Ceremony unites family, other vets
by
Janet Cho
Indian Wars veteran Michael Corcoran, who rarely talked about fighting the Apaches in the Arizona Territory or the Medal of Honor he received for his bravery in combat, was remembered yesterday as a hero. Corcoran, who died in 1919, was saluted with songs, prayers, tears and honorary rifle blasts in an emotional Veterans Day ceremony organized by local veterans at Calvary Cemetery on Miles Ave. in Cleveland. Adorning his simple grave was a new white granite Medal of Honor stone, commemorating the military's highest award for courage in battle, surrounded by a half-dozen fluttering American flags.
Despite a temperature of 42 degrees, about 80 people turned out for the event, including about 25 Corcoran descendants, several veterans groups and dozens of strangers who simply wanted to honor Veterans Day with other veterans. "I just want to thank everybody here for what they've done for my grandfather," a teary-eyed Bob Corcoran, 72, of Pembroke Pines, Fla., said. He had just spent weeks in the intensive care unit after major abdominal surgery and defied doctors to fly here for the memorial. His brother, James Corcoran, 87, of Brooklyn, said of his grandfather: "I don't know what he would think of it, because he never talked much, but I'd like to have had him see it."
On a crisp morning two months to the day after terrorists attacked the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, veterans and family members paused to remember a time when America's greatest battles were over control of the western frontier. Long before Arizona was a state, Corcoran, then 21, was a corporal in the 8th U.S. Cavalry when his band of 24 soldiers clashed with the mighty Apaches on Aug. 25, 1869, just north of what is now Phoenix. Six Apaches were killed, and Corcoran was recognized for "most distinguished gallantry in action."
"The written record doesn't tell us what individual actions Cpl. Corcoran took in the heat of that August day in 1869," said John J.C. Sullivan of Northfield, an Army veteran and commander of the American Legion, Brecksville Post 196. "Nevertheless, by his actions, we can surmise much about who he was."
Raymond J. Albert, a veteran of World War II and Korea who was just inducted into the Ohio Veterans Hall of Fame, said that during the Indian Wars, "the bulk of the army was mostly young men of recent immigration from Ireland and other parts of Europe. "Many of these immigrant soldiers gave their lives for their adopted country, and some, like Michael Corcoran, became heroes," he said. Now, with this new stone, Corcoran's courage "is marked by a visible sign for all future generations to see, recognize and share."
Corcoran's family spent years trying to track down information about their grandfather, who came from County Cork, Ireland, and tried unsuccessfully to obtain a commemorative Medal of Honor marker for his grave. It was Sullivan who discovered that Corcoran's headstone made no mention of his military service or his award, and who alerted Albert of the Medal of Honor Historical Society. But neither side had any idea of the other's efforts. So when a story about Sullivan's search for Corcoran's descendants appeared in The Plain Dealer, "I started crying, realizing that the family he was searching for was me and my family," great-granddaughter Pat Krutowskis of North Olmsted said.
All three of Michael Corcoran's grandsons served in the military. James Corcoran was in the first wave of infantry who went ashore at Normandy on D-Day; Bob was among the Marines who fought in the Chosin Reservoir in Korea; and their late brother, William, served in the Army Air Forces during World War II. "As kids, we used to take these things for granted, but today was the first time I understood," said great-granddaughter Donna Gingerich of Brunswick. Another great-granddaughter, Debra Genovesi of Davie, Fla., said that hearing the rifle shots made her realize how frightened her father must have been at the Chosin Reservoir.
Bonnie Hackett of Garfield Heights brought her son, Tim Schmidt, 12, to Calvary to teach him "that freedom comes with a price." Albert was gratified to see several children at the ceremony. "I hope they stay patriotic," he said. "I hope it doesn't fade away with time, so they can teach their own children."
Contact Janet H. Cho at: jcho@plaind.com, 216-999-4849
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Plain Dealer's Coverage of Corcoran story - 04 SEP 01
Recalling the heroics of an old Indian fighter 1869 Medal of Honor winner gets new marker
The final chapter in the decades-long saga of Michael Corcoran, a veteran of the Indian wars, will be written Sunday at his grave. Local veterans will honor Corcoran as a veteran and recipient of the Medal of Honor on Veterans Day when they dedicate the white marble commemorative Medal of Honor marker that now rests at the foot of his grave in Calvary Cemetery on Miles Ave. in Cleveland. they will be joined by about 25 of Corcoran's descendants, including two grandsons who served in World War II and Korea.
Veterans John J.C. Sullivan, who first discovered that Corcoran was buried beneath a plain granite headstone, and Raymond J. Albert, who ordered Corcoran's new marker, expect the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks to arouse greater interest in Veterans Day this year. Sullivan expects more than 100 people to attend Corcoran's memorial ceremony at 11 a.m. It will include a color guard, rifle salute, a volunteer re-enactment group, several veterans groups and a bugler from the Cleveland Police Department.
"I think we're all more patriotic," said Albert, of Amanda, Ohio. In a society that sings "God Bless America" at baseball games and salutes firefighters as heroes, military awards such as the Medal of Honor become even more meaningful, he said. "It's the highest award the government can bestow on a serviceman, presented by the president in the name of Congress," said Albert, a veteran of World War II and Korea and member of the national Medal of Honor Historical Society. Only 3,456 medals have been awarded since the Civil War. Fewer than 150 recipients are alive today. The Veterans Administration began placing commemorative Medal of Honor markers on veterans' graves in 1976.
Corcoran's story was resumed this summer. Sullivan, an Army veteran, learned that the Irish-American corporal who served with the 8th U.S. Cavalry Regiment. He was recognized for "most distinguished gallantry in action" during a skirmish with a band of Apaches just north of Phoenix. Corcoran, assigned to protect white settlers on the western frontier, was among 24 soldiers who fought the Indians on Aug. 25, 1869, killing six, wounding several and capturing one. "Here was a man who displayed selfless courage and was in uniform serving the nation," Sullivan said. He asked Albert to order Corcoran a commemorative gravestone, then set about tracking down Corcoran's descendants.
After an article about Corcoran appeared in The Plain Dealer, Sullivan was contacted by Corcoran's great-granddaughters, Pat Krutowskis of North Olmsted and Donna Gingerich of Brunswick. They put him in touch with their father, James Corcoran of Brooklyn, and their uncle, Bob Corcoran of Pembroke Pines, Fla.
James Corcoran, 87, named after his grandfather, was the eldest of Corcoran's six grandchildren. He remembers his grandfather as a quiet man who never talked about fighting the Indians or the Medal of Honor.
James Corcoran, who served with the 1st Infantry Division in World War II, went ashore in the first wave at Normandy on D-Day. He received a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart. His brother Bob was in the Marines, and his late brother, William, served in the Army Air Forces.
Bob Corcoran, 72, was born 10 years after his grandfather died. He still has his grandfather's Medal of Honor and accompanying certificate framed in his home. "I heard that he had a good sense of humor and he did a lot of wacky little things," Bob Corcoran said. "He was the typical Irish leprechaun. "When he did come over from Ireland, they used to have signs up that said, 'Irish need not apply,' so to get a job, he used to say he was born in Philadelphia. He lived in Philadelphia, but he was born in County Cork, in Ireland." His grandfather may also have lied about his age so he could enlist, Bob Corcoran added.
James Corcoran understands his grandfather's reluctance to talk about fighting Indians but still thinks he ought to be recognized as a hero. Otherwise, James said, "people go out to risk their lives and they come home and nobody cares."
Contact Janet H. Cho at: jcho@plaind.com, 216-999-4327
The final chapter in the decades-long saga of Michael Corcoran, a veteran of the Indian wars, will be written Sunday at his grave. Local veterans will honor Corcoran as a veteran and recipient of the Medal of Honor on Veterans Day when they dedicate the white marble commemorative Medal of Honor marker that now rests at the foot of his grave in Calvary Cemetery on Miles Ave. in Cleveland. they will be joined by about 25 of Corcoran's descendants, including two grandsons who served in World War II and Korea.
Veterans John J.C. Sullivan, who first discovered that Corcoran was buried beneath a plain granite headstone, and Raymond J. Albert, who ordered Corcoran's new marker, expect the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks to arouse greater interest in Veterans Day this year. Sullivan expects more than 100 people to attend Corcoran's memorial ceremony at 11 a.m. It will include a color guard, rifle salute, a volunteer re-enactment group, several veterans groups and a bugler from the Cleveland Police Department.
"I think we're all more patriotic," said Albert, of Amanda, Ohio. In a society that sings "God Bless America" at baseball games and salutes firefighters as heroes, military awards such as the Medal of Honor become even more meaningful, he said. "It's the highest award the government can bestow on a serviceman, presented by the president in the name of Congress," said Albert, a veteran of World War II and Korea and member of the national Medal of Honor Historical Society. Only 3,456 medals have been awarded since the Civil War. Fewer than 150 recipients are alive today. The Veterans Administration began placing commemorative Medal of Honor markers on veterans' graves in 1976.
Corcoran's story was resumed this summer. Sullivan, an Army veteran, learned that the Irish-American corporal who served with the 8th U.S. Cavalry Regiment. He was recognized for "most distinguished gallantry in action" during a skirmish with a band of Apaches just north of Phoenix. Corcoran, assigned to protect white settlers on the western frontier, was among 24 soldiers who fought the Indians on Aug. 25, 1869, killing six, wounding several and capturing one. "Here was a man who displayed selfless courage and was in uniform serving the nation," Sullivan said. He asked Albert to order Corcoran a commemorative gravestone, then set about tracking down Corcoran's descendants.
After an article about Corcoran appeared in The Plain Dealer, Sullivan was contacted by Corcoran's great-granddaughters, Pat Krutowskis of North Olmsted and Donna Gingerich of Brunswick. They put him in touch with their father, James Corcoran of Brooklyn, and their uncle, Bob Corcoran of Pembroke Pines, Fla.
James Corcoran, 87, named after his grandfather, was the eldest of Corcoran's six grandchildren. He remembers his grandfather as a quiet man who never talked about fighting the Indians or the Medal of Honor.
James Corcoran, who served with the 1st Infantry Division in World War II, went ashore in the first wave at Normandy on D-Day. He received a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart. His brother Bob was in the Marines, and his late brother, William, served in the Army Air Forces.
Bob Corcoran, 72, was born 10 years after his grandfather died. He still has his grandfather's Medal of Honor and accompanying certificate framed in his home. "I heard that he had a good sense of humor and he did a lot of wacky little things," Bob Corcoran said. "He was the typical Irish leprechaun. "When he did come over from Ireland, they used to have signs up that said, 'Irish need not apply,' so to get a job, he used to say he was born in Philadelphia. He lived in Philadelphia, but he was born in County Cork, in Ireland." His grandfather may also have lied about his age so he could enlist, Bob Corcoran added.
James Corcoran understands his grandfather's reluctance to talk about fighting Indians but still thinks he ought to be recognized as a hero. Otherwise, James said, "people go out to risk their lives and they come home and nobody cares."
Contact Janet H. Cho at: jcho@plaind.com, 216-999-4327
Plain Dealer's Coverage of Corcoran story - 04 SEP 01
Another century, another fight, still a mistake to right
by
Janet H. Cho
Army veteran John J.C. Sullivan cannot pass a soldier's grave without pausing to bow his head and make the sign of the cross. He stoops over the headstone and brushes away the dirt to see whether the man died in combat or survived to see his family.
Patriotism and Irish-American pride run thickly in Sullivan's blood. Men in his family have served America in every conflict since the Civil War, and he still bristles when the public disrespects veterans. "I was at Gettysburg National Cemetery last year, and a girl was coming toward me talking on her cell phone!" he said. "I thought, 'Don't you have any respect for the ground that you're on?' It was just unbelievable to me."
A few months ago, Sullivan discovered that Michael Corcoran, an Irish-American recipient of the Medal of Honor, was buried at Calvary Cemetery beneath a plain granite headstone. There was nothing on the stone to show that Corcoran was a veteran or that he was awarded the nation's highest military award for heroism in combat, fighting Indians in 1869. Sullivan vowed to correct that oversight. He alerted Raymond J. Albert, a veteran of World War II and Korea, and a member of the national Medal of Honor Historical Society. Albert, of Amanda, Ohio, ordered Corcoran a commemorative white marble marker from the Department of Veterans Affairs.
If the marker arrives in time, Sullivan wants to place it at Corcoran's grave on Veterans Day, Nov. 11, with full military fanfare: a rifle salute, a color guard, bagpipes, a bugler playing taps and a chaplain. And the people he most wants to invite are Corcoran's descendants, who may or may not still live in the area. "What would make everything complete is if we could have family members of Michael Corcoran at the honor ceremony," said Sullivan, commander of Brecksville Post 196 of the American Legion. "Maybe his family doesn't even know about this honor."
Sullivan spent two years in the Army after high school. Now 58, he is a manager for an insurance adjusting firm and a Northfield councilman. Sullivan and Brian Panek, of Brecksville, first vice commander of Post 196 who served as a medic in Vietnam, believe that letting Corcoran's grave remain without a Medal of Honor marker dishonors his memory. “He's been unrecognized as a veteran, and not only as a veteran, but as a distinguished veteran," said Panek, looking down at Corcoran's gravestone. "It gets me choked up inside to even think about it."
"It's not right," Sullivan agreed. "There's nothing there that says this man served in a war. And a Medal of Honor veteran, that's the best veteran."
Sullivan was browsing the Internet for Cleveland Irish history when he stumbled upon Corcoran's name in the online Encyclopedia of Cleveland History. The entry said Corcoran, a corporal in the 8th U.S. Cavalry, was honored for engaging a band of Indians in 1869 between the Agua Fria and Rio Verde rivers in Arizona, just north of what is now Phoenix. Sullivan called Thomas J. Kelley, director of business development at Calvary Cemetery, to ask if his headstone included the Medal of Honor marker. The answer was no. The Veterans Administration began placing commemorative Medal of Honor markers on veterans' graves in 1976. "We never even realized he was a Medal of Honor veteran," Kelley said.
With the MOH marker ordered, Sullivan is now trying to find Corcoran's family. He has spent months combing through obituaries, looking up marriage licenses and calling Irish-sounding surnames in the phone book. Little is known about Corcoran beyond the Medal of Honor distinction. Army records say he was born in Philadelphia in 1847, but his gravestone says he was born in 1848. Edward F. Murphy of Mesa, Ariz., president of the Medal of Honor Historical Society, speculates "he probably lied about his age to enlist. It was pretty common back then to be underage and in the military."
Many early Medal of Honor recipients were 13, 14 and 15 years old, Murphy added. The youngest was a 12-year-old drummer boy from the Civil War. Corcoran enlisted in the Army in Wheeling, W.Va., and was assigned to the 8th U.S. Cavalry, operating out of Camp Whipple in the Arizona Territory to protect white settlers on the western frontier from the Apaches. He may have been among a group of 24 men who fought with a band of Indians on Aug. 25, 1869, killing six.
Murphy thinks Corcoran's feats may not have been as heroic as the medal suggests. "Unfortunately, he was one of those guys who got the Medal of Honor when they were handing them out with much less scrutiny than they do today," he said. "During the Civil War, it was the only decoration the military had, so it was awarded under loose conditions."
Cavalry units went on patrol for months at a time, Murphy added, and would often boast of their heroic feats after they returned, turning in lists of men who should receive the award. "A couple of months later, all the medals would show up in the mail," he said.
Albert disagrees with that characterization. "Those people put their lives on the line every day," he said. "They worked under severe conditions and made about $15 a month. Who's to say how much they deserved the medal? I think they did. This is the highest award that can be given to a man in the service for an act of bravery and heroism above and beyond the call of duty," Albert said. The medal earned Corcoran an extra $2 a month.
After leaving the Army, Corcoran lived in Johnstown, Pa., before settling in Cleveland. He worked for a railroad, married Johanna Culliton and reared four children - Robert, Albert, Mary and Rose. Sullivan believes Corcoran's descendants may still live in the area, because the ones whose obituaries he could find are all buried locally. Even if Corcoran's family never turns up, Sullivan said he won't regret getting him the marker. "If we don't find them, the veterans are going to do the honor ceremony without family," he said. "We want to give him the recognition that he should've gotten a long time ago.
"Those with information on Michael Corcoran's descendants can reach Sullivan at 330-495-3020.
Contact Janet H. Cho at:
jcho@plaind.com, 216-999-4327
BOX:
THE MEDAL OF HONOR
The Medal of Honor, America's highest award for military valor, was established by an act of Congress in December 1861 to boost morale during the Civil War.
the first medals were designated for the Navy; the following year for the Army. The Air Corps (later the Air Force) used the Army medal until a separate design was created in 1963.
Since its inception, 3,456 medals have been awarded to 3,437 recipients. Nineteen men received two Medals of Honor. Only one woman, Mary Walker, a doctor during the Civil War, has ever received the medal.
President Harry S. Truman once said, "I'd rather have this medal than be president." Gen. George S. Patton told one recipient, "I'd give my immortal soul for that medal."
During the Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln was once so desperate for soldiers just before the battle of Gettysburg that he offered the medal to every man who re-enlisted in the 27th Maine Volunteer Infantry Regiment.
Fewer than 150 recipients are alive today. More than half of the medals awarded since World War I have been awarded posthumously.
Because it is presented by the president of the United States in the name of Congress, the medal is sometimes called the "Congressional Medal of Honor."
Sources: Edward F. Murphy and Raymond J. Albert, Medal of Honor Historical Society; "Above and Beyond," Boston Publishing Co.
by
Janet H. Cho
Army veteran John J.C. Sullivan cannot pass a soldier's grave without pausing to bow his head and make the sign of the cross. He stoops over the headstone and brushes away the dirt to see whether the man died in combat or survived to see his family.
Patriotism and Irish-American pride run thickly in Sullivan's blood. Men in his family have served America in every conflict since the Civil War, and he still bristles when the public disrespects veterans. "I was at Gettysburg National Cemetery last year, and a girl was coming toward me talking on her cell phone!" he said. "I thought, 'Don't you have any respect for the ground that you're on?' It was just unbelievable to me."
A few months ago, Sullivan discovered that Michael Corcoran, an Irish-American recipient of the Medal of Honor, was buried at Calvary Cemetery beneath a plain granite headstone. There was nothing on the stone to show that Corcoran was a veteran or that he was awarded the nation's highest military award for heroism in combat, fighting Indians in 1869. Sullivan vowed to correct that oversight. He alerted Raymond J. Albert, a veteran of World War II and Korea, and a member of the national Medal of Honor Historical Society. Albert, of Amanda, Ohio, ordered Corcoran a commemorative white marble marker from the Department of Veterans Affairs.
If the marker arrives in time, Sullivan wants to place it at Corcoran's grave on Veterans Day, Nov. 11, with full military fanfare: a rifle salute, a color guard, bagpipes, a bugler playing taps and a chaplain. And the people he most wants to invite are Corcoran's descendants, who may or may not still live in the area. "What would make everything complete is if we could have family members of Michael Corcoran at the honor ceremony," said Sullivan, commander of Brecksville Post 196 of the American Legion. "Maybe his family doesn't even know about this honor."
Sullivan spent two years in the Army after high school. Now 58, he is a manager for an insurance adjusting firm and a Northfield councilman. Sullivan and Brian Panek, of Brecksville, first vice commander of Post 196 who served as a medic in Vietnam, believe that letting Corcoran's grave remain without a Medal of Honor marker dishonors his memory. “He's been unrecognized as a veteran, and not only as a veteran, but as a distinguished veteran," said Panek, looking down at Corcoran's gravestone. "It gets me choked up inside to even think about it."
"It's not right," Sullivan agreed. "There's nothing there that says this man served in a war. And a Medal of Honor veteran, that's the best veteran."
Sullivan was browsing the Internet for Cleveland Irish history when he stumbled upon Corcoran's name in the online Encyclopedia of Cleveland History. The entry said Corcoran, a corporal in the 8th U.S. Cavalry, was honored for engaging a band of Indians in 1869 between the Agua Fria and Rio Verde rivers in Arizona, just north of what is now Phoenix. Sullivan called Thomas J. Kelley, director of business development at Calvary Cemetery, to ask if his headstone included the Medal of Honor marker. The answer was no. The Veterans Administration began placing commemorative Medal of Honor markers on veterans' graves in 1976. "We never even realized he was a Medal of Honor veteran," Kelley said.
With the MOH marker ordered, Sullivan is now trying to find Corcoran's family. He has spent months combing through obituaries, looking up marriage licenses and calling Irish-sounding surnames in the phone book. Little is known about Corcoran beyond the Medal of Honor distinction. Army records say he was born in Philadelphia in 1847, but his gravestone says he was born in 1848. Edward F. Murphy of Mesa, Ariz., president of the Medal of Honor Historical Society, speculates "he probably lied about his age to enlist. It was pretty common back then to be underage and in the military."
Many early Medal of Honor recipients were 13, 14 and 15 years old, Murphy added. The youngest was a 12-year-old drummer boy from the Civil War. Corcoran enlisted in the Army in Wheeling, W.Va., and was assigned to the 8th U.S. Cavalry, operating out of Camp Whipple in the Arizona Territory to protect white settlers on the western frontier from the Apaches. He may have been among a group of 24 men who fought with a band of Indians on Aug. 25, 1869, killing six.
Murphy thinks Corcoran's feats may not have been as heroic as the medal suggests. "Unfortunately, he was one of those guys who got the Medal of Honor when they were handing them out with much less scrutiny than they do today," he said. "During the Civil War, it was the only decoration the military had, so it was awarded under loose conditions."
Cavalry units went on patrol for months at a time, Murphy added, and would often boast of their heroic feats after they returned, turning in lists of men who should receive the award. "A couple of months later, all the medals would show up in the mail," he said.
Albert disagrees with that characterization. "Those people put their lives on the line every day," he said. "They worked under severe conditions and made about $15 a month. Who's to say how much they deserved the medal? I think they did. This is the highest award that can be given to a man in the service for an act of bravery and heroism above and beyond the call of duty," Albert said. The medal earned Corcoran an extra $2 a month.
After leaving the Army, Corcoran lived in Johnstown, Pa., before settling in Cleveland. He worked for a railroad, married Johanna Culliton and reared four children - Robert, Albert, Mary and Rose. Sullivan believes Corcoran's descendants may still live in the area, because the ones whose obituaries he could find are all buried locally. Even if Corcoran's family never turns up, Sullivan said he won't regret getting him the marker. "If we don't find them, the veterans are going to do the honor ceremony without family," he said. "We want to give him the recognition that he should've gotten a long time ago.
"Those with information on Michael Corcoran's descendants can reach Sullivan at 330-495-3020.
Contact Janet H. Cho at:
jcho@plaind.com, 216-999-4327
BOX:
THE MEDAL OF HONOR
The Medal of Honor, America's highest award for military valor, was established by an act of Congress in December 1861 to boost morale during the Civil War.
the first medals were designated for the Navy; the following year for the Army. The Air Corps (later the Air Force) used the Army medal until a separate design was created in 1963.
Since its inception, 3,456 medals have been awarded to 3,437 recipients. Nineteen men received two Medals of Honor. Only one woman, Mary Walker, a doctor during the Civil War, has ever received the medal.
President Harry S. Truman once said, "I'd rather have this medal than be president." Gen. George S. Patton told one recipient, "I'd give my immortal soul for that medal."
During the Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln was once so desperate for soldiers just before the battle of Gettysburg that he offered the medal to every man who re-enlisted in the 27th Maine Volunteer Infantry Regiment.
Fewer than 150 recipients are alive today. More than half of the medals awarded since World War I have been awarded posthumously.
Because it is presented by the president of the United States in the name of Congress, the medal is sometimes called the "Congressional Medal of Honor."
Sources: Edward F. Murphy and Raymond J. Albert, Medal of Honor Historical Society; "Above and Beyond," Boston Publishing Co.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
In memoriam - Normandy veteran Sgt. Charles G. Rodgers
In memoriam - June 6, 1944. Normandy veteran, uncle Charles G. Rodgers, Sergeant, 9th US Army.
Awarded 4 Bronze Stars - Normandy, Northern France, Rhineland, Central Europe campaigns
Service in England, France, Belgium, Holland and Germany.
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