Bob Wiesen did scrub the floors of the orphanage in which he was raised, but he said his upbringing was a far cry from a hard-knock life.
Wiesen, 64, and his four stair-step siblings were removed in 1943 from their Erie, Pa., home and the negligent care they received from their alcoholic mother and schizophrenic father. Wiesen was an infant, only a few weeks old, when he was sent to the St. Joseph's Home for Children in Erie, an imposing red brick facility run by the sisters of St. Joseph.
In the nuns' care, he grew into the sunny, musically talented man whose organ playing echoes through several Charleston churches where he now plays. He's a chemical development technician at Clearon. He and his wife, Carolyn, have raised two children in their Charleston home.
Wiesen treasures an old photograph collage of the St. Joseph’s Home for Children and the children attending Mass at the facility’s chapel, the first children’s chapel built in the United States.
In the 1940s, charitable care for children removed from unsuitable homes centered on placement in orphanages, rather than the current emphasis on adoption. Back then, even abusive parents could block adoption proceedings. Wiesen's parents did not want their children to be adopted, despite the fact that his father's family wanted to give the children a home.
The stable, structured environment at St. Joseph's governed Wiesen's daily life until he left when he was 18. He's grateful that he was raised there rather than in his parents' house. His two older sisters struggled with emotional problems throughout their lives, probably as a result of early childhood trauma, he said.
"Some of the kids had a tougher time than I did. Many came when they were older and were emotionally tormented," he said. "I grew up in the institution, so it was easier for me. I wouldn't have had any life at all if I'd stayed at home."
One of his closest friends came to the home with his sister after their mother suffered a severe injury. Their father, who traveled in his work, placed them in the home until his mother could cope. The woman eventually recovered.
"He left in the fourth grade. It was terrible to lose a friend," he said. Later, the friend got in touch with Wiesen, and they roomed together at Gannon College, now University, in Erie.
The days were tightly scheduled for the 300 children who lived in St. Joseph's Home. Wiesen still recalls the 7 a.m., 11:30 a.m. and 5:30 p.m. meal schedule and that Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were "bun days," or sweet rolls for breakfast. Bedtime for the littlest children was 7 p.m. It was lights out and television off at 10 p.m. for the high school students.
"It was written in stone. I'm a creature of habit, as you can imagine. I still go to bed early," he said. "When I go to the Wendy's or Burger King near where I work, they get my stuff together before I even order it. It's always the same thing."
When he was 5 or 6, he was given his first "charge" - cleaning the toilets and urinals for the baby boy group. Later, he scrubbed the floors in the dorm. Every child had a task, and they were jointly responsible for keeping their dorm and playroom clean.
The children also spent many carefree hours on the sprawling grounds with ravines and gorges that ran down to bordering Lake Erie. The grounds were segregated to keep the boys and girls apart.
"The boys had a lot more fun than the girls. We probably had about three-quarters of the grounds, while the girls had the other quarter," he said. "It wasn't really fair, but it was a different day and time."
In their full habits, the 20 nuns who ran the home were an admirably efficient and unselfish lot. On duty 24 hours a day, seven days a week, each woman had responsibility for about 35 children.
"When you have that many kids, you have to be tough. I don't know how they did it," he said. "They were remarkably good to us."
Bob Wiesen did scrub the floors of the orphanage in which he was raised, but he said his upbringing was a far cry from a hard-knock life.
Wiesen, 64, and his four stair-step siblings were removed in 1943 from their Erie, Pa., home and the negligent care they received from their alcoholic mother and schizophrenic father. Wiesen was an infant, only a few weeks old, when he was sent to the St. Joseph's Home for Children in Erie, an imposing red brick facility run by the sisters of St. Joseph.
In the nuns' care, he grew into the sunny, musically talented man whose organ playing echoes through several Charleston churches where he now plays. He's a chemical development technician at Clearon. He and his wife, Carolyn, have raised two children in their Charleston home.
In the 1940s, charitable care for children removed from unsuitable homes centered on placement in orphanages, rather than the current emphasis on adoption. Back then, even abusive parents could block adoption proceedings. Wiesen's parents did not want their children to be adopted, despite the fact that his father's family wanted to give the children a home.
The stable, structured environment at St. Joseph's governed Wiesen's daily life until he left when he was 18. He's grateful that he was raised there rather than in his parents' house. His two older sisters struggled with emotional problems throughout their lives, probably as a result of early childhood trauma, he said.
"Some of the kids had a tougher time than I did. Many came when they were older and were emotionally tormented," he said. "I grew up in the institution, so it was easier for me. I wouldn't have had any life at all if I'd stayed at home."
One of his closest friends came to the home with his sister after their mother suffered a severe injury. Their father, who traveled in his work, placed them in the home until his mother could cope. The woman eventually recovered.
"He left in the fourth grade. It was terrible to lose a friend," he said. Later, the friend got in touch with Wiesen, and they roomed together at Gannon College, now University, in Erie.
The days were tightly scheduled for the 300 children who lived in St. Joseph's Home. Wiesen still recalls the 7 a.m., 11:30 a.m. and 5:30 p.m. meal schedule and that Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were "bun days," or sweet rolls for breakfast. Bedtime for the littlest children was 7 p.m. It was lights out and television off at 10 p.m. for the high school students.
"It was written in stone. I'm a creature of habit, as you can imagine. I still go to bed early," he said. "When I go to the Wendy's or Burger King near where I work, they get my stuff together before I even order it. It's always the same thing."
When he was 5 or 6, he was given his first "charge" - cleaning the toilets and urinals for the baby boy group. Later, he scrubbed the floors in the dorm. Every child had a task, and they were jointly responsible for keeping their dorm and playroom clean.
The children also spent many carefree hours on the sprawling grounds with ravines and gorges that ran down to bordering Lake Erie. The grounds were segregated to keep the boys and girls apart.
"The boys had a lot more fun than the girls. We probably had about three-quarters of the grounds, while the girls had the other quarter," he said. "It wasn't really fair, but it was a different day and time."
In their full habits, the 20 nuns who ran the home were an admirably efficient and unselfish lot. On duty 24 hours a day, seven days a week, each woman had responsibility for about 35 children.
"When you have that many kids, you have to be tough. I don't know how they did it," he said. "They were remarkably good to us."
The women rose early to attend Mass before they roused the children, in what was probably the only peaceful time of the day for them.
Because the children were separated into groups by age and sex, Wiesen saw more of comparably aged children than he did of his siblings. He forged long-lasting friendships and enjoys seeing friends at yearly St. Joseph's reunions. He stays in close contact with his brothers, but his sisters died years ago after living troubled lives.
Children were educated through third grade at the orphanage, and then given the choice of attending public or private school. Wiesen attended Catholic grade and prep school, then St. Peter's High School. He graduated in 1962.
A music lover from an early age, Wiesen would sneak off to play the piano whenever possible. He played by ear. He begged Sister Agnes, who was in her 80s, to teach him piano as she was teaching his older brother Dave, but she never agreed. Later, he found out that Dave was not a stellar pupil and the elderly nun wasn't going to take on his little brother.
Salvation came from the director of the Erie Philharmonic, a convert to Catholicism who offered to teach piano and organ to children at St. Joseph's as a thank you for his conversion. He personally tuned the facility's pianos and organ and accepted Wiesen and a young girl as pupils. Wiesen began lessons in fifth grade and continued until his high school graduation.
Today, he favors traditional religious music and the occasional show tune when he plays for pleasure. He's the organist at St. Anthony's and plays for Saturday evening Mass at Sacred Heart Co-Cathedral.
Until the children were 14 years old, they were not allowed outside of the grounds for recreation. After that, there were twice-weekly summertime outings and picnics to the lake beach. Boys went on Tuesdays and Thursdays and girls on Mondays and Fridays.
Every year on the first Sunday in December, local professional people attended a special meal at the orphanage and donated money the nuns used to buy gifts for all the children. The children performed a Christmas play in elaborate costumes sewn by the nuns.
"Oh, they loved to make those costumes. They started in November and really worked hard on them," he said. "They were really something."
Wiesen accompanied the children while they sang. He also played the organ for Sunday and Holy Day Masses.
Despite the bishop's offer to St. Joseph's graduates for tuition assistance at nearby Gannon College, Wiesen insisted on paying his own way through college. He worked at any job he could find and graduated in 1966.
After college, he moved to Knoxville to work, eventually landing a job with Clearon. The company moved him to its South Charleston facility in 1989.
St. Joseph Home for Children closed its doors in 1972, when Catholic Charities began emphasizing adoption for parentless children. Today, the facility is operated as a home for elderly residents.
"We had lots of good times," he said. "Most of us had been separated over the years. I'm so glad they started having the alumni reunions."
To contact staff writer Julie Robinson, use e-mail or call 348-1230.
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