Little Mary Wilson

It is not often that one goes back to the life of an urban, 19th century tenement, finds the story of an abused and scarred little girl who provoked a massive rethinking of the role of the state in the life of American families, and winds up with a happy ending.

Mary Ellen Wilson was born in 1864 to Francis and Thomas Wilson of New York City. Soon thereafter, Thomas died, and his widow took a job. No longer able to stay at home and care for her infant daughter, Francis boarded Mary Ellen (a common practice at the time) with a woman named Mary Score. As Francis’s economic situation deteriorated, she slipped further into poverty, falling behind in payments for and missing visits with her daughter. As a result, Mary Score turned two-year-old Mary Ellen over to the city’s Department of Charities.

The Department made a decision that would have grave consequences for little Mary Ellen; it placed her illegally, without proper documentation of the relationship, and with inadequate oversight in the home of Mary and Thomas McCormack, who claimed to be the child’s biological father. In an eerie repetition of events, Thomas died shortly thereafter. His widow married Francis Connolly, and the new family moved to a tenement on West 41st Street.

Mary McCormack Connolly badly mistreated Mary Ellen, and neighbors in the apartment building were aware of the child’s plight. The Connollys soon moved to another tenement, but in 1874, one of their original neighbors asked Etta Angell Wheeler, a caring Methodist mission worker who visited the impoverished residents of the tenements regularly, to check on the child. At the new address, Etta encountered a chronically ill and homebound tenant, Mary Smitt, who confirmed that she often heard the cries of a child across the hall. Under the pretext of asking for help for Mrs. Smitt, Etta Wheeler introduced herself to Mary Connolly. She saw Mary Ellen’s condition for herself. The 10-year-old appeared dirty and thin, was dressed in threadbare clothing, and had bruises and scars along her bare arms and legs. Ms. Wheeler began to explore how to seek legal redress and protection for Mary Ellen. Click here to read Etta Wheeler’s account of Mary Ellen.

The ill treatment continued unabated. Remarkable, though, is the very end:

At the age of 24, Mary Ellen married a widower and had two daughters -- Etta, named after Etta Wheeler, and Florence. Later, she became a foster mother to a young girl named Eunice. Etta and Florence both became teachers; Eunice was a businesswoman. Mary Ellen’s children and grandchildren described her as gentle and not much of a disciplinarian. Reportedly, she lived in relative anonymity and rarely spoke with her family about her early years of abuse. In 1913, however, she agreed to attend the American Humane Association’s national conference in Rochester, NY, with Etta Wheeler, her long-time advocate. Ms. Wheeler was a guest speaker at the conference. Her keynote address, “The Story of Mary Ellen, Which Started the Child Saving Crusade Throughout the World” was published by the American Humane Association. Mary Ellen died in 1956 at the age of 92.

(Watkins, S.A. (1990). The Mary Ellen myth: Correcting child welfare history. Social Work, 35(6), pp. 500-503)

One of my favorite analogies for a child is that of a neglected houseplant, unwatered, off in some dark corner. A little sprucing up, some bright, indirect light, and consistant care...next thing you know, a spectacular leafiness. Some kids are like that.

The quick version of the academic legend is that somehow the animal cruelty laws were bent to protect this girl. Untrue, but it points to a greater truth: the irony of animals having more protection, at least on the books, than children at that time. An animal is merely property, and the "takings clause" of the 5th Amendment notwithstanding, simple property is easily confiscated. But think of the huge interests (here, here, especially HERE and scroll a bit for a listing of photos here and here) that depended on child labor: coal, fishing, farming, manufacturing, newspapers, food distribution, and so on. And then think of the frightening economic vulnerability of most city dwellers and their need to maximize income at all costs.

Then come the well-to-do reformers, whose children have clean fingernails and attend school. Made comfortable by the blandishments of Victorian capitalism, and now made uncomfortable by its ferocity, they begin to tilt at injustice. Very interesting. All in all, a good thing, right? But the costs were enormous. Makes one think of 21st century China.

But Mary was a remarkable person during a time of enormous change. Amazing.