Pia straightened and regarded the young woman, who was watching her intently. She looked to be about five years younger than her husband, with shiny auburn hair and rosy skin. Her face was kind.
“I know these boys,” Pia said to her.
The woman nodded and her eyes filled. “I’m Prudence,” she said. “This is my husband, Marshall.”
Pia gave them a grateful, trembling smile. These were the people who had taken her brothers in, who loved them and cared for them, and were nice to the old couple who had approached them in a park to admire their newly adopted twins. These were the people who hadn’t shied away when the old couple showed up at the playground every Sunday with toys and cookies and offers to help with the babies. These were the people who listened to the old couple recall their sadness about not having children, and who invited them into their home and family, to share Sunday dinners and the love of their sons. And these were the people who, by showing up today, proved they trusted the Pattersons—and more importantly, that they had room in their hearts for one more.
“I can never thank you enough for coming,” Pia said.
Prudence and Marshall smiled back at her and nodded. There was no need for words. She could see the acceptance in their eyes. Prudence knelt next to the twins.
“Boys,” she said. “I’d like you to meet your big sister, Pia.”
The twins smiled up at her, happy, little-boy grins with lopsided lips and missing teeth.
“Can we come inside and play?” Max said.
Ollie held up his wooden truck. “I want to show you my new toy,” he said. “Grandpa Patterson made it for me.”
Pia swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, her heart about to burst. “Of course,” she said. “Please, all of you, come in.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The Spanish flu came in three waves, the first coming from America, most likely in Kansas, when, in March 1918, soldiers and civilians around Fort Riley rapidly became ill. After the disease spread to other camps and port cities, it subsided that summer. But the flu was on the move, riding the troop ships to Europe and Asia. In late summer, the virus mutated and its most virulent strain returned on the same ships that took it to Europe, landing in Boston in September. It appeared in Philadelphia at the navy base and shipyard on September 18, and by the next day, six hundred sailors were sick, and civilian hospitals started receiving patients.
I chose Philadelphia as the setting for The Orphan Collector because the epidemic hit that city exceptionally hard after the Liberty Loan parade brought 200,000 people together on the streets on September 28, 1918. As a result, more than half a million people, in a city of almost two million, contracted the virus over the next six months, and more than 16,000 perished during that period. As the flu became more widespread, Philadelphia’s nurses were not enough; student nurses and lay volunteers were quickly utilized. The nurses of the Visiting Nurse Society of Philadelphia were busy around the clock, going into homes and caring for the thousands who could not reach a hospital. A number of them gave their lives. In some neighborhoods, the nurses were hailed as saviors, while in others they were rejected due to their white gowns and gauze masks. Accounts from the nurses described entering houses where all members of a family were dead; some found both parents dead and the children starving. By the time the third wave of the flu finished ravaging the city in 1919, untold numbers of children, at least several thousand, had been orphaned.
While the courageous visiting nurses inspired the character of Bernice Groves, I have no knowledge of any nurses taking advantage of the people of Philadelphia during the epidemic, either by sending children away by train or selling babies. Bernice is purely a product of my imagination, as are the rest of the characters in this novel. To serve the story, creative license was used to move St. Vincent’s Home for Unwed Mothers in West Philadelphia to the orphanage in Tacony. Also some street names were changed.
During the writing of The Orphan Collector, I read the following books: People of the Plague, by T. Neill Anderson; The 1918 Spanish Flu Pandemic, by Charles Rivers Editors; and The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Pandemic in History, by John M. Barry. I also relied on The Encyclopedia of Greater Philadelphia website (https://philadelphiaencyclopedia.org/archive/influenza-spanish-flu-pandemic-1918-19/).
FURTHER READING
Influenza: The Last Great Plague by William I. B. Beveridge
America’s Forgotten Pandemic: The Influenza of 1918 by Alfred W. Crosby
The Plague of the Spanish Lady: The Influenza Pandemic of 1918-1919 by Richard Collier
The Devil’s Flu: The World’s Deadliest Influenza Epidemic and the Scientific Hunt for the Virus That Caused It by Pete Davies
A Cruel Wind: Pandemic Flu in America 1918-1920 by Dorothy A. Pettit
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing a novel is a lonely endeavor with many, many hours spent alone at my keyboard, one that would be impossible to accomplish without the encouragement and support from the beloved people who always believe in me. Once again, I’m delighted to offer my heartfelt thanks to those people, along with others who have cheered me on and helped me along during this sometimes bumpy ride.
First and foremost, I want to thank Louise Patterson for igniting the spark that led to the idea for this book. It was your suggestion that opened my eyes to the Spanish flu epidemic and the public nurses who risked their lives helping families and orphaned children during that horrific time. You have my eternal gratitude. I’m also beyond grateful to my good friend Debbie Battista for sharing a family story about twins that ultimately inspired the plot. Thank you for reading the first few chapters, for your endless enthusiasm, and for always supporting me, no matter what.
A special shoutout to booksellers, librarians, and my online friends and readers who joyfully help spread the word about my work and make social media a fun place to be—Andrea Preskind Katz, Nita Joy Haddad, Susan Peterson, Sharlene Martin Moore, Jenny Collins Belk, Barbara Khan, Kayleigh Wilkes, Lauren Blank Margolin, Melissa Amster, Kristy Barret, Tonni Callan, Linda Le-vack Zagon, LuAnne Rowsam, and fellow Kensington author Cathy Lamb. If I’ve forgotten anyone who happily promotes me and my books, either online or in the real world, I do hope you’ll forgive me. Please know I truly appreciate each and every one of you!
Thank you to my family and friends for understanding my unpredictable schedule and for being patient when I’m getting close to a deadline. If you don’t hear from me sometimes, just remember I still love you! A special thanks to my cosmic sister, Barbara Tit-terington, and my dear friends Beth and Steve Massey, for listening to me go on and on about my writing, for bolstering me when I need extra encouragement, and for dragging me out of the author cave when I don’t know enough to take a break. As always, a thousand thanks to the people in and around my wonderful community who support me in too many ways to count and happily show up to fill our little library to the rafters at every book launch. You have no idea how much seeing your smiling faces means to me. It truly makes all the hard work worth it!
I’m indebted to my mentor, William Kowalski, for believing in me from the beginning and for teaching me how to be a storyteller. I’m so happy we finally got to meet! Thank you to my brilliant agent and trusted friend Michael Carr for your indispensible feedback on every book, and for your much-appreciated wisdom regarding my career. We’ve come a long way since I sent you that first email! Thank you to my marvelous editor, John Scognamiglio, for always being a pleasure to work with, for helping me make every book stronger, and for your continued confidence in my stories. To everyone at Kensington, I can never express my gratitude for everything you do for me, and for your hard work getting my books out into the world: Steven Zacharius, Lynn Cully, Vida Engstrand, Alex Nico-lajsen, Jackie Dinas, Kristine Mills, and everyone else who works magic behind the scenes—thank you, thank you. I’m very fortunate to have you and the rest of the Kensington family on my side.
It goes without saying that I owe everything to th
e unconditional love of my family, especially my beloved mother, Sigrid; my husband and best friend, Bill; my precious children who make me proud every day, Ben, Shanae, Jessie, and Andy; and the treasured little people who fill my world with laughter and tremendous joy, my grandchildren, Rylee, Harper, Lincoln, and Liam. I never imagined I could cherish anyone as much as I cherish you. The sun rises and sets on you! Thank you all for loving and believing in me. You are, and always will be, my everything.
A READING GROUP GUIDE
THE ORPHAN COLLECTOR
Ellen Marie Wiseman
ABOUT THIS GUIDE
The suggested questions are included to enhance your group’s reading of Ellen Marie Wiseman’s The Orphan Collector!
Discussion Questions
1. The 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic killed more people than any other illness in recorded history, including the fourteenth century’s Black Death and AIDS in the twentieth century. Taking an estimated 100 million lives, it was a horror that turned victims bluish-black, then drowned them with their own body fluids. A person would be fine one minute, then incapacitated and delirious the next, with fevers rising from 104 to 106 degrees F. Death was quick, savage, and terrifying. Yet 1918 is called the “Year of Forgotten Death” because the Spanish Flu was so rarely discussed or even remembered in the hundred years after.
Why do you think that is? When did you first learn about the 1918 pandemic?
2. During the time of the Spanish flu, people used all kinds of folk remedies to protect themselves from illness and help cure disease, many of which we now consider useless and even dangerous. Along with tying garlic around their necks, eating extra onions, and sucking on sugar cubes soaked in kerosene, they took formaldehyde tablets, morphine, laudanum, chloride of lime, and gave whisky and Mrs. Windsor’s Soothing Syrup to babies and children, despite the fact that it contained morphine, alcohol, and ammonia. The American Medical Association called the syrup a “baby killer” in 1911, but it wasn’t removed from the market until 1930.
Can you think of any other strange things people did in the past to cure or protect themselves from illness? Are there any folk or natural remedies that you think work?
3. During World War I, President Wilson’s Committee on Public Information and the Sedition Act passed by Congress both limited writing or publishing anything negative about the country. Posters asked the public to “report the man who spreads pessimistic stories.” To maintain morale and hide additional loss of life from their enemies, wartime censors in 1918 curtailed reports of influenza and mortality in Germany, Britain, France, and the United States. But the newspapers were free to report the epidemic's effects in Spain, creating the false impression that Spain was especially hard hit, thus leading to the nickname Spanish flu. In 2020, as the world became aware of the COVID-19 pandemic, did you notice any similar patterns in communication? How were things different from the way they were in 1918?
4. In Philadelphia, doctors pushed for the Liberty Loan parade on September 28, 1918 to be canceled because they were concerned that the crowds of people would spread the flu. They convinced reporters to write stories about the danger, but editors refused to run them, or to print any letters from the doctors. Consequently, despite their earlier warning to avoid crowds, the city’s public health officials allowed the largest parade in Philadelphia’s history to proceed. Two days later, the epidemic had spread and, over the following six weeks, more than 12,000 citizens of Philadelphia died. How much of a difference do you think it would have made if those stories had been printed in the newspaper? Do you think people would have stayed home or gone to the parade anyway?
5. Have you ever heard of or met anyone with Pia’s ability to sense illness in others? Would you want to be able to tell when other people are sick before they know it themselves? Why or why not?
6. Though the disease knew no gender, racial, or ethnic boundaries, Philadelphia’s immigrant poor suffered the worst, with the largest loss of life happening in the slums and tenement districts. Why do you think that was? What issues do you think contributed to it? Do you think any of those issues continue to impact people living today?
7. Do you think Pia should feel so guilty about losing her brothers? Do you think it would have been helpful if she had told the nuns at St. Vincent’s what happened? Should she have told Dr. and Mrs. Hudson sooner?
8. Disguised as a nurse, Bernice does a lot of horrible things to the immigrants in Philadelphia. What do you think is her worst crime? Do you think she paid for what she did?
9. How did you feel about Bernice when you first met her? When did your perception of her change? How and why did it change?
10. Comparing what happened in 1918 to the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, it’s important to remember some facts:
•In 1918, St. Louis, Missouri, immediately closed schools, movie theaters, and banned public gatherings. Their death toll ended up being one-eighth of the losses in Philadelphia due to the Spanish flu.
•Many people blamed the 1918 pandemic on Germans, claiming they were spreading poison clouds, or that Bayer, a German-owned company, had infected their aspirin.
•To fight the Spanish flu, medical professionals advised patients to take up to thirty grams of aspirin per day, a dose now known to be toxic. It’s now believed that many of the October deaths were actually caused or hastened by aspirin poisoning.
•In San Francisco, people without masks were fined five dollars and were called “mask slackers.”
•The New York City health commissioner in 1918 tried to slow the transmission of the flu by ordering businesses to open and close on staggered shifts to avoid overcrowding on the subways.
How do you compare each of these facts with what you’ve heard, observed, and/or experienced during the COVID-19 pandemic? What lessons, if any, do you think we’ve learned?
11. When the highly contagious second wave of Spanish flu hit some cities, the medical communities were not prepared. Hospitals quickly became overcrowded and were forced to turn thousands of sick and dying patients away. However, as during the COVID-19 pandemic, countless nurses and medical students stepped up to help. Parish houses and armories were turned into makeshift infirmaries, and with the shortage of medical staff due to the war, volunteers were called from medical and nursing schools. The brave nurses of the Visiting Nurse Society of Philadelphia went into homes to reach those who couldn’t make it to hospitals. And again, like today, a number of medical professionals gave with their lives.
What stories have you read or heard about the selflessness and heroism of today’s healthcare workers? What differences do you see between the healthcare workers in 1918 and those taking care of COVID-19 patients, especially concerning the proper medical equipment and protective gear? Do you think you would be brave enough to help take care of someone with the virus? Why or why not?
A Note to Readers from Ellen Marie Wiseman
Dear Reader,
Last year, as I finished writing The Orphan Collector, it was inconceivable that another powerful virus would once again bring the world to its knees. Yet here we are. As I write this, the United States has the highest number of COVID-19 cases on the planet, and the infection rate is skyrocketing.
Now when I visit my grandchildren in the spring of 2020, I wave through the window but I don’t go inside. It breaks my heart not being able to hug and kiss them, especially my three-month-old grandson, who is changing every day. My eight-year-old granddaughter cries when I leave after we talk and smile at each other on opposite sides of the glass. It helps knowing she can FaceTime me later; several times a day if she wants. During the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918, grandparents didn’t have that option, or any of the other hi-tech devices that help us stay connected during the outbreak of COVID-19. Few people even had telephones back then, let alone the ability to check in with friends and family via Instagram and Zoom. They couldn’t binge watch Netflix, play video games, or have group chats on their smartphones. Now, even my eighty-three-year-old
mother has figured out how to FaceTime so we can see each other.
While all of this might seem obvious, as a career novelist who recently spent two years researching and was fully immersed in the lives of everyday people during the 1918 pandemic, it’s impossible not to compare the way American leaders and citizens are dealing with the current crisis. It makes me wonder what future historians and storytellers will say about us when they look back at this time of COVID-19. Will they admire our willingness to rise to the occasion, or not? Will they think we were more resilient or less? Will they realize we learned from the past or that we were destined to repeat it?
Set against the backdrop of the deadly influenza pandemic of 1918, The Orphan Collector is both a way to remember the “Year of the Forgotten Death” and to reflect upon our current experiences. It’s the story of a young German immigrant, Pia Lange, struggling to keep her family together at a time when more Americans were dying in our nation’s streets and homes than on the battlefields of World War I. It’s also about a grieving mother, Bernice Groves, who uses her hatred of immigrants as an excuse to tear families apart when they’re at their most vulnerable. I hope you will be drawn to Pia’s resiliency, courage, and determination in the face of impossible odds, even when shame and fear threaten to swallow her whole. I also hope Bernice’s story will remind readers that empathy for others, no matter their race, nationality, or religion, is always the right choice.
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