Author's Note
.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ
Love youuu 💗
HOUSE OF REFUGE, 1897
The ferry boat brought the esteemed board members of The Society for the Reformation of Juvenile Delinquents across the river to the island promptly at twelve o'clock in the afternoon. Off stepped Mr. and Mrs. Scholten alongside Reverend Alderbourne.
"As I was telling my ladies' group," Mrs. Scholten was chirping happily to the Reverend, "many of the youths who come here are wicked and hopeless. One was a beggar at eleven, so wretched and worn that he had lost the marks of a human being. Another was so vicious that he had been for some time chained like a wild beast. Still another had attempted to hack off his finger rather than work in the factory. And one, a boy of eighteen, had murdered two little girls. Horrid, cannibal-like faces had they all."
"Eleanor, please," Mr. Scholten grumbled, his large face contorting into a strained smile. "Surely those stories are a bit indelicate, don't you think?"
"Caleb, I do have a point, if you'd let me finish," Mrs. Scholten huffed. Turning back to the Reverend with a smile, she continued, "But the discipline of this institution has been most encouraging."
The Reverend nodded, patting her hand in his. "We must rejoice and bless God. Here, the children of robbers and murderers sing psalms and pray. Boys are working diligently in the factory, learning an honest trade. The chief means of criminal reformation is honorable and useful labor, after moral and religious instruction, of course."
Other members of the board included Mr. William J. Gerard – a magistrate in the city, Mr. Jedidiah Ketchum – the head of the board, Ms. Ingrid Denton of Fifth Avenue, and Commissioner T. Roosevelt.
Ingrid was the daughter of Reverend Bartholomew Denton, and she fully sympathized with his interest in the well-being of the young and the rescue of the unfortunate and criminal. She was the secretary of the Ladies' Committee, of which Mrs. Scholten was the head. Her fervent prayers and pious exhortations in the discharge of her duties among the female inmates were celebrated by many of those in her Committee.
"My dear Ms. Denton," Mr. Gerard said, taking her hand as he helped her off the ferry. "You are a woman who invests charity with a most beautiful drapery. And your deeds of beneficence increase your own loveliness."
Ingrid smiled, pulling the fur lining her coat tighter around herself. "That's kind of you, Mr. Gerard. I only hope whatever the meaning of this most impromptu conference, it doesn't take longer than two hours. My brother Brian and I are going upstate for the holidays to visit relatives."
"Ah, the illustrious brother, Brian Denton," Mr. Gerard chuckled. "Still a scribbler of the press, is he? What's that miserable rag he works for? That tiny paper out in Jersey?"
Ingrid chuckled. "I'm quite proud of him, I'll have you know."
"I haven't seen him since he left Yale," Mr. Gerard mused. "Perhaps my wife can arrange for us all to have lunch in the future. I happen to know the editor of the New York Sun, and I also happen to know they're on the hunt for scrappy young reporters. Shall I put in a good word tomorrow?"
"Before you worry about tomorrow," Commissioner Roosevelt forged ahead, staring up at the ominous gate. "Let's clear up this mess today."
Warden Snyder greeted the committee at the front entrance, warmly shaking hands and offering pleasantries. Waiting in the conference room were Whalen, Dr. Fuller, and a few orderlies. Atop the large table was a tea set at the center.
There were matters of the female inmates discussed first, mainly given by the Reverend.
"It is strange that, while we see at every corner of our streets so many young females abandoned to spiteful courses, while so many of them are prosecuted as vagrants and criminals," the Reverend began, "so few should be found in an asylum where, under the custody of the most honorable of their own sex, they would receive religious, moral, and useful instruction. And when they left the walls that confined them, they would be put on the right path. Vice gives a woman's nature a more terrible wrench than a man's."
Snyder cleared his throat. "Just last year, I had one such vicious girl in my refuge. Fifteen years of age. She had been sent here by the police for a string of robberies. After a sufficient time of convincing me that she felt the desire to reform, agreeably to her own wishes, I bound her to a gentleman in the west," he said, producing a hand-written letter from his pocket.
Ingrid exchanged an unsettled look with Mrs. Scholten, who did not return it.
"And in this letter, under the date of the 17th of June last, the gentleman stated," Snyder went on, "that her conduct has been good. She has given less cause of complaint than he should have reason to expect from a girl of her age taken from the city. The lessons taught her while under our care appear to have made a proper impression on her mind. She evinces a disposition to learn what is good, and such work as is proper for her she performs with ingenuity and neatness."
"That is all well and good, but I think it is best we address the issue at hand," Roosevelt said, pouring himself a cup of tea. "In light of the shocking events surrounding this report sent to us by Dr. Fuller, I thought it best to keep this investigation unceremonious, without distraction, and of course, confidential."
Whalen took a drag from his cigarette, eyeing Fuller threateningly across the table.
"I have examined your report, Dr. Fuller," Mr. Ketchum went on, tearing Fuller's attention away from Whalen and onto the magistrate. "And I must tell you that both the board and I find it quite disturbing and somewhat overly sensational."
Dr. Fuller's face suddenly looked a bit panicked as he clearly wasn't expecting such a statement of incredulity.
"Warden Snyder also told us that you sent this report just after being relieved of duty at the House of Refuge," Mr. Ketchum continued. "Is this true?"
Warden Snyder appeared unflinchingly powerful and composed, while Fuller seemed rather nervous and fidgety.
"I promise you, sir, I would not have made these allegations recklessly," Fuller said. "There are activities and policies in this Refuge which require serious intervention."
Whalen laughed aloud at this, while Snyder looked confused as though he didn't know what Fuller was talking about.
"The only intervention needed around here is for Dr. Fuller's incompetence, Mr. Ketchum," Whalen scoffed.
Suddenly, Fuller seemed more fidgety.
"I question Mr. Whalen's judgement, Mr. Ketchum," Fuller replied, his voice rising as he looked around. "And if we may bring in my eyewitness, he will inform you and the committee as to the significance of these allegations."
Mr. Gerard scanned Fuller's report in front of him. "Mr. Sullivan, I presume?"
"That's correct, your honor," Fuller nodded.
"Excuse me, Mr. Ketchum," Snyder spoke up, staring defiantly back at Fuller. "Mr. Sullivan will not be available to speak today."
"What do you mean?" Fuller began to straighten in his chair. "Why can't Jack testify? What have you done to him?"
"The boy is resting," Snyder made it clear with his eyes that Fuller should let the subject alone. "He's feeling sick."
Fuller didn't look convinced. "That's not true." He stood up from the table, shaking his head as he spoke to the board. "Jack is being silenced to cover up their abuse!" He boomed, pointing at Snyder and Whalen.
"Your Superior – Dr. Sayers – is examining him right now," Whalen replied with a glare. "He says the boy is too weak to get out of bed."
"Then go get Dr. Sayers, bring him in here, and I'll ask him myself!" Fuller demanded.
Roosevelt looked up from his tea, glancing from Whalen to Fuller.
Mr. Ketchum sighed. "Warden Snyder, would you please explain?"
Snyder just stared at Mr. Ketchum, not exactly pleased with the sudden line of question. "Yes, Dr. Sayers is examining several of the ward boys. They woke up the night before last feeling ill. He says they seem a bit lethargic. Almost confused. Could be a simple fever. It's the season, you know."
Snyder handed Mr. Ketchum Dr. Sayers' report on the boys' bill of health, which he briefly looked at.
"However, Mr. Ketchum, here today are four young ladies from the female wing," Snyder went on slowly after a beat. "And rest assured, you'll find them just as helpful."
Whalen nodded, turning to one of the orderlies. "Send the girls in."
The orderly opened the door, ushering the girls inside the conference room.
Leah Kessler and Colleen Tracey walked in, followed by Hanna Gabinski – a Polish girl who slept near Leah, and Masha Kaliská – a painfully shy girl from Brooklyn.
The four shivered, dressed in clean girls' uniforms – the blue flannel nipped-waist dresses with pleats. Long sleeves. A black pinafore with a high square yoke and a high skirt body.
The girls wore polished black leather boots and black stockings without holes – their hair neatly pulled back with crisp white and black hair ribbons.
Someone had certainly dolled them up before the meeting.
The men stood politely as the nervous girls entered, forming a quiet line before the table.
Mr. Ketchum strolled over to them with an easy smile. "Good afternoon, girls," he said, watching as they folded their arms or clasped their hands behind their backs self-consciously, always staring at the floor.
He took Hanna's hand, inspecting her fingernails carefully, before moving down the line. "I want you to know, this is just a conference," he said. "No one is in trouble. No one is being charged with anything. We only want to speak with you. Is that alright?"
Snyder lit a cigar, making stern eye contact with Masha as he strolled over. She fidgeted with one of her two long plaits, quickly turning away.
Whalen gave a nod to Leah with a small smirk.
She took the signal and nodded to Mr. Ketchum, prompting the others to do the same.
"Yes, sir," the girls chorused.
Snyder came around to stand behind the girls, resting his hands on both Masha and Colleen's shoulders. Almost menacingly.
"Good," Mr. Ketchum said, picking up Fuller's report. "Dr. Fuller has made some grave allegations regarding Superintendent Whalen and the discipline he implements to punish the boys in his dormitory – Ward 33."
He paused, looking up at the girls. "Have any of you ever seen the boys in Ward 33 be subjected to brutal discipline?"
Whalen leaned forward at the table, his chair creaking as he did – a deep scowl on his face as he stared at the frightened creatures.
Snyder pinched Masha and Colleen's shoulders discretely. Colleen immediately shook her head while Masha bit her lip, trying not to whimper.
"No, sir," the four said in unison.
"You've never seen them beaten?" Mr. Ketchum went on, pacing before them.
"No, sir."
Fuller closed his eyes and shook his head in frustration as he sat down.
"Have any of the boys had their meals taken away, or been whipped with a cane or a belt?"
Colleen was almost in tears, remembering the brief moments she'd seen her older brother in the canteen – bruised and bloodied like a pugilist. The images scared her, and she remembered asking Mrs. Anderson what Muggs had done to have been beaten like that. And all Mrs. Anderson had told Colleen was that she better behave and follow the rules or she'd get the same thing he got.
Subtly, Leah grabbed Colleen's hand behind her back, squeezing it reassuringly.
Mr. Ketchum glanced down the rest of the report. "Have you ever seen Mr. Whalen…" he paused, turning to the board members, and giving the Reverend and the two women an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, but I must ask, have you ever seen Mr. Whalen engage in sexual conduct with the boys in Ward 33?"
The Reverend's teacup rattled as he set it back on his plate. "Mr. Ketchum," he interrupted, clearing his throat. "I will not listen to these wild claims made by Dr. Fuller's disturbed imagination. And I will not stand by and let him sully Mr. Whalen's good name for the purpose of this witch trial."
Mr. Ketchum shrugged, gesturing to the report. "I must follow protocol. It's all right here in the report. But I suppose, I can move on—"
"Let the young ladies answer. We are here to have every question answered, is that not the idea?" Roosevelt countered in a flat tone, staring impatiently at the Reverend. Then he nodded to the four girls. "Do continue, please. I apologize for the interruption."
Mr. Ketchum turned to face them again, waiting expectantly. "Well?"
"No, sir," they echoed, squirming in place under Whalen's ever-present stare.
"Oh, enough! Enough of this farce! It's insulting!" Fuller slammed his hands against the table, standing back up.
All eyes were on him in a flash.
"Don't you see these girls are afraid?" Fuller shouted. "Of course, they're denying everything – they're terrified!" He pointed at Whalen. "Terrified of him and what he'll do if they tell the truth!"
"Dr. Fuller," Mr. Ketchum began, attempting to maintain order.
Fuller ignored him, whipping around, and crossing over to the girls. "Please, talk. Don't protect him," Fuller said to the girls as they instinctively shrunk back. "Use your own words. Don't be scared."
"Dr. Fuller!" Mr. Ketchup bellowed. "You are completely out of line!"
Fuller turned, catching his breath as he collected himself. He glared at the warden, unwavering. "Where are the boys, Snyder? They are not sick," He demanded in an even, low voice. "The board deserves a real, honest answer from you. Now, where are they?"