As he lead the ribbon-cutting, he swung a bar for the first time (a Mulligan). My brothers and I are fortunate that we got to play quite a few Lions Club tournaments with him. It’s the most beautiful golf course I have ever played.
He’s been a citizen of Acushnet for over sixty years. He was a key player in helping his town to grow and prosper. Over the course of the years he was appointed to numerous boards, committees and lobbying campaigns for issues that were in the best interest of the town. He was elected to selectmen, the board of appeals, and the Housing Authority chairman – a position he resigned from only last year after 35 years. He also served on the Acushnet Open Space Committee, SERPED committee, and CPA committee chairman. He was a proud lion for 40+ years, receiving the honor of King Lion. He respected and loved his Lion buddies. A few of the members were present at his burial service, sending him off with a traditional toast – “Never above you, never beneath you, but always beside you.”
My Dad was also a savvy business man. During his working years, he also found time to start up a few businesses. One venture was a sports club with some friends, and another – a barroom that he purchased along with his brothers. The Pub became a spot for regulars, and a rocking joint on the weekends. I remember going in on Sunday mornings after our weekly Mass to help clean the place up. We’d also close it up on holidays for our family gatherings – which for a while there was necessary, given the table space needed for 24 adults and their children. The Pub was a spot where my Dad was in his element, behind the bar serving and swapping stories with his regulars. He also created a few of his most memorable ones in that barroom. As kids, the Pub meant baseball and fun. You see, Dad also was on the AYAA a little league. He didn’t like what he was seeing every spring - a lot of kids weren’t getting picked for teams because they weren’t good enough. I think it broke my dad’s heart, but it also got his “Irish” up, as he called it. So, as a business owner, so he created and sponsored his own team. He took anybody who tried out for him, and some of our friends who were good ball players. Everybody helped each other learn the game and we had a blast. Dad also signed up the first girl AYAA history in 1972. She was also the first person in our team’s history to hit a home run. We clearly weren’t the best in the league, but we had the most fun.
Dad and Ma were a good team. They were both good with their finances and Dad was able to retire at fifty-five. It all worked out perfect, and now it was time to travel. The photo albums are full of their adventures. A spur-of-the-moment trip to Hawaii turned into one of Dad’s best-loved trips. One particular photo shows Dad at the top of a 60-foot coconut tree as part of a bar challenge – knock down a coconut, get a cocktail called the ‘Suffering Bastard’ and a back scratcher.
Many of these trips were made just the two of them, -but many, many more happened with “the gang”. I could go on and on about how all of them together was where the action was. Their friends became another family for them, bringing even more (and rowdier) joy and fun into my parent’s lives.
Dad did it all. At 80, he was still driving around in his little Mazda Miata convertible with Ma in the passenger seat. He loved Pink Floyd – which is surprising to me after all those years of yelling at me and my brothers to turn it down. He and my brother Shaun saw them live at the Boston Garden, and Shaun took him in recent years to see Australian Pink Floyd at the beloved Z. Shaun’s favorite memory is looking up, watching the Flying Pig make its way over the crowd, and a searchlight landing right on Dad, who raised his arms above his head as the whole crowd cheered for him. Dad spent his time doing things – whether that was kayaking and fishing with Jim, building and renovating the family house with me, or enjoying a rock show with Shaun. He was young at heart and he was glass half-full always.
So on Memorial Day, we think of the ones we love so much that are no longer with us. While they may not be here in person, the life they lived and the memories they made with us are forever. So take comfort whenever you think of them, or you go somewhere you both have been, and know that they are there with you, it just takes a thought.
See you around, Dad and thanks for the memories. We certainly did have fun.
Due to current restrictions on public gatherings, his funeral service and burial were private. Arrangements are by the Saunders-Dwyer Home for Funerals, 495 Park St., New Bedford.