Alumni of children's home like family

Monday, June 15, 2009
Darrell Tony of Greencastle still keeps a photo of himself and other children who lived at the Indiana Soldiers' and Sailors' home in Knightstown in the 1940s in his room at The Waters of Greencastle. Pictured with Tony is Patricia Towne, who also lived at the home as a child and is now a volunteer there.

Darrell Tony spent his entire childhood at the Indiana Soldiers' and Sailors' Children's Home in Knightstown.

He arrived at the home as a 3-month-old baby, and remained there until he turned 18.

Today Tony, 78, lives at The Waters of Greencastle, a skilled nursing and rehabilitation facility.

Many of his memories may have faded, but he still recalls much from his time as a boy at the home.

The Indiana Soldiers' and Sailors' Children's Home -- referred to as "the home" by those who live or have lived there -- is a residential and educational facility that was founded in 1865 by Indiana Gov. Oliver Morton for veterans of the American Civil War.

Two years later it was renamed the Soldiers' and Sailors' Orphanage, and in 1930 it was given its current name. At that time, it was also decided to open the home to any student with a close relative who had served in the United States military.

When the home closed last month, it was painful not only for the 96 youth who were housed there at the time, but also for the hundreds of adults who passed through it as children.

"People from the state just came in to explain that the home would be closing," said Patricia Towne, an ISSCH alumnus who lived at the home from the ages to 10 to 18 and now volunteers there. "Meetings were offered to discuss helping them find other jobs, but the employees there are so dedicated to helping the children that they had no interest in finding other jobs. Their first concern was helping the children."

By chance, Towne, who lives near Danville, found out Tony lived in Greencastle (her neighbor works as Tony's caregiver). She first met him recently when she went to The Waters to visit him and fill him in on the home's closing.

"He told me it hurt his heart," Towne said. "And I knew how he felt. He's an alumnus too ... he's one of my brothers."

On a recent visit, Tony showed Towne a framed picture of a group of children on the home's lawn, taken in the mid- to late-1940s.

"Guess which one is me," he said with a playful smile.

It only took Towne two guesses to identify Tony as a spritely blonde boy in the back row of the photo.

Tony's brothers Bruce and Alfred and sister Mary also went to the home. As a young man, he worked at the home's bakery.

When he left the home, Tony moved to the Indianapolis area. He has been at The Waters since 2004.

Towne and Tony both went to the home after their mothers died.

"In my case, my mother died and left 11 kids, four of whom were young enough to still need care," she said.

Towne said no one should think the home was a horrible place.

"It wasn't Charles Dickens," she said. "I had a great childhood. I learned to ballet and tap dance. I was in the choir."

Towne can rattle off much of the home's history.

"I'd heard that the youngest child to ever go to the home was 3 months old," she said. "Then I come meet Darrell, and I find out it was him."

The fighting Towne and her fellow alumni have done on behalf of the home just may have worked -- it has tentatively been put back into the state budget, which has yet to be approved.

"Time will tell if it goes through," Towne said. "But if it doesn't this time, we'll keep writing letters, making phone calls and fighting. We have to just keep reminding them that we're not going to go away."

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  • While this is a truly touching story for both, Mr. Tony and Ms. Towne, suffice it to aver, not everyone had such a remarkably pleasant life at the Home. I first entered there when I was but age two, and throughout my nearly fifteen years spent there, I not only personally witnessed many of my peers being abused in various facets by those in literal charge of their care, I also suffered miserably at those very same merciless hands time and time again, not omitting those belonging to much larger - and older - boys when we were yet pre-teens.

    The Home and an unspoken rule of absolute silence to where we were afraid to tell anyone of anything being done to us lest we suffer intense and severe consequences. Even to this day, many "Homies" have come to me, knowing I fully intend to blow the lid off Indiana's best kept secret - even these many years ex post facto, because I, for one, am yet traumatized seemingly beyond repair, so to speak - and begged me to refrain from doing so inasmuch as it would resurrect their own cruel memories and harsh feelings about how they, too, suffered from the abuse they endured there. And yet, I, am amazed how nobody ever seemed to notice how when one drove down SR 140 through the grounds, one rarely saw a child. For that matter, the only times anybody saw children at length was when we were to put on our faux "WE LOVE OUR HOME" faces for the sake of manipulating society. Thus, we were hostages for societal fiduciary support, having to put on song-and-dance revues, etc., to show them we were well-trained "monkeys."

    Please keep in mind, however, not all of my life as a youth (I was never allowed to be a child, being we had to work for the facility in our divisions and eventually on our assigned trades, again for the Home's primary benefit) did not reside in shadows. However, when I attend Homecomeing and watch how everyone seems to gather around a former administrator as if they remember him with acute fondness instead of recalling the many times he took his fist to one of their friend's faces, or perhaps to their own - my stomach turns with disgust.

    When my late brother told me back in May 2009 how then-Governor Daniels was going to close the Home, and then asked me how I felt about it, all I could say was, "Ding dong, the witch is dead!" I do not mourn the Home's closing, being the facility itself was beautiful during its time. But its time is ended as it should. No; what made the Home cruel and unworthy of my personal praise were the administrators and employees who strove to abuse those of us they did on a regular basis, and then pretend nothing ever occurred. Was it worth the decent education I received, the manners I was taught, and the reasonable health care rendered me during my residency there? No, because I like to believe my education and manners were somewhat natural, per se, whereas the health care, while reasonable, lacked inasmuch as we were often given no-name toothpaste, vitamins, etc., as if we were guinea pigs for various drug manufacturers.

    So, Mr. Tony and Ms. Townes, I am elated beyond all measure your memories are all happy ones, and you got the best out of a place you needed instead of a place which needed you for whatever reason.

    And to those who may be offended by my comments here, I am not one to apologize for speaking my mind. Some believe the Home is the "Land of Perpetual Childhood." My childhood was slain there, my dreams for a happy-ever-after were stillborn. But I have learned to forgive those who have done their best to do their worst to me, although I positively refuse to forget.

    And yes, I fully intend to expose what went on. Some may choose to continue disbelieving such ordeals ever occurred there; such is their prerogative and beyond my concern.

    Enough said.

    -- Posted by AlasAndAlack on Tue, May 17, 2016, at 10:48 PM
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