The Almost Legendary Morris Sisters

by Julie Klam

  This heartbreaking story was written by a seventeen-year-old motherless girl.

  Reading of Ruth’s longing for her mother moved me so much. As a child, I was very attached to my own mother (and to be honest, as an adult I’m really attached to her as well), and I can’t fathom what my life would have been like if I’d lost her when I was as young as Ruth. So much of my stability and confidence came from her steadfast support.

  What had happened to Ruth’s mother? I had still not been able to locate a death certificate for Clara.

  Weeks later, as I was looking for something else online, I came across a strange piece of information. A Clara Morris who very much sounded like the Morris sisters’ mother was listed in the census records for 1920, 1930, and 1940, but this Clara Morris’s address was 5400 Arsenal Road in St. Louis. When I searched that address, what came up was even more perplexing: the history page of the Missouri Department of Mental Health.

  I discovered that in 1910, 5400 Arsenal Road was the address of the St. Louis Insane Asylum, formerly the St. Louis County Lunatic Asylum (it was later called the City Sanitarium, then Missouri State Hospital, and now St. Louis Psychiatric Rehabilitation Center).

  I ordered a copy of the 1953 death certificate for the Clara Morris at this address, and when it came my suspicion was confirmed: This was the Morris sisters’ mother. Guerson Morris was listed as her husband and her address as the insane asylum at 5400 Arsenal Road. She arrived there sometime between 1910 and 1920 and was there until she died in 1953. She had lived there for more than thirty years.

  To say I was surprised by this new information would be an understatement. I was stunned. This wasn’t any part of the Morris sisters’ lives that I knew. We had always been told that Clara had died while giving birth to Ruth.

  I needed to talk to Claire.

  Five

  Remembering Mama

  When I called Claire in the Keys, I could hear the tropical birds chattering in the background.

  “So, I decided to write about the Morris sisters,” I began.

  “Finally!” she said.

  “Claire, I’ve started doing some preliminary research and I don’t think their mother died in St. Louis. I mean, she did die in St. Louis, but not from tuberculosis or in childbirth.”

  “I know,” Claire said quietly.

  “You do?” This was a surprise.

  “Jule, it was a very different time. It’s not like now.”

  I wanted to make sure I understood what Claire was saying. “So you knew that she was in a mental institution,” I said.

  Claire paused. “You want to hear the real true story of the Morris sisters?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Okay. So this is the real true story of the Morris sisters,” she began, and I started writing.

  “The family lived in Montreal,” Claire explained. Canada was where all of my grandmother’s family emigrated from after leaving Romania in the late nineteenth century (I knew about our Canadian relatives from my grandmother as well), and before moving on to New York, but actually I had never found a record of the Morrises in Canada. It was possible that Claire might be wrong on some details—but not, I hoped, the larger story.

  “The father was a violinist. He was asked to join the St. Louis Philharmonic. He took his wife, three daughters, and a son—packed everything and went to St. Louis by train.

  “Selma was the oldest, Sam next, then Malvina and then Marcella. The mother, who was your great-grandmother Martha’s sister, became pregnant again in St. Louis. There she had Ruth. She must have had that post-pregnancy depression and in those years they had no psychiatrists or drugs for that, so they put her in an institution for the insane.”

  I took notes as Claire continued. “The father couldn’t handle the kids, so he put them in the Hebrew Orphan Asylum. After a while he left St. Louis and his family. The children were brought up as orphans in the home. They went to school and as Selma told me many times, they got a great business education.

  “If it was today they would give the mother a pill and she would be fine. My mother said Clara and her sisters—one of whom was your great-grandmother—were the most beautiful girls. They were very sought after.”

  I remember that my grandmother used to tell us that when she was a girl, her mother would take off for weeks or even months, leaving my grandmother, her sister, and four brothers with her father, who was a dress designer. She always referred to her mother as “strong and independent.” Later my mother always said, “What’s strong about leaving your kids?” Listening to Claire, I began to wonder if, like her sister, my great-grandmother had some kind of mental illness. Claire thought Clara had been depressed, but she didn’t really know, of course, and there was a good chance that in 1910 doctors didn’t really know either—even doctors at the asylum.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if the catalyst for taking the mother of five children out of her home and placing her in an insane asylum would have to be something dramatic.

  I needed to find out what had happened to Clara, so I reached out to the Missouri Department of Mental Health. My request was simple:

  To Whom It May Concern:

  I am currently writing a book about my great-aunts. They emigrated from Romania to St. Louis in 1902 when their mother gave birth to her fifth child. They told people she had died in childbirth, but she was actually placed in the St. Louis Lunatic Asylum (her address on census records was 5400 Arsenal Road) from approximately 1910–1953, and her children were placed in a Jewish orphanage in St. Louis. I am wondering if there is any way I can speak to someone about her, or gain access to her records. Her name was Clara Morris, she was born in 1876.

  I sent an email explaining who I was and what I was looking for.

  A reply came within a few days.

  Hi Julie,

  We would love to help, however you are looking for the St. Louis Psychiatric Rehabilitation center or the Dome building.

  I am trying to think of who I should direct you to there, but may need to ask around a bit. I was actually just there yesterday for a meeting with the Regional Director for the hospital. I will send him an email and find out what I can for you.

  Elizabeth

  In the meantime, I wrote to the hospital directly and asked if I could have access to Clara’s records. I was told that for legal reasons I could not.

  I wrote to Elizabeth again.

  Hi Elizabeth,

  I got an email back that I won’t be able to get to the records of my great-great-aunt without a court order because of a HIPAA law. I am going to get a lawyer to try and do it. I wonder if you know anything about this or can suggest someone there who might know. I called the [Missouri] Supreme Court and they weren’t sure either, but the person I talked to thought the records might be at the Department of Mental Health in Jefferson City (but I think he was guessing).

  Thanks so much for any guidance you might be able to give me.

  Best,

  Julie

  Hi Julie,

  I’m really sorry to hear that! I was hoping that connection would work out.

  I don’t know much about obtaining records, unfortunately. Nor do I have any legal resources I could direct to you. I wish I could.

  I will add a bit of optimism in saying that I think you have a good chance of reaching your goal once you acquire a lawyer who can navigate the legal speak.

  I am getting ready to travel for the next week, and won’t be available via email or phone. But if you send me a reminder on the 7th, I can do some research locally. Specifically I would call the contact given and ask about process. They may be more receptive to me, as a peer and local resident. It’s worth a shot.

  Either way, best of luck to you, and I hope to hear a success story about these trials in the near future!

  All the best,

  Elizabeth
<
br />   While it was frustrating not being able to gain access to Clara’s records, I knew that I was lucky to be looking for this information in St. Louis and not New York City. Everyone I spoke to or contacted in St. Louis was courteous, helpful, and interested (yay, Midwest!)—a far cry from the bureaucrats I deal with every day in New York City.

  * * *

  • • •

  I looked into St. Louis–based lawyers of all kinds and emailed several of them to see if they could help me, but the few who responded were not at all familiar with this kind of situation and didn’t seem eager to learn. I decided to call my cousin Jim, who is the lawyer in my family (as opposed to my cousin Barry, who is the doctor in my family—both on the non-Morris side). Jim said his firm was in a network of lawyers all over the country and that he could get me names of lawyers in St. Louis who might be able to help. Which he did.

  Armed with this list, I called the first lawyer and actually managed to get him on the phone. He found the story of the Morris sisters intriguing (at least my telling of it), though he admitted that he had no idea about the laws surrounding access to records. But unlike the other lawyers I’d been in touch with so far, he wanted to research what was possible and get back to me. He said he wanted to figure out a way to get the records without having to petition the court, because there was no guarantee that a judge would even grant the order. It was a week later when he sent a letter to the St. Louis Psychiatric Rehabilitation Center on what looked to me like fancy lawyer stationery. It said:

  I represent Julie Klam. Ms. Klam has discovered that one of her ancestors, Clara Schneirer Morris, was committed to the Arsenal Street Hospital around 1910 and lived there until her death in 1953. Julie Klam has confirmed Mrs. Morris’ presence there in every decennial census from 1910–1940.

  She inquired with you earlier about getting Mrs. Morris’ records from your archives and was told she would need a court order. Our research on this matter indicates that HIPAA protection for medical records only lasts 50 years. The 50 year requirement in the case of Clara Schneirer Morris ended in 2003. Please provide medical records and the file from Clara Schneirer Morris from the date of her admission to her death.

  I was over the moon. I felt like finding out what happened to Clara would start me on the road to finding the answers to so many questions about the Morris sisters.

  A few days later, the lawyer’s assistant called me. The St. Louis Psychiatric Rehabilitation Center had called my lawyer and told him it would agree to release Clara Morris’s records, but there had been a flood in the basement of the Arsenal Street building many years ago that destroyed decades of records, so they didn’t have much.

  I couldn’t believe it. An act of God was going to keep me from finding out what happened to the Morris sisters’ mother.

  Six

  Start at the Very Beginning, a Very Good Place to Start

  I decided to go to St. Louis and visit the flooded basement and look myself to see what I could find. It wasn’t a rational decision, but I couldn’t help but feel that nobody had really paid attention to the Morris sisters and their parents—both in my own family and in the world—and that these women deserved the attention and any effort I could make on their behalf. I was starting to feel like their surrogate.

  A few days later an envelope arrived from the Missouri Department of Mental Health. Inside was a cover letter typed all in capital letters that said (using a lot of legalese) that the information it was providing me was not to be used to criminally investigate or prosecute any drug or alcohol abuse client. Fair enough.

  Also included were two photocopies. The first was an index card. In its entirety it said:

  No: 1139 Form 89-M

  Name: MORRIS, Clara

  Address: 1449 Cass

  Date of Birth: 11-17-1875

  Color: W

  Sex: F

  Admitted: 9-20-1910

  Discharged: 12-29-1953

  Relative’s Name: Thelma Morris, Dtr. 7129 Dartmouth, St. Louis

  Remarks: Schiz.

  The second page was a black background with white letters that said:

  NAME: Morris, Clara

  COM: 176 CASE #11339

  ADDRESS: 1449 Cas

  ADMITTED: 9/20/1910

  BIRTHPLACE: Romania

  D.O.B.: 11/17/1875

  ADMITTED FROM: City Hospital

  SEX: F

  COLOR: W

  AGE: 35

  DIAGNOSIS: Schiz; Senility

  MARITAL STATUS: Widow

  NO. OF CHILDREN: 5

  OCCUPATION: Housework

  DATE OF DEPARTURE: 12/29/1953

  FATHER: John Bleck

  BIRTHPLACE: Russia

  RESULT: Died

  MOTHER: Goy Dietack

  BIRTHPLACE: Austria

  CAUSE OF DEATH: Cerebro-vascular emboli with rt heriplegia, Multiple emboli terminal

  NAME OF RELATIVES

  RELATIONSHIP

  ADDRESS

  G. B. Morris

  Husband

  1449 Cass

  Selma Morris

  Daughter

  6301 Delmar

  Malvina Morris

  Daughter

  257 W 4th St. NY City

  So there it was in actual black and white. Clara Morris had been admitted to a mental hospital in St. Louis in 1910 when Ruth was six years old and Selma was seventeen. It wasn’t just the stress of having a new baby in the family or even postpartum depression that she suffered from: It was schizophrenia, which in 1910 could easily have been a misdiagnosis. She was committed when William Howard Taft was president and before women had the right to vote, and she never left, dying in the asylum forty-three years later when Dwight D. Eisenhower was president and I Love Lucy was the most popular show on television—a household gadget that wasn’t even invented when she was on the outside.

  Reading copies of these files, so direct and cold and unfeeling—so official—I felt a deep and profound sadness for Clara and her children. What they must have suffered, I couldn’t even begin to imagine.

  I did some research into the treatment of psychiatric patients in 1910, and what I found was just as shocking. Treatment for patients with the issues Clara confronted consisted of a patient getting either a lot of fresh air or untested, barbaric physical treatments.

  I was even more committed to going to St. Louis. I knew the asylum was now just an empty building, but it was still standing, and I kept thinking that maybe there might be some clues about Clara or her family—something that might give me insight into their lives. If nothing else, I would be able to pay my respects. I was pretty sure no one in our family had been there before.

  * * *

  • • •

  At the same time I was investigating Clara, I was also trying to locate any records from the Jewish orphanage where the Morris sisters had been placed. I didn’t know which orphanage they were in—there were several in St. Louis at the time—so I decided to investigate all of them until I found the right one. I came across Viki Fagyal, a volunteer and officer at the St. Louis Genealogical Society, who had written extensively about the history of orphanages in St. Louis. I emailed her and asked if we could set up a phone call. She agreed.

  She told me that in her experience, it was virtually impossible for people to get any records from the Jewish orphanages in St. Louis, because you had to go through the Jewish Board of Family and Children’s Services, a national organization, and the people t
here were not at all forthcoming unless you were asking for your own records. She suggested I write to the archivist at the St. Louis Jewish Community Archives, for guidance. Which I did.

  I am an author currently working on my sixth book about some relatives of mine who were in a Jewish orphanage in St. Louis sometime in the early 1900s.

  Their parents took them from Romania in 1902 and soon after arriving in St. Louis, their mother was committed to the insane asylum and the five children were put in an orphanage.

  I am in New York but going to St. Louis in October to research, is this something your records might contain, or without knowing where they were am I looking at a needle in a haystack situation?

  Many thanks for your help,

  Julie Klam

  She wrote back:

  Good morning. Interesting research.

  The problem with the Jewish orphanages here in St. Louis is that there were many. The actual records of the orphanages are held by Jewish Family & Children’s Service, which does not allow access to the records unless you are the person in the records—believe me, several people, including me, have tried.

  That said, I do have the minutes of the Jewish Shelter Home/Jewish Home for Children, 1910–1926, which sometimes mentions children (often without last names) as well as the Dorothy Drey Shelter Home for 1926–1930. There is also the Jewish Shelter Home Board minutes for 1909–1916, but that is usually protocol discussions rather than information about or names of children.

  Do you know the name of the institution in which your relatives were housed?