The Lost Child of Philomena Lee (Original Edition)

by Sixsmith, Martin

  In a speech he found unexpectedly satisfying, Joe explained how the Adoption Act had made the issue of children’s passports much more complex. For a start, the Irish government now had to be certain the child’s mother had indeed given up her rights and that the prospective adopters were good Catholics. He was about to go on to the further impediments, when Mother Barbara interrupted.

  ‘Well now, young man, you need have no qualms on the first of those points. I have myself witnessed the mother’s relinquishment of custody and I have all the papers you could possibly want. And as for the new parents being Catholics, don’t you think the bishop knows his sister and brother-in-law well enough?’

  Joe bit his lip and managed a strained smile.

  ‘That all sounds grand, right enough. But rules are rules, you know, and we have to stick by them. What we’ll also need, now I think of it, is a home study report from the National Conference of Catholic Charities in America. They’ll need to come and visit you at home, Mrs Hess. We can’t let young Mary have a passport until we get their report, I’m afraid. But with your contacts, Bishop, I’m sure that won’t be a problem . . .’

  As Joe spoke, Marge wrote down what he was saying on a spare page of her diary. No one had warned them about this home report; she would have to get Doc working on it while she was still in Europe.

  ‘Oh, and one more thing,’ Joe continued: ‘you will of course need to go to the US embassy here in Dublin and get your own country’s agreement to have little Mary on the territory of the United States.’

  Loras wrote down the details in his notebook. He had the distinct impression the fellow was making things difficult for them, and he had no idea why he was doing it.

  SEVENTEEN

  Dublin;

  European tour

  At the end of a tiring day, Loras, Marge and their mother had checked into the Clarence Hotel on Wellington Quay, where in honour of the bishop they were given superior rooms overlooking the River Liffey. Mother Barbara had taken Mary and gone off to stay with her married sister outside Dublin before going back to Roscrea. Marge and Loras told her they would return after their sightseeing trip round Europe, which they expected to last about three weeks. They still hoped to be able to take Mary back with them to the United States, although the timetable for completing the paperwork was now looking challenging. It was nearly midnight before Marge sat down to write her diary.

  August 10 1955. Roscrea–Dublin.

  Weather: Nice.

  Loras said Mass at Roscrea and had nice breakfast. Mother Barbara left for Dublin with us (said Rosary on way). Dublin a very busy city – crowded. Visited Passport Office and found out about the Home Study thing. Called Doc and told him the news – hope he can do something about it.

  Arranged to go to Paris tomorrow night. Aer Lingus is our airways.

  Eggs here are terrible. Feeling lonesome.

  Joe Coram stayed late at his desk that evening writing a report for the new minister, Liam Cosgrave, explaining why he had not acceded to the passport request made by the American bishop’s party. He was worried Bishop Lane might complain to McQuaid and McQuaid might complain to the minister; and he knew the Taoiseach would cave in at the first sign of pressure from the Church, so he wanted to get his side of things in first.

  On the tram home Joe was looking forward to telling Maire how he had stood up to the ‘big bishop’ who had been in his office thinking he could bend the rules and whisk a little Irish girl off to America ‘just like that’. But when he let himself in at the front door, he found the house in darkness. Maire was in bed and didn’t respond to his discreet cough and little tug on the bedclothes.

  Marjorie Hess could not get to sleep. She lay tossing and turning, endlessly going over a plan that had been hatching in her heart and would give her no rest. Marge’s plan stemmed from an unforeseen sudden promise of love and happiness, but for the moment she knew it must remain a secret. In a long letter to Doc she told him the news about Mary and about the problem with the NCCC home visit, but she deliberately did not mention the idea that was ripening in her imagination.

  CLARENCE HOTEL,

  DUBLIN.

  Wednesday night (August 10, 1955).

  (It’s cold here – I go to bed with a sweater on.)

  Dearest Doc, Jim, Tom, Stevie

  There was so much I wanted to say to you last night but at $7.50 per 3 min, I thought I’d better write. Hearing your voice made me so darned lonesome that if I could get home, I would. I can see now why they say travel when you’re young, because you can’t enjoy it when you’re older. I told Mother and Loras I’d give anything to be home with you all, the ’paper and a good TV program. I haven’t stopped since we got off the plane. A car met us and we’ve been looking at little girls ever since. The one whose picture I’m sending has a terrible haircut and clothes, but you notice her face is perfect – her name is Mary McDonald aged 2½. She can sing ‘Over the Mountains Over the Sea’ (doesn’t know about Davy Crockett) and is very intelligent. Says Hail Mary and Our Father (the boys couldn’t do that many prayers). Loras thinks she looks like me when I was her age. She has real rosy cheeks – in fact kind of a dermatitis. Loras thinks it’s from the soap and towels they use here, but if papers go thru, I’ll have her checked real good. Physically and mentally, she’s perfect according to their medical reports. Mary’s mother was born in Dublin, and also the father. The only thing here, they don’t marry. The girl goes to an abbey and has to stay there and work until child adopted. Parents are both shopkeepers, as is almost everyone in Dublin, and of very good background – no wealth, but good honest people. The Sisters have been saving Mary for a priest’s niece who has been ill. But they can’t keep her any longer – we’re actually lucky to get an older child because the family paid them to keep her, but then decided to give up the adoption. Sean Ross Abbey, Roscrea, County Tipperary, Ireland seems to send more to U.S. than any other. (What do you think?)

  About the Catholic Charities home visit, Bishop Helmsing can do it for you. Tell him Loras told him to. And get the power of attorney. Then send your baptismal record whenever you get it. There’s nothing to do here so guess I’ll go on – and come back here about September 1.

  Write me.

  I miss you all. Hope you do me.

  PS – Doc, please send the papers. When you write, thank Mother Barbara and rest of nuns for being so nice. The passport people won’t do anything until Catholic Charities sends Home Report – so be sure the house is straight and you are there . . .

  I’m going to pray now and if everything doesn’t turn out and I don’t bring Mary home, then it must be that we should be content with our own three wonderful boys – you feel that way too – and all I can do is cut down on things. I want to pay back for my trip. I’ll be thinking of you all and loving you.

  Kisses to all. Mommy.

  The Aer Lingus flight from Dublin to Paris was a rough one and Marge didn’t have the strength to write her diary. The following morning Loras had been invited to say Mass in Notre Dame, and for the next two days the indefatigable Josephine led her children round the sights of the city. On Saturday, Marge wrote again to Doc.

  Moderne Palace Hotel,

  8bis Place de la Republique,

  Paris, 11e.

  August 13, 1955

  Dearest Doc – Jim – Tom – Stevie,

  By this time I suppose you have received Mary’s picture and I am wondering what you think of her.

  Mother Barbara is having her checked out as regards X-rays and eyes, etc. The American embassy have their own clinic and do a very thorough check.

  If you have trouble with the Home Visit you should call Bishop Byrne or Archbishop Ritter. Tell them that Loras is with me and told you to contact them. Good luck. I’m so anxious to hear from you. I miss you all so – do you miss me?

  I’m praying you make out all right with Catholic Charities.

  Ireland was some country. Men never marry until 35 – the taxi cab man told me the
y like to have a bit of a fling first.

  Bye now and love and kisses to you all. Do you ever hear of homesickness?

  Hope you’re all well,

  Mom.

  After Paris they drove through Germany and south as far as Venice. Marge felt invigorated by the sunshine, the wine and the solicitous presence of her brother. The death of her son was retreating into the past; the promise of the future was taking shape. Now she was certain she must press on with the plan she had conceived in the nursery of Sean Ross Abbey.

  Thursday 1 September 1955,

  Dublin

  The first morning back in Ireland brought Marge down to earth. The weather was cold and wet and at the Clarence Hotel the superior rooms with river view were all occupied. Loras suggested they spend the morning catching up on lost sleep, but Marge pleaded with him to take her straight to Sean Ross Abbey and he said, ‘Sure, why not?’

  They were met at the convent gate by Sister Hildegarde, who offered them tea, but Marge said she wanted to go straight to the children’s nursery. When they reached the glass doors, she asked them not to enter but to stay with her a while and watch the children at play. Taking Loras by the sleeve, she pointed out Mary McDonald in her white cotton dress and white socks and indicated the little boy she was playing with.

  ‘Look at those two, Loras. Can you see how much they love each other? And did you see what happened when we were here last time? How that little guy acted when I went to take Mary’s hand? Watch this . . .’

  Marge walked over to Mary – who recognized her – and made to pick her up. As soon as she did so, little Anthony Lee in his baggy dungarees and knitted pullover began waving and smiling up at the two of them.

  Marge bent down close to him and said, ‘Well, little man, how about it?’ and he gave her a big kiss on the cheek.

  EIGHTEEN

  Roscrea; St Louis

  Philomena cried when they told her the news.

  This time Sister Hildegarde didn’t even bother trying to convince her of her child’s good fortune. She just said, ‘Well, girl, it seems your son’s off with the bishop too. We’ve a few problems with the paperwork, but I’d say he’ll be on his way pretty soon.’

  In her heart Philomena had known it would happen one day, but the pitiless way she was told about it was devastating. In tears, she ran to the nursery and fell on her knees before her little boy. Anthony smiled as usual to see her but quickly sensed something was wrong.

  ‘Mammy, what is it? What’s a matter? Why are you crying?’

  Philomena wiped her face and clasped him in her arms,

  ‘I love you, Anthony,’ she said. ‘I love you now and I always will. I’ll never forget you, little man . . . never.’

  Seeing his mother so upset, he too burst into tears.

  ‘Please don’t cry, Mammy,’ he said, stroking her hair. ‘Please don’t cry . . .’

  Philomena tried to comfort him, but she was too distraught. She thought it so unfair that the love and affection her child exuded and the tenderness he evoked in others should be the cause of her losing him forever. His heart was so big that he had kisses for everyone – and the kiss he had given to some stranger now seemed to count for more than the sacred bond he shared with his mother. The thought tormented her. Why should another woman have her child, her own flesh, the baby she had borne and loved and cherished?

  When Philomena spoke to Margaret, she apologized for not appreciating the pain she had been going through; she understood it now, she said. She was numb and empty and it was Margaret’s turn to console her. ‘At least there’s one good thing,’ she said. ‘At least Mary and Anthony will be together now.’

  But nothing seemed to help. Philomena tortured herself with unanswerable questions. How could such a random, unplanned intersection of two people’s lives have so many dreadful consequences? The American woman had come to get a girl! That was what Philomena found so unfair. She had come to get a girl, and now she was leaving with her boy. The whole world seemed to rest on arbitrary chance. If Anthony had not tugged at the American woman’s sleeve or kissed her on the cheek that day, how different things could have been . . .

  Marge Hess wrote her husband to explain what she had felt since she first visited Roscrea: she told him that she loved little Mary, but could not bring Mary without bringing Anthony too; told him how cruel it would be to separate two tiny children with such a strong and loving bond.

  ‘I hope you will understand,’ she wrote. ‘The two of them have different mothers, but they are closer than any brother and sister. They love each other and I love them. As soon as I saw them together, I knew what I had to do. When I went to take Mary, Anthony was there waving and smiling and giving me kisses. I have thought about it the whole time we were travelling. Please say it is OK for us to take them both. I know we can work it out. The boys will be hurt, but we can make it up to them, can’t we?’

  Doc Hess said he did understand; said, yes, it was OK to bring Anthony as well as Mary. But he was a practical man and he knew it would mean a whole new set of paperwork. There was no way Marge was going to be able to bring the kids home with her this trip.

  Marjorie, Loras and their mother took the 1.50 p.m. TWA flight from Shannon to New York on Thursday 8 September. As soon as Marge got home to St Louis, she set herself the task of getting her two new children stateside as quickly as humanly possible. She was constantly on the phone to Sister Hildegarde and Mother Barbara, urging them to speed things up, and the nuns were assiduous in sending written accounts of their efforts to help. Their letters made much of the difficulties they were tackling on Marge’s behalf and contained hints about donations and gifts to the convent.

  By late 1955 Sean Ross Abbey was sending scores of children to the United States and Sister Hildegarde was dealing with all the transactions. A memo circulated in the Department of External Affairs described her as ‘one of the three most important people in the Irish adoption picture’; the other two were Father Cecil Barrett of Archbishop McQuaid’s Catholic Social Welfare Bureau and Rita Kenny of the Irish Passport Office.

  On 7 November 1955 Sister Hildegarde took Mary and Anthony on another trip to Dublin, where they were examined by the US embassy’s accredited doctor, John Malone. He reported that Anthony was a ‘well developed child, mentally alert, friendly and cooperative. His mental development has been normal, and I consider him above average intelligence,’ although Malone added a postscript: ‘On Neurological examination, all deep reflexes were diminished and I could not elicit the patellar reflexes. This is an isolated finding and I do not consider it to be significant.’

  For some reason Sister Hildegarde and Mother Barbara were finding the Irish Passport Office impossible to deal with – it was almost as if they were deliberately trying to block this adoption. The latest letter from Rita Kenny was categorical: ‘I received your letter in connection with the application of Mr and Mrs Hess for the adoption of baby Mary McDonald and Anthony Lee . . . There is no Home Study Report attached. I made it quite clear that no consideration could be given to the application until a report of a Home Study conducted by Catholic Charities in St Louis had been submitted.’

  The nuns were perplexed. They suspected the unpleasant man Mother Barbara had spoken to at the meeting in Dublin was deliberately making things difficult for the bishop’s sister. This was turning out to be the most difficult adoption of all the hundreds they had carried out. Within an hour of receiving Rita Kenny’s letter, Sister Hildegarde was back at her typewriter and this time she was fuming.

  16th November 1955

  Dear Mrs Hess,

  I am dashing this letter away to you so that you can see for yourself what the Passport Office have to say. I am quite weary of it all. Are they trying to be difficult or do they not understand? We answered every letter of theirs on your children by return post and this was not done without an effort. I have more than I can cope with from now until after Christmas. If you can do anything, please try and do it for I had hop
ed to finish transportation of the children before the end of this month.

  Sincerely in the Sacred Hearts,

  Sr M. Hildegarde.

  PS Reverend Mother is like a child waiting for your parcel to her. To date it has not arrived.

  When she received Sister Hildegarde’s letter, Marjorie Hess did what she always did in a crisis – she rang her brother. What then seems to have followed was an instructive demonstration of the relationship between Church and state in the exercise of Ireland’s adoption policy. A telephone call from Bishop Loras Lane of Rockford to Archbishop Ritter of St Louis seems to have led to another telephone call, to Archbishop McQuaid of Dublin; that call led to another one, this time to Irish Minister of External Affairs Liam Cosgrave, which in turn led to instructions being issued to the Irish Passport Office that passports for Anthony Lee and Mary McDonald must be furnished at once. The person at the end of all the calls was Joe Coram. He put the phone down with a sigh and called Rita Kenny to countersign the authorizations. He didn’t regret the efforts he had expended on the dossier – he thought of it as a test case for hundreds, perhaps thousands of others – but as the tram home to Glasnevin carried him past the archbishop’s palace he doffed his trilby and smiled bitterly.

  NINETEEN

  December 1955;

  Roscrea

  In the three and a half years since her arrival at Sean Ross Abbey Philomena had had no contact with her family. Neither her father nor her brothers and sisters had visited her, and the nuns would not pass on any letters. But after Sister Hildegarde told her Anthony was being taken to America, Philomena had been allowed to write home. Her own future once the child was gone now had to be decided and the nuns would need to speak to her father.