Escape From Lakewood

Forest View Hospice Center, May 2012

My great grandfather, Benjamin, is a great man- a family man through and through. He had a close relationship with his kids, grandkids, and even his great-grandchildren. Today he asked to see me only. He wants to tell the story of his childhood, and according to him, I am the only one who can "tell it right" after he is gone

As I walked into his dimly lit room, I thought he was sleeping. I had been coming every evening for about a week now.

"Hi Pop-pop, I'm here", I said as I kissed his forehead.

He opened his eyes slowly and replied, "I thought you had forgotten about our date. Help me sit up a little, will ya?"

I got my laptop out, ready to take notes.

"Back in my day, we had pen and paper. None of this newfangled 'puters stuff."

"Times sure have changed, haven't they, Pop-pop?"

"Yes, they have. Are you ready to put that thing to use? This is quite a story. I have never told it until now, that is."

"Well, I am ready when you are. Where do you want to start?"

"I'd say from the beginning, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I would," I laughed a little as I said it.

He turned his head away, cleared his throat, and then turned back to face me, and I could see a tear running down his cheek.

"My Ma and Pa had a small, run-down farm that was passed to my Pa from his Pa. I had two siblings. William and Lizbeth. My mother was with child the year I turned fourteen. William was twelve, and Lizbeth was eight at the time. The harder we worked on that God-forsaken farm, the worse things got. A draught wiped out our crops this particular year, and the cows all delivered still birth calves."

"That's horrible," I say as I am typing away.

"It gets worse. My Ma started to have complications and delivered the baby early before my Pa returned with the midwife. Both the child and my Ma died within the hour of the baby's birth. Pa didn't even give the baby a name, and we never knew if it was a boy or a girl. He buried both of them together under the willow tree by the pond and never spoke of either of them again. He soothed his pain with the bottle."

"That must have been horrible to go through."

"It was, but I couldn't wallow in it for long. Pop all but gave up on raising us and working the farm. One morning, he loaded us into the wagon and took us to the nearest town. We didn't even have our clothes other than what we were wearing. After about an hour's ride, he pulled up in front of a large building surrounded by farm fields and woods on the back side. A railroad track ran alongside the eastern side of the property. A sign by the dirt road read 'Lakewood Home for Indigent Families and Children'. I remember it like it was yesterday," he said and began telling his story.

*****

Lakewood Home for Indigent Families and Children, August 1924

"This is your new home," Pops said gruffly. He didn't even look at us while he said it.

"Pops, what about the farm?" I asked.

"Papa, I wanna stay with you," William said.

Lizbeth was crying and may not have fully understood what was happening. He didn't even bring us up to the door. He abandoned us. He got back up on the wagon and rode off in a cloud of dust.

"Benjamin, why did Pops leave us?" Lizbeth asked.

"Come along, children," a woman called from the front door before I could answer Lizbeth's question. I was relieved because, the truth was, I didn't have an answer. "Your new home is here now. Your father isn't coming back for you."

I held Lizbeth's hand while she clutched her doll in the other. William was too old to hold hands, so he pulled it away when I reached for his. I could see him holding back tears, trying to be brave. We had no idea what was waiting for us on the other side of the door.

*****

"Oh, Pop-pop, that must have been horrible," I interjected.

"That wasn't even the worst of it. Let me get the rest of the story told."

*****

The woman who called from us at the door was Ms. Harding. She gave us an introductory tour of the building. The boy's dormitory upstairs, the girl's dormitory downstairs, and a separate building for entire families. There was a barn with milk cows, pigs, sheep, and a large chicken coup. Another barn had rows of sewing machines where clothes and such were made. There was also a bakery and a woodshop. Food and clothing were made on site, and anything extra they shipped away to be sold. The woodshop made furniture, which was also shipped away to be sold. As long as you were staying at this place, you were working. Men worked the fields and in the woodshop. Women worked sewing, baking, and cooking the food we would all eat. Older children took care of the animals, milking the cows and sheering the sheep. After the tour, we were sent to the dormitories to change into the grey pants and shirts everyone wore.

I walked Lizbeth to the girl's dormitory, where another woman was waiting.

"Benjamin, I don't want to be here. Can I stay with you?" Lizbeth asked.

"Sorry, kiddo, you have to stay here for now. I will see you again as soon as we can."

As William and I walked into the boy's dormitory, a taller, older boy tripped William. I couldn't just let it go, or we would be targets. After helping William up, I hit the bully with a right hook, knocking him down to the ground. That is when the attendant for the boys came in and separated us. His name was Mr. Stevens.

"What's going on here, boys?" asked Mr. Stevens

"Nothing, just horseplay," said the bully.

"Yeah, horseplay," I replied.

"Well, knock it off. Be in the dining hall in ten minutes," replied Mr. Stevens, "And you two get in your uniforms," he said to William and me.

After we had changed, we made out way to the dining hall. We all lined up to get our tray of biscuits and gravy, and we sat at an empty table. I was hoping to see Lizbeth, but the boys and girls eat separately.

"Hi, I'm Oscar," said a boy as he set his tray down at the table. "mind if I sit here?"

"Sure, I'm William, and this is my older brother Benjamin."

"Nice to meet you y'all."

As he sat down, we noticed his left hand was missing. He must have caught us looking.

"Oh, this?" Oscar says as he raises his left arm. "This is from an accident in the woodshop. Cut my hand clean off."

"How long have you been here? Is your family here?" I asked.

"No family. My mom dropped me off after my father died. Said she couldn't afford to take care of me. I've been here for two years now." We ate the rest of our meal in silence.

Mr. Stevens, standing at the door to the dining hall, announced that it was time for evening chores. Oscar was to take us to the animal barn and show us what needed to get done. Even with a missing hand, Oscar was still working. There was a group of about eight of us. By the time we finished cleaning the chicken coup and mucking the stalls, it was time for bed. We had to clean up before going to the dormitory, which consisted of cold water and lye soap, then right back into those itchy gray clothes.

The girls' evening chores included cleaning up after dinner and washing the dishes and pans.

Nights were horrible in the boy's dormitory; in the summer, it was too hot, and in winter, it was too cold. You could hear rats scurrying on the floor and under the bed, with some even getting on the beds

William and I got to see Lizbeth after church on Sundays. She was allowed to come down to our dormitory for a few hours. We mostly told stories, played with her doll, and drew on some old paper with crude wooden pencils. The time in between visits seemed to move slowly. But we settled into our routines. It was fall when things changed.

October 1924

On one of our regular Sunday visits, Lizbeth ran into our arms, sobbing. The only thing that she had, the only thing that gave her any security, her doll, was thrown into the kitchen fire by an older girl. I remember thinking, God, please get us out of this place.

I told Mr. Stevens about it, and he refused to do anything, saying she didn't need that childish thing anyway

*****

"Pop-Pop, how long were you all there at the home?"

"Too long," I replied. "We were there from August of 1924 to May of 1925. One harvest, a cold and gloomy winter, and one spring planting season. Now, are you going to let me tell this story?"

"Oo, sorry. I'll save questions for the end." I said apologetically.

*****

Time went on slowly, and it was the same routine daily. Breakfast slop, morning chores, lunch (a dry biscuit and some fresh milk,) followed by afternoon chores, supper slop, and evening chores. It was the same thing day in and day out.

Once the harvest was done, there was no need for workers on the farm, so they were moved to other areas. The younger boys and girls were put into primary school for the winter. The sewing barn was the busiest now, so the older girls were split between the kitchen, bakery, or sewing shop. I was moved to the wood shop, and William was moved to the bakery. We still saw each other throughout the day but only saw Lizbeth infrequently. Anytime I asked, I was whipped. I needed to find a way out.

May 1925

One lunch, Oscar showed up in the dining hall with bloody slices in the back of his shirt.

"What the hell happened?" I whispered as he sat down.

"I dropped chicken eggs today. I tried to tell him I couldn't gather eggs, but he made me. Then whipped me when I dropped them."

Tears began to fill his eyes. They didn't even give him a new shirt to wear.

That was when I knew we had to get out of there. I asked Oscar about the two trains that come through and why so many kids get on one and don't return.

"The train that comes through once a month is an orphan train. They put new clothes on the kids they are taking on that train. It went out west, and they were adopted out to families along the way. Mostly farmers so as they get a new set of hands. Many siblings are split up because families didn't want to take in more than one. They put me on it one run, and I was passed over because my hand was gone and all. That is why I am still here."

"What about the other train? The one that picks up supplies and delivers supplies?" I asked on the edge of my seat.

"Oh, the runaway train?" Oscar asked as if we would know. "They call that the runaway train 'caus if you can make it past the attendants and the fence, you can train hop to anywhere. You can run away."

"Have you ever tried? To run away, I mean?" I asked.

"No, I am too slow. I will get caught."

I laid awake that whole night trying to figure out how William, Lizbeth, and I could get out of this awful place. I knew we would have to sneak away at night when the guards are fewest. I would make sure we both got on woodshop duty so I could tell him the plan. Come Sunday, Lizbeth would know too.

May 26, 1925

At lunch, I asked Oscar to reconsider and come with us. We could get him on that runaway train. He restated his previous answer that he would not be coming with us. Instead, he would jump up and down on his bed screaming, "Rats! Rats!". That would be our cue to sneak upstairs to get Lizbeth.

It seemed like an eternity before I heard the sign. Then a bloodcurdling scream echoed in the dormitory. It was Oscar giving the performance of his life. William and I snuck to the back wall and waited for Mr. Stevens to get midway into the dormitory, and we snuck out the dormitory doors behind him. We turned the corner to go up the stairs, and there was Lizbeth.

"I heard the screaming. I knew what to do. I am a big girl, you know!"

"That is very brave of you, now c'mon, let's go."

It all happened so easily from that point on. We got to the fence without being spotted. Hopped the fence with no problem and settled behind two bins in the center of the cargo car. We made it on the runaway train and never looked back.

*****

"Pop-pop…That story is just…wow," I said, almost speechless.

"That's the truth of it."

"Well, what did you do after you got off the runaway train?"

"Well, I suppose you will have to bring that fancy 'puter back here and get that story on another day."

"I would love that Pop-pops. I would love that."

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