Chapter 1: Stitched Together

A Permanent Home if Needed

Call Me A Bastard is a weekly serialized book that tells the true and scandalous story of Aimee Henry and Mary Martha Parker. New chapters are released each Tuesday beginning June 25, 2024. Subscribe for free today, and we’ll deliver Call Me a Bastard and a bunch of other fantastic free content to your email each week!

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Release Date: June 25, 2024

Aimee Henry was just six in the fall of 1897 when the woman she called “Aunt Martha” sent her to Miss Kimball's School for Girls. 

Located in Worcester, MA, and established a dozen years earlier by Ellen Kimball, the school promoted itself as an “English, French and German Day and Boarding School for Girls” and offered classes and private instruction in French, German, elocution, music, art, sports, and social graces.

Like other such institutions, Miss Kimball’s School also offered something more: a “permanent home for girls if needed.”

Aimee Henry, parentage unknown, was one of those girls. And, whether she knew it or not, her quest for a permanent home had just begun.

By all accounts, Ellen Kimball, a dedicated educator trained at The New London (NH) Literary and Scientific Institution, was sincere in her promise to give girls like Aimee a home-like experience. 

Pictures from the day show a stately three-story residential structure with big windows, a wrap-around porch and mansard roof, and interior rooms tastefully decorated with period furniture, artwork and personal items. 

Flyers from 1895 capture the school's commitment to making girls feel a part of something bigger, referring to boarded students as “family,” adding, “French and German are taught by native teachers and spoken in the family.”

In addition to Ellen Kimball, the school’s family also included teachers, house staff, and somewhere between 12 and 16 girls, most in their late teens.

In the 1900 US Census, for example, the census taker enumerated 21 members of the Kimball household, including 13 students, three teachers, two housekeepers, one principal, one student of music, and one waiter named Albert A Schmidt, the only man in the house. ¹

Of the 13 students, five were over 18, six were between 12 and 17, and two, Aimee Henry and Marjorie Wetherell, were just eight.

Not a traditional family, but perhaps close enough, especially for someone like Aimee, who had never been part of a real family.

Academically, Ellen Kimball’s school offered a smorgasbord of options. Students with aspirations of attending one of the elite women’s colleges could follow a rigorous college preparatory program. Students who weren’t interested in college could earn a general diploma or simply pursue a course of selected studies.

In addition, students could choose to do their learning in classroom settings, private lessons or a mix of both.

The academic year began in September and ended in June, with most students returning to their family homes for summers and breaks. Aimee, however, would later claim she spent every holiday, birthday, and break in Worcester except for a few weeks one summer. ²

That was likely the summer of 1900, and what a busy summer it was! Newspapers of the day indicate Aimee and Ellen Kimball spent one week visiting classmate Marjorie Wetherell and her family in Cambridge, MA and then took a second vacation with several other girls, which included “a week at Block Island, RI, and an extended stay in the country near Salisbury.” ³

Aimee's everyday life as a member of Ellen Kimball’s “family” was far from dull, as well, The Kimball home was a hub of activity, hosting teas and special events, cultural lectures and comedy acts, and elocution recitals and impromptu musicales, such as this one, which also took place in 1900:

Students of Mr. George A. Burdette gave an informal musical last evening at Miss Ellen A. Kimball’s school, 31 May Street. Only the girls in the house were present. Those taking part in the instrumental numbers were the Misses Amy (sic) Henry, Margaret Wetherell, Louise Hopkins, Grace Fairfax, and Eva Blaisdell. Miss Henry and Miss Fairbanks also gave readings.” ⁴

Although Aimee could have remained a member of Ellen Kimball’s family for another decade, essentially making it her permanent childhood home, in 1901, Mary Martha decided permanence wasn’t something she wanted for her young charge.

Instead, a few months after her 10th birthday, Aimee was enrolled at Linden Hall Seminary, a prestigious all-girls boarding school known for its rigorous academic program and emphasis on character development, in Lititz, PA.

In later years, Aimee would come to believe the move was prompted by Mary Martha’s desire to physically distance herself from her young responsibility. Whereas Worcester was less than 50 miles from Mary Martha’s Boston home, Lititz was nearly 400 miles and an all-day train ride away. 

Another possibility, however, is that Mary Martha wanted to keep any talk of Aimee out of Boston. Many of Aimee’s classmates at Miss Kimball’s School had parents and other family members in Boston, and it’s likely at least some of them belonged to Mary Martha’s social set. If their children came home talking about Miss Parker’s niece, Mary Martha may have feared she’d be forced to answer uncomfortable questions.

Reasons aside, the transition from Miss Kimball’s School to Linden Hall Seminary must have been a deeply unsettling experience for Aimee.

Aimee had been living with Ellen Kimball and the school’s family for four years – longer than she had ever spent in one place in her life. She’d bonded with her teachers and classmates, matured both emotionally and socially, and she’d gained much-needed self-esteem. Most importantly, perhaps, under the compassionate care of trusted adults, Aimee had experienced the sense of stability, confidence and belonging which she’d never been allowed to experience before.

Miss Kimball’s School for Girls was, in essence, Aimee’s whole world. 

And leaving it was devastating.

When Aimee arrived at Linden Hall Seminary in the fall of 1901, she found a sprawling, tree-lined campus of dormitory-like housing and massive stone buildings which had been existence for more than 150 years. The school, considered America’s first and longest-running boarding school for girls, was deeply and unapologetically rooted in history, tradition, and the cultivation of feminine virtues as described in a 1921 annual:

“… there is nothing which Linden Hall has to give that is more precious than the simple spirit of her ancient heritage… the golden lesson that gentility of manner can attain to winsome grace only when it is attended by gentility of heart.” ⁵

In the pursuit of female respectability, few activities of womanhood were more venerated at Linden Hall than ornamental needlework. Since at least 1776, the school had been instructing students in decorative stitching techniques and embroidery styles both in the classroom and in less formal settings.

Students regularly got together in needlework circles to share techniques, exchange ideas and socialize, and, however it happened, by 1902, Aimee had become one of those girls.

And it was her salvation.

In the rhythmic motion of needle and thread, Aimee found a source of comfort, empowerment, and pride, and in the company of other enthusiasts, she was able to regain some of the stability and confidence she’d lost when Mary Martha had forced her to leave Ellen Kimball’s home.

And she made friends, including  Mazie Bomberger and Dorothy Haehnle, both of whom had enrolled with Aimee in 1901.

In 1902, Aimee spent part of the summer visiting Mazie at her home in Lititz, and in 1903, Aimee and Mazie traveled together to Nazareth, PA to spend time with Dorothy and her family. That same summer, Aimee also spent a month in Toledo, OH visiting Helen Copelin, who had joined Aimee at Linden Hall in 1902. ⁶

Spending time at the homes of friendly classmates, however, presented something of a double-edged sword for Aimee, as she would later recall.

"Sometimes, a schoolmate would invite me to visit her. Some of these girls had very happy homes. I envied them." ⁷

Although Aimee gained both friends and confidence while at Linden Hall Seminary, it's apparent her time there was still challenging.

She would later describe the prestigious boarding school as a "large, barren, chilly, vaulted place," saying, "I used to whistle to keep my spirits up through the empty corridors in the winter vacations when other girls had homes to go to, and even the old maid teachers were away." ⁸

The winter break of 1904 may have been one of those especially challenging times for Aimee, and for more than just the expected reasons.

One of the cherished traditions at Linden Hall was known as "The Great Trunk-Packing Day," and in 1904, it took place on Tuesday, December 20. In addition to packing trunks for the long holiday break, the day also included Christmas entertainment in the school's music room and a special going-away dinner during which lit candles were placed in front of departing students, and "Morning Star, O Cheering Sight," a traditional Moravian hymn, was sung instead of the usual pre-meal blessing. ⁹

By all accounts, it was a beautiful and meaningful evening for those heading home the following day. Still, for Aimee, it was likely another painful reminder of all the ways she was different than her peers: While they eagerly anticipated the joyous festivities and comforting routines of Christmas with loved ones at home, she could only look forward to another holiday spent at school, the seventh in as many years.

At least that year, she wouldn't be alone. Six other students—including the three Kerr sisters whose brother, Billie, was a student at nearby Nazareth Hall—were also staying in the dorms for the break. They were joined by the school director, Rev. Charles Kreider, his wife, and a handful of other staff members and employees. 

For their part, the adults at Linden Hall, understanding the difficult circumstances, went above and beyond to make the holiday season as memorable as possible for Aimee and the other students who remained at school. Their efforts on Christmas Eve were reported in the January 1905 issue of the school's magazine, The Echo:

The day was given over to shopping in town, trimming the various Christmas trees, and putting the dining room in a festive array. In the early evening, the girls went to the candle service in the church. Afterward, Mr. Kreider read Dickens' "Gabriel Grubb" with lantern illustrations. At bedtime, sixteen stockings were hung before the parlor fireplace.  ¹⁰

The next day, Christmas Day, Mr. Kerr and Billie arrived and joined in the day's festivities. Two days later, the grandmother of the Kerr children arrived, giving  the holiday a familiar air of celebration for at least some of the students who'd remained at school.

But not Aimee. If she’d ever experienced a family Christmas, she had no memory of it.

Sometime before the other students returned to Linden Hall in mid-January, Aimee was injured. The February issue of The Echo included this announcement: 

Aime (sic) Henry has not returned from Christmas vacation on account of an operation which she was obliged to undergo at Johns Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore. ¹¹

By April, Aimee had returned to Linden Hall, however, not to classes. And she hadn't returned alone: she was accompanied by Amelia Wright, Mary Martha’s private nurse and companion.

It wasn't the first time Amelia had cared for Aimee. The year before she'd started at Miss Kimball's School for Girls, Aimee had stayed with Mary Martha at her summer home in Rhinebeck, NY. The two had never shared a residence before, and, at least in Aimee's memory, it hadn't gone well.

"It was a beautiful place," she would later recall, "but no one paid any attention to me or loved me." ¹²

Instead, Aimee spent most of her time alone or with Amelia, who would rush her out of sight whenever New York society guests including Ogden Mills, Archibald Rogers, John Jacob Astor and his wife, Ava Lowle Willing called on Mary Martha at her 35-room, Tudor Revival-style mansion.

It's unclear when Aimee was well enough to return to class, or how long Amelia stayed with her at Linden Hall, however a later issue of The Echo included this note:

“We are glad to have Aimee Henry with us again. At present she is staying at the Old Ladies Home with her nurse, as the injury to her foot still needs careful treatment.” ¹³

By the start of the 1905 school year, Mary Martha had uprooted Aimee again, this time enrolling her in Mrs. Mead's School for Girls in Norwalk, Connecticut.

Whether because of her age, the school’s demographics, or her classmates’ obsession with social ascent, Aimee’s experience in Connecticut was markedly different than what she'd experienced at school in Pennsylvania.

And not in a good way.

Whereas most of Aimee’s classmates at Linden Hall had been the daughters of Pennsylvania families with means, Mrs. Mead’s School drew from a wealthier and more cosmopolitan crowd. Most of her students came from New York where their fathers were captains of industry, having earned recent fortunes.

The resulting dynamic was a toxic system of social stratification, where lineage, pedigree, and social connections determined one’s place within the hierarchy.

Aimee’s nouveau riche classmates spoke of themselves as if they were practicing for introductions at one of the Seven Sisters.

Edith wasn't simply Edith anymore; she was Edith Litchfield Terhune, daughter of the late Ida Elizabeth Newkirks of the New York Newkirks, and railroad magnate Nicholas Terhune of the Holland Society of New York, the Columbia Yacht Club, and the Society of the Sons of the Revolution.

For Aimee Henry, no middle name, no known parents and a questionable lineage at best, the obsession with social standing at Mrs. Mead's School for Girls must have been all kinds of unbearable.

At first, she took cover under the lineage of Mary Martha.

No doubt, Aimee’s aunt had an impressive pedigree. She was, after all, the daughter of Richard Parker, granddaughter of Charles Thorndike, cousin to Allen Thorndike Rice, the famous author and publisher appointed Minister to Russia by President Cleveland in 1889, and related by blood and marriage to both the Cabots and the Lowells.

The deception had worked for a while, but not long enough. All too soon, Aimee was faced with the one question for which she had no answer.

Where do you fit into your aunt’s lineage?

Cornered, Aimee did the only thing she could think to do; she told stories.

A lot of stories.

"I felt called upon to make a family and [then] kill them," Aimee explained years later. "As I couldn't remember from one occasion to another [what tale had been told], I made [up] and killed my family in many ways." ¹⁴

As a result, Aimee was ridiculed and shunned by her peers and branded a liar by the school's owner and headmistress, Elizabeth Hyde Mead, herself a society matron.

And what had previously been hushed whispers and speculation about Aimee — who she was and where she belonged — suddenly grew into a thunderous roar.

As Aimee would note later, "I found it nerve-wracking to be among people who knew more about the terrible black cloud hanging over me than I did. Ask as I might, I never could get a satisfactory answer to the question, "What do you know about me that is such a secret?" ¹⁵

Copyright 2024 Lori Olson White

Thanks for joining me for this first chapter of Call Me A Bastard. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear your early thoughts on this project!

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Chapter Endnotes

¹ Year: 1900; Census Place: Worcester Ward 7, Worcester, Massachusetts; Page: 11; Enumeration District: 1772; FHL microfilm: 1240697

² International Feature Service, Inc. Great Britain, “Astonishing Secrets behind the Morecroft Fight for Millions — and the Bar Sinister; Sworn Statement of the Dainty Divorcee that She is the Natural Daughter of Rich “400” Widow, Whose Vast Estates She Would Share after Harrowing Experiences in Schools, Hospitals and Sanitariums while kept in the Dark,” Star Tribune, November 25, 1928.

³ Personals, Worcester (MA) Spy, Worcester, MA, July 8, 1900, p.9.

⁴ Personals, Worcester (MA) Spy, Worcester, MA, June 7, 1900, p.7.

⁵ A Century and Three-Quarters of Life and Service: Linden Hall Seminary, Lititz, PA, 1746-1921, by Herbert Beck. 1921. P. 16.

⁶ Personals. Linden Hall Seminary Echo. October 1903; 26(1): p. 14.

⁷ International Feature Service, Inc. Great Britain, “Astonishing Secrets behind the Morecroft Fight for Millions — and the Bar Sinister; Sworn Statement of the Dainty Divorcee that She is the Natural Daughter of Rich “400” Widow, Whose Vast Estates She Would Share after Harrowing Experiences in Schools, Hospitals and Sanitariums while kept in the Dark,” Star Tribune, November 25, 1928.

⁸ International Feature Service, Inc. Great Britain, “Astonishing Secrets behind the Morecroft Fight for Millions — and the Bar Sinister; Sworn Statement of the Dainty Divorcee that She is the Natural Daughter of Rich “400” Widow, Whose Vast Estates She Would Share after Harrowing Experiences in Schools, Hospitals and Sanitariums while kept in the Dark,” Star Tribune, November 25, 1928.

⁹ December Diary. Linden Hall Seminary Echo. January 1905; 27(4): p. 84.

¹⁰ December Diary. Linden Hall Seminary Echo. January 1905; 27(4): p. 84.

¹¹ Personals. Linden Hall Seminary Echo. February 1905; 27(5): p. 108.

¹² International Feature Service, Inc. Great Britain, “Astonishing Secrets behind the Morecroft Fight for Millions — and the Bar Sinister; Sworn Statement of the Dainty Divorcee that She is the Natural Daughter of Rich “400” Widow, Whose Vast Estates She Would Share after Harrowing Experiences in Schools, Hospitals and Sanitariums while kept in the Dark,” Star Tribune, November 25, 1928.

¹³ Personals. Linden Hall Seminary Echo. October 1903; 26(1): p. 14.

¹⁴ International Feature Service, Inc. Great Britain, “Astonishing Secrets behind the Morecroft Fight for Millions — and the Bar Sinister; Sworn Statement of the Dainty Divorcee that She is the Natural Daughter of Rich “400” Widow, Whose Vast Estates She Would Share after Harrowing Experiences in Schools, Hospitals and Sanitariums while kept in the Dark,” Star Tribune, November 25, 1928.

¹⁵ International Feature Service, Inc. Great Britain, “Astonishing Secrets behind the Morecroft Fight for Millions — and the Bar Sinister; Sworn Statement of the Dainty Divorcee that She is the Natural Daughter of Rich “400” Widow, Whose Vast Estates She Would Share after Harrowing Experiences in Schools, Hospitals and Sanitariums while kept in the Dark,” Star Tribune, November 25, 1928.