The St. Joseph Home for Boys
The 3rd Short Story
We're Doomed
"We're Doomed"
ANDY JUNIOR'S CHILDHOOD STORIES
The St. Joseph Home for Boys
My 3rd Short Story
After living in a tiny three-room Quonset hut of a home all his life, imagine how ominous the towering orphanage building appeared to a terrified 5-year-old boy, as he was led up the front steps of the expansive entrance to a huge door which opened to a dark and vast unknown. The St. Joseph Home for Boys stood on the northwest corner of Blackstone St. and Van Buren St. in Jackson, Michigan for more than 50 years. The Felician Sisters, out of Livonia, Michigan, purchased the mansion from a local banker in the early 1900s and cared for up to 50 boys in the orphanage between the early 1910s and late 1960s, before the building was unfortunately torn down.
Life was quite different during the first half of the 1900s than it is today. I'm sure my parents both suffered tremendous turmoil about what to do with us kids.
When they decided to divorce in 1960, our mom tried her best to care for us on her own, but it was very difficult for women to find decent jobs in those days that paid enough to properly take care of 3 very young children (sister 2, brother 4 and me 5). There were no daycare centers where parents could drop off kids before work and picked them up at the end of the day. Those types of childcare facilities came many years later.
After a few months, our mom finally had to give up custody to our dad who worked quite a bit of overtime to survive. Babcia (Polish for grandma), who was approaching her 70s, agreed to take care of our sister, but she could not handle all 3 of us little kids.
In this short story, told from the eyes of a very young boy, you will discover the time when Andy Junior's mostly fun-filled childhood came to a screeching halt, and he learned that his life would be different forevermore. You will now get a taste of that frightful moment when Tata (Polish for dad) dropped off Andy Junior and his brother at the orphanage for the very first time.
"We're Doomed"
"We rarely know what life has in store for us, but sometimes, it hits you with a sledgehammer!"
-- Andy Skrzynski
My little brother, Archie, and I relayed our sad goodbyes to Vickie as she cried in our grandmother’s arms. After piling back in the car once again, my brother and I watched Babcia’s brown, two-story house fade from sight while our dad drove us to our dreaded destination.
Sniffling, I murmured, “I’m gonna miss Baby Sister.”
Archie wiped his eyes. “Me too.”
The deep sadness that prevailed earlier slowly crept over me once again. Trying to hold back the tears was useless.
How can this be? It just ain’t fair! Another drop fell from my cheek to join the cupful that had already soaked a wet spot on my jacket. My brother and I held each other tightly in the backseat and bawled ever so quietly for fear of making Tata mad.
A while later, he steered the car into the driveway of our so-called “new place to live.” I wiped my swollen eyes with the sleeve of my coat so that I could see better. Whoa, this place sure is huge!
The red and gray brick building stood three stories high with tall white pillars along a huge porch. Perched atop the front portion of the roof was a small, pointed tower of sorts. Wonder who they keep locked up there?
When our dad pulled the car closer, I tried to read the sign above the entrance. I almost figured out the “Home for Boys” part because I’d seen “home” and “boys” in books Mama read to me at night. I had no idea what the “St. Joseph” part meant.
Even so, “home” kinda stuck in my craw. No way a place like this is ever going to feel like home without Mama!
I folded my arms and grumbled, but not loud enough for Tata to hear. “I don’t want to go inside, but, once again, I have no choice.” I huffed while shaking my head.
Two strangers seemed to glide down the long, wide steps. Their dark chocolate, almost black dresses, hung down to their shoes.
Probably the nuns our dad spoke of since they wore habits of the same color as the sisters at St. Stan’s on Sundays. Large crucifixes hung from their necks and seemed to swing in step with their movements.
Tata stopped the car and looked us boys in the eyes. “We’re going to meet the sisters, and you’re going to behave, got it?”
Trembling, I reluctantly responded at the same time as my brother, “Yes, Sir.”
Archie clung to my wrist as his eyes pleaded with me. I put my arm around him and whispered, “Just do as he says and don’t make a peep.” Slower than molasses, we crawled out of the station wagon.
Tata gruffed. “Stop dragging your feet. Let’s get this thing over with.”
Again, I grumbled to myself. “Easy for him to say. He’s not the one being dropped off.” Oops!
Tata must have heard me and shot a glare. “You think this is easy for me? This is your mother’s fault. She’s the one that left you.”
I returned the glare, but quickly looked away, not daring to say what I really thought. No way Mama would ever leave us!
The whole ordeal tore at my gut and burned like the dickens. Why do we have to do this?
After a short introduction of the two Sister Mary Whatever-Their-Names-Were, Tata kept a straight face while saying, “Goodbye and behave yourselves.” He turned and slowly walked away.
I could hardly breathe as I screamed, “Don’t leave us here!” Tata never looked back and just continued toward the car.
When I stepped his way, one of the nuns grabbed my arm and smiled, “Come on, Andy. We’ll show you the orphanage.”
The other nun clutched Archie’s hand as our new wardens led us up the large steps. During our struggle to escape, while the sisters forced us toward the massive building, I kept worrying about what we’d find behind those big doors.
In cartoons I’d seen, such huge houses were either dungeons filled with monsters or castles with kings, queens, and sparkly things. Given the earlier events of the day, I didn’t feel lucky at all. The strange-looking mansion had probably been taken over by a bunch of flying monkeys, ruled by a wicked witch.
I kept sneaking a peek through my tears to see if Sister Mary Whoever might be carrying a broom. She could have been hiding most anything under that long, dreary dress of hers.
Wary, I stood back a bit as the nun holding my hand opened the huge door. I half expected swarms of bats to zoom out and attack us, but nothing happened. Turning, my new captor grinned wide and invited us inside.
No amount of coaxing by the sisters convinced my little brother, so I helped the nun practically drag him across the entrance. “Come on, Archie. We’ve got to do as they say. You don’t want to get in trouble, do ya?”
He finally relaxed ever so slightly and slid inside. While one of the nuns started to close the door, I peeked outside. Even though I hoped Tata had changed his mind, our dusty, old station wagon sped down the road.
A horrible sadness filled me as another flood of tears gushed over my cheeks. We’re doomed.
Watching ever so closely as she latched the door, I made sure she didn’t lock it behind us. Will anybody ever come back to save us?
Once inside, the head nun helped us put away our jackets and hats and began her tour of the orphanage. After showing us the small chapel on the first floor, near the front entrance, Mother Superior led us down the main hallway to the right.
I couldn’t help but notice how shiny everything was, including the tile floors and dark wood throughout the halls and rooms. In a few places, the polished wood covered the entire wall, and in other rooms, wide strips of fancy-looking trim lined the edges where the walls met the ceilings and floors. I had never seen anything like it.
Mother Superior opened the double doors to a huge room, at least twice the size of our entire Quonset house. My mouth fell open. “Wow!”
Two long rows of tables surrounded by chairs ran from one end to the other. The furniture was way nicer than in our home.
The nun bent down toward Archie. “This is our dining room, where you will eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” A tiny smile worked its way across his cute face. The tears had finally stopped.
My eyes grew larger as I spotted lots of sparkling lights, positioned on several circles that were attached to a long golden chain which ran all the way up to a very high ceiling. Even if Tata held me over his head, I wouldn’t be able to touch the top.
I pointed at the glistening contraption. “What is that, and why are there so many chairs?”
“That is a crystal chandelier, and there are lots of children who stay here. Besides you two, we take care of 48 other young boys of all ages.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re joking, right?”
“I assure you, young man, we never joke in this place.”
That didn’t surprise me at all. From the look of things, I doubted anybody had any fun in a place like this.
*******
That's it for now!
So you don't get the wrong impression, when I had the opportunity to reflect back on my childhood, years after I had "grown up," I was very thankful for the Felician Sisters' care and the time I spent in the orphanage. Not all of the lads in care of the nuns at the St. Joseph Home for Boys were orphans. Some, like my brother and I, were placed there as the only available means of a childcare center back in those days. The difference between then and now, when parents pick up kids at the end of each day, was that our dad only picked us up on weekends, if he didn't have to work overtime.
I'll share more pictures and short stories to go with the history lessons ahead. I hope you enjoyed this little glimpse into my life, back in the late 1950s and early 1960s. In my next short story, I'll continue to give you a peek inside the walls of the huge orphanage in Jackson, Michigan, that many people walked past while wondering what went on behind those large doors. Even though these first few posts will be quite sad in nature, my later posts will share a lot of humorous adventures in the life of Andy Junior, so watch for those next stories.
Thank you so much for your support!
Andy Skrzynski
Note: The Felician Sisters provided the orphanage photographs and gave me permission to share them within "Andy and the St. Joseph Home for Boys" and social media outlets, including my website.
ANDY JUNIOR'S CHILDHOOD STORIES
The St. Joseph Home for Boys
My 3rd Short Story
After living in a tiny three-room Quonset hut of a home all his life, imagine how ominous the towering orphanage building appeared to a terrified 5-year-old boy, as he was led up the front steps of the expansive entrance to a huge door which opened to a dark and vast unknown. The St. Joseph Home for Boys stood on the northwest corner of Blackstone St. and Van Buren St. in Jackson, Michigan for more than 50 years. The Felician Sisters, out of Livonia, Michigan, purchased the mansion from a local banker in the early 1900s and cared for up to 50 boys in the orphanage between the early 1910s and late 1960s, before the building was unfortunately torn down.
Life was quite different during the first half of the 1900s than it is today. I'm sure my parents both suffered tremendous turmoil about what to do with us kids.
When they decided to divorce in 1960, our mom tried her best to care for us on her own, but it was very difficult for women to find decent jobs in those days that paid enough to properly take care of 3 very young children (sister 2, brother 4 and me 5). There were no daycare centers where parents could drop off kids before work and picked them up at the end of the day. Those types of childcare facilities came many years later.
After a few months, our mom finally had to give up custody to our dad who worked quite a bit of overtime to survive. Babcia (Polish for grandma), who was approaching her 70s, agreed to take care of our sister, but she could not handle all 3 of us little kids.
In this short story, told from the eyes of a very young boy, you will discover the time when Andy Junior's mostly fun-filled childhood came to a screeching halt, and he learned that his life would be different forevermore. You will now get a taste of that frightful moment when Tata (Polish for dad) dropped off Andy Junior and his brother at the orphanage for the very first time.
"We're Doomed"
"We rarely know what life has in store for us, but sometimes, it hits you with a sledgehammer!"
-- Andy Skrzynski
My little brother, Archie, and I relayed our sad goodbyes to Vickie as she cried in our grandmother’s arms. After piling back in the car once again, my brother and I watched Babcia’s brown, two-story house fade from sight while our dad drove us to our dreaded destination.
Sniffling, I murmured, “I’m gonna miss Baby Sister.”
Archie wiped his eyes. “Me too.”
The deep sadness that prevailed earlier slowly crept over me once again. Trying to hold back the tears was useless.
How can this be? It just ain’t fair! Another drop fell from my cheek to join the cupful that had already soaked a wet spot on my jacket. My brother and I held each other tightly in the backseat and bawled ever so quietly for fear of making Tata mad.
A while later, he steered the car into the driveway of our so-called “new place to live.” I wiped my swollen eyes with the sleeve of my coat so that I could see better. Whoa, this place sure is huge!
The red and gray brick building stood three stories high with tall white pillars along a huge porch. Perched atop the front portion of the roof was a small, pointed tower of sorts. Wonder who they keep locked up there?
When our dad pulled the car closer, I tried to read the sign above the entrance. I almost figured out the “Home for Boys” part because I’d seen “home” and “boys” in books Mama read to me at night. I had no idea what the “St. Joseph” part meant.
Even so, “home” kinda stuck in my craw. No way a place like this is ever going to feel like home without Mama!
I folded my arms and grumbled, but not loud enough for Tata to hear. “I don’t want to go inside, but, once again, I have no choice.” I huffed while shaking my head.
Two strangers seemed to glide down the long, wide steps. Their dark chocolate, almost black dresses, hung down to their shoes.
Probably the nuns our dad spoke of since they wore habits of the same color as the sisters at St. Stan’s on Sundays. Large crucifixes hung from their necks and seemed to swing in step with their movements.
Tata stopped the car and looked us boys in the eyes. “We’re going to meet the sisters, and you’re going to behave, got it?”
Trembling, I reluctantly responded at the same time as my brother, “Yes, Sir.”
Archie clung to my wrist as his eyes pleaded with me. I put my arm around him and whispered, “Just do as he says and don’t make a peep.” Slower than molasses, we crawled out of the station wagon.
Tata gruffed. “Stop dragging your feet. Let’s get this thing over with.”
Again, I grumbled to myself. “Easy for him to say. He’s not the one being dropped off.” Oops!
Tata must have heard me and shot a glare. “You think this is easy for me? This is your mother’s fault. She’s the one that left you.”
I returned the glare, but quickly looked away, not daring to say what I really thought. No way Mama would ever leave us!
The whole ordeal tore at my gut and burned like the dickens. Why do we have to do this?
After a short introduction of the two Sister Mary Whatever-Their-Names-Were, Tata kept a straight face while saying, “Goodbye and behave yourselves.” He turned and slowly walked away.
I could hardly breathe as I screamed, “Don’t leave us here!” Tata never looked back and just continued toward the car.
When I stepped his way, one of the nuns grabbed my arm and smiled, “Come on, Andy. We’ll show you the orphanage.”
The other nun clutched Archie’s hand as our new wardens led us up the large steps. During our struggle to escape, while the sisters forced us toward the massive building, I kept worrying about what we’d find behind those big doors.
In cartoons I’d seen, such huge houses were either dungeons filled with monsters or castles with kings, queens, and sparkly things. Given the earlier events of the day, I didn’t feel lucky at all. The strange-looking mansion had probably been taken over by a bunch of flying monkeys, ruled by a wicked witch.
I kept sneaking a peek through my tears to see if Sister Mary Whoever might be carrying a broom. She could have been hiding most anything under that long, dreary dress of hers.
Wary, I stood back a bit as the nun holding my hand opened the huge door. I half expected swarms of bats to zoom out and attack us, but nothing happened. Turning, my new captor grinned wide and invited us inside.
No amount of coaxing by the sisters convinced my little brother, so I helped the nun practically drag him across the entrance. “Come on, Archie. We’ve got to do as they say. You don’t want to get in trouble, do ya?”
He finally relaxed ever so slightly and slid inside. While one of the nuns started to close the door, I peeked outside. Even though I hoped Tata had changed his mind, our dusty, old station wagon sped down the road.
A horrible sadness filled me as another flood of tears gushed over my cheeks. We’re doomed.
Watching ever so closely as she latched the door, I made sure she didn’t lock it behind us. Will anybody ever come back to save us?
Once inside, the head nun helped us put away our jackets and hats and began her tour of the orphanage. After showing us the small chapel on the first floor, near the front entrance, Mother Superior led us down the main hallway to the right.
I couldn’t help but notice how shiny everything was, including the tile floors and dark wood throughout the halls and rooms. In a few places, the polished wood covered the entire wall, and in other rooms, wide strips of fancy-looking trim lined the edges where the walls met the ceilings and floors. I had never seen anything like it.
Mother Superior opened the double doors to a huge room, at least twice the size of our entire Quonset house. My mouth fell open. “Wow!”
Two long rows of tables surrounded by chairs ran from one end to the other. The furniture was way nicer than in our home.
The nun bent down toward Archie. “This is our dining room, where you will eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” A tiny smile worked its way across his cute face. The tears had finally stopped.
My eyes grew larger as I spotted lots of sparkling lights, positioned on several circles that were attached to a long golden chain which ran all the way up to a very high ceiling. Even if Tata held me over his head, I wouldn’t be able to touch the top.
I pointed at the glistening contraption. “What is that, and why are there so many chairs?”
“That is a crystal chandelier, and there are lots of children who stay here. Besides you two, we take care of 48 other young boys of all ages.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re joking, right?”
“I assure you, young man, we never joke in this place.”
That didn’t surprise me at all. From the look of things, I doubted anybody had any fun in a place like this.
*******
That's it for now!
So you don't get the wrong impression, when I had the opportunity to reflect back on my childhood, years after I had "grown up," I was very thankful for the Felician Sisters' care and the time I spent in the orphanage. Not all of the lads in care of the nuns at the St. Joseph Home for Boys were orphans. Some, like my brother and I, were placed there as the only available means of a childcare center back in those days. The difference between then and now, when parents pick up kids at the end of each day, was that our dad only picked us up on weekends, if he didn't have to work overtime.
I'll share more pictures and short stories to go with the history lessons ahead. I hope you enjoyed this little glimpse into my life, back in the late 1950s and early 1960s. In my next short story, I'll continue to give you a peek inside the walls of the huge orphanage in Jackson, Michigan, that many people walked past while wondering what went on behind those large doors. Even though these first few posts will be quite sad in nature, my later posts will share a lot of humorous adventures in the life of Andy Junior, so watch for those next stories.
Thank you so much for your support!
Andy Skrzynski
Note: The Felician Sisters provided the orphanage photographs and gave me permission to share them within "Andy and the St. Joseph Home for Boys" and social media outlets, including my website.
The St. Joseph Home for Boys, a massive mansion-turned-orphanage, that once stood in Jackson, Michigan for more than half a century.
Mama, holding my baby sister while standing next to me with my hand to my chin, and my little brother, standing next to my dog, Nicky, given to me as a gift on my first birthday. This picture was taken in 1959, around the time our mom decided to leave home. Almost a year later, after deciding to get a divorce, our parents placed us boys in the orphanage while our sister stayed with Babcia (Polish for grandma). Our mom left to live with her family and on weekends, if our dad wasn't working overtime, he would pick us up on Friday evening to stay at home. On Sunday evening, he would return us boys to the orphanage and our sister to Babcia's house.
The ominous front entrance leading up to the orphanage.
The spacious Dining Room on the first floor, next to the Chapel in the St. Joseph Home for Boys. The bay windows looked out to the north over the playgrounds and to the railroad tracks that ran along the property line. If you count the settings, you will find 50 for every boy. You may also notice the radiator toward the left side. The orphanage was heated by metal radiators fed by massive boilers kept in the basement.