Out of curiosity I looked on the Internet to see if Marywood is still there. It is, but it is presently The Evanston Civic Center, no longer a Catholic boarding school. It is registered under the National Historic Society. It was built in 1900 and was an all girls academy for seventy years, from 1915 to 1985 when it closed. I was there from 1958 until 1961
The three years at Marywood were the most enjoyable years I had in school. The nuns were nice and it was such a relief to be there after my four years at Holy Names! The ninth grade was good for me too because that year I got to stay with my sister and brothers quite a bit in their apartment.
Each Semester we would have a different roommate. That way we had the opportunity to experience living with a variety of different personalities. The nuns were the most lenient I had had so far. We were allowed to fix our hair in any style we chose. We would change into regular clothes after school which helped us obtain our own individualities.
We were allowed to use some make-up, but not a lot. After classes we were allowed to walk to the nearby shops and soda fountains without supervision. Our rooms were our own to decorate as we pleased, and the inspections were not nearly as harsh. We were even allowed to have a typewriter, radio and a TV in our rooms. I was happier than I had been in a long time.
The only thing I can remember not liking was the fact that the nuns opened and read our incoming mail before giving it to us. They did not read our outgoing mail, which both other schools had done. The reading of our incoming mail would prove to be my undoing. I ended up getting in big trouble because of it (which I will talk about later).
In my sophomore year, I even had a male teacher for the first time in my life! His name was Aubrey Serewitz. He was a very intelligent rather nerdy type. He wore thick glasses and had a ruddy complexion. He was diligently dedicated to Math, Physics and Chemistry. I believe they were the cornerstone of his life. He lived with his mother and he would take the bus to school each day.
My strongest subjects were the ones he taught, and I especially always loved math. It came easy to me and I truly enjoyed the challenge of solving problems. I was his star Geometry student. Once he gave us a problem from our Geometry book to solve for extra credit. I was the only one that solved it. He informed the class that everyone who couldn’t solve it was right….and I was wrong. He explained that there was not enough information given to enable anyone to solve it.
I insisted that I had solved it! It had taken me a long time and my solution was very long with dozens of steps. He decided to write the steps I had taken on the blackboard so the class could figure out where I went wrong. After close analysis of my work, it turned out that I had, indeed, solved the problem! He was ecstatic! He immediately planned to submit my solution to the publishers of the book. As a result, they had to make a correction in the next edition of the book. I received some kind of award but I can’t remember what it was. It was probably a certificate or something similar.
In my junior year he was my teacher for Physics and Chemistry. Since he was the only man I had ever known, I developed a mad crush on him. The poor fellow didn’t know how to handle it. I flirted with him, and it was my goal to try to get him sexually aroused (which I think I did). Being his student he couldn’t dare flirt with me. He did however start coming to the school on week-ends occasionally to play tennis with me. He would wear short shorts which made him look quite comical. I made the poor guy a nervous wreck! I really don’t think any female had ever come on to him before. Naturally, nothing came of it but I’m sure he never forgot me!
Also, in my junior year, I began to change, physically. I lost a bunch of weight by going on a diet where you took lots of pills all day long, most of them chewable pills. They were called “Regimen Tablets” and Jackie Gleason was pushing them on TV. I believe he owned the company that produced the product. It was the fad diet of the year. Either it was the pills, or the fact that I was mentally ready to start making an effort to look more attractive. I started paying more attention to my hair, clothes, make-up and of course, my weight. Perhaps it was my “crush “on Mr. Serewitz that got me started, I’m not sure. It probably was just the normal age when girls start feeling like they are becoming women. So began my transition.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Chapter 4, Part 2 - THE "RICH" ROGERS FAMILY
One strange thing about all the years I was in various boarding schools and summer camps, is the fact that I always thought we were rich. My sister, brothers and I all attended expensive private schools where we grew up amongst our peers who were from wealthy families. It wasn’t until many years later that I found out how this even came about. My father’s boss, Lew Shalett and his wife Wanda, ran a very successful business based in Chicago (they were rich). My father was one of the many salesmen employed by them. He worked strictly on commission and had no other income. What he did for a living was always very difficult to describe.
The “product” that they produced was a program sold to large Corporations and Businesses. The purpose of the product was to increase individual productiveness from the employees. This was done with mailings to each employee, speeches, incentive seminars and large posters that were put on the walls throughout every building on every floor and in just about every office including restrooms. I guess you could call it an “Incentive Inspiring Program”. I also heard it referred to as an “Efficiency Program” and “How to Get More Work Out of Each Employee”. Each sale earned my father a very large commission and he would also do the follow up speeches and seminars etc. There were contests amongst the salesmen where they could earn extra bonuses.
Lew and Wanda had a very soft spot in their hearts for all four of us children. They were aware of everything that had happened in our family and had great compassion for the situation that was thrust on us through no fault of our own. They recognized many years before I was even born that my father did not manage his money wisely and would squander it quickly if they paid him an entire commission all at once. They took control of his money and doled it out to him as they felt necessary, wise and frugal. They paid his expenses on the road rather than give him the money to pay them. My father constantly was angry, resentful and upset with them as far back as I can remember.
It was the two of them that made sure that we were well provided for and sent to nice schools. They had no children of their own. I’m certain that much of the money spent on our tuition and uniforms came out of their own pockets, not my father’s.
Because my father was extremely flamboyant, ostentatious and boisterous, he always gave everyone the impression that we were wealthy. The Shaletts always made sure he wore expensive clothes and shoes and drove a new car every year. We always stayed in expensive hotels on our vacations from school. Therefore, all of us were convinced, with no doubts, that we were rich like our classmates, when in fact it was the Shaletts who were actually our benefactors.
One memory we always loved to talk about was something that happened on one Christmas. We were always excited and anxious to find out what we received from the Shaletts for Christmas. They were very generous. Wanda loved to go shopping, so our best presents were always from them.
My father in great anticipation carefully opened the envelope they sent him. Of course he was counting on a huge bonus check as his gift, which he often got. When he opened it, they had sent him a year of the “Fruit of the Month Club”. He would get a box of fresh fruit each month for a year! He was so furious, that it was absolutely hysterically funny. He turned red and spouted off a list of at least twenty nasty names and cuss words that he called them. We were all in tears laughing and told the story over and over for years.
At least twenty-five or thirty years later, there was a scene in the movie “Christmas Vacation” with Chevy Chase where almost the same exact thing happened! The only difference was that their gift was a year of the “Jelly of the Month Club”! I have always wondered if the person that wrote that scene had somehow heard the story about my father. The similarity was so close it was just uncanny!
I didn’t start figuring things out until my Senior year in high school. My father’s sales dropped far below what they had been in the past. The Shaletts began to fill me in on things I had never known. At that point he was already deeply in debt and owed the Shaletts lots of money. I also found out that my sister and her new husband had been stuck with the bill for their wedding. My father had spared no expense when ordering the banquet room, flowers, food, drinks and musicians. Many guests were invited and attended. I know he ordered several cases of expensive Champagne and other kinds of liquor.
My sister didn’t tell me until I was older that it took them years to pay off their wedding. I must admit that I was in shock for quite some time after learning that everything I had believed my entire life was all a facade. I had known we were poor when I lived with my mother, but since my father gained custody I truly believed for the next twelve years that
we were well off.
Another of my father’s great fabrications was his telling everyone that we were related to Will Rogers. He claimed that his father and Will’s father were brothers, so they were cousins. Added to that was a photo of my father and Will together which he claimed was taken at the airport as he saw Will off on his doomed flight to Alaska where his plane crashed and both Will and his pilot, Wiley Post were killed. The picture was taken by a car outside. He always said it was the “last” picture ever taken of Will Rogers. Our whole family believed this our entire lives. After my father passed away in 1987, our aunt who lived in New Jersey took it upon herself to write a family tree. She spent a couple of years researching our family history. When she finished, she told us that she could not find anywhere that we were in any way related to Will Rogers. Knowing what a “BS-er” our father was, we believed it and accepted it. However, we all believed the picture was real. We had seen our father push his way through a crowd at a golf course so we could all have our pictures taken with Bing Crosby. So, we never doubted that somehow he finagled a way to have his picture taken with Will Rogers.
In September of 2012 (while I was writing this book), I found out that even the picture is a fake! David Gray, who is a Historian for a University in Oklahoma, was writing a book about Salesmen back in the 1930’s to the 1970’s. He had interviewed me over a year before for his book (as the daughter of one of those salesmen). I proudly told him about being related to Will and even emailed him the picture. He let me know that while doing his research for the book, he discovered that my father had had the picture made by having a photo of him and a photo of Will Rogers spliced together! After learning this, I took a closer look at the picture….and it was actually an obvious fake. He even told me that all of the salesmen that my father worked with all knew about the fake picture and laughed about it. He used it to get his foot in the door to sell his product to the CEO’s of large Companies. So, my father went to his grave having his family believe that huge lie. In my Playboy centerfold layout, it even says I am related to Will Rogers and I even made it into Walter Winchell’s newspaper column because of it.
The “product” that they produced was a program sold to large Corporations and Businesses. The purpose of the product was to increase individual productiveness from the employees. This was done with mailings to each employee, speeches, incentive seminars and large posters that were put on the walls throughout every building on every floor and in just about every office including restrooms. I guess you could call it an “Incentive Inspiring Program”. I also heard it referred to as an “Efficiency Program” and “How to Get More Work Out of Each Employee”. Each sale earned my father a very large commission and he would also do the follow up speeches and seminars etc. There were contests amongst the salesmen where they could earn extra bonuses.
Lew and Wanda had a very soft spot in their hearts for all four of us children. They were aware of everything that had happened in our family and had great compassion for the situation that was thrust on us through no fault of our own. They recognized many years before I was even born that my father did not manage his money wisely and would squander it quickly if they paid him an entire commission all at once. They took control of his money and doled it out to him as they felt necessary, wise and frugal. They paid his expenses on the road rather than give him the money to pay them. My father constantly was angry, resentful and upset with them as far back as I can remember.
It was the two of them that made sure that we were well provided for and sent to nice schools. They had no children of their own. I’m certain that much of the money spent on our tuition and uniforms came out of their own pockets, not my father’s.
Because my father was extremely flamboyant, ostentatious and boisterous, he always gave everyone the impression that we were wealthy. The Shaletts always made sure he wore expensive clothes and shoes and drove a new car every year. We always stayed in expensive hotels on our vacations from school. Therefore, all of us were convinced, with no doubts, that we were rich like our classmates, when in fact it was the Shaletts who were actually our benefactors.
One memory we always loved to talk about was something that happened on one Christmas. We were always excited and anxious to find out what we received from the Shaletts for Christmas. They were very generous. Wanda loved to go shopping, so our best presents were always from them.
My father in great anticipation carefully opened the envelope they sent him. Of course he was counting on a huge bonus check as his gift, which he often got. When he opened it, they had sent him a year of the “Fruit of the Month Club”. He would get a box of fresh fruit each month for a year! He was so furious, that it was absolutely hysterically funny. He turned red and spouted off a list of at least twenty nasty names and cuss words that he called them. We were all in tears laughing and told the story over and over for years.
At least twenty-five or thirty years later, there was a scene in the movie “Christmas Vacation” with Chevy Chase where almost the same exact thing happened! The only difference was that their gift was a year of the “Jelly of the Month Club”! I have always wondered if the person that wrote that scene had somehow heard the story about my father. The similarity was so close it was just uncanny!
I didn’t start figuring things out until my Senior year in high school. My father’s sales dropped far below what they had been in the past. The Shaletts began to fill me in on things I had never known. At that point he was already deeply in debt and owed the Shaletts lots of money. I also found out that my sister and her new husband had been stuck with the bill for their wedding. My father had spared no expense when ordering the banquet room, flowers, food, drinks and musicians. Many guests were invited and attended. I know he ordered several cases of expensive Champagne and other kinds of liquor.
My sister didn’t tell me until I was older that it took them years to pay off their wedding. I must admit that I was in shock for quite some time after learning that everything I had believed my entire life was all a facade. I had known we were poor when I lived with my mother, but since my father gained custody I truly believed for the next twelve years that
we were well off.
Another of my father’s great fabrications was his telling everyone that we were related to Will Rogers. He claimed that his father and Will’s father were brothers, so they were cousins. Added to that was a photo of my father and Will together which he claimed was taken at the airport as he saw Will off on his doomed flight to Alaska where his plane crashed and both Will and his pilot, Wiley Post were killed. The picture was taken by a car outside. He always said it was the “last” picture ever taken of Will Rogers. Our whole family believed this our entire lives. After my father passed away in 1987, our aunt who lived in New Jersey took it upon herself to write a family tree. She spent a couple of years researching our family history. When she finished, she told us that she could not find anywhere that we were in any way related to Will Rogers. Knowing what a “BS-er” our father was, we believed it and accepted it. However, we all believed the picture was real. We had seen our father push his way through a crowd at a golf course so we could all have our pictures taken with Bing Crosby. So, we never doubted that somehow he finagled a way to have his picture taken with Will Rogers.
In September of 2012 (while I was writing this book), I found out that even the picture is a fake! David Gray, who is a Historian for a University in Oklahoma, was writing a book about Salesmen back in the 1930’s to the 1970’s. He had interviewed me over a year before for his book (as the daughter of one of those salesmen). I proudly told him about being related to Will and even emailed him the picture. He let me know that while doing his research for the book, he discovered that my father had had the picture made by having a photo of him and a photo of Will Rogers spliced together! After learning this, I took a closer look at the picture….and it was actually an obvious fake. He even told me that all of the salesmen that my father worked with all knew about the fake picture and laughed about it. He used it to get his foot in the door to sell his product to the CEO’s of large Companies. So, my father went to his grave having his family believe that huge lie. In my Playboy centerfold layout, it even says I am related to Will Rogers and I even made it into Walter Winchell’s newspaper column because of it.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Chapter 4, Part 1 - Chicago Illinois
The summer following my last year at Holy Names Academy, my father and I headed for Chicago. All of his belongings were already in his car because that’s how he lived – constantly on the road. I had so few belongings of my own that they all fit in a couple of suitcases and a box. This would be the first time in my father’s adult life that he was going to live where he actually had an address. I was headed to my third (and final) Boarding School.
The trip took a long time because we stopped to sightsee at all the spots that attracted tourists along the way. Places such as Yellowstone Park, the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore. There was no rush because we didn’t need to arrive at our destination for a couple of months.
The hardest part for me was leaving my two brothers behind and going so far away from my mother. My sister had already moved to Fort Lee, Virginia. Never in the nine years I had been in school did I make any close, permanent friends. Boarding schools had many girls that only attended for a year or two because of temporary family situations, therefore my friends constantly fluctuated from year to year.
Upon arriving in Chicago we stayed in a hotel while my father searched for a place to live and also find a Boarding School for me. Chicago was like nothing I had ever seen. It was larger and very different from Seattle, which so far had been the largest city I had been to.
There were elevated trains on tracks situated way above the ground that went for miles in every direction - everywhere. There were far more buildings that were taller, older and crammed together. The elevated trains (called “L’s”) came within feet from buildings where people worked or even lived! That never ceased to amaze me. How could people live or work with trains constantly whizzing by so close that the buildings shook and the windows rattled! The trains were so loud, it was almost impossible to talk to someone sitting next to you when riding on one. You had to yell close into their ear for them to even hear you.
My father’s boss knew of an elite school in Evanston, a suburb north of Chicago. One street separated them. On one side of the street you were in Chicago, and on the other side you were in Evanston. The school was called Marywood School for Girls. It was located two blocks from Northwestern University.
Marywood was a high school only, ninth through twelfth grades. It was run by The Sisters of Providence. Their Habits (clothing) were entirely different from my first two schools. They wore much more white than black as apposed to the other nuns whose Habits were completely black. Our uniforms were actually quite nice. They were powder blue jumpers made of very fine material with a white blouse worn underneath. We most often at that time wore white buck shoes which were in style, but we could wear our own choice of shoes.
This was my Sophomore year and at this school, there were no dormitories! All of the rooms were occupied by two girls each. They were all on the top or fifth floor. The building was designed so each room had a large window that looked outside onto the grounds, either in the front of the building or in the back. The classrooms were on the lower floors along with the nuns’ quarters and offices, etc. There were also “day” students that were not boarders.
This was by far the most expensive school I had been in up until then. Like Four Winds Camp I had attended, there were many girls from very wealthy families. Some even came from other countries. Most of the foreign students were from families that wanted their daughters to be exposed to the English language in order to learn to speak it fluently. Some of them knew very little English when they arrived. They were always assigned a roommate that was from the USA.
There were also many extra sports activities available that the other schools didn’t have. There was a large indoor swimming pool where we learned how to swim, do synchronized water ballet and various other water sports.
There were horse back riding lessons available at a stable nearby. To learn to ride you were required to purchase extra expensive items and clothing which included pants called Jodhpurs, knee-high black leather boots, jackets, vests, hats, gloves and a special whip called a crop. We were taught to ride in the English style and even learned how to jump fences! There were also lists of numerous other sports available.
My roommate was the daughter of the family that owned Borden’s Milk, which was very well known at the time. Some of you might remember the mascots for their ads were Elmer and Elsie the cows. Her name was Mary Ann Devine. I remember spending the week-end at her home and was very impressed to see my first colored TV! I had heard of them but had never seen one. Only very rich people could afford to purchase the first ones put on the market. This was in 1958.
There was another girl attending the school (a day student) whose father was the President of Montgomery Wards. He was the one who wrote the story “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer”. Her family had a yearly Christmas tradition. They would have a party with their close friends and each family was to tell an original (new) Christmas Story. They would give a prize to the family with the best story. The rest is history. Her name was Joanna Mae. She ended up becoming a nun after she graduated!
My father found a small apartment in a very old hotel that had been converted into apartments. It was a very crummy place but he didn’t care because he still regularly traveled to the states nearby and wasn’t home that often.
The trip took a long time because we stopped to sightsee at all the spots that attracted tourists along the way. Places such as Yellowstone Park, the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore. There was no rush because we didn’t need to arrive at our destination for a couple of months.
The hardest part for me was leaving my two brothers behind and going so far away from my mother. My sister had already moved to Fort Lee, Virginia. Never in the nine years I had been in school did I make any close, permanent friends. Boarding schools had many girls that only attended for a year or two because of temporary family situations, therefore my friends constantly fluctuated from year to year.
Upon arriving in Chicago we stayed in a hotel while my father searched for a place to live and also find a Boarding School for me. Chicago was like nothing I had ever seen. It was larger and very different from Seattle, which so far had been the largest city I had been to.
There were elevated trains on tracks situated way above the ground that went for miles in every direction - everywhere. There were far more buildings that were taller, older and crammed together. The elevated trains (called “L’s”) came within feet from buildings where people worked or even lived! That never ceased to amaze me. How could people live or work with trains constantly whizzing by so close that the buildings shook and the windows rattled! The trains were so loud, it was almost impossible to talk to someone sitting next to you when riding on one. You had to yell close into their ear for them to even hear you.
My father’s boss knew of an elite school in Evanston, a suburb north of Chicago. One street separated them. On one side of the street you were in Chicago, and on the other side you were in Evanston. The school was called Marywood School for Girls. It was located two blocks from Northwestern University.
Marywood was a high school only, ninth through twelfth grades. It was run by The Sisters of Providence. Their Habits (clothing) were entirely different from my first two schools. They wore much more white than black as apposed to the other nuns whose Habits were completely black. Our uniforms were actually quite nice. They were powder blue jumpers made of very fine material with a white blouse worn underneath. We most often at that time wore white buck shoes which were in style, but we could wear our own choice of shoes.
This was my Sophomore year and at this school, there were no dormitories! All of the rooms were occupied by two girls each. They were all on the top or fifth floor. The building was designed so each room had a large window that looked outside onto the grounds, either in the front of the building or in the back. The classrooms were on the lower floors along with the nuns’ quarters and offices, etc. There were also “day” students that were not boarders.
This was by far the most expensive school I had been in up until then. Like Four Winds Camp I had attended, there were many girls from very wealthy families. Some even came from other countries. Most of the foreign students were from families that wanted their daughters to be exposed to the English language in order to learn to speak it fluently. Some of them knew very little English when they arrived. They were always assigned a roommate that was from the USA.
There were also many extra sports activities available that the other schools didn’t have. There was a large indoor swimming pool where we learned how to swim, do synchronized water ballet and various other water sports.
There were horse back riding lessons available at a stable nearby. To learn to ride you were required to purchase extra expensive items and clothing which included pants called Jodhpurs, knee-high black leather boots, jackets, vests, hats, gloves and a special whip called a crop. We were taught to ride in the English style and even learned how to jump fences! There were also lists of numerous other sports available.
My roommate was the daughter of the family that owned Borden’s Milk, which was very well known at the time. Some of you might remember the mascots for their ads were Elmer and Elsie the cows. Her name was Mary Ann Devine. I remember spending the week-end at her home and was very impressed to see my first colored TV! I had heard of them but had never seen one. Only very rich people could afford to purchase the first ones put on the market. This was in 1958.
There was another girl attending the school (a day student) whose father was the President of Montgomery Wards. He was the one who wrote the story “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer”. Her family had a yearly Christmas tradition. They would have a party with their close friends and each family was to tell an original (new) Christmas Story. They would give a prize to the family with the best story. The rest is history. Her name was Joanna Mae. She ended up becoming a nun after she graduated!
My father found a small apartment in a very old hotel that had been converted into apartments. It was a very crummy place but he didn’t care because he still regularly traveled to the states nearby and wasn’t home that often.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Chapter 3, Part 6 - MY FINAL DAYS IN SPOKANE
During the ninth grade two incidents in particular stand out in my memories. Living next door to my siblings’ apartment, was a girl whose father was a photographer for the “Spokesman Review”, the main newspaper in Spokane. Her name was Cathy Lewis. At the time, I was MADLY in love with Elvis Presley. Her father was assigned to photograph back-stage pictures of Elvis for the newspaper when he came to Spokane for a concert. It was held in a football stadium outside because that was the only place large enough to accommodate all of those wanting tickets. I told Cathy about my undying love for Elvis and she talked to her father. They promised me that I would meet Elvis and have my picture taken with him! I was in seventh Heaven!
I got very dressed up, and painstakingly did my hair and make-up. My sister let me wear one of her nicest most expensive dresses. My father’s boss’s wife, Wanda, had purchased about 15 dresses for Beverly in Chicago...dresses that she got to choose out of Vogue and Bazaar Magazines! Wanda did this for Bev when she started College. We didn’t have many clothes because we always wore uniforms.
Finally, the night came. I had a ticket to attend the concert. Cathy told me to go to my seat and her dad was going to take the pictures during a half-time break. I waited. I watched the entire concert (in ecstasy) waiting for her to come and get me. The concert ended and she never came! I had driven with them to the concert so we found each other after the show.
She told me that they couldn’t find me!!! The photo session occurred before the show rather than at half time and I was not in my seat! I was heart broken. It turned out that I was seated in seat # 4-G-5 and I was supposed to be in seat # 5-G-4! I just knew, that if Elvis had met me, I would have been the love of his life!
After he developed the film, I saw several pictures of Cathy with Elvis. Years later, I would (once again) miss...by just a hair...meeting Elvis; which I will talk about later in my story. That night her father had taken pictures of me prior to leaving for the concert. I had some of the best pictures of me that I had ever taken at the time
*******
The second incident was when I was listening to the radio at school and they had a contest. I decided to enter. The radio station was one located in Seattle. The contest was “Win a Date with Jimmy Bowen”. Jimmy Bowen was a partner with Buddy Knox and together they had a hit record. Knox had one side of the 45 called “Party Doll”, and Bowen had the flip side called “I’m Sticking With You”. Both songs were hits and both of them were very popular in 1957 when I heard about the contest.
All you had to do to enter was send in a photograph of yourself with a brief description (age etc). I sent one of the pictures Cathy’s father had taken of me on the night I went to see Elvis. To my utter amazement, I WON the contest!! As excited as I was, my father would not let me go on the “date” unless he went along (much to my embarrassment and dismay).
I waited months for this “date” to happen. Then, I was notified by the radio station that Jimmy Bowen could not go on the date. He had recently married Keely Smith (who had been married to Louis Prima (they were a singing duo). I later learned that Bowen had also quit the business as an entertainer and got into the production end. He also became the President of several Record Companies. He is still a Magnate in the music industry, especially Country.
So, the radio station (I believe it was KGY) told me I could choose, out of a list, a different singer for the date. The difference was, it wouldn’t be a “date” but someone I could meet backstage and be photographed with. I can’t remember all of the choices that were given to me but I do remember there was either one of the Everly Brothers, Paul Anka or Ricky Nelson. I chose Ricky Nelson. Many years later, I would regret not choosing Paul Anka.
When the day finally came, my father took me to Seattle and we (both) went backstage after the show. I had my picture taken with Ricky Nelson, which I still have. The entire procedure took about five minutes, or less. I remember being SO embarrassed when my father told Ricky Nelson that he was a huge fan of the TV series “Ollie and Harriet” (it was actually Ozzie and Harriet).
*******
My sister took extra classes so she could graduate from college early. She was getting married in February because her husband-to-be was in ROTC and was scheduled to be stationed in Fort Lee, Virginia as a First Lieutenant in the Army.
My whole family was all part of the wedding. We even flew our mother from Seattle to Spokane and bought her a new dress so she could attend too. This was the second and last time all of us were photographed together. My brothers were ushers and I was a bridesmaid. Her colors were red and white and I had a beautiful red dress. I wore it when I met Ricky Nelson. The wedding and reception were fabulous. It was held in the Ridpath Hotel which was the newest and most modern hotel in Spokane. An interesting side note is that the two people that were in charge of arranging weddings and large banquets were Mr. Cheatum and Mrs. Swindle!
Lots of alcohol was served and my brothers and my mother all got plastered! My father yelled at my mother and berated her in front of everyone. He made her cry. None of us ever forgave him for that. We had the misfortune of having a father who was a complete asshole. He was cruel, self-centered, selfish, inconsiderate, detestable, vulgar and just an all out horrible human being. I don’t know how he could even stand being himself. Every one of us hated him. We always did from as far back as I can remember, up to the day he died. Bill and I hated him the most.
The last time I saw my mother was at my sister’s wedding. I was fifteen. The wedding was in February, 1958 and my mother died in June, 1959. Like I had explained earlier, she never recovered from the stroke she had when I was five. She had learned to walk but had to drag her right leg and it was very difficult for her. Her right arm was bent and immobile and her hand was in a permanently closed fist, which she couldn’t open. She could talk but it was a huge struggle. She could only speak enough words to enable her to convey things to us. Only those who were close to her could really understand her (after getting used to it over time). Somehow, she managed to say four-letter cuss words as clear as a bell though! We all really loved her with all of our hearts.
My time in Spokane had finally come to an end. My father was transferred by his Company to work permanently in the Chicago area. Up until then his “territory” as a salesman was the thirteen Western States. While in Chicago he would only cover Illinois and four surrounding states. So, I was off to attend my final boarding school in Evanston, Illinois.
I got very dressed up, and painstakingly did my hair and make-up. My sister let me wear one of her nicest most expensive dresses. My father’s boss’s wife, Wanda, had purchased about 15 dresses for Beverly in Chicago...dresses that she got to choose out of Vogue and Bazaar Magazines! Wanda did this for Bev when she started College. We didn’t have many clothes because we always wore uniforms.
Finally, the night came. I had a ticket to attend the concert. Cathy told me to go to my seat and her dad was going to take the pictures during a half-time break. I waited. I watched the entire concert (in ecstasy) waiting for her to come and get me. The concert ended and she never came! I had driven with them to the concert so we found each other after the show.
She told me that they couldn’t find me!!! The photo session occurred before the show rather than at half time and I was not in my seat! I was heart broken. It turned out that I was seated in seat # 4-G-5 and I was supposed to be in seat # 5-G-4! I just knew, that if Elvis had met me, I would have been the love of his life!
After he developed the film, I saw several pictures of Cathy with Elvis. Years later, I would (once again) miss...by just a hair...meeting Elvis; which I will talk about later in my story. That night her father had taken pictures of me prior to leaving for the concert. I had some of the best pictures of me that I had ever taken at the time
*******
The second incident was when I was listening to the radio at school and they had a contest. I decided to enter. The radio station was one located in Seattle. The contest was “Win a Date with Jimmy Bowen”. Jimmy Bowen was a partner with Buddy Knox and together they had a hit record. Knox had one side of the 45 called “Party Doll”, and Bowen had the flip side called “I’m Sticking With You”. Both songs were hits and both of them were very popular in 1957 when I heard about the contest.
All you had to do to enter was send in a photograph of yourself with a brief description (age etc). I sent one of the pictures Cathy’s father had taken of me on the night I went to see Elvis. To my utter amazement, I WON the contest!! As excited as I was, my father would not let me go on the “date” unless he went along (much to my embarrassment and dismay).
I waited months for this “date” to happen. Then, I was notified by the radio station that Jimmy Bowen could not go on the date. He had recently married Keely Smith (who had been married to Louis Prima (they were a singing duo). I later learned that Bowen had also quit the business as an entertainer and got into the production end. He also became the President of several Record Companies. He is still a Magnate in the music industry, especially Country.
So, the radio station (I believe it was KGY) told me I could choose, out of a list, a different singer for the date. The difference was, it wouldn’t be a “date” but someone I could meet backstage and be photographed with. I can’t remember all of the choices that were given to me but I do remember there was either one of the Everly Brothers, Paul Anka or Ricky Nelson. I chose Ricky Nelson. Many years later, I would regret not choosing Paul Anka.
When the day finally came, my father took me to Seattle and we (both) went backstage after the show. I had my picture taken with Ricky Nelson, which I still have. The entire procedure took about five minutes, or less. I remember being SO embarrassed when my father told Ricky Nelson that he was a huge fan of the TV series “Ollie and Harriet” (it was actually Ozzie and Harriet).
*******
My sister took extra classes so she could graduate from college early. She was getting married in February because her husband-to-be was in ROTC and was scheduled to be stationed in Fort Lee, Virginia as a First Lieutenant in the Army.
My whole family was all part of the wedding. We even flew our mother from Seattle to Spokane and bought her a new dress so she could attend too. This was the second and last time all of us were photographed together. My brothers were ushers and I was a bridesmaid. Her colors were red and white and I had a beautiful red dress. I wore it when I met Ricky Nelson. The wedding and reception were fabulous. It was held in the Ridpath Hotel which was the newest and most modern hotel in Spokane. An interesting side note is that the two people that were in charge of arranging weddings and large banquets were Mr. Cheatum and Mrs. Swindle!
Lots of alcohol was served and my brothers and my mother all got plastered! My father yelled at my mother and berated her in front of everyone. He made her cry. None of us ever forgave him for that. We had the misfortune of having a father who was a complete asshole. He was cruel, self-centered, selfish, inconsiderate, detestable, vulgar and just an all out horrible human being. I don’t know how he could even stand being himself. Every one of us hated him. We always did from as far back as I can remember, up to the day he died. Bill and I hated him the most.
The last time I saw my mother was at my sister’s wedding. I was fifteen. The wedding was in February, 1958 and my mother died in June, 1959. Like I had explained earlier, she never recovered from the stroke she had when I was five. She had learned to walk but had to drag her right leg and it was very difficult for her. Her right arm was bent and immobile and her hand was in a permanently closed fist, which she couldn’t open. She could talk but it was a huge struggle. She could only speak enough words to enable her to convey things to us. Only those who were close to her could really understand her (after getting used to it over time). Somehow, she managed to say four-letter cuss words as clear as a bell though! We all really loved her with all of our hearts.
My time in Spokane had finally come to an end. My father was transferred by his Company to work permanently in the Chicago area. Up until then his “territory” as a salesman was the thirteen Western States. While in Chicago he would only cover Illinois and four surrounding states. So, I was off to attend my final boarding school in Evanston, Illinois.
Chapter 3, Part 6 - NINTH GRADE
The ninth grade turned out not to be as bad as I was anticipating, in fact it was one of the best years I ever had while in school.
The ninth graders had to sleep in the same dormitory as the grade school, but other than that, we mostly mingled with the other high school girls. I no longer had to report to Sister Bernard Marie after school hours. I shared the recreation room with the high school boarders, not the grade school that BM was in charge of. The nun that was in charge of the high school boarders was far nicer and more lenient. I don’t remember her name.
She even let us listen to the radio and watch some television. The high school girls were also allowed to dance with each other. This was the era when American Bandstand had just begun and Elvis Presley and Marlon Brando were the heartthrobs of the day. The popular dance was the “Bop”. We learned our dance moves by watching them dance on American Bandstand.
One thing that always surprised me was in all of the twelve years of boarding school, I was never taught how to cook or sew which is something you would think would be a priority in all-girl schools. The kitchen was off limits to the boarders in all three of the schools I attended, so I never even got to watch how food was prepared. We never did laundry either but did lots and lots of ironing. We even ironed our sheets.
After school, we were also allowed to leave the campus and go to nearby shops and soda fountains, which were quite popular then. We were only to leave the grounds in groups, however. This is when I first started experimenting with smoking cigarettes, which was considered a very cool thing to do, but daring and risqué for us. Something that I can’t imagine what the punishment would have been from Sister Bernard Marie!
My two brothers shared a small apartment together for quite some time while attending Gonzaga, but rarely would I spend week-ends with them. They both worked nights in an elite bakery located in the Davenport Hotel, which was the most exclusive hotel in Spokane.
Their job was to clean the bakery at night after all of the pastry chefs left. The Hotel served exquisite French Pastries and each one had to be perfect on the inside and on the outside. Jim and Bill were supposed to throw out all the fancy pastries that weren’t perfect. Of course, they didn’t throw them away but instead they brought them back to their apartment.
They had lots of parties too. Both of them gained so much weight that they each weighed close to 400 pounds! They each had severe problems with their weight and were both considered “morbidly obese” their entire lives. Bill’s weight was part of the cause of his many problems in Military School where self-discipline was highly stressed.
In her senior year my sister Beverly moved in with Jim and Bill into a larger apartment together about a mile from Holy Names. I was allowed to spend the majority of week-ends with them. My new found freedom was exhilarating for me. Prior to that year, I rarely stayed with any of them. My sister was living on campus in a building called Madonna Hall. She would occasionally let me stay with her but only when her roommate went somewhere else and her bed was available.
When I spent week-ends with the three of them while in the ninth grade I was given lots of freedom to do pretty much anything I wanted. My father was never made aware of it or he never would have allowed it….and he would have been furious. It was our secret.
A very strange coincidence happened with that apartment. Many years after they graduated from Gonzaga, my sister’s daughter, Jennifer also attended that same University. She lived on campus her first couple of years and then decided to rent an apartment. Without knowing anything about it, she ended up renting the SAME apartment that they had lived in! My sister was shocked the first time she visited her and recognized it was the same exact place. What are the odds of that!?
Our father never allowed my sister or me to go on dates or attend dances unless we were chaperoned. He would have to meet the boy’s parents before we could even attend a dance or prom. Our dances were with boys from nearby all-boy Catholic schools. My brother Jim was actually Beverly’s date for her senior prom and my father chaperoned! He also chaperoned the one dance he ever let me attend and it was my senior prom in the twelfth grade.
The ninth graders had to sleep in the same dormitory as the grade school, but other than that, we mostly mingled with the other high school girls. I no longer had to report to Sister Bernard Marie after school hours. I shared the recreation room with the high school boarders, not the grade school that BM was in charge of. The nun that was in charge of the high school boarders was far nicer and more lenient. I don’t remember her name.
She even let us listen to the radio and watch some television. The high school girls were also allowed to dance with each other. This was the era when American Bandstand had just begun and Elvis Presley and Marlon Brando were the heartthrobs of the day. The popular dance was the “Bop”. We learned our dance moves by watching them dance on American Bandstand.
One thing that always surprised me was in all of the twelve years of boarding school, I was never taught how to cook or sew which is something you would think would be a priority in all-girl schools. The kitchen was off limits to the boarders in all three of the schools I attended, so I never even got to watch how food was prepared. We never did laundry either but did lots and lots of ironing. We even ironed our sheets.
After school, we were also allowed to leave the campus and go to nearby shops and soda fountains, which were quite popular then. We were only to leave the grounds in groups, however. This is when I first started experimenting with smoking cigarettes, which was considered a very cool thing to do, but daring and risqué for us. Something that I can’t imagine what the punishment would have been from Sister Bernard Marie!
My two brothers shared a small apartment together for quite some time while attending Gonzaga, but rarely would I spend week-ends with them. They both worked nights in an elite bakery located in the Davenport Hotel, which was the most exclusive hotel in Spokane.
Their job was to clean the bakery at night after all of the pastry chefs left. The Hotel served exquisite French Pastries and each one had to be perfect on the inside and on the outside. Jim and Bill were supposed to throw out all the fancy pastries that weren’t perfect. Of course, they didn’t throw them away but instead they brought them back to their apartment.
They had lots of parties too. Both of them gained so much weight that they each weighed close to 400 pounds! They each had severe problems with their weight and were both considered “morbidly obese” their entire lives. Bill’s weight was part of the cause of his many problems in Military School where self-discipline was highly stressed.
In her senior year my sister Beverly moved in with Jim and Bill into a larger apartment together about a mile from Holy Names. I was allowed to spend the majority of week-ends with them. My new found freedom was exhilarating for me. Prior to that year, I rarely stayed with any of them. My sister was living on campus in a building called Madonna Hall. She would occasionally let me stay with her but only when her roommate went somewhere else and her bed was available.
When I spent week-ends with the three of them while in the ninth grade I was given lots of freedom to do pretty much anything I wanted. My father was never made aware of it or he never would have allowed it….and he would have been furious. It was our secret.
A very strange coincidence happened with that apartment. Many years after they graduated from Gonzaga, my sister’s daughter, Jennifer also attended that same University. She lived on campus her first couple of years and then decided to rent an apartment. Without knowing anything about it, she ended up renting the SAME apartment that they had lived in! My sister was shocked the first time she visited her and recognized it was the same exact place. What are the odds of that!?
Our father never allowed my sister or me to go on dates or attend dances unless we were chaperoned. He would have to meet the boy’s parents before we could even attend a dance or prom. Our dances were with boys from nearby all-boy Catholic schools. My brother Jim was actually Beverly’s date for her senior prom and my father chaperoned! He also chaperoned the one dance he ever let me attend and it was my senior prom in the twelfth grade.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Chapter 3, Part 5
I’m sure that you are wondering why no one ever did anything about her treatment of me and the other girls. This is a good question that baffles me even to this day. Yes, I did tell about her. I told my sister, my brothers, my father, even other nuns at the convent. The nuns took her side and didn’t want to hear it or listen to any complaints. To the best of my recollection, no one wanted to “make waves” or “get involved”. Therefore, nothing was ever done about it.
In those days I think the reasoning was that I was just a child and it just didn’t make any difference. Besides, she was a NUN, devoting her life to GOD, so she couldn’t possibly be that bad. Mostly, no one wanted to hear about it or deal with it. I rarely saw my father and my sister and brothers were wrapped up in attending college and all that went with it academically and socially. No one wanted to defend or protect me. No one wanted to confront her or her Mother Superior.
Other girls also told their families and nothing was ever done about it. I sincerely believe that she would not get away with it in today’s world. This was happening to me in the mid 1950’s and many things were very different back then than they are now. Children just did not have any rights at all. Today’s children would fight back, and I firmly believe that parents would never tolerate this type of treatment of their children in present times. She most definitely would be reported and held accountable. Society in general is nothing like it was then.
*******
My brother Bill had it extremely rough in Military Schools. I believe that he had it rougher than I did, by far. St. John’s Military Academy in Delafield, Wisconsin, was run by ex-military officers whose goal was to prepare the students to become career Military Officers. His life there was like five years of Boot Camp. The rules were rigid and inflexible and the punishments harsh. Hazing the new students was a common practice. Those five years were so hard on him that he had mental problems for the rest of his life as a result.
The boys that excelled were ones that grew up in the military and were gung-ho about the whole system. They were the ones who strived to be part of the military for the rest of their lives. Those who were just not “into it” and hated the military were the ones it was hardest on. My brother hated it and vowed to never be part of it ever again.
Many of the graduates went on to attend Annapolis and West Point. The tuition costs as much as attending college and the required purchase of Uniforms costs thousands. Should you be curious to find out more about it, you can look it up on the Internet. It is still there (whereas all of the boarding schools I attended have since been closed).
********
Not far from Holy Names were train tracks. I wish I could have been brave enough or defiant enough to just take off running across the field when I heard the train whistle and jump into one of the cars and take off to places unknown. I would lie in my bed at night and hear the train and let my imagination run away with me.
Once, there was a girl that was sent to the school by the courts. Her name was Paulette and she was a wild, defiant, runaway, delinquent. I envied all the stories she told us of things she had done (sliding into hell too I suppose). She was in the eighth grade and already had had an abortion, and she had false teeth because she lost hers in a car accident (riding in a car with boys). I was in awe of all the experiences she told us about. She was only there about a month when she ran away. Why couldn’t I be that gutsy?
Next door to Holy Names was an orphanage. Today, I don’t know of any orphanages but back in the 50’s they weren’t that uncommon. The boarders at the school would go over there to visit them and at Christmas we would go caroling and bring homemade gifts. I always envied the orphans because to me at least they had a chance of being adopted, and the staff seemed a whole lot nicer and caring than Sister Bernard Marie.
A devastating shock and horrible let down occurred after I finished eighth grade. Finally, at last, I would move to the high school dorm and be rid of BM for good!! Initially, I was only supposed to be under her for three years - sixth, seventh and eighth grades.
The worst of all things happened. They decided to make the ninth grade part of her unit. It seemed that the enrollment of high school students that year far outnumbered that of the grade school. Therefore they found it necessary to incorporate the ninth graders in with the grade school so each dormitory would have an equal number of girls. The ninth graders wore different uniforms so we clashed with the grade school students even though we were part of their unit. We wore a white cotton blouse, a green pleated skirt and a green cardigan sweater.
I truly felt like God had abandoned me. How could he make me be with her for one more year?! I can still see that evil smile on her face when she told me I would not be moving into the high school dorm. She looked just like a smug Cheshire Cat....
In those days I think the reasoning was that I was just a child and it just didn’t make any difference. Besides, she was a NUN, devoting her life to GOD, so she couldn’t possibly be that bad. Mostly, no one wanted to hear about it or deal with it. I rarely saw my father and my sister and brothers were wrapped up in attending college and all that went with it academically and socially. No one wanted to defend or protect me. No one wanted to confront her or her Mother Superior.
Other girls also told their families and nothing was ever done about it. I sincerely believe that she would not get away with it in today’s world. This was happening to me in the mid 1950’s and many things were very different back then than they are now. Children just did not have any rights at all. Today’s children would fight back, and I firmly believe that parents would never tolerate this type of treatment of their children in present times. She most definitely would be reported and held accountable. Society in general is nothing like it was then.
*******
My brother Bill had it extremely rough in Military Schools. I believe that he had it rougher than I did, by far. St. John’s Military Academy in Delafield, Wisconsin, was run by ex-military officers whose goal was to prepare the students to become career Military Officers. His life there was like five years of Boot Camp. The rules were rigid and inflexible and the punishments harsh. Hazing the new students was a common practice. Those five years were so hard on him that he had mental problems for the rest of his life as a result.
The boys that excelled were ones that grew up in the military and were gung-ho about the whole system. They were the ones who strived to be part of the military for the rest of their lives. Those who were just not “into it” and hated the military were the ones it was hardest on. My brother hated it and vowed to never be part of it ever again.
Many of the graduates went on to attend Annapolis and West Point. The tuition costs as much as attending college and the required purchase of Uniforms costs thousands. Should you be curious to find out more about it, you can look it up on the Internet. It is still there (whereas all of the boarding schools I attended have since been closed).
********
Not far from Holy Names were train tracks. I wish I could have been brave enough or defiant enough to just take off running across the field when I heard the train whistle and jump into one of the cars and take off to places unknown. I would lie in my bed at night and hear the train and let my imagination run away with me.
Once, there was a girl that was sent to the school by the courts. Her name was Paulette and she was a wild, defiant, runaway, delinquent. I envied all the stories she told us of things she had done (sliding into hell too I suppose). She was in the eighth grade and already had had an abortion, and she had false teeth because she lost hers in a car accident (riding in a car with boys). I was in awe of all the experiences she told us about. She was only there about a month when she ran away. Why couldn’t I be that gutsy?
Next door to Holy Names was an orphanage. Today, I don’t know of any orphanages but back in the 50’s they weren’t that uncommon. The boarders at the school would go over there to visit them and at Christmas we would go caroling and bring homemade gifts. I always envied the orphans because to me at least they had a chance of being adopted, and the staff seemed a whole lot nicer and caring than Sister Bernard Marie.
A devastating shock and horrible let down occurred after I finished eighth grade. Finally, at last, I would move to the high school dorm and be rid of BM for good!! Initially, I was only supposed to be under her for three years - sixth, seventh and eighth grades.
The worst of all things happened. They decided to make the ninth grade part of her unit. It seemed that the enrollment of high school students that year far outnumbered that of the grade school. Therefore they found it necessary to incorporate the ninth graders in with the grade school so each dormitory would have an equal number of girls. The ninth graders wore different uniforms so we clashed with the grade school students even though we were part of their unit. We wore a white cotton blouse, a green pleated skirt and a green cardigan sweater.
I truly felt like God had abandoned me. How could he make me be with her for one more year?! I can still see that evil smile on her face when she told me I would not be moving into the high school dorm. She looked just like a smug Cheshire Cat....
Chapter 3, Part 4 - A PUNISHMENT GONE TOO FAR
Of the countless things she did to me and others over the 4 years I was under her rule, one stands out over and above them all. It happened when I was in the eighth grade.
In the 50’s the popular hair style was a pony tail. My hair went to my waist, and I loved to wear it in a pony tail. I liked to walk so it would sway back and forth with each step. The day students all seemed to wear them but BM hated pony tails. She said: “the only time you should wear a pony tail is when you tie your hair up to take a bath”. So, she always made me wear my hair down…and she hated that too. One day, she asked me (all nice and sweet) if I would please let her “fix” my hair. I was picturing ringlets or something equally as stupid, and in an adventurous state, I said: – “sure”! (I should have suspected something was not right for the mere fact she was actually talking nice to me).
She told me to wash my hair, comb it out and sit down in a chair by the sinks. So, I did. As I sat in the chair, she stood behind me and started combing my hair. Then, she took a hold of it with one hand, and I heard this awful sound of scissors cutting! She had grabbed my hair right at the nape of my neck, and she cut it off with one grinding snip!
My long hair was cut off! This amounted to about 16 inches of hair that had taken me years to grow. My hair was my best feature. I wasn’t pretty and I was overweight, but I had nice hair and I loved having it long. My hair is fine and when it was long, it was straight. After she cut it I found out I have naturally curly hair. I started screaming and crying hysterically!
She then proceeded to call over the other 50 or so boarders. She said to them: “look at her carrying on like this, when she TOLD me I could cut her hair! She is trying to lie and make a scene and deny that she told me I could cut it!” Not only was I campused for two weeks after that, but that night she made me sit on my chair by my bed, all night long, for telling “lies”. She was supposed to come to me and let me get into bed after an hour or two, but evidently she either fell asleep herself, or she forgot about me. I was too scared to get up off of the chair and get into bed on my own, so I sat there until she came to wake everyone the next morning. I could tell by the look on her face that she was surprised that I was still sitting in my chair, but she didn’t apologize. All of the girls were appalled.
The next day, everyone was forbidden to talk to me - and me to them. My hair looked so awful that it was hard for the other girls to look at me without laughing. It was not anything like a professional haircut. She had cut it at the base of my skull, above my neckline. I – literally – wanted to die. This is the first time I seriously considered suicide. I was 13. To be honest, the entire four years at Holy Names Academy, I wished I would die.
There were three bathtubs at the far end of the dormitory. Each one was in an enclosed cubicle and had a door with a sliding lock on it. One cubicle had a window to the outside. It was five stories up. When it was my turn to take a bath, I chose the bathtub with the window. I opened the window & climbed out onto the ledge. It was made of cement and was about one foot wide. It was dark outside. I stayed there, too afraid to jump, until my time was up for taking a bath (10 minutes) and she came looking for me. She pounded on the door. I climbed back inside and closed the window. No one ever knew I did that. It wasn’t until many years later that I told my brother & sister. The only other person I ever told was a Psychiatrist when I was in my late 20’s.
To this day, I have never been able to wear my hair cut short. I tried it once. After years of bleaching my hair a Platinum Blonde color, I decided to grow it out back to my natural color. I needed to cut off much of the blonde as it grew it out because my hair was quite damaged. Like a phobia, the feeling of short hair swept over me and brought back the feelings I experienced after BM cut my hair. I vowed to never cut it short again. Also, I wear my hair in a pony tail style almost every day.
In the 50’s the popular hair style was a pony tail. My hair went to my waist, and I loved to wear it in a pony tail. I liked to walk so it would sway back and forth with each step. The day students all seemed to wear them but BM hated pony tails. She said: “the only time you should wear a pony tail is when you tie your hair up to take a bath”. So, she always made me wear my hair down…and she hated that too. One day, she asked me (all nice and sweet) if I would please let her “fix” my hair. I was picturing ringlets or something equally as stupid, and in an adventurous state, I said: – “sure”! (I should have suspected something was not right for the mere fact she was actually talking nice to me).
She told me to wash my hair, comb it out and sit down in a chair by the sinks. So, I did. As I sat in the chair, she stood behind me and started combing my hair. Then, she took a hold of it with one hand, and I heard this awful sound of scissors cutting! She had grabbed my hair right at the nape of my neck, and she cut it off with one grinding snip!
My long hair was cut off! This amounted to about 16 inches of hair that had taken me years to grow. My hair was my best feature. I wasn’t pretty and I was overweight, but I had nice hair and I loved having it long. My hair is fine and when it was long, it was straight. After she cut it I found out I have naturally curly hair. I started screaming and crying hysterically!
She then proceeded to call over the other 50 or so boarders. She said to them: “look at her carrying on like this, when she TOLD me I could cut her hair! She is trying to lie and make a scene and deny that she told me I could cut it!” Not only was I campused for two weeks after that, but that night she made me sit on my chair by my bed, all night long, for telling “lies”. She was supposed to come to me and let me get into bed after an hour or two, but evidently she either fell asleep herself, or she forgot about me. I was too scared to get up off of the chair and get into bed on my own, so I sat there until she came to wake everyone the next morning. I could tell by the look on her face that she was surprised that I was still sitting in my chair, but she didn’t apologize. All of the girls were appalled.
The next day, everyone was forbidden to talk to me - and me to them. My hair looked so awful that it was hard for the other girls to look at me without laughing. It was not anything like a professional haircut. She had cut it at the base of my skull, above my neckline. I – literally – wanted to die. This is the first time I seriously considered suicide. I was 13. To be honest, the entire four years at Holy Names Academy, I wished I would die.
There were three bathtubs at the far end of the dormitory. Each one was in an enclosed cubicle and had a door with a sliding lock on it. One cubicle had a window to the outside. It was five stories up. When it was my turn to take a bath, I chose the bathtub with the window. I opened the window & climbed out onto the ledge. It was made of cement and was about one foot wide. It was dark outside. I stayed there, too afraid to jump, until my time was up for taking a bath (10 minutes) and she came looking for me. She pounded on the door. I climbed back inside and closed the window. No one ever knew I did that. It wasn’t until many years later that I told my brother & sister. The only other person I ever told was a Psychiatrist when I was in my late 20’s.
To this day, I have never been able to wear my hair cut short. I tried it once. After years of bleaching my hair a Platinum Blonde color, I decided to grow it out back to my natural color. I needed to cut off much of the blonde as it grew it out because my hair was quite damaged. Like a phobia, the feeling of short hair swept over me and brought back the feelings I experienced after BM cut my hair. I vowed to never cut it short again. Also, I wear my hair in a pony tail style almost every day.
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