Sabrina Darnowsky

When I first learned that the Cincinnati and Hamilton County Public Library had digitized the daily account of the first superintendent of The Children’s Home, I got very excited. I just happened to be in the process of writing the chapter on The Children’s Home for Murray Shipley’s biography. (He is generally credited with being the founder of that nineteenth-century institution that essentially operated a foster care system, although as with most such undertakings, it was a group effort.)

What stories would this superintendent, Daniel Hill, have to share? What insights into the thoughts of the early operators of this facility would he impart?

I was somewhat disappointed by the opening lines:

Up in the morning a little after five, lit the gas and aroused the family, had a few minutes with the morning paper before breakfast. Then went to Post Office and to R. W. Clerk’s for a blank book in which to keep this record and for some stationary. . .

Not exactly the kind of riveting detail I was hoping for, although it did get better. Along with Daniel’s depiction of various errands and miscellaneous meetings, the journal did indeed provide a matter-of-fact description of life for some poor families in Cincinnati in the 1860s:

. . . found Sarah Fletcher . . . waiting to see me. Has a son Thomas Fletcher 9 year old whom she wishes to put in the Home, his father is in the 13th Ohio Cavalry, says she has not heard from him for several months, has no property and no permanent home, promised to pay whatever we thought was right if we would take him, told her to leave him and I would refer his case to the Trustees at their meeting day after tomorrow. Mother had the appearance of being partially intoxicated.

So it is with such mixed experience that I try to temper my expectations about another diary that I hope to be able to view next week: that of Mary J. Taylor, mother-in-law of Murray Shipley and an incredible woman in her own right.

I knew that this diary existed because Mary’s granddaughter read from it at the 125th anniversary celebration of Cincinnati Friends Meeting in 1940. I had looked for the manuscript in various public archives, to no avail. I knew that Mary’s granddaughter had no children, so the diary could not have been passed to any of them. But then I looked up the granddaughter’s online obituary, and it mentioned a niece. I looked up the niece, and she had passed away in 2011, but her obituary mentioned three surviving children. The son had an unusual name and lived in a small town, and on a hunch, I searched for him on Facebook. Eureka! We connected via Messenger, and he believes he still has the diary! If he’s correct, I hope to visit him and scan images of the pages.

What thoughts and events will Mary have found worth recording? Will it just be a litany of everyday activities? Did she pour out her grief over the death of her husband? Did she elaborate on the conditions she found when she visited the city jails and hospitals? Did she write with compassion about the prostitutes and other unfortunate women who came under her care at the Home for the Friendless? I cannot help but have great expectations.