Andrew Greenhalgh was born on this day in 1879 in Lonsdale, Rhode Island to the late Margaret Cullen (1848-1915) and the late John Greenhalgh (1845-1907).

This is the first time that a Greenhalgh has been featured in this blog. Why so? Well, one of Andrew’s five siblings was Marguetta E. (Greenhalgh) Riley (1876-1962), known by most of the older, present day Rileys as Grandma Riley.

As best as I can remember, Uncle Andrew was “a presence” at #19-21 Pond Street. After checking the census records and the city directories, it appears Uncle Andrew began living with the Pond Street Rileys sometime in 1935. He remained in-residence, and an integral part of the family, until his death in 1962.

However during World War II, Uncle Andrew spent time in Waterbury, Connecticut. At the age of 61, Andrew went there to work in a factory in support of the War effort. A printer by trade, he utilized those skills in his factory job. At the time, Andrew lived with his fellow workers in an open dormitory type setting at the Waterbury Boys’ Club.

Back in the early 1940’s, working toward the War effort was the routine. What made Uncle Andrew’s effort noteworthy was his physical handicap. When he was a child, Andrew fell off the back of a tip cart

and severely injured his right leg, resulting in a permanent handicap. For the rest of his life, his leg was encased in a heavy metal brace that ran from just above his knee to the bottom of his shoe. It looked like it weighed a ton.

The brace may have slowed him down a bit, but didn’t stop him. Uncle Andrew’s prized possessions were his huge cars fully equipped with hand controls. If I remember correctly, he braked with his left leg, while the speed and shifting were controlled with hand levers. His automobiles always had lots of chrome and large, decorative continental kits hanging off the back. The cars had lots of color and personality, something that some say Uncle Andrew lacked.

When I was growing up, whenever there would be a reference to Andrew, the referring phrase would always be, “Poor Uncle Andrew.” It was said in obvious sympathy, because of the physical struggles he endured. Through the years, Grandma Riley, along with Marion and Gertie, really went to great lengths to support and encourage him. Being a printer by trade, and never owning his own business, his financial well-being wasn’t the best. He was supported and augmented financially by his nieces Marion and Gertie. It was very typical of his two kind nieces.

In 1962, on a Sunday morning, a couple of weeks after Uncle Andrew’s passing, the task of going through his belongings fell to his nephews, Patrick J. and Francis C. Riley. There weren’t many clothes and just a few personal items. At the foot of his bed was an old trunk, which his two nephews had to pry open with a hammer and screwdriver. As they were sorting through the last of his worldly possessions, the sympathetic and endearing phrase of “Poor Uncle Andrew” took an unsuspected twist. Low and behold, the trunk held some neatly tied stacks of cash! Seems Poor Uncle Andrew had been stashing away cash for a rainy day – or year. The exact amount may have been north of $30,000. The then, laughing brothers turned the money back over to Marion and Gertie…heck, it was probably their own money.

Poor Uncle Andrew.