Yours In The Nick of Time

The Maguire-McCarthy Letters (1931)

Archival Reference No.: HSC-01931-022
Donated by: The O’Shea Family Estate, 1987
Curated by: The Boston Historical Society

Introduction

The following letters, exchanged in 1931 between Daniel “Danny” Maguire of Boston, Massachusetts, and Mary McCarthy of Chicago, Illinois, provide a rare glimpse into working-class Irish American life during the Great Depression. Preserved by the O’Shea family, these letters chronicle a long-distance courtship marked by humor, longing, and the realities of the era.

Danny, a dockworker, and Mary, a switchboard operator, maintained their correspondence for several months. While it remains unclear whether Mary ultimately made the journey to Boston, the letters stand as a testament to the personal and cultural landscape of the time.

The first known letter, dated January 10, 1931, begins below.

Letter 1: Boston, January 10, 1931

Mary,

I don’t know if you’ll write back, but I’m sitting here with a drink in my hand and your name stuck in my head, so I might as well try.

Do you ever think about 29th and Ashland? The shop, the smell of sawdust, and how your old man used to yell at me for hanging around? I still swear he liked me—he just had a funny way of showing it.

Boston’s a different world. The streets are busier, the accents thicker, and there’s a hell of a lot more ocean than I’m used to. I’ve been working the docks, which means I smell like fish and bad decisions most days, but it pays enough to keep me fed and keep the barkeep from throwing me out too early.

There’s this bakery a few blocks from my place—you wouldn’t believe the bread. First time I had it, I actually shut up for a full minute, just out of respect. And you know that doesn’t happen often. I’d take you there if you ever made it out this way.

So what about you? Are you still raising hell in Chicago, or did they finally figure out how to tame you? Something tells me you wouldn’t let them.

Write me back, Mary. Unless you’ve gone soft on me.

Yours, maybe?
Danny

Letter 2: Chicago, January 18, 1931

Dear Danny,

Soft words coming from a Maguire man. Then again, I don’t recall you ever being short on those.

Of course I remember you. Hard to forget a boy who never worked a day in the shop but spent enough time there to deserve a cut of the wages.

I’m glad you wrote. It was a nice surprise, considering what my life’s become. I left the shop and took a job as a switchboard operator. It’s steady wages, and you’d never guess the kind of things people say on the line when they don’t think anyone’s listening. Some of them ought to be ashamed. Others? Well, let’s just say I’ve learned more about a man’s heart through an eavesdropped telephone call than most girls do on their wedding night.

I’d like to see Boston sometime. You’ll have to show me around—take me to this bakery you keep talking about. Though I don’t know if I should trust your taste in food. I still remember how you swore that awful place on Ashland had the best corned beef in town, and it tasted like the bottom of one of your old boots.

Now, as for this ring you’re promising me—I’ve given it some thought. There was one in the Marshall Field’s window the other day. A square-cut diamond with sapphire accents set in platinum. You think you could get me something like that, Danny?

Write me again soon. And if I do come to Boston, you ought to have that ring ready.

Yours (Probably),
Mary

Letter 3: Boston, February 2, 1931

Mary,

A square-cut diamond with sapphire accents set in platinum? Sure. I’ll just pop down to the corner store and pick one up, right after I buy myself a Rolls-Royce and a yacht to sail down the Charles.

Soft words coming from a Maguire man, you say. Well, I don’t recall you ever complaining about them before. And I’d bet good money you read my letter twice before setting it down.

It’s good to hear from you, Mary. Funny how life works, isn’t it? How a fella can lose track of the one thing he ought to have kept hold of. Maybe I’ve been spending too much time around my cousin Tommy—he gets philosophical when he’s drinking, and he’s been drinking a lot lately.

Says an Irish Catholic’s finally making waves in this town. Keeps going on about some guy named Joseph P. Kennedy. Says he’s got money, power, and friends in all the right places. That he’s proof we don’t have to be bootleggers or politicians’ errand boys anymore. That one day, maybe even the White House won’t be out of reach for a man with a name like ours.

I tell him he’s had too much whiskey and ought to shut up before someone hears him saying things he shouldn’t.

Now, I don’t know when you’re getting here, but you’re not going to make me stand around North Station every afternoon like some lovesick fool, are you? I’ve got a place over in Southie—263 Baxter Street. When you get in, find O’Shea’s Tavern on the corner, ask for Patrick, and tell him you’re looking for the loud Irish bastard who won’t stop smiling. He’ll take care of you ‘til I get there.

And speaking of smiling—the boys at the docks are starting to talk. They keep asking what’s got me grinning like I cleaned up at the track. I don’t tell them, of course. Let them think I hit it big on the ponies instead of finding something better.


Yours (no maybe about it),
Danny

Letter 4: Chicago, February 6, 1931

Danny,

I didn’t wait for your reply. If I had, I might have lost my nerve.

By the time you read this, I’ll already be somewhere between here and you—thirsty, dying for a man named Patrick to pour me something cold and see if he can fill me in on the Irishman who won’t stop smiling.

If you’re lucky, I might even let you kiss me finally, Maguire.

Yours always,
Mary

The Maguire-McCarthy Letters offer a rare glimpse into the lives of two Irish Americans in 1931, capturing a love story shaped by distance, ambition, and uncertainty. While it remains unknown whether Mary ever made it to Boston, their words endure.

Some scholars believe these letters inspired L.K. Rolan’s short story Dead by 10, Dinner by 6—not for its lovers, but for Danny, Billy’s younger brother. Though unconfirmed, the similarities have led to ongoing speculation.

Whether fact or fiction, the voices of Danny and Mary remain—preserved in ink, echoing across time.

- The Boston Historical Society
Archived 1987, Published 2024


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* Haha, this is all fiction. Actually, I’m just a huge fan of deep satire, and if you enjoyed this piece, we should be friends. ✨