The St. Joseph Home for Boys
The 4th Short Story
If There Was Ever a Time
"If There Was Ever a Time"
ANDY JUNIOR'S CHILDHOOD STORIES
The St. Joseph Home for Boys
My 4th Short Story
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.
Note: My brother and I were very close when we were little. In fact, when he arrived home from the hospital, after his birth and a lengthy stay, because he was born premature, I greeted my tiny little brother the best way I knew how. Lovingly, I shared what was left of my hotdog by trying to stick it into his mouth to our mom's dismay. Later, as we were growing up before that fateful day of the divorce, my brother and I slept in the same bed, and he often clutched my hand wherever we went, as you will witness in one of the pictures.
In this short story, you will get a glimpse of some of the inside portions of the orphanage and a little taste of what life was like for the young boys behind those walls.
"If There Was Ever a Time"
After Mother Superior showed Archie and me the dining room, she continued to lead us on our tour of the orphanage. She walked up a set of steps, lined with an amazing wooden handrail and lots of curvy spindles -- absolutely perfect for sliding down in the future. Maybe there is a way to have fun after all!
As the nun explained things and took my brother and me to additional rooms, I grew more comfortable. Every once in a while, I looked at Little Brother. We'd both smile, but just a little. Not all sadness had left us. I couldn't help but think about what had become of Mama. Will we ever see her again?
It seemed odd that we had to call this particular nun, "Mother Superior." Perhaps the "superior" part made sense. She was very good at bossing us around, but a person has to be loving for me to call her "mother." She wasn't anything like Mama.
Every time we passed an open door, I'd sneak a peek. Almost all the rooms were larger than I imagined. One had a rather big, dark hole in the wall. I stopped while gently tugging on the nun's hand and pointed. "What is that thing in the back?"
"The square thing?"
"Yeah, I never saw one of them before."
"That's a fireplace. The orphanage has six fireplaces surrounded by that beautiful marble stone. Isn't it pretty?"
"Sorta, I guess."
She laughed. "We need to help you with your English, young man. You use far too many shortcuts."
"What's wrong with my English, whatever that is?"
"English is the language you use when you speak. We will teach you proper English."
"Well, I know I ain't perfect, but Mama never complained before."
After we completed the tour, we were introduced to Sister Mary Babysitter, who took care of the youngest group in the orphanage. Our first few hours with these kids, with their never-ending questions, proved to be tiring and a bit contentious. My brother continued to cling to my hand, and I was thankful when we finally ate dinner and were approaching bedtime.
Some days can prove to be much longer than others. This particular day was the longest of my life, and it wasn't even over.
Later that evening, after brushing my teeth under tight supervision, our young group of children was led past the St. Joseph statue on the second floor. The tall, colorful figure loomed over us at the foot of a long, wide staircase.
My brother led the pack of kids, right behind Sister Babysitter, while I kept pace in the middle of the line. Plum tuckered out, I trudged up two flights of stairs until reaching the top landing on the third story of the large mansion. Our caregiver halted us at the center of a huge dormitory from which smaller rooms branched out to the right and left. Each was filled with beds, all looking the same with curved, cream-colored rails and spindles at the head and foot of each mattress.
Bending over, I huffed and puffed. I was just thankful that nighttime had finally arrived. How do the rest of these kids do this every day?
Our ever-present master pointed at one of the rooms to our right. "Go to your beds, and don't forget to say your prayers." Children of all ages from the younger and older groups were scampering to their assigned spots like trained rats.
As I neared Sister Babysitter with my brother to her side, she extended her hand. "Come, I'll show you two where you'll be sleeping."
She waddled toward one of the side rooms and stopped just inside the doorway. "Here we go." She looked at Little Brother. "You'll be sleeping with the youngest children, closest to the bathroom. Do you remember where it is? I showed you earlier today."
He stared at me with a confused expression and slowly nodded. I glanced at the nun. "He knows, but where am I gonna sleep?"
She pointed. "Across the room. I'll take you there in a moment."
I vigorously shook my head and pleaded. "No, no, no, we never sleep apart."
My brother started sniffling as my eyes watered. "He won't be able to sleep by himself. We've always been together in the same bed."
Little Brother cried. "Don't go." He grabbed my hand and sobbed.
The nun coldly looked me in the eye and grinned. "That's not how we do things here. Everybody sleeps in their own bed, you two included."
How could they do this to us? I joined my brother as we both bawled like babies.
She glared at us. "Now, that's enough, you two!" She stared at Little Brother. "Kneel beside your bed and say your prayers. When you're done, get under the covers. I'll come to check on you when I leave." She guided him to his knees as tears rolled down his cheeks.
Clamping onto my arm, she tugged me. "Andy, you come with me." I kept turning to look at my brother as she practically dragged me toward my bed. Little Brother sobbed with his head on his folded arms across the edge of the mattress.
My determined captor must have noticed me looking and circled behind to block my view. I tried to slow down and peek, but she kept pushing me along until I bumped into a bed.
She firmly patted the pillow. "Here, this is where you'll sleep. Don't even think about sneaking back to your brother. I'll be standing by the door watching."
She tilted her head toward the bed. "Go ahead, say your prayers and get to sleep. Not a peep out of you."
I turned. "But...." She waved her finger in front of my nose. "No buts about it. Listen to me, or I'll use the paddle."
Paddle? What does that mean? Whatever it might have been, her tone didn't make it sound too pleasant as she walked toward Little Brother.
Sighing, I reluctantly fell to my knees. I tightly closed my eyes and silently prayed, if there was ever a time I needed you, now is that time.
**********
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 peek into my life back in the late 1950s and early 1960s. In my next post, I'll continue to give you a peek inside the walls of the huge orphanage in Jackson, Michigan that many people walked past as they wondered what went on behind those large doors. While 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 Sister 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 4th Short Story
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.
Note: My brother and I were very close when we were little. In fact, when he arrived home from the hospital, after his birth and a lengthy stay, because he was born premature, I greeted my tiny little brother the best way I knew how. Lovingly, I shared what was left of my hotdog by trying to stick it into his mouth to our mom's dismay. Later, as we were growing up before that fateful day of the divorce, my brother and I slept in the same bed, and he often clutched my hand wherever we went, as you will witness in one of the pictures.
In this short story, you will get a glimpse of some of the inside portions of the orphanage and a little taste of what life was like for the young boys behind those walls.
"If There Was Ever a Time"
After Mother Superior showed Archie and me the dining room, she continued to lead us on our tour of the orphanage. She walked up a set of steps, lined with an amazing wooden handrail and lots of curvy spindles -- absolutely perfect for sliding down in the future. Maybe there is a way to have fun after all!
As the nun explained things and took my brother and me to additional rooms, I grew more comfortable. Every once in a while, I looked at Little Brother. We'd both smile, but just a little. Not all sadness had left us. I couldn't help but think about what had become of Mama. Will we ever see her again?
It seemed odd that we had to call this particular nun, "Mother Superior." Perhaps the "superior" part made sense. She was very good at bossing us around, but a person has to be loving for me to call her "mother." She wasn't anything like Mama.
Every time we passed an open door, I'd sneak a peek. Almost all the rooms were larger than I imagined. One had a rather big, dark hole in the wall. I stopped while gently tugging on the nun's hand and pointed. "What is that thing in the back?"
"The square thing?"
"Yeah, I never saw one of them before."
"That's a fireplace. The orphanage has six fireplaces surrounded by that beautiful marble stone. Isn't it pretty?"
"Sorta, I guess."
She laughed. "We need to help you with your English, young man. You use far too many shortcuts."
"What's wrong with my English, whatever that is?"
"English is the language you use when you speak. We will teach you proper English."
"Well, I know I ain't perfect, but Mama never complained before."
After we completed the tour, we were introduced to Sister Mary Babysitter, who took care of the youngest group in the orphanage. Our first few hours with these kids, with their never-ending questions, proved to be tiring and a bit contentious. My brother continued to cling to my hand, and I was thankful when we finally ate dinner and were approaching bedtime.
Some days can prove to be much longer than others. This particular day was the longest of my life, and it wasn't even over.
Later that evening, after brushing my teeth under tight supervision, our young group of children was led past the St. Joseph statue on the second floor. The tall, colorful figure loomed over us at the foot of a long, wide staircase.
My brother led the pack of kids, right behind Sister Babysitter, while I kept pace in the middle of the line. Plum tuckered out, I trudged up two flights of stairs until reaching the top landing on the third story of the large mansion. Our caregiver halted us at the center of a huge dormitory from which smaller rooms branched out to the right and left. Each was filled with beds, all looking the same with curved, cream-colored rails and spindles at the head and foot of each mattress.
Bending over, I huffed and puffed. I was just thankful that nighttime had finally arrived. How do the rest of these kids do this every day?
Our ever-present master pointed at one of the rooms to our right. "Go to your beds, and don't forget to say your prayers." Children of all ages from the younger and older groups were scampering to their assigned spots like trained rats.
As I neared Sister Babysitter with my brother to her side, she extended her hand. "Come, I'll show you two where you'll be sleeping."
She waddled toward one of the side rooms and stopped just inside the doorway. "Here we go." She looked at Little Brother. "You'll be sleeping with the youngest children, closest to the bathroom. Do you remember where it is? I showed you earlier today."
He stared at me with a confused expression and slowly nodded. I glanced at the nun. "He knows, but where am I gonna sleep?"
She pointed. "Across the room. I'll take you there in a moment."
I vigorously shook my head and pleaded. "No, no, no, we never sleep apart."
My brother started sniffling as my eyes watered. "He won't be able to sleep by himself. We've always been together in the same bed."
Little Brother cried. "Don't go." He grabbed my hand and sobbed.
The nun coldly looked me in the eye and grinned. "That's not how we do things here. Everybody sleeps in their own bed, you two included."
How could they do this to us? I joined my brother as we both bawled like babies.
She glared at us. "Now, that's enough, you two!" She stared at Little Brother. "Kneel beside your bed and say your prayers. When you're done, get under the covers. I'll come to check on you when I leave." She guided him to his knees as tears rolled down his cheeks.
Clamping onto my arm, she tugged me. "Andy, you come with me." I kept turning to look at my brother as she practically dragged me toward my bed. Little Brother sobbed with his head on his folded arms across the edge of the mattress.
My determined captor must have noticed me looking and circled behind to block my view. I tried to slow down and peek, but she kept pushing me along until I bumped into a bed.
She firmly patted the pillow. "Here, this is where you'll sleep. Don't even think about sneaking back to your brother. I'll be standing by the door watching."
She tilted her head toward the bed. "Go ahead, say your prayers and get to sleep. Not a peep out of you."
I turned. "But...." She waved her finger in front of my nose. "No buts about it. Listen to me, or I'll use the paddle."
Paddle? What does that mean? Whatever it might have been, her tone didn't make it sound too pleasant as she walked toward Little Brother.
Sighing, I reluctantly fell to my knees. I tightly closed my eyes and silently prayed, if there was ever a time I needed you, now is that time.
**********
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 peek into my life back in the late 1950s and early 1960s. In my next post, I'll continue to give you a peek inside the walls of the huge orphanage in Jackson, Michigan that many people walked past as they wondered what went on behind those large doors. While 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 Sister 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 orphanage, during its earliest years in the 1910s and 1920s, could look absolutely scary from the southern view from Van Buren St. on Jackson, Michigan's drearier days.
Little Brother and I, with our cowboy attire we loved so much back in the early 1960s. We're standing in front of our grandmother's house -- me, with my bubblegum cigar in mouth, and Little Brother, with is whirly gig. There were rarely any pictures where we weren't holding hands in those days.
The bigger-than-life St. Joseph statue loomed over the base of the large stairway that led to the Felician Sister's quarters, off the first flight, and the boy's dormitory, off the second flight, on the 3rd story of the orphanage.
The enormous dormitory, with a huge central room and 4 wings to the north and south, slept as many as 50 boys and took up the entire 3rd story of the orphanage.