Next door to the big house on the hill was the Wilkerson Farm, which was nicknamed "Brightside" because of the blessing of the morning sun. Honestly, I worked the morning shift, which began at 6a.m. and I can not remember nary a morning sun. I think I learned early on to never enjoy the gifts of nature or humankind while I was a Brightside, because I really was at a darkspot on Earth.
In 1892, Bishop Beaven acquired this farm, and that is how Brightside was born. A labor of illuminated love mediated by God in which orphans and families were going to be cared for in the kingdom of Christianity. By 1915 the hillside had in residence about 165 of those hapless souls called orphans, having lost their parental people mostly due to poverty and the scourges this condition brings (like tb, typhoid fever, or other health epidemics that swept the impoverished, overcrowded, close-quarters places these people tended to live in).
How'd you like to have her for your teacher?
By the 1950's a devoted Bishop raised 1.5 mil. for Brightside and the cottages in view now came into being. The orphanage came under governmental aid in the 1960's with the beginnings of the State Division of Child Guardianship. In 1968, the Brightside for Families and Children branch was incorporated as a private, non-profit corp., from which I was employed. Above and below is Cottage 6, where I was employed. The children in residence
however, were not necessarily orphans, but children experiencing emotional, mental health, and/or behavioral problems- whatever all that meant. In essence they were kids kicked out of foster homes, or returned from adoption for being "damaged goods," or an even more awful term= deemed, "the throwaways." Their histories were horrid, their short lives scarred beyond recognition as "childhood," and their conscription was for a bid on the hill called "Brightside." The furnishings in the cottages were institutional, the bathrooms were like those found in schools or office building, the beds and bunks hard wood and metal springs w/ cheap mattresses (due to the excessively large numbers of bed-wetting incidents). There were hallways in the cottages like in a hospital, not a home. We, the staff carried clip-boards, and doled out "points" or "demerits," and our hapless charges lived their lives based on our tallies. It was awful then, it is awful now only back then I didn't realize how so.
however, were not necessarily orphans, but children experiencing emotional, mental health, and/or behavioral problems- whatever all that meant. In essence they were kids kicked out of foster homes, or returned from adoption for being "damaged goods," or an even more awful term= deemed, "the throwaways." Their histories were horrid, their short lives scarred beyond recognition as "childhood," and their conscription was for a bid on the hill called "Brightside." The furnishings in the cottages were institutional, the bathrooms were like those found in schools or office building, the beds and bunks hard wood and metal springs w/ cheap mattresses (due to the excessively large numbers of bed-wetting incidents). There were hallways in the cottages like in a hospital, not a home. We, the staff carried clip-boards, and doled out "points" or "demerits," and our hapless charges lived their lives based on our tallies. It was awful then, it is awful now only back then I didn't realize how so.
Some indications came early. The education was hard and fast. I went on a home visit with the Social Worker once (she knew I was applying to Grad School + wanted to give me a dose of REAL reality) to terminate the foster care placement. We arrived at the equivalent of an old mill neighborhood on the wrong side of the tracks in Worcester, MA and stepped into a gross and dirty apartment with a morbidly obese woman at a small kitichenette table smoking cigarettes. The Social Worker did all the talking, I sat hugging my charge, and continued to do so through the entire ride back in the back seat while this young woman sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It was so hard to understand. Tears for that gross disgusting place? Unless you knew her other history, which I don't feel compelled to share here. I don't care that the Sisters ran it, and they were indeed caring and devine and all, but BULLSHIT on the God part, just BULLSHIT! The things I saw, the things I learned- THERE WAS NO GOD HERE. This was no Brightside, it was a Darkspot on Earth.
Instead I made up fun games to play every day, like backwards day. Or all green clothes day. I taught them every childhood game I knew, every camp song I remembered and I brought them little treats. 
I loved them all up as only I could in the so so short time I stayed.
By Tom Shea, Suzanne Strempek Shea, and Michele P. Barker
Click here for purchasing information.
140 Years of Providential Caring was a collaborative effort with Pulitzer-nominated journalist and columnist Tom Shea of theSpringfield Republican and Abu DhabiNational newspapers and New England Book Award-winning author Suzanne Strempek Shea. Somewhere in this book I'm sure it says a few words about the orphanage. I didn't buy it, nor will I read it. I have no need to, I know my own truth.
Finally, here are a few links to the current (relative term I guess) state of affairs:http://www.masslive.com/news/index.ssf/2010/02/133_employees_will_lose_jobs_w.html
see the playset beside Cottage 6?
This is interesting information. My great grandmother was at Brightside as a child. I was wondering if you could tell me how to get a hold of her records (if that is even possible)? She also had two sisters with her.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry Sarah, I missed this comment. I would check the Sisters of Providence 5 Gamelin StreetHolyoke, Massachusetts 01040
Deletephone: 413 536-7511sisters@sisofprov.org
As far as I know they ran the orphanage when I was growing up and still were affiliated when I worked there. Now defunct, there are still some services run out of the site and Mercy Medical Center is the main affiliate. A nice blurb on the history found here: http://www.mercycares.com/brightside-history
Good luck in your search.
sadly, that link is no longer working, but good leads for me, as I look for my father's history. Thank you!
DeleteOne of the primary premises of chiropractic care is a balance of the mind and body. associated chiropractic kenwood
ReplyDeleteMy mother and her siblings lived at Brightside. My mother's father worked on the railroad and had gotten killed by a box car in the head and he had an aneurysm. My grandmother was left nine of her own children in two of my grandfather's brother's children. My grandfather was Timothy Neville. His brother was Michael Neville and he had also injured on the railroad had his legs cut off. Michael's wife went insane. So my grandfather Timothy Neville was left with two children twins Michael and Margaret. They were called Ollie and Molly. When my grandfather died it's probably 1918 my grandmother was left with all the children so she put them at Brightside and she went to work. The reality of the story is if my grandfather was not hit in the head with a box car and died then I would never have been born. See how everything leads up to this day.
ReplyDeleteJust getting back to this old blog of mine. So sorry to read of your family.
DeleteI was there from 1970 to 1972. I'm black and I was treated fairly. This was a ridiculous article.
ReplyDeleteDear Unknown, individual experiences are just that- individual. While I am glad you didn't have the SAME nor even similar experiece as mine, I stand behind speaking ONLY my truth, not yours. I appreciate you sharing an alternative reality; I truly do believe in the yin and yang and/or duality of experience in this world.
ReplyDeleteHi Brian. Do you remember a Joe Benoit? I was your greatest runner. I'd coax others out at nite. It beat being molested. Ah goodtimes
DeleteHello, my sister and I were brought to this orphanage in April 1963 by a CT social worker and my mother who needed mental help. This orphanage separated me from my baby sister. She was in the toddler building and I was put in the building 2 to the right of your picture. The nuns were horrific!!! They wouldn't let me see my sister and if I acted out, I was sent to my room for the whole day, forgotten. I was a bed wetter and every morning the nun would humiliate me - the other kids laughing. I remember. I remember. The only solice for me was a beautiful pure bred Collie dog named Blue Bells. I would go out into the steps and he would come and I'd cry into his fur. This is who I'd like a picture of. Do you think I'd be able to get this record from April 1963 to November 1963?
ReplyDeleteI too was at Brightside a bit later in the 1960s and separated from my older sister. It was horrible and I know my older sister screamed for me daily and they did not bring us together. Truly traumatic to this day. My God heal all the victims and bring the abusers to justice and hold them accountable to change their lives and actions. Peace, Tony B
ReplyDeleteI was there for a few months in 1968 as an infant. I would appreciate hearing more about how it was for infants and mothers. I was low birth wt so mostly in NICU
ReplyDeleteI was there in 1966 with my sister Michelle I was 7 she was 5 we ended up there after my mother went into a diabetic coma I never forgave the relatives that put us there the nuns were violent to me because I wet my bed and other staff made it a point to assult and torture me the most horrific childhood you could have. As a result the catholic church can go fuck themselves . I belive that organization hurt a lot of people.
ReplyDeleteOh sorry some may remember the "Toy" room where they let you play with them for as long as your visitor was there then that's it lots of new toys instruments ect but off limits we could see them in the room thru the safety glass no one could use them.
ReplyDeleteI was a kid in cottage 6 in the 90s over a 3x return I had spent 10 yrs of my life as a kid at brightside. I was originally a dcf kid from CT my family had sent me to brightside at 7yrs old and I must say it was more bad times than good times. When I was there they had sex offenders on the opposite side of the grounds and I mean like grown men compared to us some where in their 20s I remember whenever in the school building we had to cross paths they would make them turn and face the walls as we walked by they would make all types of scary remarks to us. Till this day as a women in my 30s I still have PTSD about things that I went threw at brightside it gave me major social anxiety and trust issues besides the bs I had already went thru as a child that landed me there both my parents were addicts and I hated when the "staff" would call us the throw away no one wanted a abused Hispanic child is what always was said to me in that place. Don't get me wrong there where a handful of staff till this day I remember Lisa Serrano, Jennifer bernier, Brian Smith, Brandon can't recall his last name but they were some of the actual staff who cared about us kids. The place is called something different now I drove past not to long ago and let me say the flashbacks I had were overwhelming. The place was def not a brightside I recall so many nights staying up because I was afraid of the boys finding their way into our rooms or even some of the 3rd shift staff I can't even count how many times I woke up to someone standing at my door watching us sleep touching themselves it was a very scary place they thought by masking it with Christmas in July event or Vinny delnegro coming and doing some basketball event or the motorcycle toy drive would take all the bad things away this place should have been shut down so many times while I was a kid there but wasn't. I pray that it's not like this anymore
ReplyDeleteEven writing about it 30 years later, gives me flashbacks. I drive by sometimes, and will never forget.
DeleteThank you so much for this information. My father spent time at Brightside during the mid-late 20s, and from there, was one of the few lucky boys who was selected to attend Henry Ford's Wayside Inn School for Boys in Sudbury, MA. He graduated in 1931 and went on to Detroit to work at Ford Motor Company. I am currently researching for a book and would like to lear where I might find more information about my father. His name was Joseph Edward Ochedowski. Thank you
ReplyDelete1991...I was 12 years old, when my father and social worker dropped me off. As I walked in, there was a couch and a couple kids playing video games. A few staff members, and other kids walking around. As I followed my Father, social worker, and a staff member down a bright hallway with multiple doors, I was petrified! They showed me my room, bars on the windows, and wooden bed with a mattress. I had later brought in a big trunk with all my stuff, mostly baseball cards, clothes and stuff. I was then introduced to the kids closest to my room, Jason Hawk, a kid named Adam and two others I cant Remember. Then, I turn around and my father and social worker were gone! I started shaking and running down the hall, only to end up being grabbed by staff. Screaming for my father, they finally calmed me down, and said you will see him soon.
ReplyDeleteLater was brought to my room and given a white towel, washcloth and a plastic case with my name on it, soap, shampoo, toothbrush, and paste. They litterly made me shower, and get ready to go eat. Food was made by the hospital, wasnt horrible, but not like home at all. Kids seemed reassuring at first, but then later snuck in my room and stole things. Immediately learned about the level system, as i didnt have any rights at all. Had to ask to do everything, no freedom until you were able to reach a high level. It was hard getting use to the routines, and then there was school. I remember my teachers name was Mrs. Shaw, kids that where there only for the school I can Remember were, Alan Spickerman, Pito Rosario, Hector, Darrell Woods, and only faces other than those names, there was a kid nick named b*ner Bill though.
I do remember the kids from the sex offender cottage that attended the school! Man, the staff were brutal towards them! Litterly would scream at then to face the wall when the little kids would walk by. The other students would pick on them real bad, must have been horrible! I eventually made it to the highest level, and met a guy named John that would bring us to the mall in his Jeep, he eventually noticed how different I was, and had maintained a high level for 3 months, so he had me sent over to the group home up the road.
3 months since I had seen or even talked to my parents and I was finally allowed to see my father, and mother. I begged him to take me out of there! But he said there was nothing he could do. So, like anyone, I made the best of of it! The staff at the group home were 100 times better. John, patty, and her husband were pretty decent people. They did a good job at making it feel like a home setting, but still had the point/level system. Kids at the time where 2 brothers Steve and Ray, Roland Renshaw, Adam, and some kid Vinny that wasnt there long. Downstairs bedrooms were the 3 girls, Shaina Richardson, Janeka Woods, and a girl named Megan. An old woman named Helen, was our ride to school, which I might add, was in a green ford minivan that smelled horrible. Most of us where pretty fortunate to have some fun with the staff, like skiing at Mt. Tom, field trips, definitely went to the mall quite a bit! I can remember, secretly dating Shaina, and running to the van to kiss, then of course without further detail, doing quite a bit more in the basement together. But.... With some rough stuff, and some good stuff, my 9 months at bright side, was not a great ending at first. For awhile, I was was enjoying my home visits with different family, able to phone home 1 night a week, pending level status, and even was able to go take martial arts. But then, everything came to a crashing halt, I ended up in a fight at school, and immediately ended up on level 0. Everything changed. Was as arbitrary as serving in hell! Litterly, after 3 months I was ready to run, comit suicide, or pray my parents were going to get me out. The staff member John, pretty much came to my rescue, took me out to eat, and talked for hours. I told him everything. He called my father, and was shocked at the reasoning behind why I was sent to brightside in the first place. Apparently, because of me fighting in school in my mainstream life prior, my father had reached out to DSS for guidence, mentioned "should I hit him or something" and the state pulled me from his arms! I hadn't done anything to deserve to be in there, I was just a little scrapper in school. So John, wrote a report to the state of my progress, and my psyc evaluation, and got me out. State declared wrongful placement under missunderstanding upon evidence. 9 months of my life, and to think I almost committed suicide over it.....sad to learn, others had it worse! Also sad I had to leave Shaina behind. With all that said of what memories I had of that place, when I did get back home, I had severe PTSD for months, would wake up crying, shaking in a cold sweat, calling out for my father. A part of me, that will never be forgotten unfortunately! There was so many details I left out, honestly could have put more into this, but anyone whom was here, knows how to fill in the blanks! As an adult now, I can mentally put into perspective that, Brightside was never a rehabilitation place for anyone, and Im so glad they do not operate anymore!
ReplyDelete