The Haunting of Briarsville Orphanage

by Hope Jameson

  By the time she felt comfortable discussing her experiences at the Briarsville Orphanage, she was an adult with her own family. In her interview with the reporter, she said she hadn’t felt safe telling her story when she was younger. When she finally decided she had to speak out for her own healing if nothing else – so the article claimed – the orphanage had been gone for a decade. The article was published on the thirtieth anniversary of the fire.

  When asked why she was coming forward with information after so many years of silence, her answer was simple.

  I couldn’t live with it any longer. This anniversary has weighed on my heart and I knew I had to speak out. It’s too late for those children who died in the fire, but I hope I can shine some light on what can go wrong in institutions like this. I sincerely hope someone will see this and take it to heart to avoid the same sort of abuse at other facilities in the future.

  The article outlined the use of corporal punishment that went to an extreme. Paddling children at school wasn’t unusual in that time, but this woman gave details of severe punishment that included beating and withholding food. Children deemed to be naughty were made to sleep on the floor and take on cleaning chores normally handled by the staff. The chores were always scheduled during school hours, so punishment held a higher importance than learning.

  Fighting among the children was encouraged and bullies were abundant during this woman’s time there. The children who had a penchant for fighting could dominate others with no fear of a reprimand. On the other side of the coin, when a child showed the fortitude to make the others afraid of him or her they were rewarded by favor from the staff. The bully was normally groomed to be a snitch which made the job of a teacher easier – or so it was believed by the staff.

  The end of the article promised a second part that would include interviews with former staff members. The reporter wrote that he’d located a teacher and a staffer who had left the facility before the burning who were both willing to share their recollections. Jill searched high and low, but that follow up article didn’t exist. If it had ever been written, it hadn’t been published.

  Jill looked at the reporter’s bio and it appeared he had been in his forties at least when he’d written the first article. That had been just about fifty years ago. If he was still alive, she doubted he’d be much help in her search for the truth about the orphanage.

  Oddly enough, the article had shared the woman’s name when she was a child living in the orphanage. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to find the adoption records. If she found them, she may not be allowed to see them. And if she could see them, all identifying information could be redacted, making the effort meaningless.

  She decided to go back to the town hall and take her chances with a small town records office. Since she’d been adopted from the orphanage, maybe they were less careful with the adoption records. Maybe. If so, she might be able to find her if she was still in the area.

  Packing up her laptop and notepads, Jill hurried to get back to the town hall. It was just about lunchtime and with any luck she’d find what she needed quickly. Briarsville was a small town so there shouldn’t be too many records to sort through to find what she was looking for if they’d let her look.

  It only took thirty minutes. The adoption records from the mid-1950s were few, and they were stored in a single box. The clerk scowled when she found out she’d have to go to the storage area and bring the box back, but she was back in just twenty minutes.

  “What was the name again?” The clerk didn’t even look up from the files in the box as she asked the question.

  “Margaret Baxter. She lived in the Briarsville Orphanage.”

  “Only need the child’s name. Margaret Baxter, you say?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jill hoped that being polite might help the clerk’s attitude toward her since she’d had to go to some trouble to look up what she asked for.

  The clerk looked up quickly and then returned to the files. “Oh, snap. Looks like the files are jumbled up a bit in here. Give me a minute and I’ll see if I can find it.”

  “Sure. Take your time.” Jill smiled at the woman, though she didn’t even see it. Looking at her watch she fought the urge to drum her fingers on the countertop. But before Jill could get too impatient, the woman returned.

  “And here it is. All the adoption records from the orphanage were opened just a year after, um, after it closed. So, you got lucky.”

  Jill looked quickly at her nametag and then took the file from her. “Thank you, um, Mrs. Black.”

  Taking the file to a study room for privacy, Jill’s heart thumped as she opened it up. Information was sparse, but she thought she’d be able to at least have a starting point.

  “Okay, here we go. Margaret Baxter. Adopted by a Harold and Alice Fletcher of Briarsville, Oregon when she was eight years old in 1954.” Her voice shook just a little when she read the details about Margaret Baxter out loud. “So, that would make her, um, let’s see… about sixty-nine years old now.”

  Wow. What were the odds that this family was local? Hopefully, Margaret Fletcher had stayed in town. Did she marry? Just a few more record checks should give Jill the information to find her.

  Jill returned the file to the scowling clerk. “Thank you so much for your help. I found the information, I need. By the way… how long have you lived here?”

  “All my life. Forty-seven years.”

  “You’re forty-seven? Oh, my! I’d never have guessed it. You look at least ten years younger.” Jill hoped that a little flattery might help the woman loosen up and answer a few questions to save her time looking records up online.

  “You need something else? I’ll answer your questions without your sweet talk if I can. I get those sorts of compliments all the time and I do know how it works.” The clerk looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She tilted her head to the side and tried to hide a smirk. “And I might look thirty-nine, but there’s no way in hell I look thirty-seven.”

  Jill giggled and covered her mouth with her hand quickly. “Okay, you caught me. I’m sorry to underestimate you.”

  “It’s fine.” Mrs. Black waved her off. “It’s fun to mess with people sometimes. This job can get a little dry and tiresome. So. What is it you want to ask about?”

  “Well, I just inherited the orphanage and I’m trying to do a little research about it. I think I might have found someone who can help me with some details. This Margaret Baxter lived there, but she was adopted before it burned. I’m hoping she’s still alive and maybe still lives around here.”

  “Hmm. I see. So, who adopted her?”

  “It was Harold and Alice Fletcher and they lived in Briarsville. Do you know any Fletchers?”

  She thought for a minute and then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t. I think you might have better luck if you just look up marriage records online. It’ll be faster than polling people you run into that might know them.”

  “I guess you’re right. I just thought…”

  “Yes, I know. But seriously, look her up. You might get lucky.”

  So Jill took her laptop back to the study room and got online. And with a few clicks, she found Margaret Fletcher’s marriage records. In 1970, she had married Douglas Rossi. He was twenty-five and she was twenty-two.

  From there, it was easy to find Margaret Rossi’s address. She did, in fact, still live in Briarsville.

  Jill closed her laptop down again and packed the rest of her things up. She walked past the desk where Mrs. Black was sitting. “You were right. I found just what I need and she does still live in Briarsville. I’m going to go see her tomorrow.”

  “Well glad I could help. Good luck.”

  After a long day of research and going back and forth, Jill finally had what she needed. She lay back on her bed and stretched her back. The time spent hunched over her laptop today had taken a toll on her back.

  She had no idea where this research would take her, but she did feel that she was making progre
ss. There was closure coming, Jill was sure of it. As all of this information was moving through her mind, she felt her eyes begin to close. Sleep came again, light and peaceful this time.

  11

  Jill sat at the table by the window in the dining room while Suzie fussed over her with pancakes, rich maple syrup, and homemade sausage. She was hungry, but wanted to eat and be on her way. Today might be a big day since she’d found a former resident of the orphanage.

  She wasn’t sure if she should call Mrs. Rossi or if she should show up at her home unannounced. The second option was a little rude and even more presumptuous. The first option might mean that the woman refused to see her. If that happened, she wouldn’t get what she needed to move forward with her project the way she wanted to.

  In the end, she rationalized that Mrs. Rossi had talked to a newspaper reporter at one time about her experiences in the orphanage. It was likely she’d be willing to talk to the new owner looking for insights into ways to make the building something new and better in spite of its sordid past. So she took a risk and headed to the woman’s home with a plan to arrive there mid-morning.

  Jill nervously clenched her fists at her side as she waited for the door to open. She’d practiced what she’d say to Mrs. Rossi on her drive over and she hoped it would sound natural and unrehearsed. She was looking down at her shoes when the door opened.

  She jerked her head up to see an attractive woman with short white hair and impeccable make up standing in front of her. The lady wore black pants and a fuchsia pink silk blouse.

  “Yes? May I help you?” She tilted her head to the side and waited for an answer.

  “Hi, I’m sorry to burst in unannounced, but I’m looking for a Mrs. Margaret Rossi. Are you Mrs. Rossi?” Jill tried to sound as confident as she could without being too pushy.

  “I am. Who are you?”

  “My name is Jill Rogers. I just wanted to ask you a few questions. May I please talk to you for a few minutes?”

  “What’s this about? I don’t have much time. I have lunch plans at noon.” She looked wary, but wasn’t closing the door completely on a conversation.

  Jill took a deep breath and decided she wouldn’t be able to beat around the bush with Mrs. Rossi. She decided honesty was the best policy and probably the most productive way to approach this. “I just inherited the Briarsville Orphanage. I’m planning to renovate it. But I just felt a need to find out more about the place. I found your interview in the newspaper and was hoping you’d be willing to talk to me about it.”

  “Oh, gracious.” To say Mrs. Rossi was surprised would be an understatement. “I haven’t thought about that place for more than a minute or two for years. I suppose there’s no harm in talking about it, though. Come in.” She stepped aside and gestured for Jill to step into a sitting room to the left of the front door.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Rossi. I appreciate it.”

  “Would you like some tea? Coffee?”

  “No, ma’am. I don’t need anything, but thank you.”

  “All right, then. What do you want to know?”

  The direct question got straight to the point and made Jill a little uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure how to start since she hadn’t gotten this far in her rehearsals. She’d hoped they’d ease into the subject, but that wasn’t to be.

  They sat in silence for a moment while Jill gathered her thoughts. Mrs. Rossi studied her as she thought, waiting patiently for the discussion to start.

  Finally, Jill looked up and met Mrs. Rossi’s eyes. “You might have gathered that I’ve been doing some research.”

  The older woman simply nodded and waited for Jill to go on with her story.

  “I couldn’t find very much information at all, except about the fire, of course. I wanted more information about what happened in the place. I also couldn’t find anything about the cause of the fire.”

  “You think I can give you that information?” Mrs. Rossi’s question came out almost like a statement.

  “I hope you can. As I told you, I read your interview in the paper. I know you were young when you lived there, but what you told the reporter about wasn’t born in a child’s imagination.” Jill leaned forward with a grim smile. “You might remember enough to tell me what I need to know to recreate that place into what it needs to be.”

  She nodded. “Yes, it was a long time ago, but I’ll help if I can.”

  “I understand it’s probably a shock to find someone on your doorstep asking about what was probably the most difficult part of your life. I really do appreciate your help, Mrs. Rossi.”

  “I can see that, Jill. And it’s all right. I’ll do what I can.”

  Jill looked into the woman’s pale blue eyes and noticed they still had the sparkle a young person’s eyes would have. She hoped Mrs. Rossi had enjoyed a lovely life after leaving that horrid institution.

  Jill wasn’t ready to share with Mrs. Rossi that her main source was a little girl who was probably a ghost. The same little girl and a crowd of children had come into her dreams to give her even more information. How did you tell that to someone you’d just met? How did you share that with anyone? She’d be vague about how she’d gotten her information. That would have to do for now.

  “I’ve heard that the orphanage worked hard to cover up details of how the children were treated. That the staff almost took delight in making life hard for the children. Is that how you remember it?”

  “For the most part. Truth be told, it was never a nice place. I lived there for three years and it was the worst time of my life. My parents died within a year of each other. My only living grandparent was too old and sick to take care of me. So, I was placed there.” She stopped for a minute and blinked her eyes quickly. “My stay at the orphanage was worse. Can you believe that? Something worse for a child than losing both parents?”

  “I can’t imagine that. I’m so sorry you had to live through that, Mrs. Rossi.” Jill was truly sad for this woman. She realized just how blessed she was to have her parents and to have had Bub in her life. Even her biological grandparents were close to her. She had much to be thankful for as far as family went.

  “In that day, there wasn’t anyone we could tell—at least nobody in an official capacity who would believe you and help. A child in an orphanage had no one. The day I was adopted, was the happiest day of my life. My new mom and dad were wonderful. I was so trusting even though I’d been through so much. My transition was very easy as I look back on it.”

  “I’m so happy you had a good family after you left the orphanage.”

  She smiled. “They were the best. I still miss them, though they’ve been gone for a while now.”

  Jill paused a moment in reverence for her memories of her adoptive parents, but she was anxious to move forward with the conversation. Mrs. Rossi had said she didn’t have much time and Jill didn’t want to get cut short before she got what she’d really come here for. “So, then the place burned down. Do you remember much about that?”

  “I had mixed emotions. I was old enough to understand and my parents didn’t hide it from me. I felt a sadness for the children, that they had to die that way. As for the staff, I had no sorrow for. I was glad they died and I hoped they suffered. God forgive me, but sometimes I still hope that. They should not be allowed to rest after what they did.”

  “I understand why you’d feel that way. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, sorry that so many children had to do the same,” said Jill.

  “It happened and we cannot change it, but you’re right, no one should have to endure what we did. I am glad that the place is gone.” Mrs. Rossi shook her head slowly and finally looked down at her hands folded primly in her lap.

  “My grandmother wanted me to rebuild it. That’s why I’m in town to oversee the renovations.” Jill watched her reaction and was surprised at the alarm in her eyes.

  “An orphanage again?”

  “No, never that. There was no stipulation in her will about what it shoul
d be. She never told me, or my parents, about all this. That’s why I’ve been doing the research. It does look like it could be a lovely place, eventually.”

  “You may not want to hear this, but there’s no beauty there. You should tear it down,” said the woman. “There is evil in that building. It should have burnt to the ground all those years ago. I don’t know why it didn’t. I’m sorry if that bothers you, but it is how I feel.”

  “I can understand your pain. I might feel the same way if I’d been through what you did.” Jill paused for a moment. “You know, I found an old trunk there, in one of the rooms. There were paintings and drawings, among other children’s belongings. I could bring it by, maybe there’s something of yours in there. Or maybe something that belonged to one of your friends.”

  Mrs. Rossi’s sudden burst of anger subsided quickly. “I suppose there could be, but there were so many children that went through there. The chances of there being something of mine is very slim. I’m not sure if I would want it anyway. I don’t really want to reconnect with my time there.”

  “I found a drawing in the trunk that stuck with me. I think it was drawn by a girl named Elise. It was of her and another girl named Cynthia. Did you know them when you were there? I think they were there near the time of the fire.”

  “I really don’t remember any of the names of the children. I don’t think I had any real friends. From the best of my memory, we did as much as we could for each other, but we all just did our best to survive on our own. I suppose my memories have clouded over the years due to time and also the desire to forget.”

  “I understand. I just wondered if you might recognize the names. I think that they were bullied by a kid there.” She decided on a little white lie to see if she could help Mrs. Rossi’s memory without explaining about her brush with the ghosts. “There was a diary, certainly written by one of the children, about a boy who got away with kicking and hitting the others. Do you remember anything like that?”