Louis and Pat Colaluca My wife, Antonietta Maria Colaluca, can trace her ancestors back to Hanging Judge Jeffries (1645-1689) through an English strand. Not that many people would want to. Through her father's side, she can go via Naples to an ancient hill town in Tuscany. Another branch are said to come, not surprisingly, from Sicily.
Her story includes strong Irish connections, a romance to rival Lady Chatterley, a war hero, a pink Rolls Royce and gangsters.
Maria's mother was Pat Wadlow. Her mother was Bridget Breen from Blackrock near Dublin. A Breen took part in the Easter Rising of 1916 and was among those who seized the Dublin Post Office. Bridget's sister married an American called John Pope and emigrated to New York; Bridget went to Blackpool.
The link to the Hanging Judge was through Pat's father, Charles 'Pop' Wadlow. Pop's mother was a member of a titled family; his father a gamekeeper. They had an affair and she became pregnant and she was sent to Australia to break the relationship. It didn't work. When she returned to England they got back together and had more children.
'Pop' Wadlow travelled the world working on passenger liners before settling down and marrying Bridget. They had a corner shop in Blackpool, selling groceries and sweets. They also had a son, Leo, and a second daughter, Eileen. In retirement, Pop lived next door to Little Jimmy Clitheroe, a star of radio, music hall, Blackpool seaside shows and television. Everybody over a certain age remembers The Clitheroe Kid. He was a nice bloke and they looked out for each other.
Eileen – known as Lee – married an American serviceman Monty Mountford during the war and became a GI bride. She travelled to the US to join her husband at the end of hostilities. Monty made his career in the American Air Force and retired a Lt Colonel. They travelled to different postings, including Alaska, and at one time he was in charge of the security of Air Force Two, the vice president's aircraft.
Monty was a lovely, well educated gentleman, full of wonderful stories and possibly my favourite American. Sadly he suffered a form of dementia in older age and, when Lee could no longer cope, he went into a military residential home for former officers. It was no surprise that he escaped.
Leo also went to the US and made his home in the Tacoma and Seattle area of Washington State. Their son Charles was still in school when my first book The Dark Apostle was published. I had partly set it around Seattle because I knew the area and this was probably why his teacher produced it in class one day.
“Sir. My cousin wrote that book,” said Charles.
“Sit down, Wadlow, and don't tell lies.”
He probably thought Charlie was fibbing because he was well known for the pride he took in his English and Irish connections, as well as his American heritage. The next day he took to school his signed copy of the book and the teacher apologised.
After the death of her husband, Louis Colaluca, Pat followed her brother and sister to America, with her second husband, Alex Cameron, a Scot from Sterling, to live in Tacoma. She always said she had been extremely lucky to find two such great loves in her life.
My family were much less exotic. In fact, they were more crackers than exotic. But that's for next time.
Her story includes strong Irish connections, a romance to rival Lady Chatterley, a war hero, a pink Rolls Royce and gangsters.
Maria's mother was Pat Wadlow. Her mother was Bridget Breen from Blackrock near Dublin. A Breen took part in the Easter Rising of 1916 and was among those who seized the Dublin Post Office. Bridget's sister married an American called John Pope and emigrated to New York; Bridget went to Blackpool.
The link to the Hanging Judge was through Pat's father, Charles 'Pop' Wadlow. Pop's mother was a member of a titled family; his father a gamekeeper. They had an affair and she became pregnant and she was sent to Australia to break the relationship. It didn't work. When she returned to England they got back together and had more children.
'Pop' Wadlow travelled the world working on passenger liners before settling down and marrying Bridget. They had a corner shop in Blackpool, selling groceries and sweets. They also had a son, Leo, and a second daughter, Eileen. In retirement, Pop lived next door to Little Jimmy Clitheroe, a star of radio, music hall, Blackpool seaside shows and television. Everybody over a certain age remembers The Clitheroe Kid. He was a nice bloke and they looked out for each other.
Eileen – known as Lee – married an American serviceman Monty Mountford during the war and became a GI bride. She travelled to the US to join her husband at the end of hostilities. Monty made his career in the American Air Force and retired a Lt Colonel. They travelled to different postings, including Alaska, and at one time he was in charge of the security of Air Force Two, the vice president's aircraft.
Monty was a lovely, well educated gentleman, full of wonderful stories and possibly my favourite American. Sadly he suffered a form of dementia in older age and, when Lee could no longer cope, he went into a military residential home for former officers. It was no surprise that he escaped.
Leo also went to the US and made his home in the Tacoma and Seattle area of Washington State. Their son Charles was still in school when my first book The Dark Apostle was published. I had partly set it around Seattle because I knew the area and this was probably why his teacher produced it in class one day.
“Sir. My cousin wrote that book,” said Charles.
“Sit down, Wadlow, and don't tell lies.”
He probably thought Charlie was fibbing because he was well known for the pride he took in his English and Irish connections, as well as his American heritage. The next day he took to school his signed copy of the book and the teacher apologised.
After the death of her husband, Louis Colaluca, Pat followed her brother and sister to America, with her second husband, Alex Cameron, a Scot from Sterling, to live in Tacoma. She always said she had been extremely lucky to find two such great loves in her life.
My family were much less exotic. In fact, they were more crackers than exotic. But that's for next time.
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