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Our first farm in the 1950s was about a half-mile away from the main house up hilly Perrier Road. Joe Hogan from Chicago, Joe Walker, and Ronnie McDonell were our pioneer farmers. It was a new farm, the work was very heavy, and except for Ronnie, they knew nothing about farming.
Plus there was a cabin on that property, which had no insulation. Those three men lived in that freezing cabin for a whole year, including winter.
They had two cows, and in winter, one of their challenges was to bring the milk down to the main house on a toboggan.
They were really heroic.
Mary Beth Mitchell
Years ago, I was an inexperienced bread baker up at the farm and was also responsible for peeling the vegetables in a machine. Joe always had the flour ready for me and the baskets for the veggies lined up. He was quite a teaser but was also very encouraging. He did a lot of little hidden jobs and was a real servant. I experienced that on a lot of levels.
Janine Gobeil
Joe would get a rise out of people (deliberately get them angry) and that included our foundress Catherine Doherty.
One day during lunch, he said, “Ho hum, another dull day in salvation history.” That aroused Catherine very well. In her understanding of salvation history, there was no such thing as a dull day, and she was trying to teach us to see it that way.
Bill Ryan
I saw in Joe a simple, childlike man who didn’t wear masks to hide his inner poverty and struggles to live out his vocation. I enjoyed being with him because he made me feel free to be myself.
Joe was very proud of his Irish blood. He was a writer, and he loved music. Towards the end of his life, it was a delight for him to listen to the CD, Danta Dé, a collection of Irish sacred music.
Joe Hogan gave me the best advice I have ever received so far: “Never be afraid of trouble.”
a staff worker
When I was a main house cook, one of Joe’s jobs was sending down food I ordered from the farm. When I forgot to order something I needed, that gave him extra work, but he didn’t complain. Joe was such a servant. Deep down, he was charitable and thoughtful, but a lot of that was hidden. Joe was in the background.
Jan Hills
Every Friday, we applicants had lunch at St. Mary’s, and that’s when I’d see Joe and ask him how he was doing. Joe was old and had dementia.
He said he had buried treasure that he brought with him from when he met Machine Gun Kelly and Al Capone [Chicago gangsters] and that it was buried here at St. Mary’s.
One Friday I called him on it. I said, “You keep talking about this treasure buried here. Where is it?”
He said, “It’s inside you.”
Frank Brick
When I was a guest, I started visiting Joe at the nursing home with some other people.
Right after I became an applicant, Joe asked me where my Madonna House cross was [the one that all members of the community wear]. I said, “Not yet. I’m an applicant.” He said, “I’ll give this cross to you [his Madonna House cross]. I said, “I don’t want your cross; I want my own.”
Then he gave me two medals—one was a Miraculous Medal, the other of Our Lady of Combermere. He told me, “don’t lose …” and one other word I didn’t understand. I thought he was talking about Mother Mary, so I replied, “I will never lose my Mom.”
I wore these medals all during applicancy, and I believe that Mother Mary prepared me to receive my Madonna House cross.
Then at his wake, I heard the story of his almost throwing away his miraculous medal, and I suddenly realized that what Joe gave me and told me not to lose was that medal!
I became a member of Madonna House this past June, and now I am wearing my Madonna House cross and on the same cord, at my neck, Joe’s two medals.
Flora Hye Jin Jeon
