The Dash Between: Bernie O’Donnell was family man and coparent ahead of his time

Bernie O’Donnell made breakfast for his seven children and got them off to school before leaving for work each day. Radical behavior for a man of his generation.

“He was different from most other dads,” daughter Martha Yanover said. “He shared parenting with my mom.”

The retired carpet salesman, who died Dec. 6, 2009, at age 91, changed diapers, did laundry and handled other chores to offer his wife, June, some much needed relief.

“There was never a job that was considered women’s work or beneath him,” said his youngest son, John.

Bernie also broke with convention in hiring painters and wallpaper hangers for O’Donnell Paint and Wallpaper, the family business that his Irish immigrant grandfather founded in Elyria in 1896 and which Bernie and his three brothers ran for many years.

“He practiced equal opportunity employment before the civil rights movement,” his daughter said. “There were some people in the 1940s and ’50s who were not happy about having other races (working in their homes). He told us, he hired everybody and paid everybody the same.”

The Dash Between:
About this new feature
The dates of birth and death that appear like bookends on a tombstone do not matter as much as the dash between those dates: The life that a person lived.

Alana Baranick

Alana Baranick

The Dash Between, a new obituary feature written by Alana Baranick about regular folks from Lorain County and adjacent areas, debuts in today’s Chronicle. Baranick wrote her first obit in 1985 when she was a reporter for The Chronicle. She wrote obituaries for Cleveland’s Plain Dealer from 1992 through 2008.

"Life on the Death Beat"

"Life on the Death Beat"

She is the chief author of “Life on the Death Beat: A Handbook for Obituary Writers” and director of the Society of Professional Obituary Writers. She won the 2005 American Society of Newspaper Editors Distinguished Writing Award in the Obituary category.

Today, Alana Baranick examines The Dash Between March 18, 1918, when Bernie O’Donnell was born in Elyria, and Dec. 6, 2009, when the retired carpet salesman and father of seven died at age 91.

The Dash Between is scheduled to appear in The Chronicle every other Sunday.

To suggest a story or make a comment, contact Baranick at abaranick@chroniclet.com.

Read more:

Around 1950, Bernie and his younger brother, Bob, added carpet to the O’Donnell’s paint and wallpaper inventory. By 1964, both had left the family business to work for Alexander Smith, a major carpet company.

Bernie later became a salesman for the Edward R. Hart Company, a Canton-based carpet distributor. He retired around 1983.

Bernard M. O’Donnell, the third of six siblings, was born March 18, 1918, in the house on Washington Avenue in Elyria that is now home to the Brown Robinson Funeral Home.

He grew up in another stately home across the street from St. Mary Catholic Church.

“Our home on Fourth and Middle was a gathering spot for all the family’s friends,” said Bernie’s brother, Bob. “We used to have many songfests at home around the piano in the parlor.”

Their mother played the piano. Bernie on violin and his brothers on trumpet and saxophone provided additional instrumentation, while everyone else in the room made up the chorus.

The family also had a lakeside home on East Erie Avenue in Lorain, which they called “the cottage.” All the children became strong swimmers.

At age 13, Bernie “was probably the youngest to complete a 3-mile marathon from Century Park to Lakeview,” his brother said. “The really odd thing about it was, the following year he was not allowed (to participate in the competition) because he was too young.”

The family speculated that Bernie’s good showing in the marathon prompted officials to change the rules.
Around that time, Bernie attended Mount St. Francis Seminary, a secondary school in southern Indiana run by Conventual Franciscans, also known as Black Franciscans because of the color of their habits. He had intended to enter the priesthood.

After graduating from high school and beginning college-level studies, he abandoned his plans for the ministry and returned to secular life.

“He may have left the seminary, but his faith was very strong,” his brother said. “He was certainly a good Catholic. He was an avid churchgoer. Most important: He was very definitely a family man.”

Bernie got to know June Barchard, a friend of his younger sisters, during her many visits to the O’Donnell home. The two were married at St. Mary’s on Sept. 22, 1944, while Bernie was in the Army.

During World War II, Bernie served as a radio operator with the 910th Anti-Aircraft Artillery Automatic Weapons Battalion in Puerto Rico, France and Germany. He was awarded the Bronze Star Medal as well as the European-African-Middle-Eastern Theater ribbon with two battle stars.

He didn’t talk a lot about his wartime experiences to his children, but he did spin fictional stories about “Rocketship Potato Chip” that transported his kids on countless adventures to the moon and beyond.

“Dad was the one who would bathe us and get us ready for bed every night,” his daughter said. “After we were in our pajamas, he would tell us bedtime stories. He would make up the story as he went along. He would get us children involved in it emotionally.”

As the story hit a fork in the road, Bernie asked his kids, “And then what happens?”

“We would fill in the blanks, insert our part of the story, stemming from the imagination that he had already stirred,” his daughter continued. “The following night, he picked up where we left off the night before and led us into another adventure.”

Bernie liked to convince his kids — and later his grandkids and great-grandkids — that there was a mouse in the piano or a bear in the basement. He made some believe he could convert the doors of his Honda into wings and make the car fly by pushing a red button on the dashboard.

“He exuded honesty,” his brother said. “People just naturally believed what he was telling them. He always had that quality. He was a good, honest salesman.”

Contact Alana Baranick at (216) 862-2617 abaranick@chroniclet.com.



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