Printer Friendly


In May 1997, a public ombudsman reported that children were beaten by staff and other children in the Cuyahoga County Detention Center in Cleveland, an "overcrowded, unsanitary, dehumanizing facility." In September, a team of consultants described the center as "one of the most adult-oriented, bleak, depressing, unsafe and psychologically harmful facilities that anyone ... has ever visited." The Detention Center kept "a disproportionate number" of black children behind bars: "black children constituted 54.7 percent of the children brought into the center for processing but 67 percent of children kept at the center ... The ... team doubts that the poor conditions of confinements ... would be tolerated by the general public, if [the Center] held an overwhelming number of white youths [italics in the original].... [T]he high number of African-American youths ... helps to perpetuate the lessons that many of the minority youths ... receive from the larger society--'[You] don't matter and [you] are not important."' [1] Opened in 1932 to provide temporary shelter for dependent and delinquent children, this detention facility today symbolizes a child welfare system which has institutionalized and sustained the city's racial inequalities.

This prejudicial treatment of black children has been a national phenomenon. From the mid-nineteenth century through the Great Depression, most dependent children in the United States were cared for in orphanages; but in 1883, 276 of the 353 orphanages across the country excluded black children; 68 institutions, most of them public, admitted a tiny handful; only nine orphanages sheltered black children exclusively. From 1890 to 1933, although the number of orphanages for both white and non-white children increased, the number of racially integrated institutions actually decreased. [2] Although national child welfare leaders were aware of the needs of black children, [3] it was not until the 1960s that private orphanages--by then residential treatment centers for emotionally disturbed children--admitted significant numbers of black children. Even so, black children were less likely than white to be placed in private institutions where they might receive psychiatric help and more likely to receive placement in public correctional facilities, "likely to be the most harsh, the least rehabilitative." [4]

These racial inequities appear with special force at the local level, for cities and counties have historically borne the primary responsibility for dependent children. Recent scholarship on local child-care institutions, however, has paid scant attention to black children--as did the institutions themselves. In contrast, black children are at the center of this study of Cleveland, where for almost a century and a half, the city's public and private child-care agencies provided for them often separately, almost always unequally, and at worst punitively. [5]

Only part of this story is revealed in quantitative data. The federal census has recorded the numbers of blacks in the Cleveland population. (See Table

1) Orphanages were less methodical, keeping more careful track of children's religion and nationality than of their race; public agencies seldom kept systematic records. Only the Cleveland Welfare Federation, in its effort to oversee the city's social service organizations, collected demographic data on the children in all Cleveland institutions--and only occasionally. However, since black children have been more likely than white to need institutional care, an accurate count of black children in institutions compared to the numbers of blacks in the general population would not provide an accurate picture of the children's inequitable treatment.

It is possible, however, to glimpse the children occasionally--their names, their ages, their families, their unique qualities and circumstances--in the institutions' handwritten admission records or the social workers' typed case studies. Some of that material is included here to personalize this narrative and to give children like 15-year-old Benjamin Bradley lodged in the Cleveland Infirmary, Sarah Cleggett "of lovable disposition," 14-year-old James Lewis, a runaway from the community of Shakers, and George, who integrated the Jones Home "with a minimum of bloody noses"--a role in their own story. And consider this unnamed child described by the superintendent of the Children's Aid Society in 1899, [who was] "the shade of polished ebony, but a quick and vigorous mind is at work in his wooly little head. Who can tell the possibilities awaiting development within this son of Africa? Perhaps a future Booker T. Washington is growing up in our midst." [6] The superintendent had lofty aspirations for the child , for Washington was then at the height of his fame. But the choice of this black leader who preached hard work, self-help, and public accommodation to segregation says more about the white adult and his culture than it does about the black child. This youngster, and the others described here, do not speak for themselves, but their lives speak volumes about a child welfare system in which lofty aspirations and good intentions were often thwarted or distorted by the harsh realities of race.

Reflecting the city's racial openness at the time they were founded, Cleveland's public and private child-care institutions admitted very small numbers of black children in the post-Civil War decades. The commercial village of Cleveland had become home to a handful of free blacks in the first decade of the nineteenth century. Early Clevelanders--ofren transplanted New Englanders who brought their reform causes with them-became abolitionists in the 1830s, and Cleveland's location across Lake Erie from Canada made the city a stop on the underground railroad. The Civil War boosted Cleveland's nascent industries, and its black population grew rapidly. Blacks lived in almost all neighborhoods of the city although most resided on its East Side. Cleveland's public schools were racially integrated, and despite occasional incidents of discrimination, blacks were not legally barred from public facilities and joined white churches. Blacks were represented in all occupations in roughly the same proportion as immigrant g roups such as the Irish. Some African American men acquired modest fortunes and considerable property. [7]

Although Cleveland provided better economic opportunities than most other Northern cities, there were "far more blacks near the lower than the upper end of the economic spectrum." [8] A small number ended up in the poorhouse, the Cleveland Infirmary. In 1860, this large brick facility housed 240 inmates; they were not only the indigent who had absolutely nowhere else to turn, but lunatics, petty criminals, prostitutes, and vagrants, male and female, old and young. The poorhouse was intended to discourage dependence, believed by nineteenth-century Americans to be the result of bad habits and bad morals. Inmates were expected to work around the crowded, unsanitary buildings; superintendents tried to discipline the unruly, mismatched population. Inmates were not encouraged to linger in the stark, uninviting facility at taxpayers' expense. [9]

Yet public poorhouses did not admit everyone. Applicants had at least to be residents of the city, and officials probably used other criteria, including race, to decide who would be sheltered. The Infirmary registers list only a few black adults and even fewer black children. Most black children in need were cared for by extended families or kinship networks. [10] Unlike white children, who often entered the Infirmary with at least one parent, black children entered alone, their familial safety net having failed them. Among these were Benjamin Bradley, 15, "African," admitted in 1859 (possibly the first black child to enter the Infirmary), followed in 1862 by Theodore Hill, 9, "colored, destitute." In 1873, George Norton, 6, was admitted; his father was dead; his mother, in the Workhouse. In 1876, a "colored babe" was left on the Infirmary doorsteps and died three weeks later. [11]

After 1871, small numbers of black children were sheltered in the new public House of Refuge that adjoined the Infirmary: two of the 35 children admitted in that year were black. [12] This facility reflected the growing sentiment that children who broke the law should not be jailed with adults: that their dependency or delinquency was primarily the result of parental poverty and neglect rather than their own wilful disobedience or malice. Some inmates were children under age 16 charged with "incorrigible conduct," vagrancy, or other minor offenses: in 1878, Charles Stewart, 13, "colored," was sentenced for petty larceny. [13] Some children, black and white, were simply homeless or had parents in the Workhouse or Infirmary. A few were orphans like George Coleman, 12, "colored," picked up for vagrancy, "parents dead, no home." [14] The institution hoped to teach the boys (there were almost no girls) discipline and good work habits. Despite these efforts, "the Refuge was not a success as a charitable or reforma tory institution" and closed in 1891. [15]

Across the country, the numbers of children in public poorhouses began to drop by the 1880s. [16] The state of Ohio had earlier encouraged the separation of dependent adults and children by allowing counties to build public children's homes, and in 1884, prohibited children from staying in almshouses unless there were separate quarters for them. By the end of the century, 39 of Ohio's 88 counties had public children's homes. [17] But Cuyahoga County, where Cleveland is located, did not. Private orphanages consequently became the only significant caretakers of the city's dependent children. (See Table 2) To refuse to admit a needy child was to worsen the hardships of the family and the youngster, for whom abandonment or a life in the street might be the only alternative.

Orphanages could be even more selective than the public institutions. Fervently sectarian, orphanages provided almost exclusively for their Protestant, Catholic, or Jewish co-religionists. From their beginnings through the 1930s, Cleveland orphanages provided a "second home" for thousands of white children of the urban poor. [18] By contrast--as elsewhere--only a tiny handful of black youngsters were admitted--probably chosen because they were attractive, well-behaved, exemplary children of the right denomination, like the future Booker T. Washington. [19]

Most orphans had at least one parent, unable to care for his or her offspring because of illness, physical or mental disability, or the death or desertion of a spouse. Sometimes clergy or law officials asked that a child be admitted to an orphanage, but most were placed by parents for whom the institutions represented "the final desperate step" to ensure that their children would be cared for until the family fortunes had been recouped or the child was old enough to be economically self-sufficient. [20] Orphanages occasionally "placed out" children with nearby families to learn a trade or provide help around the house or farm, but for most children, orphanages were temporary homes until they could be restored to their own families. Located in urban neighborhoods near the people they served, these congregate facilities provided lots of discipline and no luxuries but also food, clothing, shelter, and some education.

Parents were supposed to pay something for their children's board, and orphanages also received financial support from their denominations and local philanthropists. After its establishment in 1913, the Cleveland Federation for Charity and Philanthropy (the Cleveland Welfare Federation after 1917) substantially subsidized the orphanages with community fund monies.

Two Protestant orphanages appear to have been the most racially open--perhaps because of the liberal sentiments of their founders, perhaps because both received public funds for accepting children from the Infirmary, or perhaps because most Cleveland blacks were Protestant. The Cleveland Children's Aid Society (CAS) had been founded as a school for poor children and by the 1890s, had a capacity of 50 children. The first black child appears in its records in 1865: William Henry James, "colored." In 1876, James Lewis, 14, "African, an orphan," was sent by CAS to live with a community of Shakers nearby; James fled back to the orphanage, only to be returned to the community. In 1892, David Jackson, age 10, was received from the Infirmary, where his mother probably was an INMATE. [21] The institution's placing-out system made servants, black and white, available to local families, and the CAS received many requests for children who were probably expected to help around the house: "bright, healthy, colored girl, 1 2 or 13 years old to bring up and would give a good home. A mulatto preferred." [22] The society's superintendent, John F. Fisher, boasted about the placement of this black child: "Sarah Cleggett. A negro girl whom we kept, waiting an exactly suitable opportunity to place her in a home, for four years. She was of lovable disposition and was the principal favorite among all our girls. ... Had the peculiar imaginative characteristics of her race. Was invaluable here in caring for little children and in waiting on table." (All children were expected to work in the Institution.) Sarah was placed with a "promising young white minister [who] will give Sarah the best advantages that any woman of her race can have." [23]

In 1880, the Protestant Orphan Asylum (POA) recorded that it was "wide open" to Protestant children, "whatever may be their nationality or color." [24] In 1887, the asylum advertised in the African American Cleveland Gazette: "Forty bright healthy attractive boys (some colored) from one month to ten years of age, for whom homes are desired." [25] Similar ads appeared at least into the 1890s. The POA did not regularly record the race of its children, but its 1907 annual report noted that seven of the 253 children admitted were black--2.7 percent of the total admissions. [26]

In contrast, in 1891, Ernest, Warren, and Mary Cooper, "African," appear to have been the only black children sheltered at the Jones Home for Friendless Children from its founding to the 1960s, for the home refused the few other black children who applied. The small facility, located in a white neighborhood on the city's near West Side, reported that it accepted mostly children of Northern European background. [27]

In other cities, Catholic dioceses maintained separate institutions for black children, but Cleveland's Catholic orphanages--St. Mary's Female Asylum and St. Joseph's Orphan Asylum for girls and St. Vincent's Orphan Asylum for boys--did admit a tiny handful of black children. Among the more than 400 children admitted each year in the last decades of the century were three-year-old Essy May Johnson, daughter of a white mother and a "colored father," and three-year-old Mary Bezold, "Negress." [28] In 1887, Charles Lambert, "colored," age 9, entered St. Vincent's; five years later he was "given [placed out] to Mrs. McFadden." Robert Hale, also "colored," was less fortunate; after four years at St. Vincent's, he was transferred to another orphanage and died there, age 10. [29]

Most of the inmates of the Jewish Orphan Asylum (JOA), Cleveland's largest orphanage, were the children of recent immigrants, at first, German and then Eastern European and often Orthodox. In 1907, the JOA housed 500 children from 16 states; 77 were born in foreign countries, the largest number (32) from Russia; none was black. [30]

Cleveland had only one recorded private black orphanage; its short troubled existence dramatizes both the poverty of the black community and the marginality of its children to the city's social welfare system. In 1895, Mrs. Ella Campbell established this orphanage on a farm east of the city. The local school district asked that the black children be removed from its school, and neighbors complained to the county commissioners about conditions in the institution. [31] In February 1896, the Cleveland Gazette reported: "A shocking state of affairs had been discovered at the Campbell Orphan Home.... There are at present seven girls and four boys, ranging in age from 3 to 10 years ... There was absolutely nothing in the house to eat, save a few frozen potatoes, some mouldy dried apples, and a little flour in a sack. The children looked pinched and hollow-eyed for want of food. The house was cold and desolate. The sleeping apartments presented a sickening sight," The beleaguered home closed in 1903, a portent of t hings to come. [32]

During the 1910s, Cleveland orphanages--like those elsewhere--shut their doors to dependent black children. The 1920 census reported not one black child at St. Vincent's, St. Joseph's, the Children's Aid Society, the Jones Home, the Protestant Orphan Asylum, or the Jewish Orphan Asylum. In 1923, all these institutions officially listed their clientele as "white." [33]

This reversal of the Cleveland orphanages' admissions policies was the culmination of local developments that began in the 1890s. The number of blacks in the city had more than doubled from 1870 to 1890 but more than tripled between 1910 and 1920--growing seven times faster than the white population as the first great wave of African Americans arrived in the city. Although opportunities for education, political power, and jobs were much greater than in the Jim Crow South, blacks in Cleveland had already begun to experience occupational decline, relative to European immigrants. Public streetcars had encouraged the dispersal of native-born and immigrant whites throughout the city; blacks remained in the East Side's Central neighborhood, the city's first black ghetto. The integration of public schools was eroded by growing residential segregation. Despite Ohio civil rights laws, many stores, restaurants, and theaters informally excluded African Americans. So did the city's hospitals, YMCAs, YWCAs and most settl ement houses. [34]

As it had for earlier immigrants, urban life endangered newly arrived black families, its freedom and anonymity loosening community restraints and familial ties. Crowded black neighborhoods bred disease and high mortality rates. [35] Existing social welfare agencies provided few services to these newcomers. With substantial financial support from whites, blacks organized three new agencies: in 1911, the Phillis Wheatley Association, a boarding home for young black women; in 1917, the Cleveland Negro Welfare Association, an affiliate of the National Urban League; and in 1925, the Mary B. Talbert Home for black unwed mothers.

Such all-black institutions were generally opposed by the local National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). Founded in 1914, the organization supported the integration of schools, neighborhoods, and social service institutions and blocked efforts by other black groups to establish a private black child-care facility. [36] Partly because of this opposition but more importantly, because noone, black or white, provided the money, there was no child-care institution for black children in Cleveland after the collapse of the Campbell Orphan Home. [37]

During the 1920s, three orphanages moved to suburban or rural settings with white populations; this relocation reinforced their exclusionary policies. In 1925, St. Vincent's merged with another Catholic institution for boys, moved to Parma, and became Parmadale. The POA moved to Orange Village in 1926 and was re-christened Beech Brook. In 1929, the JOA moved to University Heights and became Bellefaire. Responding to criticisms by child-care workers that they were too large and stifled children's individuality, these orphanages replaced their old congregate facilities with attractive home-like cottages on large campuses with playing fields and swimming pools. The Jones Home and the CAS remained in white neighborhoods on the West Side of Cleveland.

The agency that provided most service to black children and their families was the Cleveland Humane Society (CHS). An outgrowth of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, this quasi-public, non-sectarian agency was responsible for abandoned, neglected, destitute, and illegitimate children; some were surely black. But not until 1917, as Cleveland became more race-conscious, did CHS record its clients' race: eight children in its "child protection" department, supervised in their own homes, were "African." [38] Following the lead of the emerging social work profession, the CHS staff believed that if a child could not remain in his or her own home, a foster or adoptive home was preferable to an orphanage. But such homes were in short supply, and CHS often placed white children--but not black children--in orphanages.

Signalling the growing role of the public sector in child welfare during the Progressive period, [39] Cuyahoga County in 1902 established the second juvenile court in the country. The court recognized--as had the earlier House of Refuge--that children who ran afoul of the law should be treated differently from adult criminals. The court had authority over both delinquent and dependent children, some of them black. The court preferred placing children under the supervision of volunteer probation officers, but when volunteers were unavailable or inappropriate, or when children could not be returned to their families, the court had to find institutional placements. For some white children, this meant orphanages. For other white children--and for all black children--the court was compelled to provide a facility where children could be temporarily detained since Ohio law forbid jailing children with adults.

In response, Cuyahoga County opened its first detention facility for boys on the second and third floors of a police station in 1908, and in 1917, built a larger facility, which housed both boys and girls. In 1922, this facility received bad marks in a public report: although the children did much of the work around the institution, there was "an utter lack of suitable employment" and "a woeful lack of indoor recreational facilities." [40] In 1929, 18 percent of the children in this facility were black. [41]

The juvenile court also referred dependent and delinquent children to two correctional institutions run by the city of Cleveland. The Cleveland Boys Home and Farm was located on a 162-acre site, 35 miles from downtown. Its cottages, barns, schoolhouse, and outdoor activities made it a model facility, part of Mayor Tom L. Johnson's reform of the city's welfare and correctional systems. In September, 1903, William Johnson, 14, became the fifteenth child--and first black child--to be admitted; he "escaped" in March, 1904. (Eight of the first 20 children admitted to the farm "escaped.") [42] Subsequently, the farm superintendent personally chose the boys who were admitted to the Farm. [43] In 1920 only four of the 140 youngsters were black. [44] The public facility for delinquent girls was smaller and more modest--a "training school" that taught only domestic skills and initially admitted no black children. [45] By the end of the 1920s, however, this facility, now named Blossom Hill, housed eight black girls, bu t in a segregated cottage. When this cottage was full, black girls were placed in more punitive correctional facilities. Here is this 16-year-old described by her caseworker: "Elizabeth ... Poor home conditions, mother not divorced but boarder in home. Had been brought into court twice for running away.... Elizabeth is the kind that ought to go to Blossom Hill. Since there was no room, she was sent to Girls' Industrial School." [46]

Public responsibility for dependent black children expanded during the Great Depression, which devastated Cleveland's black community. Discrimination had kept black men and women at the bottom of the occupational ladder where they were especially vulnerable to lay-offs. In 1931, more than 30 percent of the city's workforce of 500,541 were unemployed. In black neighborhoods unemployment averaged 50 to 90 percent, and black-owned businesses collapsed. [47] As families disintegrated under economic and psychological pressures, children became casualties. In 1931, there were 1,000 more dependent children in Cleveland than in 1927. Most dependent children (2,360) were in foster homes; but 1,301 children were in private child-care institutions. [48]

Like those elsewhere, Cleveland orphanages found themselves in serious financial straits as they tried to care for more children with fewer resources. Parents' board payments dropped, and the Welfare Federation was forced to cut its subsidies. Nevertheless, throughout the economic emergency, Cleveland orphanages continued to provide food and shelter--for white children. [49] Under federal mandate, the Cuyahoga County Child Welfare Board (CCCWB) assumed responsibility for almost 1,000 state wards previously under care of private institutions, including the orphanages and CHS. Children who needed long-term care became the responsibility of the public agency; the orphanages retained responsibility for children requiring short-term care or whose parents could pay their board. Since these were more likely to be white children, this division of responsibilities perpetuated the existing racial division of labor. In January 1931, 265 of the CCCWB's 1,288 wards were black; in 1936, its 771 black wards constituted alm ost 25 percent of the CCCWB case load. [50] By 1941, the CCCWB had become far and away the city's most significant child-care provider, responsible for 3,460 dependent children; almost a thousand of them were black. [51]

When foster homes were not available, the CCCWB--like the CHS and the Juvenile Court--placed white children in orphanages--without charge because the orphanages received community fund monies. [52] Orphanages remained closed to black children, however, and as early as 1933, CCCWB had difficulty finding foster homes for them. [53] Two years later, noting the "very material" increase of black children under care, the agency listed among its pressing needs a "special home for ... colored children." [54]

No special home for colored children was built. The county did build the formidable three-story Detention Home, adjoining the Juvenile Court building and closely resembling the old orphanages. The home was intended to provide temporary shelter for dependent and delinquent children until permanent placement in homes or institutions could be arranged. Growing numbers of children--during 1932, almost 4,000, a third of them dependent--entered the facility. Dependent children waited longer for placement than did delinquent children. In 1934, a CCCWB supervisor warned co-workers that the Detention Home should not become a "dumping ground" for children, commenting that county personnel sometimes "place[d] children in [the] Detention Home and [were] very slow about making plans for removal." [55]

In 1937, the Cleveland NAACP protested the lengthy stays of black children in the facility. The NAACP claimed that black youngsters spent an average of 28 days, the white youngsters, only 12 days, in the facility before their admission to Cleveland Boys' Farm. One African American boy spent 63 days at the facility; three spent 62 days before their court-ordered placement at the Farm took effect. [56]

World War II ended the Depression but not the problem of child dependency. The revitalization of Cleveland's industries created job opportunities that attracted thousands of newcomers to the city. [57] Heightened residential segregation forced these new immigrants into the Central neighborhood, crowding housing and straining city and social services. This physical environment and the economic disadvantages still faced by blacks contributed to "family breakdown" and rising dependency, creating a desperate need for child welfare services. [58] But except for a small, interracial facility for Catholic pre-school children, Cleveland's private child-care institutions remained closed to black children.

A 1944 study of 15 black children revealed the devastating impact of their exclusion from these institutions. The children ranged in age from seven to 15. Most had some physical handicap or illness, and most "had led a very transient existence.... Some of them had lived in several different homes of relatives and acquaintances, as well as in detention homes." None was living with both parents; five were living with neither parent. "[William]," age 9, had been placed in the Detention Home for running away from his own and foster homes 17 times; he was rejected by the CAS where he might have gotten psychological help. The hostile, difficult behavior of "[David]" age 10, frightened his legal guardian, who asked that he be removed from her home; no suitable foster home could be found, and "no institution was open to him, a colored child" so David remained with his guardian. "[Jane]," age 12, the daughter of a black man and a white mother, had lived in several relatives' homes before her placement in the Detentio n Home, where she remained because no suitable foster home could be found. "[Charles]," 12, was in the Detention Home for stealing his grandmother's watch at the time that his father and stepmother requested that he be removed from their home. His brother, [Albert], 10, "had been in [the Detention Home] several times when his parents did not provide for him" and told the social worker that he would rather stay there than return home. Only six children were placed in foster homes. The CAS took one child (not William). The rest remained where they were, unhappy or unwanted. [59]

In 1945, the Child Welfare League of America publicly criticized the racial inequities of Cleveland's child welfare system: Protestant and nonsectarian agencies did not shelter black children; Catholic institutions sheltered only a tiny few; black children were more likely than white to stay longer than a month in the Detention Home. [60] The league also noted that disagreements within the black community impeded efforts to establish a new public or private institution for black children; the Cleveland NAACP continued to oppose any new institution that might become black-only. [61]

The NAACP had renewed reason to stand firm for racial integration, for the war against the white-supremacist dictatorship abroad and the political pressures created by a growing black population at home had inspired civic concern about racial equality. Clevelanders founded a Community Relations Board in 1945 that became a model for other cities, and in 1950, City Council passed the first Fair Employment Practices law in the country. In 1946, the Cleveland Welfare Federation, responding to community sentiment, urged its member agencies to "serve all people without regard to race, color, or national origins." [62]

Although the orphanages gave lip service to the federation's request, in 1949, they still housed white children almost exclusively. The CAS provided the most racially integrated services: 20 percent of its children were black (most probably receiving counseling but not living on site): 10 percent of the Cleveland Humane Society's clients were black; and three percent of Parmadale's children. There were no black children at Bellefaire, the Jones Home, or Beech Brook. [63] Most orphanages told the federation that they had no explicit racial restrictions but that their neighborhoods, their clientele, or their staff, probably would not accept black children. [64] The Welfare Federation did not publicly reprimand the orphanages and continued to subsidize them.

The orphanages may have believed that they acted in black children's best interests. Here is [Robert] as the Beech Brook caseworker described him: "a mulatto boy, born 14 years ago ... a fairly tall, well built lad. His facial features were not markedly negroid, but his coloring and black kinky hair were the characteristics that marked him." Robert was raised by his white aunt, who encouraged him to think of himself as white. When she became too ill to support him, Robert, now a ward of the county, was placed in the Detention Home and in December 1949, in Beech Brook. Although the institution accepted this child (his skin was very light and his white uncles had spent time there), the other Beech Brook children did not. Robert "became the target of a 'snowballing,' which the boys termed 'coon hunt,' chasing the boy through the woods, using flashlights to 'flush' him out." When he withdrew from their cruelty, the consulting psychiatrist decided that he was too troubled to remain at Beech Brook. Robert was retu rned to the Detention Home to await another placement. [65]

The public agencies continued to take almost full responsibility for black children. Thirty-seven percent of the children under care of the CCCWB were black; so were 42 percent of Blossom Hill's girls, and 54 percent of the Cleveland Boys Farm youngsters. [66] The CCCWB continued to place its white children in orphanages that refused black children.

Like Robert, William, Jane, and Albert, more and more dependent children, including some infants, waited in the Detention Home--sometimes for months. In 1944, Juvenile Court Judge Harry L. Eastman publicly deplored conditions at the facility. Dependent children occupied eight of the detention facility's 13 units; those of the smallest children--ages one and a half to five--were especially overcrowded. Many of the children had contagious diseases or serious behavior problems. They often remained several months "and sometimes a year," losing hope that they would ever find a home. Sometimes it took months, said Eastman, for the child even to be assigned a caseworker. "[C]onsequently, the children have no visitors at all if they do not have relatives. No one ever comes to talk over with them what is happening in their situations and what is being planned." [67]

To remedy this situation, Cuyahoga County Commissioners in 1951 opened the Winifred Fryer Home, a receiving facility for dependent children, in one wing of an old public school. The opening was delayed for two years by a taxpayers' suit filed by white neighbors who feared that the facility would be full of black children. Winifred Fryer Home was soon crowded with children waiting 60 days or more for placement. [65]

In 1953, the racial division of labor between private and public child-care agencies remained intact. Of the 8,132 children under public and private care, 2,258 (27.8 percent) were black. Thirteen of the 483 children (.026 percent) in the five private institutions--Beech Brook, the Jones Home, Parmadale, Bellefaire, and the Children's Aid Society--were black, and 239 of the 550 children (43 percent) in the four public institutions--the Detention Home, Winifred Fryer Home, Cleveland Boys School, and Blossom Hill. (See Table 3) [69]

By 1958, sixty percent of the girls at Blossom Hill were black: some were delinquent; some, emotionally disturbed; some, dependent. The Child Welfare League of America criticized the institution's recreation facilities, teaching, food, and buildings. The program at Blossom Hill was "inadequate or unsuitable" for many of the girls, reported the league: "No institution filled with a heterogeneous assortment of children whose only common denominator is that their treatment needs have not been met elsewhere, can do the necessary job for each child." [70]

In the early 1960s, the half-century of formal and informal exclusion of black children from private institutions ended. A militant civil rights movement challenged racial segregation, backed by the Supreme Court and federal legislation. The Cleveland chapter of the NAACP became one of the largest in the country. [71] In the wake of a serious race riot, Clevelanders in 1967 elected Carl B. Stokes the first black mayor of a major American city, and re-elected him in 1969. Rebounding from financial and political crises of the 1970s, Cleveland billed itself as a "comeback city" during the 1980s, boasting of new water-front and downtown development. In 1990, Clevelanders elected their second black mayor, Michael White.

Political victories did not translate into economic success or family stability for all African Americans. Despite war-time progress, the gap between white and black incomes had continued to widen, and the numbers of black families on Aid to Dependent Children continued to climb during the 1960s. [72] In the next decades, Cleveland, like other industrial cities, lost thousands of the manufacturing jobs that had sustained its economy for a century. The city also lost population as middle-class Clevelanders, white and black, continued to leave for the suburbs or surrounding cities. Residential segregation persisted; Cleveland became known as the second-most segregated city in the United States. Those who remained in the city were increasingly poor; the rates of poverty were highest in black neighborhoods. These areas of "highly concentrated poverty" exacerbated the social and psychological isolation of their residents, significantly diminishing their life chances. [73]

These political and economic realities combined with the orphanages' own financial and institutional imperatives to re-open the institutions' doors to black children. The New Deal's social insurance programs, especially Aid to Dependent Children, and post-war prosperity, had lessened the need for institutional care for dependent children that the orphanages had always provided. During the late 1950s and early 1960s, therefore, they began to develop specialized psychiatric and social services for emotionally troubled children, adding caseworkers, psychiatrists, and psychologists to their staffs. [74] Costs for new staff and buildings rose as the institutions' populations fell. [75] An obvious solution to these economic woes was to persuade the county to pay for its wards who had been sheltered in local orphanages without charge since 1930. The county agency already paid for its wards, black and white, who were placed in out-of-county and out-of state institutions. [76] In 1966, black children constituted a ma jority--50.3 percent--of the 5,268 children under care of the county Division of Child Welfare, the successor to CCCWB. [77]

For Cleveland orphanages, accepting county money meant accepting black children. In 1960, Bellefaire, which had received county subsidies since 1953, admitted its first black child; in the next year, two more followed. [78] The county began to pay Parmadale in 1962, the Jones Home in 1963, and Beech Brook in 1964, and black children entered those institutions. The Jones Home accepted its first black child since the Cooper children in 1891. Here is "[George who] ... possesses average intelligence. He acquires possessions that are not his. Among the children bloody noses have become common since [George's] arrival because his behavior pattern is strongly defensive.... His witty remarks and keen observations provide hilarity and entertainment for all. Jones Home has integrated with a minimum of bloody noses and a maximum of fellowship and laughter." A year later, the home took one more black child; in 1967, the home sheltered seven black children. [79]

Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, child-care institutions across the country, responding to a movement to de-institutionalize all populations and to the increasingly psychiatric orientation of social work, became non-sectarian residential treatment centers, staffed by professional social work and medical personnel. These centers developed a wide range of therapeutic off-site and day programs and services for mentally handicapped or emotionally troubled children and their families. The institutions that had once sheltered hundreds of children now sheltered only dozens; these were seriously disturbed, multi-problemed children, sometimes "actually or potentially in trouble with police or court officials." [80] For these youngsters, the old orphanages had become attractive, expensive alternatives to public correctional institutions.

Cleveland's residential treatment centers accepted children from private agencies, whose parents or whose insurers could pay. But growing numbers of their clients were from public agencies, especially the Juvenile Court and the county child welfare agency. The private institutions became almost totally dependent on public funding from the federal, state, and local governments. [81] They served more black children than ever before, both on and off-site. At Parmadale, probably the most integrated facility, 25 of its 138 children were black in 1972; 57 of 205 children in 1981; and in 1985, 105 of its 190 children. [82]

Yet despite the re-integration of Cleveland institutions, racial inequities persisted. The county child-care agency supervised children in their own homes or found them foster, adoptive, and group homes, and provided medical and dental services. The public agency placed only a tiny percentage of its wards in local and out-of-state residential treatment centers: in 1971, only about 350 of its 8,000 children under care. [83] Black children were even less likely than white to be placed in these facilities. In 1977, non-white children constituted almost 62 percent of children under custody of the county, but only 41 percent of those placed in treatment centers. One report noted: "Race seems to be clearly associated with placement; ... there are disproportionately fewer Blacks and other minority children in child-care institutions and residential treatment facilities." [84]

As had been the case since the 1910s, black children were more likely to be placed in public institutions. These had become public scandals. In 1963, Mary Gorman, director of the county Division of Child Welfare, admitted that children sometimes remained in the Winifred Fryer Home for up to 600 days. [85] In 1966, an analysis of37 children discharged from Winifred Fryer revealed that nine children had been there from 342 to 619 days; five preschool children, from 155 to 385 days. A psychiatric consultant was available to children only three hours a week. [86] In 1966, the Cleveland Plain Dealer condemned the home as decrepit, vandalized, and overcrowded--"a place where ordinary children are transformed into youthful savages." [87] In 1967, the county replaced Winifred Fryer with the Bessie Benner Metzenbaum Center. By 1970-71, this new facility, with a capacity of 65, sheltered more than a hundred children a month. In 1980, 59 percent of these children were black. The children stayed too long. Some had no vi sitors. Three children had been there more than 300 days each; one 15-year-old boy had stayed 437 days without a visitor. [88] The Division of Children and Family Services of the Cuyahoga County Department of Human Services, formerly the Division of Child Welfare, ceased to use the center as a temporary holding facility in 1994.

The Detention Center regularly made headlines. In 1978, in the wake of a brutal beating of a 15-year-old inmate, the Cleveland Legal Aid Society charged that children's punishments were often "inhumane, bizarre, and barbaric"; that the food was inadequate, that the facility had a capacity of 78 but often had more than 100 children in residence, including some with serious emotional problems who should have been in psychiatric facilities. [89] In 1979, a Detention Home supervisor was struck by a 15-year-old female inmate and died. In 1989, an 11-year-old boy was raped in the facility. By 1993, the detention facility was so overcrowded that it turned away juvenile offenders. In 1996, two workers were accused of beating a 16-year-old boy in the facility. [90] In 1997, after repeated allegations that children were abused, the public ombudsman was appointed, and the team of consultants was hired to investigate the facility.

How did this happen? How did an institution intended to shelter and sustain children instead damage and harm them?

Today's Detention Center is the product of a child welfare system that has not served children of any race well enough because the community has not been willing to invest adequate resources in other people's offspring. But the system has served black children even less often and less well. Deriving their political and moral direction--as well as their inadequate funding--from the community, Cleveland's public and private child-care institutions have quite logically reflected-indeed institutionalized-the community's racial mores. The admissions of tiny numbers of black children into the Infirmary and House of Refuge and their even more selective admissions by the private orphanages in the nineteenth century reflected the city's heritage of racial liberalism. This was a qualified liberalism, however, contingent upon a small black population. When that population grew with the first great migration, private child-care institutions, like other private and public institutions, excluded black children, segregatin g them in public detention or correction facilities, as their families were segregated in city neighborhoods. The absence of a county children's home--and ironically, the opposition of the local NAACP to a private or public facility for black children--encouraged this segregation. The child-care emergencies created by the Great Depression and World War II enlarged the responsibilities of the public sector and diminished the role of private institutions. A two-tier child welfare system became firmly entrenched: white children were placed in orphanages and residential treatment centers, and black children endured long stays in public facilities that were never intended for long-term care. In the 1960s, when such overtly racially-based placement became politically unacceptable and economically counter-productive for the private institutions, small numbers of black children again entered the old orphanages, now publicly-funded residential treatment centers. Far more children, however remained in the public detent ion facility that, like Cleveland's inner-city neighborhoods, had presumably been abandoned by those more fortunate.

Tragically, accommodation to the community's racial customs meant that the goals and hopes of Cleveland's child-care workers like the superintendent of the CAS too often could not be realized. Private and public child-care institutions aspired--however paternalistically--to do good for children, to shape their lives in positive ways: the Cleveland Humane Society and the county child-care agency to find homes for homeless children; the House of Refuge, the Cleveland Boys Farm, and Blossom Hill, to reform children who had broken the law; the orphanages, to preserve children's religious faith and their families; the detention and holding facilities, to provide safety and comfort when children had none; the residential treatment centers, to solve children's emotional difficulties and restore their mental health. These institutions emerged from the growing awareness that children should be treated differently from adults, signaled by the removal of children from the bleak, uncaring Infirmary designed to punish an d deter adult dependence. Instead, black children, too often excluded from or selectively admitted to private institutions, were placed in manifestly inferior public institutions reminiscent of the Cleveland Infirmary. Like the inmates of the old poorhouse with nowhere else to go, black children were punished for their dependence.

More tragically, to generations of black children, Cleveland's child welfare system passed on the community's belief in their inequality. Children--like the orphaned William, rejected by the Children's Aid Society; Robert, tormented at Beech Brook and returned to the Detention Home, the black girls in the segregated cottage at Blossom Hill; the black children in the dangerous, damaging Detention Center of the 1990s--learned: "[You] don't matter and [you] are not important.'"

In May 1998, the Cuyahoga County Commissioners planned a new detention facility on the site of the old; it will be twice the size of the 1932 structure. [91]

Department of History

University Heights, OH 44118-4581


(1.) Plain Dealer, 3 May, 1997: A 1,11 and 7 May, 1997: A 1; Plain Dealer, 20 September, 1997: A 1, 6. I wish to thank John Carroll University for a George Graeul Faculty Fellowship that aided in the preparation of this article.

(2.) Rachel B. Marks, 'Institutions for Dependent and Delinquent Children: Histories, Nineteenth-Century Statistics, and Recurrent Goals," in Donnell M. Pappenfort, Dee Morgan Kilpatrick, and Robert W. Roberts, editors, Social Policy and the Institution (Chicago, 1973), 39; Timothy A. Hacsi, Second Home: Orphan Asylums and Poor Families in America (Cambridge, MA, 1997), 147.

(3.) See for instance, White House Conference on Child Health and Protection, White House Conference, 1930 (New York, 1931), 326; Howard W. Hopkirk, Institutions Serving Children (New York, 1944), 53.

(4.) The quote is from Murray L. Gruber, "Inequality in the Social Services," Social Service Review 54 (March, 1980): 63. For national statistics, see U.S. General Accounting Office, Report to the Honorable George Miller, Chairman, Select Committee on Children, Youth, and Families, House of Representatives. Residential Care: Patterns of Child Placement in Three States. (Washington D.C., June 28, 1985), i; and Seth Low, America's Children and Youth in Institutions 1950, 1960-1964. (Washington D.C., 1965). See also Janice Joseph, Black Youths, Delinquency, and Juvenile Justice (Westport, CT, 1995) 128: "In 1991,57 percent of youths in private facilities were white, 32 percent were black, 9 percent Hispanics, and 2 percent others.... The juvenile in a public facility is most like to e an African American male between the ages of 14 and 17 years. On the other hand, the juvenile most likely to be a private institution is a white male between 14 and 17 years." See also Lenore Olsen, "Services for Minority Children in Out-of-Home Care," Social Service Review 56 (December, 1982): 572-585; Ann W. Shyne and Anita G. Schroeder, National Study of Social Services to Children and Their Families (DREW Publication No. 78-30150), August 1978

(5.) Recent monographs on sectarian orphanages include Hyman Bogen, The Luckiest Orphans: A History of the Hebrew Orphan Asylum (Urbana, 1992); Howard Goldstein, The Home on Gorham Street and the Voices of Its Children (Tuscaloosa, 1996); Reena Sigman Friedman, These Are Our Children: Jewish Orphanages in the United States, 1880-1925 (Hanover, 1994) and Nurith Zmora, Orphanages Reconsidered: Child Care Institutions in Progressive Era Baltimore (Philadelphia, 1994). Recent studies that mention black children include Kenneth Cmiel, A Home of Another Kind: One Chicago Orphanage and the Tangle of Child Welfare (Chicago, 1995) and Peter C. Holloran, Boston's Wayward Children: Social Services for Homeless Children, 1830-1930 (London, 1989), 137-156. Black children are the focus of these studies of post-World War 11 child welfare systems: Andrew Billingsley and Jeanne M. Giovannoni, Children of the Storm: Black Children and American Child Welfare (New York, 1972); Gerald Markowitz and David Rosner, Children, Race, and Power: Kenneth and Mami Clark's Northside Center (Charlottesville, 1996). For a positive description of an institution for black children, the Colored Orphan Asylum, founded in 1834 in New York City, see Geraldine Youcha, Minding the Children: Child Care in America From Colonial Times to the Present (New York, 1998) 185-193.

(6.) 1899 Annual Report: 12, Children's Aid Society MSS 3923, container 1, folder 15, Western Reserve Historical Society (WRHS), Cleveland, Ohio.

(7.) Kenneth L. Kusmer, A Ghetto Takes Shape: Black Cleveland, 1870-1930 (Urbana, 1976), 10, 3-24, 20.

(8.) ibid., 19.

(9.) Marian J. Morton, And Sin No More: Social Policy and Unwed Mothers in Cleveland, 1855-1990 (Columbus, 1993), 21-36.

(10.) Herbert G. Gutman, The Black Family in Slavery and Freedom, 1750-1925 (New York, 1976), 222-228; Carol B. Stack, All Our Kin: Strategies for Survival in a Black Community (New York, 1974), 62-89; Harrier Pipes McAdoo and John Lewis McAdoo, eds., Black Families, Third edition (Thousand Oaks, 1997), especially 5-113. On the survival strategies of black families in Cleveland, see Kimberley L. Phillips, "'But It Is a Fine Place to Make Money': Migration and African-American Families in Cleveland, 1915-1929," Journal of Social History (Winter, 1996): 393-408

(11.) Register, Cleveland Workhouse and House of Refuge and Correction MSS 3681, microfilm reel 1, volumes 2-5, WRHS. These records are so water-damaged that quantitative analysis and precise identification are often impossible.

(12.) First Annual Report, Workhouse and House of Refuge (Cleveland, 1872), 28-29.

(13.) Robert M. Mennel. Thorns & Thistles. Juvenile Delinquents in the United States, 1825-1940 (Hanover, 1973), 8, 13; Cleveland Workhouse and House of Refuge and Correction, Annual Report, 1875 (Cleveland, 1875), 41; Workhouse Annual Report, Cleveland Workhouse and House of Refuge and Correction MSS 3681, microfilm reel 2, volume 10. WRHS.

(14.) Register, Cleveland Workhouse and House of Refuge and Correction MSS 3681, microfilm reel 2, volume 6, WRHS.

(15.) City of Cleveland Annual Report, 1873 (Cleveland, 1873), 401-402; Cleveland Centennial Commission. A Centennial History of Cleveland's Charities, 1796-1896 (Cleveland, 1896), 10.

(16.) Paul Lerman, Deinstitudonalization and the Welfare State (New Brunswick, N.J., 1984), 35

(17.) LeRoy Ashby, Endangered Children: Dependency, Neglect, and Abuse in American History (New York, 1997), 73.

(18.) Hacsi, 137-145.

(19.) On the selective admission of black children, see Marks, 38; and Cmiel, 20, 203.

(20.) Hacsi, 143.

(21.) Record of Children in Home, Children's Aid Society MSS 3923, container 3, folder 55, and Children's Record, Children's Aid Society MSS 3923, container 3, folder 57, WRHS.

(22.) Register, 1897, Children's Aid Society MSS 3923, container 3, folder 64, WRHS.

(23.) Letter, Welfare Interests--General, Children's Industrial School and Home Cleveland, 1905-1913, box 55, folder 619, Rockefeller Archives, Tarrytown, New York. Fisher mentioned two black children in this letter, conscious perhaps of Rockefeller's generosity to African American institutions.

(24.) Annual Report, 1880, Protestant Orphan Asylum, 32, Beech Brook MSS 4544, container 2, folder 14, WRHS.

(25.) Cleveland Gazette, 2 April, 1887: unpaged.

(26.) 1907 Annual Report, Beech Brook MSS 4544, container 2, folder 16, WRHS.

(27.) Record book of admissions, Jones Home MSS 4049, container 1, folder 1, and 1891 Annual Report, Jones Home MSS 4049, container 1, folder 16, WRHS

(28.) St. Joseph's Admissions, 1884-1894. Archives, Cleveland Catholic Diocese, Cleveland, Ohio.

(29.) St. Vincent's Admissions, Book B, 1881-1910, Archives, Cleveland Catholic Diocese.

(30.) Annual Report, 1907, Jewish Orphan Asylum, 38-39, Bellefaire MSS 3665, container 14, WRHS.

(31.) Cleveland Gazette, 17 August, 1896 and 7 March, 1896: unpaged.

(32.) ibid., 15 February, 1896: unpaged; Russell Davis, Black Americans in Cleveland (Washington D.C., 1972), 191-192. A similarly beleaguered, but longer-lived black orphanage, the Howard Orphanage and Industrial School in New York, is described in Mathew Crenson, Building the Invisible Orphanage: A Prehistory of the American Welfare System (Cambridge, 1998), 306-312.

(33.) United States Bureau of the Census, 1920 Census, Cuyahoga County, vol. 35, enumeration district 61, sheets 1,2,3 for St. Vincent's; volume 51, enumeration district 347, sheets 1,2,3 for St. Joseph's; vol. 32, enumeration district 3, sheet 20 for Children's Aid Society; vol. 37, enumeration district 81, sheet 1 for Jones Home; vol. 57, enumeration district 254, sheet 21 for Protestant Orphan Asylum; vol. 41, enumeration district 243, sheet 1 for Jewish Orphan Asylum; U.S. Department of Commerce, Children Under Institutional Care, 1923 (Washington D.C., 1927), Table 2.

(34.) Christopher G. Wye, "Midwest Ghetto: Patterns of Negro Life and Thought in Cleveland, Ohio, 1929-1945" (Ph.D. Dissertation, Kent State University, 1973), 7-8, 31-53. Kusmer, 66-90; Kusmer, "Black Cleveland and the Central-Woodland Community, 1865-1930," in Cleveland: A Metropolitan Reader, edited by W. Dennis Keating, Norman Krumholz, and David C. Perry (Kent, Ohio, 1995), 267-269.

(35.) Kusmer, Ghetto, 220-221.

(36.) ibid., 113-154, 265-269; Wye, 389-396.

(37.) In Ohio neither black churches nor black fraternal organizations established orphanages, an exception being the Colored Orphan Asylum in Cincinnati, which had substantial financial support from whites: David A. Gerber, Black Ohio and the Color Lines, 1860-1915 (Urbana, 1976), 157-167.

(38.) Cleveland Humane Society, Board Minutes, March 1917, Children's Services MSS 4020, container 2, folder 20, WRHS

(39.) Susan Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest? Child Welfare Reform in the Progressive Era (Westport, 1982).

(40.) Criminal Justice in Cleveland, Reports of the Cleveland Foundation Survey of the Administration of Criminal Justice in Cleveland, Ohio (Cleveland, 1922), 1968 reprint, 401.

(41.) Cuyahoga County Juvenile Court, Annual Report for the Year 1929 (Cleveland, 1929), 22; Kusmer, Ghetto, 10.

(42.) Statistical Record Cleveland Boys Home City Farm School. Cuyahoga County Archives, Cleveland, Ohio.

(43.) Criminal Justice in Cleveland (n. 40 above), 407.

(44.) City of Cleveland Annual Report (Cleveland, 1920), 30. United States Bureau of the Census, 1920 census, Summit County, vol. 196, enumeration district, sheet 8.

(45.) Committee on Colored Children, April 22, 1931, Federation for Community Planning MSS 3788, container 29, folder 724, WRHS.

(46.) Committee to Study the Problem of the Colored Child ... March 30, 1931, Federation for Community Planning MSS 3788, container 29, folder 724, WRHS.

(47.) Kusmer, Ghetto, 205, 201, 205; Carol Poh Miller and Robert Wheeler, Cleveland: A Concise History, 1796-1990 (Bloomington, 1990), 134; Wye, 119, 124, 129.

(48.) Raymond Clapp and Ruth G. King, "Cleveland's Dependent Children, 1931," Federation for Community Planning MSS 3788, container 32, folder 785, WRHS

(49.) Marian J. Morton, "Surviving the Great Depression: Orphanages and Orphans in Cleveland," Journal of Urban History (forthcoming); Marshall B. Jones, "Crisis of the American Orphanage, 1931-1940," Social Service Review 63 (December 1989): 613-629.

(50.) Cuyahoga County Child Welfare Board (CCCWB) Services, Case Load and Expenditures of the Cuyahoga County Child Welfare Board from 1930 to 1936, 33, Child Welfare Collection, WRHS. This collection was donated by Earl Landau, formerly of the Cuyahoga County Department of Human Services, to whom I am much indebted for both these materials and his wise advice.

(51.) Cleveland Welfare Federation, Report of the Committee on the Child Care Field, December 1, 1941, Appendix 111 and Appendix 1V, and CCCWB, Annual Report, 1941, 14, Child Welfare Collection, WRHS.

(52.) CCCWB, Memo, September 1, 1959 from L.E. Murtaugh, County Administrator, to William A. Nesi, Executive Secretary, Division of Child Welfare, Child Welfare Collection, WRHS

(53.) CCCWB, Country District Meeting, 1933 Minutes, Child Welfare Collection, WRHS.

(54.) CCCWB, Marilla M. Greene, Chief Case Supervisor, Minutes, December 31, 1935, Child Welfare Collection, WRHS.

(55.) Cuyahoga County Juvenile Court, Annual Reports for the Years 1931-1932 of the Cuyahoga County Juvenile Court, Cleveland, Ohio (Cleveland, 1932), 17; CCCWB, Minutes, Supervisors' Meeting, October 18, 1934, Child Welfare Collection, WRHS.

(56.) Letter to Chester K. Gillespie, President, Cleveland NAACP, February 10, 1937, NAACP Archives, reel 25, WRHS.

(57.) Wye, 142-164, 67.

(58.) Cleveland Welfare Federation, Central Area Social Study (Cleveland, 1944), 4, 8, 10-14.

(59.) Dorothy P. Weiss, "Placement Plans for Fifteen Negro Children--How Adequate?" (Master's Thesis, Western Reserve University School of Applied Social Sciences, 1944), 31, 27-28, 34-35, 45-48, 50-53, 61.

(60.) Child Welfare League of America, Child Care Facilities for Dependent and Neglected Negro Children in Three Cities--New York City, Philadelphia, Cleveland (New York, 1945), 165, 173, 105, 154, 255.

(61.) ibid., 55.

(62.) Report of Committee on Interracial Programs, Children's Council. Cleveland Welfare Federation, December 1949, 1, Child Welfare Collection, WRHS

(63.) Committee on Interracial Programs, Children's Council, Analysis of Interracial Questionnaire, 2, Federation for Community Planning MSS 3788, microfilm reel 31, WRHS.

(64.) Report of Committee on Interracial Programs, Children's Council, December 1949, 5-6, Child Welfare Collection, WRHS. Cmiel, 146, describes a similar situation in Chicago.

(65.) Caseworker's Annual Report, 1949-1950, Beech Brook MSS 4544, container 2, folder 10. WRHS.

(66.) Committee on Interracial Programs, Children's Council, Analysis of Interracial Questionnaire, 2, Federation for Community Planning MSS 3788, microfilm reel 31, WRHS.

(67.) "Why Children Should not Remain in Detention Home," by Judge Eastman of Juvenile Court. August 7, 1944, Vertical file, WRHS. Markowitz and Rosner, 1-3, describe a New York City juvenile detention facility, half of whose inmates were black, so bad that in October 1943 the children rioted and some were jailed. The city replaced this private facility, which had been subsidized with city funds, with a public facility that rapidly deteriorated.

(68.) Dayle Warren Wills, "A Study of the Development and Function of the Children's Receiving Home of the Cuyahoga County Child Welfare Board" (MA Thesis, Ohio State University, 1952), 20-21, 34.

(69.) Cleveland Welfare Federation, "Census of Children Under Care, March 31, 1953," Volume 2, Table 1 and Table 2, Child Welfare Collection, WRHS.

(70.) Child Welfare League of America, Report, Blossom Hill School, October 1958, 30, 26, ix, i, WRHS.

(71.) Russell Davis, Typescript History of the Cleveland NAACP, 183, WRHS.

(72.) Cleveland Urban League, The Negro in Cleveland, 1950-1963 (Cleveland, 1964), 1, 3, 10, 19, 50, 47.

(73.) W. Dennis Keating, The Suburban Racial Dilemma: Housing and Neighborhoods (Philadelphia, 1994), 57-59; Claudia J. Coulton and Julian Chow, "The Impact of Poverty on Cleveland Neighborhoods," in Cleveland, W. Dennis Keating, Norman Krumholz, and David C. Perry, editors, 202-227.

(74.) Marshall B. Jones, "Decline of the American Orphanage, 1941-1960," Social Service Review 67 (September, 1993): 459-480.

(75.) Children in Institutions Averaged for 1962, Federation for Community Planning MSS 3788, container 48, folder 1156. WRHS.

(76.) Minutes of Children's Council (Financial Wards of County in Out of County Institutions), May 9, 1958, Federation for Community Planning MSS 3788, microfilm reel 28, WRHS.

(77.) Division of Child Welfare, Cabinet Meeting March 1,1967, Child Welfare Collection, WRHS.

(78.) Characteristics of Bellefaire Children, 1957-1963, January 26, 1965: Report of the Bellefaire Study Committee, September 7, 1965, Jewish Community Federation Archives MSS 4563, container 13, folder 207, WRHS.

(79.) Board of Managers Minutes, December 6,1963 and December 11, 1964, Jones Home MSS 4049, container 1, folder 13; Board of Trustees minutes, Jones Home, November 16, 1967, MSS 4049, WRHS. Chicago's Chapin Hall became racially integrated in a similar fashion: Cmiel, 175. See also the description of the integration of the Carson Valley School in David R. Contosta, Philadelphia's Progressive Orphanage: The Carson Valley School (University Park, PA, 1997), 170, 189-190.

(80.) Quote is from Lerman, 107.

(81.) In 1975, 26 of the 37 children at the Jones Home were referred by the county and the juvenile court: June 19, 1975 Minutes, Board of Trustees, Children's Services, at the agency in Cleveland (now Applewood Centers). In 1977, two thirds of the children receiving services from the Children's Aid Society were county referrals: Board of Trustees Minutes, Jan. 20, 1977, at the agency. In 1979, 32 of the 49 children served at Beech Brook were referred by public agencies: Board of Trustees Minutes, November 7, 1979, at Beech Brook in Orange Village

(82.) State of the Village, 1981, Chart 1, Parmadale Reports, Archives, Cleveland Catholic Diocese; Parmadale Advisory Board, Statistical Update for the Month of September, 1985, Federation of Catholic Community Services \ Catholic Charities Corporation, Parmadale Reports/Stats, Archives, Cleveland Catholic Diocese.

(83.) Social Service Division, Institutional Care for Wards of Cuyahoga County Welfare Department, November 1971, and Cleveland Welfare Federation Ad Hoc Professional Subcommittee of the Child Care Implementing Committee, Federation for Community Planning MSS 3788, container 44, folder 1072, WRHS.

(84.) Joseph M. Davis, Cuyahoga County's Children in Custody: Who Are They, What's Happening to Them? (Cleveland, 1978), 47.

(85.) Minutes, Children's Council, July 17, 1963, Federation for Community Planning MSS 3788, container 31, Folder 773, WRHS.

(86.) Child Welfare Department Cabinet Meeting, January 3, 1968, Child Welfare Collection, WRHS.

(87.) Plain Dealer, Quote on 26 June, 1; 27 June, 1,8; 29 June, 1, 5; 30 June, 1, 8; 1 July, 1, 7; 3 July, 1, 4, 1966.

(88.) Cleveland Welfare Federation, Ad Hoc Professional Subcommittee minutes, Federation for Community Planning MSS 3788, container 44, folder 1072, WRHS; Report of an Evaluation of Bessie Benner Merzenbaum Children's Center, 13 August, 1981, Papers of County Commissioner Edward Feighan, Box 11, Welfare-Children's Services, Cuyahoga County Archives.

(89.) Plain Dealer, 28 December, 1980, A, 23, 25.

(90.) Plain Dealer, 15 July, 1979, 23; Plain Dealer, 23 September, 1989, B 4; Plain Dealer, 3 October, 1993, B 2; Plain Dealer, 15 November, 1996, B 4.

(91.) Plain Dealer, 29 May, 1998, 1B.
COPYRIGHT 2000 Journal of Social History
No portion of this article can be reproduced without the express written permission from the copyright holder.
Copyright 2000, Gale Group. All rights reserved. Gale Group is a Thomson Corporation Company.

Article Details
Printer friendly Cite/link Email Feedback
Author:Morton, Marian J.
Publication:Journal of Social History
Geographic Code:1U3OH
Date:Sep 22, 2000

Related Articles
The care of dependent African-American children in Chicago: the struggle between black self-help and professionalism.
Adopting racism: the most pernicious racial set-aside.
Suffer the children: how government fails its most vulnerable citizens - abused and neglected kids.
Letter pushes welfare state.
Racial harm: Dorothy Roberts explains how racism works in the child welfare system. (Child Welfare).
From social work to human services.
Prevalence of child welfare services involvement among homeless and low-income mothers: a five-year birth cohort study.
Community-based child welfare for aboriginal children: supporting resilience through structural change.
"Seen and not heard" sociological approaches to childhood: black children, agency and implications for child welfare.
The color of care: legislators are seeking answers to difficult questions about race and child welfare.

Terms of use | Privacy policy | Copyright © 2022 Farlex, Inc. | Feedback | For webmasters |