Chapter 10: Earthquake
Life on a Fault Line
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Release Date: August 26, 2024
Sometime in 1920, Aimee Henry reached out to her mother, Mary Martha Parker. By all accounts, the two women hadn’t seen each other, spoken nor even corresponded in several years, likely since before Aimee’s husband, John Morecroft Sr., had confronted his mother-in-law seven years earlier, seeking the truth about her relationship with his then-pregnant wife.
A lot had changed for Aimee in the intervening years.
At 22, she’d naively believed she’d found a forever home with John. She’d expected them to create a family, put down roots, and grow old together. That Aimee had no practical knowledge of how to accomplish that or even what it might look like didn’t seem to matter.
Perhaps she’d trusted John, who’d grown up in traditional and stable family, to lead the way.
But that hadn’t happened. Instead, Aimee would later say once John knew she was illegitimate, once he was paid by Mary Martha to keep that secret, his attitude toward her changed. Where previously he’d been attentive and thoughtful if perhaps a bit distracted, John became increasingly callous, vindictive and verbally abusive.
“During my life with Professor Morecroft,” Aimee later claimed, “he never tired of telling me that my own mother hated me, and when in a rage he would call me a bastard.” 1
And things had only gotten worse since John’s triumphant return from Europe.
His work for the U. S. Navy during the Great War had catapulted him into the national spotlight as an expert in the new field of radio technology. He returned to Columbia University a scientific celebrity, and quickly set about building on his success.
Shortly after returning, John weighed in on the validity of reports from local amateur radio operators who believed they were receiving signals from Mars. The topic of life on the Red Planet had fascinated Americans for decades – H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds had come out in 1897 and sparked the so-called ‘invasion literature’ craze – but recent advances in radio technology seemed to move the possibility of actual interplanetary communication from science fiction to reality.
For his part, however, John was skeptical:
“I see the whole thing a myth. Interplanetary communication from the outside may not be impossible, but it certainly is impossible from the standpoint of the earth. Wireless telegraphy has developed greatly in recent years, but we haven’t reached that stage yet, and at the present rate of development I do not believe we will have stations powerful enough to send messages as far as other planets in less than a hundred years.” 2
He was also wrong, by the way. In 1962 – just 42 years later – NASA's Mariner 2 mission successfully transmitted data back to Earth from Venus, demonstrating the capability of interplanetary radio communication. By the late 1960s and early 1970s, spacecraft like the Mars 3 (1971) and Viking 1 and 2 (1976) were successfully sending data from Mars back to Earth.
And John wasn’t shy about sharing his professional disapproval, either. He was often publicly critical of the government’s lack of progress in addressing man-made radio interference, and called out the U.S. Naval Communications Service for poor radio service following the Honda Point disaster in which 23 sailors lost their lives off the coast of California.
The Navy’s official response, itself an indication of John’s standing in the field, was immediate and clear:
“Notwithstanding Professor Morecroft's preeminent position in the radio fraternity,” they wrote, “evidently he has been misinformed as to facts.” 3
As John’s circle of professional and personal admirers expanded well beyond the walls of Columbia, its likely Aimee’s confidence and self-esteem took a hit. Old insecurities birthed during her boarding school years, including the sense that others knew more about her personal situation and her place in it than she did, may have risen up.
And so, perhaps desperate to find even a single thread of belonging, Aimee turned to the one constant in her life. She wrote what she called, “just a sweet letter” to her long-estranged mother, telling Mary Martha about her home and her six-year-old son, John Jr.
“I knew [Mary Martha] had never seen the boy, and never had a chance to play with him,” she recalled, “I didn’t refer to our relationship, but the letter came back unopened.” 4
Aimee would later say Mary Martha’s rejection of both her and her son became more than she could handle, especially given John’s relentless name-calling, verbal abuse and the self-doubts they fed.
Her spirit broken, Aimee fell into what she referred to as “nervous prostrations” which left her emotionally and physically exhausted and unable to manage her home or marriage, or even care for John Jr. Whether it was Aimee’s idea or John’s, she was later seen by Dr. Walter Schmidt, a family doctor at Englewood Hospital in nearby Cliffside, NJ.
“He asked if I had a family,” Aimee would recall of that visit. And after she told him a bit about her family situation, current as well as past, Dr. Schmidt said the words that would eventually find their way to Aimee’s heart and take root:
“What [you] need is mothering.” 5
“Mother-love is the foundation and permanent force of home life; and, mother-love is, indeed, the parent of all the love we know.” Charlotte Perkins Gilman
On June 2, 1923, 80-year-old Amelia Wright passed away in her Brooklyn, NY apartment. By all accounts, she was still on Mary Martha’s payroll.
The next day, a four-line death notice was published in a local paper noting the deceased was the daughter of Alexander Wright of Moncton, New Brunswick, and that both the funeral and internment would be private. 6
It’s not known how Aimee found out about the passing of her friend and informant, but it was likely by chance and well after Amelia’s June 4th burial: Two announcements of Amelia’s death were each published just once, and even then, in small community newspapers Aimee would have little reason to follow or even seek out.
And the only person the two women had in common, Mary Martha, had no motivation to let Aimee know about Amelia’s passing. Despite Aimee’s attempt at reconciliation, mother and daughter were still deeply estranged. Breaking that estrangement to share the news might suggest Mary Martha cared about the impact Amelia’s death would have on Aimee, and she didn’t.
Beyond that, it may also have encouraged Aimee to attend the funeral or internment, putting Mary Martha in an awkward position, and her secret in a potentially dangerous situation. Although Amelia’s parents and siblings were long dead by 1923, she had numerous aunts, uncles and cousins still alive, as well as friends and confidants with whom she may have shared Mary Martha’s secret, or even bits and pieces of it. Aimee’s appearance could have raised questions or brought up long forgotten memories Mary Martha felt were better left in the past.
And then there was the very real possibility that Aimee would actually approach other attendees seeking information about her birth and those early months in St. Johns. Mary Martha surely knew Aimee had approached Amelia for details, not only once but twice. That she might do something similar again seemed not just possible, but highly likely.
Mary Martha couldn’t risk that happening.
Thirty-two years of controlling situations and manipulating conversations to ensure the topic of her indiscretion and the true nature of her relationship with Aimee were never broached had become second nature a compulsion for Mary Martha, and she was not about to let her guard down now.
And so, the wording of Amelia's published death notice had been written intentionally and deliberately by Mary Martha. She wanted to convey a clear message if, on the off chance, Aimee saw it: Amelia's funeral and internment are private, and you are neither welcome nor permitted to attend.
Regardless of how or even when Aimee learned the news of Amelia’s death, she must have been deeply shaken. The loss of Mary Martha’s long-term nurse and companion represented not just the death of someone who had been kind to Aimee and cared for her as a little girl and later as a confused young woman, but also the closing of a door that she feared would never be reopened.
With Amelia dead and Mary Martha refusing to even entertain as much as a casual letter, not to mention the sting of her callous refusal to even inform Aimee of Amelia’s death, Aimee must have felt totally and completely abandoned. Permanently cut off, not just by her mother, but also by the one person who knew the truth of her conception, birth and early childhood, and who had been willing to share the details of all of it with her.
The weight of her despair was profound, and it couldn’t have come at a more vulnerable moment.
Aimee’s marriage had only grown more tenuous and toxic over time. John was spending more and more time away from the family home, and his dismissive attitude and disrespectful behavior toward her had begun to rub off on 11-year-old John Jr., who was entering the often turbulent, hormone-fueled teenage years.
As her husband and son seemingly turned against her, the doubts, fears and insecurities that had plagued Aimee throughout her life returned with a vengeance, this time accompanied by a deep sense of hopelessness.
She would later claim the darkness nearly overtook her:
“In 1925, after years of rebuke, reproaches and aspersions about my mother’s dislike of me, I tried to end it.” 7
The details of Aimee’s suicide attempt, if, indeed one took place, are lost to history. What is known, however, is that, as had happened before, Mary Martha and John joined forces in an attempt to have Aimee committed to a lunatic asylum.
It could be that their motives were pure and they acted out of genuine care and concern for Aimee and her well-being.
But it’s equally likely that their motives were a little more self-serving and in keeping with the long history both had of manipulating, controlling and silencing Aimee, especially when they perceived her as a threat.
In what must have been a hauntingly familiar experience, Aimee submitted to a psychological evaluation by a mental health professional whom she later referred to as Dr. MacKendree. 8
The evaluation likely opened with a full review of her personal, family, and medical history and a recounting of any symptoms Aimee was experiencing. Next, Dr. MacKendree would have conducted what was called a Mental Status Evaluation (MSE), taking note of Aimee’s general appearance, behavior, and level of cooperation.
And finally, if found it necessary, Aimee would have undergone specific psychological tests, possibly including the Binet-Simon Scale intelligence test or even the newly developed Rorschach Inkblot Test, which was used to explore a patient’s personality and unconscious thoughts.
If, at the end of the evaluation, Dr. MacKendree felt Aimee needed further observation to help confirm a diagnosis or even to prevent further self harm, she would have been admitted.
That doesn’t seem to be the case, however.
Aimee would later say Dr. MacKendree learned everything he needed to know about her mental state early on in the evaluation.
As Aimee recounted the fragmented memories of her early childhood with Orin and Etta Byers, the profound loneliness and sense of otherness she felt while attending boarding school, the deep-rooted uncertainty about where she belonged or to whom—fueled by Mary Martha’s cold-hearted refusal to acknowledge her identity—the betrayal and abuse she suffered at the hands of John, and more recently, her son, and the overwhelming hopelessness that consumed her after Amelia’s death, the cause of Aimee’s current mental health crisis became apparent.
She wasn’t insane, Dr. MacKendree declared. She never had been, not now and not in 1912 when she’d barely escaped confinement at Butler Hospital. In fact, the doctor reassured Aimee that she had shown extraordinary composure, resilience and sanity while enduring years of accumulated stress, isolation, manipulation and gaslighting.
Aimee’s mental fragility wasn’t the problem. The people around her were.
If Dr. Schmidt’s 1920 statement that Aimee needed “mothering” had caused a shift in her perspective, Dr. MacKendree’s suggestion that her mother and, to a lesser extent, husband were responsible for both her current and past psychic trauma and pain, was a seismic event.
And the aftershocks of that would be felt for decades.
Copyright 2024 Lori Olson White
Given what we know so far about Aimee, what do you think will be her next move? And what about Mary Martha and John, what will they do next?
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Chapter Endnotes
1 “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, Minneapolis, MN, November 25, 1928.
2 “Radios from Mars Scouted: Columbia University Professor Sees Only Air Disturbances in Wireless Mystery. Admits Feat Possible”, The Courier-Journal, Louisville, KY, January 29, 1920. P.4.
3 ‘“U.S. Navy Defends its Radio Service”, Radio Age; The Magazine of the Hour, February 1926, P. 50.
4 “Woman Would Tear Birth Mystery Veil: 12-year Gap in Life of Mrs. Morecroft”, Daily News, New York, NY, September 24, 1928, P. 8.
5 “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, Minneapolis, MN, November 25, 1928.
6 Death Notice, The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Brooklyn, NY, June 3, 1923, P. 22.
7 “Woman asks for Big Fortune; Canadian Fights for Part of $16,000,000 NY Estate; Scandal is Revealed; Mrs. Morecroft States She is Daughter of Noted Society Leader”, Windsor Star, Windsor, ONT, CAN, October 26, 1928.
8 After an exhaustive search of New York and New Jersey medical directories from around this time (1920-1927), and looking at various spellings for the MacKendree surname, I was unable to locate this doctor. Given what we know of Aimee’s inaccuracy in recalling details, it could be she misremembered the name of the physician who attended her. Another possibility is that Mary Martha and John brought Aimee to a mental asylum outside the immediate area in an effort to cover their tracks, control the narrative or provide Aimee with a degree of privacy in a time of vulnerability.
Fascinating story!
Thanks - it’s getting interesting now 😉😳