I'll Love You Tomorrow Read online

  Dedication

  For all the alumni of St. Joseph/St. Mary's Asylum

  Acknowledgements

  Perhaps few authors are wholly original as far as their plots are concerned; indeed, Shakespeare seems to have invented almost nothing, while Chaucer borrowed from both the living and the dead. And to come down to a somewhat different plane, the present writer is even more derivative, since for these books he has in generally kept doggedly to recorded actions, nourishing his fancy with log-books, dispatches, letters, memoirs and contemporary reports. But general appropriation, is not quite the same thing as outright plagiary, and in passing it must be confessed that several passages and descriptions have been taken straight from the text of authors listed herein, whose words did not seem capable of improvement. Among them my inspiration, my beloved Grandfather, Welby Thomas Cox, Jr. who edited and watched patiently.

  Major Arthur Teed

  I'll Love You Tomorrow

  There was a historical period in America during the late nineteenth and most of the twentieth century when our homeless and orphaned children were institutionalized…some of these places have been chronicled in the press as cold, indifferent and even cruel toward the children. We remember well some of those written into infamy like a character from Dickens, or the play and movie "Annie," which stole the title for its theme song from my book. But, some of the children got lucky like Buddy Quinn and found their way into the Asylum.

  Later, after the adoption of Roe vs. Wade, the mothers of these unborn children took them to the abortion clinics…Jewish names like Friedman, Steinem, Helen (Girlie Porn) Brown, Michaelman and their band of radical feminist and the American’s for Civil Liberties (Jewish front) leading militant working class union women, gays, blacks who supported the coalition…relaxed and smiled at a job well done! The Feminist Army murdered over 50 million babies in the period 1973-2005. Was this the clandestine Jewish retaliation against the Catholics and the Goya’s… whom they blamed for failing them in World War II. Pope John Paul II chose to apologize for the holocaust but he never spoke out against the homosexuals abusing Catholic children and women. A Pope more comfortable in dealing with the war-time atrocities by the Nazis against the Jews than in addressing the most critical issue of the 20th century for the church…and some call him a saint…this author calls him a collaborator to evil.

  The place where unwanted children comes alive, producing the most lovable characters that truly existed in a home at Branson, Tennessee…St. Joseph/St. Mary Asylum. You will not be able to put this novel down…Major Teed's research is impeccable as he weaves it into a heartwarming and sometimes painful, but always loving story of orphans and orphanages, with respect for the devotion of the Sisters of Charity, the Diocesan and Dominican Priest, who in my lifetime of close scrutiny, never displayed any of the abusive and scandalous sexual conduct, which have been so much in the news and a part of our lives these past thirty-five years. To all those wonderful and dedicated religious, whom I have had the good fortune to know and love, my deepest devotion and gratitude.

  All the characters in this novel are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental…except for those individuals listed as a part of the index who are believed to have lived at some time in their lives.

  Prologue

  After the Civil War, a great many children of the south were homeless, orphaned in many cases, separated from families in much the same way that children became separated from their families as a result of the great natural disasters of the 21st century. The Civil War was a man-made disaster, a killer of nearly seven hundred thousand Union and Confederate soldiers and thousands of innocent citizens many of whom where the mothers and fathers of a generation, left shamelessly by the United States government for the charity of others on behalf of Acts of War.

  These orphans did not have the safety nets of the American Red Cross or the Salvation Army…they moved aimlessly from town-to-town in search of parents, in search of siblings, in search of benevolence, in search of love. They would most often be rebuked…many would perish; some would survive to go on to become productive citizens of the great United States of America. But they would number among the minority, for most orphaned children of the late nineteenth century were shunned because food was scarce and, at least in the south, there was such pain, animosity, grief and shame that these innocents could be treated in such a manner.

  The next generation would be treated with a great deal more humanity. Families were more likely to adopt or to foster care the children without homes or parents. Into this time period, orphanages for boys and girls would be developed like Boy’s Town, St. Joseph Asylum, St. Mary’s Orphanage and Brookhaven Orphanage, just to name a few.

  Later as women became more proactive on matters related to child bearing and the introduction of safe and reliable birth-control measures, fewer children would be born. Then much later into the 20thcentury women began to utilize abortion, in massive numbers, thereby reducing the number of children who had previously been given-up for adoption or sent to the orphanage for housing.

  As these social practices became more and more acceptable by women as a form of birth control, preferable method to self-control, fewer children of American parentage were available for adoption in the United States and, orphanages became less used, and as property became more valuable, they were ultimately destroyed in favor of suburban expansion.

  In 2003 a tragic crime was committed in California, it involved the murder of Lacey Peterson and her near term son. Her husband, Scott Peterson was found guilty of the murder of lacey and guilty as well for second-degree manslaughter of his unborn son. He was sentenced to death for the murders and is now on death-row pending a mandatory appeal.

  Kate O’Beirin, author of “Woman Who Make the World Worse,” stated in an interview on Sunday January 8, 2006 that there is a general misconception on the part of the public as to the legal timing for a woman to undergo an abortion under Roe vs. Wade. Most people believe there is a limitation for the abortion up to the first tri-mester of the pregnancy (at which time the child is fully formed with all its organs and is able to suck its thumb). But, according to Kate O’Beirin the fact is that any woman may abort her child legally right up to term.

  If this is true and Scott Peterson is found guilty of second degree murder of his unborn son doesn’t it follow that not only are the women having abortions guilty of second degree murder but those assisting are culpable, and guilty as well.

  Once again the law and those whom administer it have a wide berth on who is guilty and who is not…the standard seems to be if you are a female with no morals or discipline, and you have indiscriminant unprotected sex…you can legally kill your baby, anytime up to full term, or even, with the right lawyer (with a stein behind his last name, and a member of the American Civil Liberties Union) pleading innocence due to “post this or that,” you are free to kill any innocent child.

  But if you are a vile Scott Peterson, wanting to collect insurance money and you drown your pregnant wife and unborn son, Conner. Remember that, it’s important to note that all the liberal hand wringers are now calling this unborn child by his name…yes, very sensitive and loving (as should be). But what about the 50 million plus babies that have been aborted (murdered) since January 23, 1973, did they have a name. Yes! And it was shame.

  Why is it that the Jews, mostly women have made it their business to spearhead Planned Parenthood and provide the leadership for the passage of Roe vs. Wade? Historically, Jewish families have been very conservative in the development of families, and Jewish women have a definitive reputation among their husbands for being of a cold nature…apparently taught since birth that
sex is something ugly to be avoided except for the conception of a child.

  I am certain as well, that the record on race will clearly show that there are few Jewish women having abortions or that there are few Jewish orphans. I find that admirable, and although I have known many Jewish families, who are tight knit…I have witnessed the coldness and remote nature of the women toward their husbands or any other man.

  I believe the answer to the flaming question…“Why have Jewish women taken such a forward position in this sensitive matter,”… can be answered by two events in the Jewish past: revenge on Gentiles for the mutilation of Jewish babies by the Romans seeking to find and kill the Christ, and revenge against the Catholics for their failure to respond to the holocaust by the Nazis.

  Remember this, it took the Jews 5948 years to get revenge on the Palestinians…they are a patient people, they are very intelligent, they are liars and they are murderers who seek to hide behind the cloak of goodness…and they are a people who cannot be trusted.

  I

  St. Joseph Asylum

  Father Louis J. Hermann knew everything there was to know about Saint Joseph Asylum, it would have been irresponsible otherwise, because Father Hermann was the Executive Director of Catholic Charities, which included the Home for the Innocents, for newborn, infant and children to age two, as well as the inappropriately and darkly named orphanage located in Anchorage, Kentucky. I thought, when I first went there with my friend Father Hermann in 1939, that it could have been Anchorage, Alaska… because it was located some thirty-five miles from Louisville and forty-five miles from my own boyhood home in the Portland neighborhood in the west-end of Louisville, near what was called “Little Africa,” where Cassius Clay grew up.

  We drove forever out U.S. 60 and Father Hermann chained smoked one Chesterfield after the other. His companion, (that would be me) his boyhood friend and fellow seminarian, Father John Scanlon chain-smoked as well my own craving for the hump-backed Camel. U.S. 60 was a major highway in 1939, leading through Louisville from the West, it delivered traffic all the way east to Cincinnati and on up into Boston. But before we got that far, I took a left hand turn off the two lane highway onto a very narrow country road called Grand Avenue and then, drove another three miles to the southern entrance of the massive orphanage built originally in 1938.

  I remember seeing the impressive structure for the first time. There was no way that you could not be impressed with it even though you might have had every expectation of meeting the hero of Notre Dame, (Quasimodo) or (Heathcliff) of Wuthering Heights… an imposing entrance, even though that part of the sign announcing “The Asylum,” was disarming… for a young priest fresh from parish duties. The property had beautiful twin-field-stone pillars on either side of the long driveway… lined by maturing pin-oaks along the half-mile route to a circular drive with shoulder high, impeccably maintained evergreen hedge. In the middle of the circle… a twelve-foot statue of a benevolent St. Christopher, patron saint of those traveling, stood with an infant in his arms and a child at his side.

  The building itself, was a three story, 175,000 square foot T-shaped with two additional wings off the west side containing four floors where the children resided in dormitories, and where the meals were prepared and the children fed. This wing contained as well the site of the kitchen and the mechanicals, including a monster boiler for the hot water heating system. The façade of the building was of red brick of Greek architecture, designed with low maintenance and cost in mind, of which I knew Father Hermann would be extremely grateful… since he would also be responsible for raising the money to operate the buildings and maintain the grounds as well as the farming operation on the five hundred acres, including a dairy and orchards.

  It was no small undertaking for a thirty-two-year old priest who wanted only to serve a small parish in the city, hear a few confessions, perform a few weddings and baptisms and oversee the Friday night fish fry and bingo... But God does have a divine plan for each of us, and I must say that the good Lord’s introduction of St. Joseph Asylum into the life of Father Louis J. Hermann was a wake-up call for him.

  Just to give you some idea of the enormous task at hand, let me describe the foot print of this massive building. As we drove off the highway, perpendicular to the main building, nearly 100 yards in length we could see as well it’s adjoining hallway which appeared to be about 50 yards and attached to this hall were two additional wings which lay on a east/west angle and they were nearly 100 yards each in length…these wings contained the dormitories, five in all housing up to fifty boys in each, plus there was a gym on the first floor, known as “ Horney Hall,” a bad name for an apparent bad little fellow, but the name had stuck, even-though the nuns were able to run Horney off.

  In addition to the office on the first floor, a lobby, a director’s room, a guest room, the priest apartment, the nun’s refractory, there were three classrooms, two restrooms as well as an adjoining hall connected to the Chapel and two more classrooms. Off this back hall, my first long term planning would be to design and build two additional wings to replicate the west end wings to accommodate up to 250 girls, which would occur in 1952, 13 years after Father Hermann’s arrival as Chaplain of the orphanage.

  The same time there would also be the need to enlarge the small Chapel, and within this design, although the Chapel wasn’t free standing, (Father Hermann would demand an architectural feature to incorporate the most astonishing feature above as he looked toward the ceiling). No… he would be unable to incorporate another miracle of Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel… but even as Father Hermann gazed upward, he was bewitched by the serenity of the night sky. Of all the elements in the small Chapel, Father was most impressed by what could not be seen, either by day or by night. There was something strangely fulfilling, he had related to me… as his mind envisioned, a yawning hole, that joined the inside of the sanctuary to the expanse of creation that had always existed just outside, but had never seemed to be considered. Churches were sanctums intentionally removed from the real world. Father knew they were meant to be more than just an earthly refuge; they were reflections of a promise, that all might glimpse-but not attain… in this lifetime. And, as Father Hermann knelt in the small Chapel, staring at what he knew of the night vision, it occurred to him, so he told me… that he actually preferred an opening to the sanctuary. He knew that it would be peaceful, and there would be something wonderfully de-mystifying about the connection to the sky… and the twinkling stars above.

  Of course there would be those who would not share his feelings…architects…he could deal with for that was only a function of money… but the real skeptics, he knew would come from the clerics, perhaps even the archbishop who lived next door. Archbishop William A. Bennett often came on Sundays, in the summer months, to enjoy the sacrifice of the Mass with the children.

  But he would deal with the old priest when the opportunity came to life. Father Hermann had figured out long ago, that a person can run, or hide, or ignore the havoc of life for only so long. Permanent sanctuaries aren’t allowed in this world…not in the obscurity of Florence, or across the sea in Anchorage, or Louisville, Kentucky. Calamity will find its way to you, and with an unforgiving fist, pound your door down…or in this case, your ceiling. The architects would find a word to describe the access to the sky…but at the moment Father Hermann could only dream of his night vision.

  We walked through the ten-foot double doors of the entrance into the marbled foyer of approximately 1500 square feet, sparsely decorated with another statue of St. Francis of Assisi, who wore the brown monks cassock of the Franciscans holding out his hand in the direction of the entrance. He had a beautiful white dove perched on his finger-tip, and his other hand cradled a small child in the crook of his arm and another standing at his feet.

  Sister Mary Como dare not hesitate to relate one of her favorite stories about the miracles of St. Francis to the good priest… but the children and other adult visitors seemed to enjoy the sto
ries. She especially enjoyed telling of the miracle involving the Grand Duke Cosimo de Medici of Florence, Italy.

  A miracle that took place over four hundred years ago in the blistering heat of a Tuscan August, and retold now by a Sister of Charity. Cosimo had gone out from what the Italians called, Firenze to attack its neighbor, the City of Sienna. The war between the cities had been going on for many years and like all wars, it was the cause of many deaths, many personal tragedies, many regrets, and even a few miracles.

  But on this fateful August day, the daring Cosimo gave his army a stirring message, like a locker room salvo coming from the fiery Irishman, the outstanding football coach Knute Rockne during a Notre Dame half time…a speech that would call on all the courage his football team had… to come out of that locker room and defeat Michigan State before an exploding crowd of over one hundred thousand fans. On this day the Notre Dame captain, would go to mid-field to meet the Michigan State captain… (whose name and credentials must have been equally outstanding but have faded the memory of this Irishman), it is said the huge Michigan State nose guard put his face into the mask of the Notre Dame player and said…“God doesn’t care who wins this football game…to which the Notre Dame star is said to have responded…“maybe not…but the Blessed Mother does!”

  On that day Cosimo caught the imagination, the fervor, the courage and the sense of national pride of the army to go forth in the battle against Sienna. Cosimo’s exhausted troops, so far from home and now facing certain death, grew discouraged as, day after day, they threw their bodies against the stubborn walls of Sienna. Then, as if by a monumental act of courage himself, astride his valiant white stallion, Cosimo inspired his forces, just as Henry the Fifth’s call to arms before the Battle of Agincourt, or the charge by William Wallace of Scotland to defeat England at Yorkshire.