“Poor children! Beaten about in the great tempest of the world, they have known nothing but suffering; they have never experienced the sweetness and charms of virtue.”
- Mary Euphrasia Pelletier, Founder of the Good Shepherd Order
“The unfortunate women” lived there. “Fallen girls.” “Troubled teens.” “Wayward women.” “Keepsakes for Heaven.” It was the Home of the Good Shepherd. Piousness was of great import for the girls send there by the courts or families that knew of nowhere else to turn. Morality was taught, spirituality instilled.
Residents, in those early days, rarely left the grounds, could not excuse themselves from the nuns sharing with them those experiences of sweet virtue. Bars were in the windows. There was strict adherence to scheduled ““ waking, teaching, working at the laundry downstairs, eating meals, bed. Oh how coveted were those Sundays when they could have “parlor” ““ a time in which appropriate visitors could see them.
Routines were adhered to religiously. A former resident remembered, “We were assigned one day a week to take our bath and wash our hair. We washed our underclothes and socks every night and hung them over a bed rail. The dorm monitors would always check to see that you had washed your clothing.”
Everything was monitored. Toiletries were lined up in a specific order in their small nun-appointed cubbies. One girl at each table, during meals, was sent for food for the entire table. Butter was served only on Sundays. Nuns sat on platforms overseeing the meals, when they weren’t censoring the girls’ mail. Nuns oversaw the girls scrubbing floors, weeding the grounds, polishing woodwork, attending Mass. At the laundry, girls were assigned to shaking, sorting, pressing, folding, and packing the clothes. The commercial laundry was how the orphanage and wayward girls’ home made their money. Their major customers included the Great Northern and Northern Pacific Railroads, along with several downtown hotels. Classes were held Monday through Friday, 9 to 5, that’s if they weren’t already working the kitchen, or in the altar bread room making host for the parish, or in the sewing room making uniforms, or pursuing beautician certification, or at church services. Everything was monitored until the home officially closed for good in June of 1973.
It opened in 1890, as five Good Shepherd nuns arrived by train to Seattle. They opened an orphanage house for orphans and girls leading an immoral life on First Hill. The orphanage grew. The nuns then looked to the newly platted Wallingford and bought property. The new home was designed by the architectural firm Breitung and Buchinger (who also designed Seattle’s The Academy of the Holy Names and the Saint Alphonsus School, amongst other structions) and opened, on 4649 Sunnyside Avenue, in 1907. It housed 171 children.
Those children lived on those grounds, and went little place else. There were two wings in the building ““ those that were orphans and those that were wayward. They were kept apart. “There was a good side and a bad side,” remembers one resident, “the Angel Guardian side on the right as you go in and Sacred Heart side on the left. On the left side”¦they did the laundry and that sort of thing. There could be some real hard girls over there.”
In 1926 the orphans were transferred to a home in Laurelhurst, leaving the “Sacred Heart side.” And there they stayed, in later years, behind barbed wire, opaque windows and security systems. All the while, they worked at schooling, chores, their everlasting souls. The nuns were not to use corporal punishment, however. Good behavior was rewarded. Perhaps that meant recreation – like roller-skating, square dancing, swimming (a pool was built in 1959 that’s been since filled in), ping pong.
The 1960s saw declines on most all levels for the school. There were less girls admitted. There was less need for the commercial laundry. There was less supervision even. Some girls were even allowed to walk, unsupervised, to the University District on Saturdays. The laundry closed for good in 1970. Boeing, having given large financial donations to the Home, was having financial difficulties of their own and cut back. The maintenance of the building grew overwhelming and so they closed. Seattle bought the property in 1975, the building was transferred to Historic Seattle and is now used as a multi-purpose community center, complete with schools, non-profits, small businesses, and, sometimes, the quiet footfalls of women who once lived there themselves.
Jonathan Shipley
9/18/2009
“The unfortunate women” lived there. “Fallen girls.” “Troubled teens.” “Wayward women.” “Keepsakes for Heaven.” It was the Home of the Good Shepherd. Piousness was of great import for the girls send there by the courts or families that knew of nowhere else to turn. Morality was taught, spirituality instilled.
Residents, in those early days, rarely left the grounds, could not excuse themselves from the nuns sharing with them those experiences of sweet virtue. Bars were in the windows. There was strict adherence to scheduled ““ waking, teaching, working at the laundry downstairs, eating meals, bed. Oh how coveted were those Sundays when they could have “parlor” ““ a time in which appropriate visitors could see them.
Routines were adhered to religiously. A former resident remembered, “We were assigned one day a week to take our bath and wash our hair. We washed our underclothes and socks every night and hung them over a bed rail. The dorm monitors would always check to see that you had washed your clothing.”
Everything was monitored. Toiletries were lined up in a specific order in their small nun-appointed cubbies. One girl at each table, during meals, was sent for food for the entire table. Butter was served only on Sundays. Nuns sat on platforms overseeing the meals, when they weren’t censoring the girls’ mail. Nuns oversaw the girls scrubbing floors, weeding the grounds, polishing woodwork, attending Mass. At the laundry, girls were assigned to shaking, sorting, pressing, folding, and packing the clothes. The commercial laundry was how the orphanage and wayward girls’ home made their money. Their major customers included the Great Northern and Northern Pacific Railroads, along with several downtown hotels. Classes were held Monday through Friday, 9 to 5, that’s if they weren’t already working the kitchen, or in the altar bread room making host for the parish, or in the sewing room making uniforms, or pursuing beautician certification, or at church services. Everything was monitored until the home officially closed for good in June of 1973.
It opened in 1890, as five Good Shepherd nuns arrived by train to Seattle. They opened an orphanage house for orphans and girls leading an immoral life on First Hill. The orphanage grew. The nuns then looked to the newly platted Wallingford and bought property. The new home was designed by the architectural firm Breitung and Buchinger (who also designed Seattle’s The Academy of the Holy Names and the Saint Alphonsus School, amongst other structions) and opened, on 4649 Sunnyside Avenue, in 1907. It housed 171 children.
Those children lived on those grounds, and went little place else. There were two wings in the building ““ those that were orphans and those that were wayward. They were kept apart. “There was a good side and a bad side,” remembers one resident, “the Angel Guardian side on the right as you go in and Sacred Heart side on the left. On the left side”¦they did the laundry and that sort of thing. There could be some real hard girls over there.”
In 1926 the orphans were transferred to a home in Laurelhurst, leaving the “Sacred Heart side.” And there they stayed, in later years, behind barbed wire, opaque windows and security systems. All the while, they worked at schooling, chores, their everlasting souls. The nuns were not to use corporal punishment, however. Good behavior was rewarded. Perhaps that meant recreation – like roller-skating, square dancing, swimming (a pool was built in 1959 that’s been since filled in), ping pong.
The 1960s saw declines on most all levels for the school. There were less girls admitted. There was less need for the commercial laundry. There was less supervision even. Some girls were even allowed to walk, unsupervised, to the University District on Saturdays. The laundry closed for good in 1970. Boeing, having given large financial donations to the Home, was having financial difficulties of their own and cut back. The maintenance of the building grew overwhelming and so they closed. Seattle bought the property in 1975, the building was transferred to Historic Seattle and is now used as a multi-purpose community center, complete with schools, non-profits, small businesses, and, sometimes, the quiet footfalls of women who once lived there themselves.
Jonathan Shipley
9/18/2009
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| House of the Good Shepherd, built in 1907 as a home for “orphaned and wayward girls.” Photograph courtesy Special Collections, University Archives, University of Washington, Seattle. |
Very interesting! I’m from Minnesota and my grandparents live near a Home of the Good Shepherd convent. I grew up roaming the halls and chatting with the sisters, and it wasn’t until I was much older that my mother explained that they had programs for women (and at one point had provided job training). Wonder if their school had a similar past. I do think there was a connection between J. J. Hill (another railroad connection, but the Great Northern) and the St. Paul Home of the Good Shepherd.
Love reading Shipley’s musings.
Does this building still exist at all?
Yes, although the cupola with the cross on top is apparently gone: http://www.historicseattle.org/projects/gsc.aspx
Mike,
As the article said,
…in 1975, the building was transferred to Historic Seattle and is now used as a multi-purpose community center, complete with schools, non-profits, small businesses…
– rob
having grown up in the area (and am now a resident of Wallingford about 3 blocks from the Good Shephard) this was a great story–my dad grew up in Ballard and I sent it to him because he remembers when it still was a home for wayward girls!
In 2006 or 2007 I talked with a middle-aged woman who had lived at the Good Shepherd Center for a time when she was a girl, and she reported that she had experienced it as a loving, caring place. I am a therapist in private practice on the Angel Guardian side, and I very much like having my office in the building. The ceilings are high, the windows large, the subculture of the building convivial, the grounds and views marvelous. – Anya
I’m a therapist with an office in the Good Shepherd Center. Clients often ask about the building. One day I was telling a client that I lived in Wallingford in the 1950′s and the building was known as a “home for wayward girls”. Now our mothers didn’t tell us what a ‘wayward’ girl was because they didn’t talk about such things in those days. None the less my peers and I knew it wasn’t good as our mothers would imply that if we didn’t behave ourselves, we’d end up there. We would come up to the iron fence, peering in to see what a ‘wayward girl’ looked like. We would just see the nuns in full Habits. So this client remarked….’seems like you ended up here anyway’.
I work for Historic Seattle, the owner and manager of the Good Shepherd Center. We honored the 100th anniversary of the opening of the building with a free community celebration on Sunday, July 22, 2007. Over 300 people attended the festive gathering and enjoyed a variety of period entertainments in the building and on the grounds that responded to the theme “Come Back to 1907.†Live period music, costumed guests, an informative history brochure, balloons, ice cream, and lemonade made the afternoon a great success.
For those unable to attend, Historic Seattle has PDF files of its commemorative program and brochure online at http://www.historicseattle.org/projects/gsccentennial.aspx.
Also online are pictures of the celebration.
On Sunday, July 22nd, 2007 the Seattle times ran a story about the celebration. Check out the story at “Party to celebrate as Good Shepherd building turns 100,” by Susan Gilmore, Seattle Times staff reporter. http://www.seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2003800539_goodshepherd22m.html
For even more information on the Good Shepherd Center, check out our website under PROJECTS: http://www.historicseattle.org/projects/gsc.aspx?category=34&pLevel=0&pID=31
I live a few blocks from the Good Shepherd Center. Inside, on the first floor, there are signs that explain the history of the building. One fact I recall from these signs is that the girls did not in fact do the the laundry. At least, they didn’t do the washing part – it was deemed unseemly for the girls to handle the male railroad workers dirty undergarments – so there were men employed at Good Shepherd who did the washing part, then the girls ironed and folded the clean clothes.
My grandmother and her sister were both at the Home of the Good Shepherd before and around 1910. Does anyone know if records were kept and where they could be found? Was this only for girls? Where were male orphans put?
I was a student at the Home of The Good Shepherd in 1953 to 1959. I am trying to find information about the Sisters who are still living. I know most went to Christ the King in North Seattle, but would like to get more information from the time that I was there. I have thanked God everyday for what the Sisters did for me. If it were not for them, I would not be the person I am today. God Bless all those Sisters who devoted their lives to helping, teaching and loving girls like me.
Ann, you might try contacting Mount st Vincent in West Seattle. It is a retirement home run by the Sisters of Providence but there are a lot of retired nuns up there.
i am inquired about the House of Good Shepherd located in Arbutus MD….could you direct me please?
Oops, duh me! for my previous post. It’s “Shepherd,” not “Shepard.” (But I was close.)
My mother was there for several years as a teenager. She was sent from Alaska when her father was diagnosed with TB and her mother had cancer. There weren’t any relatives to stay with so she was sent here. Growing up, all of us (her children) heard many a loving story about her life there. She stayed in contact with one of the nuns for many years after – Sister Mary Cyril. She always told us that being there was the most loving place she had ever been and it helped her cope with being far from home.
There is a connection between this place and the one in St. Paul, Minnesota. From my research on the net, it appears they were both Magdalene Laundries, though I sincerely hope, not horrible ones like the ones in Ireland where the girls were treated so badly (Google Magdalene Laundries and see the movie Magdalene Sisters — Amazing movie). If anyone attended “school” at the Home of the Good Shepard in St. Paul, MN around the 50′s or 60′s, please contact me at: zipit7777@msn.com, as my sister attended there and I can put you in touch with her.
What an interesting article! Thanks for taking the time to write it.
I am wondering if you happened to come across any information in your research about the House of The Good Shepherd acquiring a property in Woodinville, WA in 1895? My mother-in-law is on the Woodinville Historical Society and is trying to find information about this, because according to Woodinville public records, she finds that they purchased a 160-acre property in 1895, built a 2-story building on it and cultivated the land. They sold it quickly, to the Oriental Trading Company in 1901. We are having a terrible time finding any more information out about what they used the property for (particularly who lived in this house) and ideally, she’d love to have a picture.
If you came across anything that could be helpful, I would very much appreciate you emailing me! Thanks!
I was at the Home in St. Paul in the ’60s. Even though I was “wayward”, I loved it there.
is there any kind of alumni list or directory for the center? my birth mother was there for a while and i am trying to find out more on her.
I would like to know if i can obtain a prayer to St Mary Euphrasia. a friend of mine told me about her and i would very much like to have any pamphlets about her. thank you very much
I am currently a resident living in the artist lofts in the attic…I am a singer, song writer, and world traveler.
I would like to write a musical about life here in the HOME OF THE GOOD SHEPHERD.
I love the spirit of this place. The vibes are friendly and loving, but at times I feel there are ghosts looming about.
I saw a ghost in my apartment while I was practicing a very beautiful song, and watching myself in the mirror. The image appeared above the mirror, and resembled a cloaked woman or an image of the Virgin Mary.
One night a music box started playing without being wound up. I found that strange and lovely.
Sometimes in winter, they say it’s the water pipes that make the most otherworldly, thundering sound.
When I first moved in,3 years ago, no one told me that I may be hearing frightening sounds in the middle of the night. I thought for sure it was an invasion from a vortex of evil. Later I was assured it was some troublesome water pipes. If we turn on the hot water, like in the bathtub, it will subside.
We still hear it, but only on cold winter nights.
In 1904 – 1905, my mother was adopted from the House of the Good Shepherd. I wonder if her mother lived there also. Would like to know her name. It’s said (1969) there was a written message in the State records.
I was a resident of the good shepard in Washington D.C. in 1956-1958/ I would love to hear from anyone else who was there. We were used as slave labor, we did all of the churches in D.C. laundry in a turn of the the centrury laundry. We did not attend school, there was grand silence all but one hour a day. Once a month we could have a visitor. All of our mail was read and not sent out or given to use if they did not like what was in it.
I am always interested in history concerning the Good Shepherd Home for Girls.. I lived at the St. Paul MN Home in 1957 &1958. It was the turning point of safety and love which for years I did not have… I will never regret my time spend with the love and care I received there… I am trying to find someone who I can get in touch with who was there at that time. The Home was on Blair Ave and after I left I stayed at a transition home, which was across the street from the home..The O’Shaunsey (probably misspelled) Residence.
Was at the home for 2 years I am looking for others whom were there with me between 1961-1964. I was at the one on Lafond Street and Blair in St Paul, MN. We worked the Laundry in the morning and went to school for a few hours in the afternoon. The school was called Mount St Marys and I have nightmares till this day.
I’m involved in genealogy and have recently found the info for my half-brother (who, unfortunately has passed). His and my birth mother was fifteen when she became pregnant and he was born in Seattle and adopted at birth. I believe she, my mother, was sent to this home for “wayward girls” until his birth. I am trying to find anyplace that has historical records of attendance there so that I can verify my information.
Can any of you out there help me? If you have any information you think might be helpful you may contact me at eb4alc@yahoo.com. Thanks for your help.
I was also in this home from 1980 to 1982 in the st paul mn ..i am tryin to find friends an “Sisters” that i knew there, i would really like to knwo about a particular Sister known as Sister Helen Louise, my life without knowin her would never have been as it has been, i learned so much from there an i was one of the longest resisdents in that time span, i miss the staff an friends an wish i could find them all..still now 30 yrs later, i miss that place, an i will go back to see the buildin again REAL SOON…i just NEED to!!!
Are there any pictures of the campus in St.Paul{Shoreview}MN. Please contact me or maybe post them here or on another site. Miranda Lambert sings ” I thought if I could touch this place or feel it……This emptiness inside me might start healing….Out here its like I’m someone else and I thought that maybe I could find myself, If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave won’t take nothin but a memory from the HOUSE that built me. I turned 12 years old when I was taken from my family. My mother chose not to leave the man who had sexually abused me. She even went so far as to accuse me of lying despite the fact she had caught him in the act on one occasion. WHEW……………..been lomg tme since I allowed those memories to surface. Possibly a connecton to what than became my home might help me! I am so ready to be the woman I believe I can be, the woman I HOPE that I am! Yet I have placed the weight of many burdens upon myself and I must fight harder now than ever to overcome. Even if I am amazed with myself for an instant…That instant is golden. And I HAVE anazed myself at times!! Thanks for your time!! Oh and I believe it was 1978 the orientation cottage was MARA I think!!??? cannot remember other cottages BUT I DO REMEMBER amd ALWAYS will ~~Sister Mary Spirit Spearings~~
Teresa dark curly hair freckles from Albert Lea
I was raised in the Home of the Good Shepherd. Life was wonderful…the rumors ranged from good to bad. Some of nuns that raised me are still living…
They saved me—I love them all
Teresa Turner,
I read your posting and I would like to let you know that Sister Helen Louise Roth passed away from cancer at the age of 64. I was a very close friend of hers and loved her dearly. She fought that cancer for several years but did die very peacefully at the Home on Hodgson Rd. and if I am not mistaken she is buried in Ressurection Cemetary. I had met her Mom and Dad and one of her brothers and two of her sistes. There is only one sister left now – Jane Cusick down in Alabama. She was such a wonderful person and did so very much for the girls who came into her care. She always told me she was not there for the nuns but for the kids. If you would like to contact me I could tell you much more – my contact is: agnes.287@hotmail.com I also may have a picture of her that I would be willing to part with for you as I am now much older. I first met her in the Seattle House on Sunnyside but we always kept in very close touch and even took her on several vacations. As far as I am concerned she was one of their greatest nuns they ever had.
Ann Barnhart,
Feel free to contact me as I know much about the Home of the Good Shepherd and some of the years you mentioned.
my e-mail is: agnes.287@hotmail.com
Greg,
All the personal records of the girls there were destroyed long ago but from my understanding the school record are all down at the Chancery Office in Seattle and you could contact them. What years was you Mother there? I have been familiar with that Order from 1951 until 2000.
rosemarie catrama,
There are a couple of books that I know of – one being Little Nellie of Holy God” and also :Shepherdress for Christ”. You could also check on Amazon.com and type that in and see what comes up there.
I recall delivering the Seattle P.I. when I was about 11 years old to the Home of the good shepard, on Sunnyside Ave. Imangine walking along in front that place at 5 to 5:30 in the morning. A lot of scary thoughts can go through your mind.
Imagine a very innocent child being in that building. You have no idea what went on behind those walls and especially when one Mother Serena was the Mistress of Girls. She would beat many of us up for no real reason. We could never hear a male voice singing – only got to watch Bishop Sheen on the TV. Serena was very cruel to many of the girls in her charge. She should have never ever have become a nun. There own Foundress – Mother Euphrasia said they should never ever strike a girl. She was finally removed from the class and sent to Omaha and then came back to Seattle and could never ever be with the girls again. She sent some white girls out in the yard one Saturday to beat the heck out of a black girl. She did not like blacks at all. She herself was from the South. They threatened to sue the Home so she was removed. There were also many wonderful nuns we had there that did make it bearable. They could do nothing about her conduct. The Superior – one Mother William would do nothing about it and she knew what was going on and just did not care. Serena could keep order and that was all they cared about – not what it did to many of the girls lives and I do know some suffer to this vcry day of the treatment they received under her. Thank God for nuns like one Mother Louis – Sister Helen Louise Roth as she did make many changes in that Order for the betterment of the girls placed in their care. She was one of the greatest ones they ever had in that Order as she stood up and was counted. She died far too young – age 64.
A very interesting article if anyone would like to know what went on with the girls put in the charge of one Mother Serena (MaScreama)
Home of the Good Shepherd Oral History Interviews: former resident Jackie (Moen) Kalani
HistoryLink.org Essay 5744 : Printer-Friendly Format
Toby Harris conducted this oral history interview of Jackie (Moen) Kalani, former resident of the Home of the Good Shepherd, on August 27, 1999, at the Good Shepherd Center, located at 4649 Sunnyside Avenue N. in Seattle’s Wallingford neighborhood. The oral history project was funded by King County Office of Cultural Resources (Landmarks & Heritage). For 60 years, from 1907 to 1973, the Home of the Good Shepherd was operated by the Sisters of the Good Shepherd to provide shelter and education to troubled young girls. Jackie Kalani was a resident from February 1949 to 1952.
Jackie (Moen) Kalani Interview
I had already missed some school because I had decided that I wanted to quit school. That was the most disturbing thing to my family, why they had me pronounced incorrigible and sent me to a youth correctional institution to get corrected. My twin sister had married in February and she quit school and —
And this is back in 1949?
Yes. And I said “well, if she can get married and quit school, I can quit school and not get married.” And they didn’t like that idea very well. And they were spending a lot of money sending me to St. Mary’s Academy in Portland. And so my uncle who was the sheriff in Wahkiakum County had access to the court system. His best friend was a judge. And he said “What this girl needs is a man’s firm hand.” And he meant the judge. We lived right across the street from the courthouse in Cathlamet. So with my uncle’s influence, the judge pronounced me incorrigible and I was driven here [to the Home of the Good Shepherd] late Monday night in February in 1949 by the Deputy. I was 17 already.
By the Deputy?
By the Deputy Sheriff who said “Well, honey, you want to stop at a motel tonight?” I said “Just take me where I’m going.” It was a dark, stormy night. He was a creepy guy. And so we got here and on Monday nights, Mother Serena went to bed early, right after dinner. She handed out clean sheets and clean pajamas, the girls made their beds and they went to bed directly.
So when I got here, it was late. Mother William, Mother Assistant Superior then, answered the door and I had my music under my arm, my Beethoven, my Bach from St. Mary’s. And she said “what is that there?” And I said “Oh, that’s my music. I’m from St. Mary’s” in my very best cultivated girls’ school voice. And she said “You won’t be needing that.” And she took it and to this day, I don’t know where it is. It disappeared.
That was Mother William. And took me up with a little flashlight and showed me a bed. And I looked and I saw the wire across the window — I went to brush my teeth at that little basin — all the others girls were asleep in the dormitory — so I had to be very quiet and brush my teeth. And I looked up and saw the wire–
The wire?
The wire, the window and then the wire, like bars in front of the window. I thought “I am in jail.” It was not a pleasant night. I was pissed off. So the next morning I went to the refectory and I had a bad attitude, I remember that. And you only got butter once a week and they didn’t have butter for their bread … I just thought this was so low class, not to have butter every day. It was nothing like that with the Holy Name nuns at St. Mary’s Academy — everything was “Yes, my dear.” They were very soft-spoken. Everything was very serene.
And the first thing I heard was Mother Serena’s rasping voice saying “Where you pussyfooting to, you smart Jack?” Or something like “slopcart.” She had these names and it sounded like swearing. She could say it in a way that would send shivers up your back. “Don’t you twitch your tail at me,” she’d say. And I thought, “This is not like the nuns that I knew at St. Mary’s” so when we went out of the refectory to the yard, she came up to me and actually put her arm around me, kind of, and I didn’t realize then that that was a big thing, to have Mother Serena pay that kind of semi-affectionate attention. And she says, “How’s my girl?” That’s what she said to me, sort of like introductory. I said, “She’s not your girl” and I shrugged her off. I had a bad attitude.
She let me go and then later on that morning when we were out there, she called Betty and Virginia and Catherine over and she introduced me to them and said, “Show this girl around. Show her how to have a good time.” ….
And looking back, I realize that’s very unusual for her to show that much affection in that way. And they were the girls, the older girls that ran the school. They were Catherine Hogan, and Betty Cobb and Virginia Smith. They ran the school so she was plugging me — I was an older girl — she plugged me in there and it made my life change then because I became really good friends with those three girls. And they were all older than I was. Katherine …. was 22 or something already. She might have been 4 or 5 years older than I was at the time.
And she was still there?
She was still here.
She was living on the girls’ side?
She was living on the girls’ side. She later became a nun, of the Good Shepherd Order. They made a special dispensation for her to be a regular nun. But she was Mother Serena’s right hand. I named my oldest daughter after Katherine, as a matter of fact.
…. She was Mother’s right hand. She went on errands. She was always busy. She had the keys on her belt. … When I left here, she was the one that came and got me out of the laundry. She said “Mother Serena wants to see you.” Mother Serena led me to the double doors and my bags were packed but she was the one that did that, packed the bags, got the girls ready to leave, and kept silent about it because you never knew.
It was a complete surprise to you?
Oh, absolutely. There was no closure, no saying goodbye when you left. The whole thing was you didn’t want to connect any of these girls with the outside world. This was like a cloister.
What did she say to you? Do you remember?
She said, “The social worker is coming to take you to the train. You’re going home.” And I started to cry. I remember that. She says, “Go on out there and make a woman out of yourself.”
Now this was after you’d been here how long?
I’d been here three years.
So you’d graduated, then went to Seattle University, had the college courses here…
Yes. And she says, “You were just a pup when you came in here.” I still get goosebumps when I think of that day. That was a big day. You never got to say goodbye to your friends, people you were bonded to …. And so she pushed me out the door and when I got home, I found that she had stuffed little hand lotions and little candy bars in the corners of my suitcase.
….
What feelings get stirred up when you think about that time?
Well, the anger and resentment of being locked up first off. I was pretty angry when I came here but Mother Serena, she was a complex woman. She ran this school with an iron hand. And it didn’t take me long to figure out that the way to get out of here was to get in here — to take part because Mother Serena had absolute power. She was the one that decided how long you stayed. If I wanted to get out of here, I had to get into Mother Serena’s corner, so to speak.
So at first it was sort of a manipulation to try to do good so I could get out. And then I got locked into what’s going on here, the music, your friends …. there were parts of it I liked alot. And Mother Serena — I don’t know how anyone can describe her character because she was very complex. She had some nervous twitches; she was always working her mouth, tongue thrusting. Later, after I studied medication, I wondered if she was on some sort of a psychotropic medication because she had tongue thrusting and she had involuntary movements.
Later, looking back at it, I wonder. It was a huge responsibility. She had a lot of girls from Indian reservations; she had girls, every strata of society girls, in here, and she had to keep them under control and control was the key word. And she didn’t let other nuns come over here and run her show. It was definitely her show.
You said there were, at the most, about 206 girls — were there nuns that assisted her?
At refectory time, she would stay there until we all got our food and then she would tap the little bell, say that we could have recreation, she’d say, “God be blessed,” tap the little bell, and we could talk to each other. And then she–
You couldn’t talk before that?
No. We didn’t talk while we ate, and sometimes during that, we got too loud, we would lose the privilege of talking. Then she would leave in the middle of that meal and Mother Dominic would come and sit there on the other chair on this podium. Mother Serena would nod to her. I don’t think there was a great affection between [them]….
[T]he girls liked Mother Dominic … she was young and sort of “with it.” There might have been some jealousy, I don’t know. But Mother Serena did not let Mother Dominic touch the mail or have any power over what the girls did. She was just there, a warm body needed to be there.
So there was one nun in charge of all those girls?
Yes. And most of the time it was Mother Serena.
And she had control?
She had control. And if you wanted to talk to Mother, you would stand back by where she would have this raised platform where she sat reading the mail, tongue thrusting, doing weird stuff with her mouth.
While you were eating, she was reading your mail?
Yes. And she’d look up a lot and then she’d read our mail. And if you wanted to talk to her about anything, about a problem or anything, you would come up and stand until she would nod. She wouldn’t look at you, she would just nod, like that. Then you’d come up and kneel right by her chair.
Or if you were in trouble, she would call you up. She’d tell Catherine or one of the officers — I was an officer — to go get this girl. And you could hear her scolding the girl. She had this loud voice. She had a huge voice. She had a huge voice that was probably damaged, the vocal chords, from screaming at girls for so many years that her voice is indescribable … raspy …. very distinguishable voice.
Did you ever get in trouble?
I did get in trouble….I didn’t get in major trouble; I didn’t run away or any of those things. I wasn’t a mushpot. If she thought that you might be in love with another girl, she’d call you a mushpot and that was like the worst thing you could call a girl. … Mushpot was anything but what you wanted to be.
One girl, she took her out and turned the hose on her and said she was kicking her out. Of course she never did, was always a huge scene, turning the hose on her, humiliating her, calling her a mushpot, screaming and yelling at her and then the officers, Catherine Hogan would say things. We were expected to say things also.
To call girls names?
Like “drop your eyes, you bold stump.” Or “don’t you look like that.”
What prompted this?
Mother Serena would maybe catch the girl looking at another girl too long. Or just something in her mind would think that this girl was a mushpot. It was that it had sexual overtones. So that was a bad thing. And it seems to me we couldn’t wear hair on our forehead. If you wore your hair on your forehead, you risked getting it shaved, the whole piece of your hair. Because only “bold stumps” wore their hair on their forehead. Those prostitutes down on 2nd Avenue wore their hair on their forehead, curls, like Betty Grable. They had pompadours like this, hair on their forehead. So we could not wear our hair on our forehead.
What did she do–
We had to comb it back. The girls had elaborate ways at keeping their hair …. little pincurls up here so it was always up here but there would still be curls up here and then the pompadour look.
Was the beauty school here?
Yes …. That was across the hall over here. The beauty school, that’s right. I think I had one of the worst fried permanents I ever had was here. They were learning on our hair.
What other things prompted Mother Serena to…?
I remember she scolded me. I broke up … I wrote to my boyfriend for awhile when I was here and then he wrote me a “Dear John” letter saying that he didn’t want to be in this relationship with me anymore or maybe he got another girlfriend. I was sad, crying, and she said “quit sniffling”.
I ran the projector for the films here and I was pretty good. I was an older girl. It was mostly the little kids that got in trouble or the kids that were really like wayward, rebellious. I kind of got into knowing where the boundaries were.
Did Mother Dominic ever reprimand as well?
No, Mother Dominic was not allowed to reprimand the girls. If she did, Mother Serena took the girl’s side. That was the dynamic that was going on there. And Mother John Eudes, though, was here before Mother Dominic. And I think Mother Serena might have …. she was a very different personality and very easygoing.
You think she got along better with Mother Serena?
I think she did. ….
One of the things that I remember, the little angel guardian kids, they would save their butter for us big kids, officers and they would give us their butter and we would hold it under our cups so we would have butter. You only got it on Sunday. So we had all this stored butter under our cups and the one that had the most, it was a status to have a lot of butter under your cup because that showed how popular you were with the little kids. I guess every institution has their little status; in prison it was the cigarettes, in here, it was the butter.
What other nuns do you remember?
I remember Mother Michael who was hard working and just always very kind but preoccupied, always preoccupied. She didn’t interact in any kind of way other than overseeing the mangles and the laundry and getting the laundry out on time and showing us how to do things like that, instructional …. Mother Cyril, I think, was her sister. She was sour; she always had a sour look on her face. She took care of the sacristy. She was not approachable. She didn’t have anything to do with us anyway. And Mother Martina in the kitchen, very sweet, but I didn’t work in the kitchen. But the girls that worked in the kitchen loved Mother Martina. She was very kind, motherly.
…. I did some tutoring here for a little boy somewhere in this neighborhood here [the Wallingford neighborhood]. He needed some tutoring so maybe I was being groomed to be a teacher but I taught him some geography…
How was that connection made?
I have no idea but I got paid for it, I remember. I got paid for another thing, it was just the weirdest thing. I’m sure that somebody was doing a study from the university. This guy came and handed me a mimeographed book on supersonic wind tunnels, something I knew nothing about and I was to write something about what I gleaned from that. I’m sure it was just part of a study. I remember I got paid for that so Mother Serena had that money and she had some money from my tutoring the boy who was maybe 10…. And I remember when I left, she couldn’t find the money. She looked all over, through the checks, and I was in her office.
There were some moments with Mother Serena that were wonderful, when she would take you into her confidences. I remember one time she changed her shoes in front of me and rolled down her socks and I saw her feet. And I realized that she was a human being, she had feet. She was pretty nice to me most of the time.
Were the girls afraid of Mother Serena?
Yes. It’s very complicated. Yes, of course, we were all ….we could hear her coming. She had this nervous habit. She had her keys in her pocket. We could hear those keys coming from far off. Our ears … we were hyper-vigilant to those keys. And our spines would straighten. We would do whatever it was we were supposed to be doing. But then there were some relaxed moments with Mother Serena that were wonderful. She had a jolly side of her and would laugh. We waited for those moments. We all wanted to please her. I say we all — the kids I hung out with, the older kids — we wanted to please her and help her. She was pretty strict with some of those kids but it was mostly kids that didn’t have parents. I’d see that dynamic there. She never slapped me or pulled my hair but she did some of the other kids. Take a ruler and slap them until the ruler broke, some pretty—
And she did that in front of everyone?
Uh hum. Or sometimes we went to the penthouse with Mary Mabe because Mary had run away, I guess. That’s when she took the ruler and broke the ruler over her. It was just us officers that were there at the time. She didn’t do that in front of the whole class but she would frequently grab a girl’s hair, slap her, backhand her. She was tough and of course, she probably thought that’s what you were supposed to do. Now we know that doesn’t help people, it makes them worse. But she was not psychologically oriented at all. If a girl would cry and say she was nervous, she’d say, “clean up your conscience.” That was her response. If a girl talked about home, “Home, home, home, when you get home, you won’t be home for 5 minutes. You’ll be out on 2nd Avenue with the sailors.” ….
She would shame girls. A girl that wet her bed had to wear her sheets with a big sign on it that said “fish.” Not psychologically oriented at all. I don’t know what her educational background was but, of course, we know more now. This was 50 years ago; this was the dark ages. I’m sure that would not wash today at all. And she wouldn’t be the same today but in those times …. And she was getting old already. I think that her patience was wearing thin. That’s a hard job to keep 200 girls–
…
I’m sure that news leaked out but Mother John Eudes who is now Sister Valerie, said that she was a very unusual, she uses the word “unusual” and I’m sure that Mother Serena was very unusual in her approach with girls. She had a very powerful personality and she did well to manage these girls.
The order of nuns had shrunk; there was 13 nuns here then. Some of them were pretty old. They couldn’t have handled what she did. Some of them were young, like Mother Dominic, and couldn’t have handled it. So she was the one. And they gave her free rein. Mother William was more of an educator and she became Mother Superior later. But she’s the one that kind of ran it behind the scenes. Mother Serena had to answer to Mother William, but Mother William, I think, gave her free rein. Mother William is a very wise woman, stepped back probably at the right time.
You worked in the laundry?
Yes.
Tell me about that. When you worked–
When we first went there, when we first went to the laundry, we were in the shake room. And the shake room was big, canvas bags on rollers, frames, these big bins that were rolled out through the double doors. The double doors hit about waist high or a little bit lower than waist high. And the men, you could see their legs underneath there, did the washing part.
And when the washing was through and the wringing of the sheets, they would send these things out on rollers and we would shake them and put them on long tables, stretch them out. The sheets were folded once over lengthwise and then once again, and laid on a big shaking table, called a shaking table, a sheet table. And when it got high enough and they were running out of it at the main mangle, then we would roll the whole table over by the mangle and then the girls, one girl on each end, would feed the sheets into these big belts that would go through the mangle.
What is a mangle?
A huge iron, a mangle. Big conveyor belt, big canvas conveyor belt, but the length of a sheet. And they’re wet when they go on there and you stretch them tight. They were going slowly, stretch ‘em tight. You could speed it up but at first when you’re learning, you stretch ‘em tight, make all the wrinkles … and then you’d put it through, and it would go through these big rollers, I think there was three big rollers, would go round and round and round and then come out the other side. A girl would start in the laundry room by shaking. First you started with small things like napkins, shaking, making piles of totally straight napkins. And then those napkins, the girl at the napkin mangle — there were three mangles in there. One was a sheet mangle, one was a tableware or tablecloth and napkin mangle. She’d yell “stack” and then you’d have to bring a stack to her, which was different than the sheet mangle. You’d have to wheel the whole thing over.
Well, I was very bored with shaking. I shook and shook and shook. It was a very boring job. Shake it out, put it on the pile, stretch it out, make it perfectly flat, it’s all wet stuff. So I wanted to learn the mangle right away and that’s what I did.
Then the next step was to learn to run the sheet mangle. And I worked at the sheet mangle and then I wanted to learn to pick up and I liked that job a lot because it’s physical. There’s two girls on each end; the sheet would come out this way, you’d flip it over this way, then flip it over this way, and then the girl that would end up folding it would push it up this way, make the ends match like this, and then go around to a table back here and fold it, fold one, two, three, into threes like that so that the sheet ended up like this.
And then the next most responsible job was to be the packer of the sheets. So I ended up being the sheet packer and that was a very responsible job. I got to pack the sheets into the big canvas bags and then they would go out at the end of the day. The men would come and pick them up. We never saw the men. God forbid that we would see men. Couldn’t even have men’s voices on music. We could not talk about our fathers, our brothers, we couldn’t talk about the outside world. Could not talk about the outside.
When we first came in, you got a charge, somebody that was in charge of you. And that girl was in charge of telling you what the rules were and you were a new girl for six months. After your six months, you could go and ask Mother Serena, can I get rid of my charge, especially if you didn’t like her. I was in charge of Charmaine when she came in as a new girl. And I was pretty strict teaching her the rules. And I think Mother Serena actually told me to lighten up.
What did you wear when you worked in the laundry?
We had a variety of cotton clothes that we wore, Mother Hubbards kind of, white shirt, we had the ballerina skirt sometimes, eight-gored skirt; we had a peasant blouse at a different time. Then for chapel, we wore the satin, taffeta blue, the officers, that was us, we were important, we wore little capes and beanies with white plumes in them, white feathers. That was for special occasions. ….
How did you get to be an officer? Was there some kind of special procedure?
Mother Serena chose. And I don’t know how you got to be an officer. Nobody else had any say. A unilateral decision, Mother Serena’s decision. But you kind of worked your way up. …
And I was in charge of music; I was like the music librarian. I got to do music things. Mother Serena liked that. I think that that pleased her, that I did music.
Did you have music instruction?
I don’t remember having music instruction … I just don’t remember. I’d had alot of music instruction before I came here. It was just Mother Serena played the organ and directed the choir and I sang in the choir. They handed me a violin once and told me to teach some little kids how to play the violin. I never knew how to play the violin. Somebody told me where the fingering was, “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” or something. So I taught some little kids “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. …”
When did you work in the laundry?
I worked in the laundry, you mean the time–
What times of the day and how often?
I went to work in the morning and the deal was, I had missed a lot of school by that time, and if you want to graduate with your graduating class, here’s your books. When you’re through with this book, come take a test with Mother William. Come and take a test and we’ll test you out of that. So that’s how I finished my education in high school except that I also took multigraph, mimeograph, comptometer, and calcator, totally useless machines, at least nowadays.
So you didn’t go to regular classes.
I think I went to a math class. Mother William was a teacher of that math class and then I had office machines. But history and all the rest of that stuff, I learned on my own and tested out of it when I was ready. …
So while the other girls would go to school, you would be working?
I worked in the laundry and went to school in the afternoon. Or went and studied, like study hall, is what I did.
How many hours in a row would you work in the laundry?
Probably four hours. And then, the last time I was here, I didn’t work in the laundry. I was Mother Serena’s helper and I wasn’t really assigned anyplace. I just did errands like Catherine did.
You came back after–
I came back. I went to Seattle University and lived on campus for awhile and discovered … some of my fellow students there, musicians …. I always gravitated to the music people. I discovered bebop. And I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I heard Charlie Parker for the first time. And fell in love with black music. And so most of my friends that I gravitated toward were Auggie Boone who later became a pretty well known jazz pianist in New York, was one of my best friends and she’s a black woman. And we all hung out together. I’m from a small town, there’s no blacks there. So this was really a cultural experience for me and I loved it.
And Mother Serena’s name was Dixie in her other life and she was very prejudiced against blacks. She had gotten word through the grapevine somehow that I was hanging out with all those black kids, dancin’, doing the bebop in the music rooms, and listening to this weird music, and it just didn’t seem right to her. So she got my mother to come and pick me up and bring me here and when I got here, she said … it was the end of the semester…
So you had only been gone for one semester?
One semester. And the semester was over and she talked me into staying here. I don’t know how she did that. I felt very coerced. I really felt at that point that I had no choice. My mother said, “This is where you’re staying.” Mother Serena had talked her into putting her foot down. …
And that was when you were about 20 now?
Yes. And Mother Serena said, “I need you to help me with Mother General’s Feast Day coming up and come and help me with the music.” And then I stayed for that and then something else came up. It was always another. .. Mother Serena wasn’t ready to let go. I knew I couldn’t leave until Mother Serena said I could. I was here for another year. I was 20 when I left. But I was accustomed to minding mother by that time. The brainwashing works. And she didn’t make me go back to the laundry. I sort of drifted around. I did this and that and the other thing. I liked that. It was enjoyable, some of it.
….
What were some of the other daily rituals that you remember?
During lent, we would kneel and say the rosary after our meal. We had May crowning. That was the big deal of the year, was the big May crowning. And Betty was Mother Serena’s favorite. She got to crown — she was the main queen — no, she got to carry Our Lady of Fatima statue that came around, that was on a pilgrimage. This Lady of Fatima statue was on a pilgrimage and Betty had a devotion to Our Lady of Fatima and she got to carry the statue. I forget who was the May Queen but that was kind of a big deal.
And then the newspaper in town raised funds for us to have clothes, like real clothes, not clothes from the clothes room. And we got to go down and buy clothes in a small shopping spree that we went on, buy a suit, like our graduation, that was for seniors.
…
And Mother Serena would take you?
No. The social worker, Miss….
So the social workers were around and doing–
Oh, I remember the social worker, I can’t remember her name, it was Miss somebody, anyway she called me in her office after I came back the second time and said, “Maybe you would like to go into sociology.” I was offended because I knew that she knew I had hung out with these black kids and I was offended that she would think I had a social worker view of my black friends. And I said “Never, I’m not at all interested in social work.”
And then years later, I became a social worker. …
When we were walking around, you were telling me about that back [south] stairwell and that’s the stairwell that you used to get around and you never even went beyond the metal doors–
Yes, the metal door–?
–to even where the front door is. You were only on the girls’ side, you went into the chapel from the back stairwell.
From the top floor, from Sacred Heart, that little hallway there, where we went into the chapel, that’s where we entered and exited, from that door. We had veils that were handed out; on Sundays, we got white veils in a box. Somebody’d hand out the veils and during the week, we had black veils. Is that right? Sometimes I get it mixed up with St. Mary’s. When you’re in two convents as a boarder … I have to think about that again, maybe. We had to wear something on our heads. Oh, yes, we wore little beanies. And sometimes we had like a soldier’s hat. We wore different hats. We didn’t wear veils. Little hats. …
And the windows were all just like that one window, on the bottom floor, the bottom landing, the frosted–
Frosted …. we did not see into the outside world. We were totally kept from looking outward. Our job was to stay in here and concentrate on making a woman out of ourselves, as Mother Serena put it.
And there were statues on every landing? Devotional statues.
Yes. I went to chapel every day, even though there were certain days that we could sleep in. I was one of those that went to chapel every day. Just did. We could sleep in on Saturdays, and maybe Mondays, I forget. There were two days we could sleep in without going to chapel. But the rest of the time was compulsory and we had benediction often at nighttime.
And you said Monday nights were early–
Early, go to bed early, get your clean sheets. Mother Serena would call out the numbers during dinner. You couldn’t talk during dinner on Monday nights. My number was 147; some things you never forget.
Was that your bed number?
That was my number. All my clothes were marked 147. All of our clothes were marked with our numbers. When they were washed, they were returned to us. We got one sheet every week. We’d take the bottom one and put it on the top. We’d get a clean bottom one. I think that’s the way it went. We got one sheet and clean pajamas and a clean pillowslip once a week. And she would call out according to the pajamas, our number.
….
There were no curtains between the beds. I remember that. When I was at St. Mary’s, I had curtains between our beds. We learned to dress inside our flannel nightgowns. Modestly. To this day, I dress myself this way. It’s just a habit of a lifetime. It’s crazy.
So you dress underneath your pajamas?
Yes, you learn how to put on your clothes this way and you don’t ever get cold.
That’s how you had to do it?
That’s how we had to do it. We couldn’t expose our skin. We were not allowed. We had to dress modestly, dress and undress modestly. That was a rule.
Do you remember what time you got up?
We didn’t have clocks. We got up early.
How did you get woken up?
The bell. Mother Serena would come in, ring the bell and say, “Glory to God”…and we had to answer it, be on our knees by the bed. Probably I don’t remember it because I was half asleep most of the time. But she would ring the bell and say this first part of the prayer and we’d have to answer it.
And then what time did you usually go to bed? Except Monday nights.
I don’t know. I have no idea.
Did you stay up after dinner on other nights?
Oh, yes. We would get to go out and run around outside. And it was cold so we would run around. There was no sitting down. And you’d run around, round, round-
And you had to go out there, you couldn’t go–
No, no. It was compulsory. We didn’t have time to read outside reading.
Did you have homework?
We did our homework in school. We had a study hall, that’s when we did it. I don’t remember much about school. I remember a lot about the laundry.
You and Betty sang in the choir during chapel?
Yes, we were singing real loud and Mother Serena didn’t like it. She took two hymnals, like that, and hit us both in the back of the head.
And you said the nuns faced each other?
Yes, the nuns faced each other.
Did you go to the confessionals?
Yes, we went to confession every Saturday.
And was it the same priest?
Yes, I can’t remember his name, Father …
And when you went out to the pavilion, you were telling me some of the activities that you did, out in the pavilion and out in the yard.
Roller skating, kids played basketball a little bit. There wasn’t really a basketball floor but there was baskets to shoot baskets.
And the skates and bats and balls were kept at the bottom of the basement stairs there [in the closet]?
Yes. I remember once in awhile I’d skate but most of the time us older girls would dance.
So you had a record player that was set up in the pavilion?
Right. And Mother Serena’s song was “South of the Border Down Mexico Way.” And when that song went on — Catherine Hogan pretty well controlled that record player — and if she put that song on, all the girls had to stand up and sing it.
How does that song go?
You never heard that song? [singing] “South of the border, down Mexico Way, that’s where I found … stars above came out to play.” It’s a long saga of somebody that left somebody, went off to war or something. We all had fantasies that Mother Serena’s lover had gone off– probably none of it was true.
What other songs did y’all play on the record player?
We played all the Andrew Sisters and Betty Hutton and Harry James, all the big band music of the time, instrumentals. We weren’t allowed to hear Perry Como or Frank Sinatra or any of those people because they were men, God forbid.
And you would dance.
And we would dance.
And you could dance with each other?
Jitterbug. We wouldn’t do slow dancing.
But you did jitterbug together.
And then I liked the theater aspect of preparing programs and teaching some dancing, dance steps to the girls. I taught them tango steps. …
You said Mother Serena was from Texas?
Yes. She was from Texas. So she liked that flavor of music. I invented a whole program for Mother Serena — maybe it was her feast day — we did a whole south of the border program for her. It was my little bit, getting to do theater here. We tap danced, we did a whole St. Patrick’s Day thing. We did some tap dancing.
….
I remember somebody sent a movie up that was not a good movie for girls to see. I can’t remember what it was but we got into the middle of it, or not even the middle of it, the first part of it and Mother Serena said “Take that thing off.”
Do you remember what it was about? What was in it?
It was about girls that ran away and were in a girls’ school. That’s what it was about.
….
Did you stay here during the holidays?
Uh hmm. I never went home.
You never left?
Nobody did. Nobody went out on furlough or vacation or whatever. You were here.
So even during Christmas, everybody stayed here.
Oh, yes. Everybody stayed here. I was Santa Claus. I have pictures of myself being Santa Claus one year.
After you graduated and went to Seattle U. for that semester–
Came back here and did some more post-graduate work, another semester.
And that was the first time you had left?
Yes.
Ever went outside of the doors in a couple of years.
Yes.
You weren’t allowed any freedom at all before that?
None.
Did people from the outside come in, ever do entertainment or other programs?
I don’t remember that at all. ….
Did you have places in this building or on the grounds that were especially memorable for you or that you liked to go to?
No, because we did everything like ants, in mass. There was no individual space here for you to go be whoever you were.
When we were outside too, you were telling me, we went out of the basement door and into the pergola and then you saw the wall that was still there. You said that there was a fence that was even higher than that wall. So whenever you were out in the yard, you were surrounded by–
Fence. There was no way to get out. You knew that you were here, period. That’s it. That was probably the hardest thing at first because I was a kid who liked a lot of freedom. In 1949, it was nothing for me and my girlfriend to hitchhike to the dance in Astoria where we lived and in 1949, it wasn’t popular for girls to hitchhike around but I was pretty independent. I was a free spirit, I guess, you’d say. It was hard to be confined; it was very hard for me to be confined.
Did you have any pets here?
No. We didn’t have pets. Maybe there was a kitty in the kitchen but I had nothing to do with that. You didn’t have pets. You had your friends, that’s what I had, was my friends. But when you left here, you left your friends behind. You couldn’t say goodbye. You sort of expected that maybe any day now, I might be leaving and you’d sort of get a feel but…
Did you ever try to write anybody who was still here?
I came back here and saw Mother Serena after I was married and had a couple of kids. Mother Serena had a dress made for my little girl and it was by the girls in the sewing room. She took my old formal that I had and had a little dress made for my oldest daughter. I came back a couple of times and she was always very welcoming, was happy to see me.
Did you ever try to contact any of the other girls?
I had no way to contact the girls. We obeyed the rules about that so when I called Mother Valerie, Mother John Eudes, after all these years, the first question I asked was about Katherine. She said Katherine had been dead for a couple of years. And I said, “Well, how about Betty Cobb?” And she says, “Well, you know, Betty wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t give you her number.” So I called her, I was actually on my way out. That was a year and a half ago. I was at the airport, I was actually attending a conference at one of those big motels out there by the airport and I called her from there. I said “This is a voice from out of your past.” And I said “This is Jackie Moen”. She screamed for a solid 15 seconds. “I thought you were dead.” She started crying.
I didn’t realize how important the relationship was to her because she didn’t have any family at all so I was probably as close to being a sister as any that she ever had. And she was very connected to this place and to Mother Serena and to us.
You said that you followed the rules. When you left, Mother Serena told you that you were not to contact–
She didn’t say that. We knew the rules. It’s that you weren’t to talk about the outside world, you weren’t to exchange phone numbers, you weren’t supposed to talk about the town you were from, you didn’t talk about the mutual people you knew, none of that. So there was no way unless you broke those rules to say, that wasn’t a rule, we knew that rule. So she didn’t have to say it when we left.
You said the penthouse was just a place where they stored costumes and things–
Yes, at that time.
Also, it was a place–
To discipline the girls out of the sight of the class. I was up there maybe twice for one of these disciplining sessions which was pretty …. Mother Serena was very strict and probably nowadays it would be called abusive.
Was that used as a threat, I’m going to take you up to the penthouse?
Yes, it could be, yes.
And you could hear her yelling at the girls?
Yes.
Was that from a hallway?
No, from the refectory. We’d be having our dinner and talking to one another and over the din of 200 girls talking, we would hear her shouting at a girl. And we were supposed to not listen. But we knew what was going on.
What kinds of behavior would cause her to take you up to the penthouse?
Girls that ran away and would be returned.
And the officers needed to come too?
Yes, she would call certain of us. And we would stand around mainly, just to stand around and look mean at the girl. Charmaine talked about having more of a part in that later. I think it got worse later. I remember her beating Betty, pulling her hair, grabbing her head, banging her head against the floor. I remember that. And I thought Betty is her favorite girl. If she does that to Betty, I better mind my p’s and q’s.
Do you remember what Betty did?
Betty ran away once with another girl. I think that might have been the time. And Mother would threaten to kick you out where you’d have to go to Grand Mound, the state reformatory, and she’d say that she was sending you to Grand Mound. She’d be yelling at the girl and telling her that. And the girl would have to beg to stay here. “Please don’t send me to Grand Mound. Let me stay here.” This was what she was supposed to say. Some girls, even though they’d rather go to Grand Mound now, would say it anyway. I don’t remember any girls going to Grand Mound from here.
How did girls run away?
You know, I don’t know. One girl ran away when we went out to do shopping, to buy clothes that time. And like, we were afraid that we’d all lose a privilege and it was a big deal.
So you all saw her running away?
No. When the car came back, she wasn’t in it. And it was always sort of hush hush.
How did those years have a lasting impact on you? On your life?
Well, I don’t know. It’s hard to say. It’s hard to say how much in reflecting, how much impact it had. There was a lot of discipline. You learned a lot of self-discipline. There was some good parts there. Lasting impact, I don’t know.
Sources:
Toby Harris Interview of Jackie (Moen) Kalani, Good Shepherd Center, Wallingford (Seattle, Washington), August 27, 1999. The original taped interview is housed at Seattle’s Museum of History and Industry (MOHAI).
By Toby Harris, September 17, 2004
Very interesting. My great-great grandmother lived there in her teenage years during the late teens-early 1920′s. I would be very interested to know if any records from the place still exist, as my gggrandmother was an orphan and I have no information about her parents other then their origins.
Hi Charlie,
My understanding is that all personal records were destroyed when they closed down but the school records were sent down to the Archdiocese offices. That really was a very interesting place and if many stories were to be told – some of them would be so very shocking to so many people. I do not know if they really kept records of any of the orphans. I know of one instance where another nun actually killed her very own sister who was also a nun but not in the Seattle house – the one in St. Paul, Minnesota.
I spent a year there and remember mother Serena well. I was there in 1954 or 55. Does anyone remember mother Henry? I loved her.
Hi Sheila,
Yes, I remember Mother Henry well – a very lovely nun. She had taken back her own name of Dorothy Marie. She passed away in St. Paul, Minnesota but I do not remember what year. She had dementia problems for several years but she was truly a lovely woman.
Also today is the anniversary of the passing of Sister Helen Louise Roth – (Mother Louis) twenty years ago today. That was one very lovely woman who did so much for so many girls wherever she was. She really had zeal for souls. I only wish we had had her in Seattle in charge of the girls – what a different time it would have been for many of us. Better than the beatings many of us got from one MaScreama. She was the only one that I knew of that was so brutal to the girls in her care. For anyone interested Mother John Eudes (Sister Valerie) is still alive but her mind is leaving her. She was one that was always kind to the girls in her care. She is now 92 years old I think. They are closing the Convent in St. Paul on Hodgson Road and moving those left to a Presbyterian assisted living home and that home also has a nursing home attached there and deals with those with dementia. It is located on I think 100 acres and has many amenities that these nuns should enjoy if they can.
I think it will be much better for them as the Convent in St. Paul really did not offer much to these fine ladies – they will have a swimming pool there – exercise room – computer room – lovely dining rooms – Dr. and Dentist on site – Beauty shop – grocery store and shopping right on the premises. And they treat their people so very good from what I have been told.
looking for records of my Grandma who was there 1930-1935 records could not be open till her death ,she died this month who do I contact asap Please
Dannell,
All the personal records of all the girls in each and every home have been destroyed. Only able to get school records is my understanding. I understand all school records were sent to the Diocese or Archdiocese offices. You might try contacting the archivist in St. Louis to learn more – It is now being done by a layman – not all that many nuns left anymore from the old St. Paul Province. His name is Joel S – cannot remember his last name but it is on the internet.
For anyone who knew Sister Helen Louise Roth – listen to this tribute to her and an award is given each year in her name in Minnesota. She is one who really cared about the girls and all children in need. She was their very best IMHO. They really have never had one like her ever. A true Good Shepherd Sister in every way.
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I went to this school/ for 9 months, Mother John was in charge then and I loved her, also my friend from the outside was there and became my Big sister. we did alot of things other girls didn’t or even think about doing, including making wine, out of fermeted fruit.
Mother Gertrude was in fron of me one time outside at a basketball event, I carefully took the pins out of her Habit and the next gust of wind took it off. she had beautiful hair.
Mother Serena would always say Don’t touch me I’m concercrated to God. so we would always get the new girls to do it.
I was called a pussy (which mean I would be called upon to pull girls off the fence if they were trying to run. I loved that job it got me away from the laundry which was horrid.(to hot).
I have to say without the influence of boys around I learned more in that school yr than I did anywhere else.
We did have a Janitor named mr Lee.
just when that song was popular. we used to follow him down the halls singing whow Mr. Lee Mr. Lee. poor guy.
there is so much more I could write, but I will wait for Helen to add her bits here.
Hi Katee,
What years were you there?
Katee,
By the time Mother John Eudes was in charge of the girls Mother Gertrude had long been gone – she left in February of 1961. MaScreama had returned from Omaha but was not allowed to be over on the class side at all – that I do know as I did teach and work up there at the time. I am the one who took Mother Gertrude down to the train the night she did leave Seattle. She was never back in Seattle again. She is now Sister Elsie May and is 82 years old. She was a very nice lady. As far as taking the pins out of Mother Gertrude’s veil you would not have been able to see her full hair – they also wore what is called a skull cap and the gimpe and bandeau and all of that would not have blown off – no way. I never knew any of the girls to try and scale the fences to run away – never ever heard of it even. Yes, the laundry was quite warm but not unbearable and Mother Michael had charge of it and ran it very well and really did not over work the girls to my knowledge. Besides St. Paul – Seattle was the only other house she was ever in. She died in St. Paul the day after her 90th birthday that I do know. I had sent her a dozen red roses for her birthday and also a check for her personally. She was a very lovely and holy woman. I do not think there was a maintenance man called Mr. Lee – there was a Mr. Lee who worked in the laundry during the summer months as he was a school teacher and related to Mother William. There was a Jerry Barnett who was the one in charge and also a Mr. Woody who had been there for years. I kind of feel you may be a little confused with some of what you have said.
And for the most part many of the nuns shaved their heads with the hair clippers – they would get them out of the Superiors office and use them. Many told me that they did this. None of them just let their hair continue to grow and grow. I had met almost the 200 of them from the old St. Paul Province when traveling with Mother Epiphany when she was doing the vocation work which actually did not yield them anything long term. A few entered and then left the Order. They are much more lenient with the nuns today than the days of old. The did merge the Provinces and there are only two Provinces left in the United States today. There are not that many left from the days of old. Mother John Eudes – Valerie now is still alive and 92 years old but her mind is going I was told and not doing too good either.
I was in the Seattle Home of the Good Shepherd 1959-61. I was in charge of a dorm and remember being friends with sister Angnus…she was in the same dorm as mine. I remember having to wash the nuns habits from head to ft. I did the same thing for “Fathers” too. I would love to find Sister Angnus but she probably is not alive. If she is and anyone knows please contact me.
Also, did anyone that was there at the same time I was remember a Dr that took liberties when you saw him…that was awful and I always wondered if he did that with other girls… My memories are scattered and although I have a lot of them that I remember..some good and some not so good I do remember that most nuns were kind especially sister agnus. Thank you in advance for your help. Those were hard times for most girls, we were unhappy, lonesome and in my case as in many others my mother and father were not available to me (drinking). It is upsetting to read your posts, makes me sad to know that others hurt inside as much as I did…and guess still do.
Hi Carol,
By any chance are you referring to Sister Angela Marie? Did you work in the laundry as that is where the Sisters habits were washed in those days and they also did laundry for several of the parishes in the area. As for the Dr. you are referring to – was that the psychiatrist that they had brought in for some of the girls?