The Redeeming Hand

As head of the Society for the Relief of Poor Widows with Small Children, Isabella Graham was accustomed to problems, but she found herself faced with an unusually pathetic one. Six of her widows had suddenly died, and except for the dreaded almshouse, there was no place for their children to go. Then one day in March 1806, Manhattan's Mrs. Gra ham had an idea. She summoned nine other ladies, including Mrs. Alexander Hamilton, to a meeting, set up a board of directors of what is now New York's oldest orphanage. Last week, as the Graham School in Hastings-on-Hudson, N.Y. celebrated its isoth anniversary, it was still just about what its founders might have hoped: a refuge for children who would otherwise know "no melting heart to feel, no redeeming hand to rescue them."

Today only a fourth of Graham's 128 children have lost one or both parents, but all come from homes that can no longer take care of them. Some are the sons and daughters of alcoholics and criminals ; others have been juvenile delinquents; all arrive lost and afraid. For these, Graham offers no elaborate psychiatric routine. Its whole approach is so straightforward and simple as to make a social worker despair. "The average kid who's had the rug pulled out from under him," says Director Allen Thomas, "is not sick. The experts have scared the wits out of laymen. The best way to treat a child, it seems to me, is to push here, guide there, play it by ear as any conscientious and unafraid father would."

Family Hierarchy. In 1899 Graham became the first school of its kind to adopt the idea of a "cottage system." Today, when a child arrives, he is assigned to one of seven brick houses, each with its own "father" or "mother," its own kitchen and dining room. But unlike other institutions, Graham does not segregate its children by ages. "A six-year-old," says Director Thomas, "looks not so much to an adult for his model as to a nine-year-old. That's the hierarchy of family living we try to keep." Through the sixth grade, children attend classes at the school. After that, they go to regular public schools in Hastings or Yonkers.

In spite of their backgrounds, the children quickly succumb to the school's discipline. Each child feels himself at home as a member of a cottage family. But more important, says Director Thomas, "the children must know where they stand, that the sun will rise tomorrow, that food will be on the table, that someone will love them, but that they may get spanked if they go beyond certain simple limits."

Money & Molasses. Over the years, Graham's results have been impressive. But the value of its income has dropped dangerously. At the start, it could count on such benefactors as Governor De Witt Clinton ($20), Mr. William Rhinelander (one barrel of molasses) and Jenny Lind ($500). Today Graham loses about $100,000 a year. The hand that has redeemed so many now needs a redeeming hand of its own. Examples of its work: CJ Two Puerto Rican brothers were assigned to the school by New York City welfare authorities after violent careers as members of a rampaging teenage gang. After a few years at Graham, the boys returned home, found themselves so appalled by the life there that they bought themselves a jalopy, now commute every day from Manhattan to finish their schooling in Hastings. Says one of his old neighborhood: "I guess we learned a different kind of life at Graham. We got nothing in common with the neighborhood kids. Why, some of those guys are hoods."

P: A cross-eyed, obese boy of eleven had been beaten so often by his mother and the boys in the neighborhood that he could not hear his own name without flinching. After one day at Graham, he turned up at Director Thomas' elbow after breakfast and announced: "Guess what. I've got two friends already."

Says Thomas: "It's miraculous. Boys like that seem to grow into men right in front of your eyes. Suddenly they know what courage is."

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