How a Trip to Ballinasloe Led to Me Writing My First Novel

It was during my first trip to Ireland that I learned about the existence of “industrial schools.” A gentleman at a dinner I was attending talked about a book he had just read, “Fear of the Collar” by Patrick Toucher. The book was an account of the author’s experience in the Artaine Industrial School, which housed over eight hundred boys and was run by the Christian Brothers. A woman at our table shared that an industrial school for girls, Saint Joseph’s, had existed in the town we were in, Ballinasloe.

 The following day I purchased Toucher’s book. I was appalled by much of what I read and heartbroken by what had happened to these children. I went to the local library to see if there was any information available about Saint Joseph’s, but they had nothing.

 When I returned to the States, I continued my search online, reading articles and blogs posted by former “inmates” of the various industrial schools throughout Ireland. I began to post queries on forums and made connections with people willing to share stories about themselves or loved ones who had spent time in these institutions.

 Eventually I was able to make contact with a few women who had first-hand knowledge about Saint Joseph’s. To my surprise, several former residents were now living in the New York and Boston areas. I befriended one woman who lived about an hour from my home. We met for lunch in her neighborhood once a week for several months.

 A reunion of sorts was arranged with three of the women, who graciously agreed to spend a night at my home. With typical Irish wit, they were delightful and entertaining during dinner. But later that night, as they were curled up on the sofas in my living room, dressed in their nightgowns and sipping glasses of wine, they reflected more solemnly on their lives in Saint Joseph’s.

 I didn’t have a list of questions and didn’t use a tape recorder. I just sat back and listened.

 They had entered Saint Joseph’s at different times and under different circumstances. Their perspectives, of course, varied, but they all agreed on a few things – the food was terrible and in short supply, the buildings were cold and damp, they were poorly clothed and strictly disciplined. Most of all, they had all yearned for maternal affection that the nuns, though mostly well-meaning, were unable to give them. And they talked about the painful cultural stigma of being born out of wedlock or having had parents who were unable to care for them. They were called “house children.” Their hearts told them they had done nothing wrong, but they carried the shame anyway.

As the evening went on, other memories surfaced, and they began to talk about mischievous pranks and punishments narrowly escaped. I didn’t expect to hear such laughter and lightness. They all shared their nostalgia for the Christmas holiday. A festively decorated room, special meal and token gifts supplied by the town’s people had brought them joy each Christmas, and with heartfelt gratitude they recalled small, random acts of kindness from some of the nuns.

 After they left the following day, I sifted through the stories I’d heard, trying to sort the good and the bad. I felt their stories were important and needed to be told. To do it right would require a lot of research. I sent inquiries to the Sisters of Mercy, the Irish Department of Education, the Galway Archivist and other agencies, hoping to gain some insight. After several exchanges, it became clear that the relevant information had been poorly documented.

 It took two years to piece together a paper trail for one woman. She had been born in the Tuam Mother Baby Home and remained there until she was four years old. Documentation for that entire period of time was printed on one side of a sheet of paper. No documents existed for the two years she spent with foster parents. Her “Order of Detention” from the district court sentencing her to Saint Joseph’s Industrial School until the age of fifteen showed a different birthdate, making her a year and a half older. A medical history for her eleven years spent in St. Joseph’s showed only quarterly recordings of height and weight along with illegible notations of various illnesses.

This was the initial research that would eventually inspire my novel, “The House Children.” It would continue for several years, including another trip to Ballinasloe. During that trip I was fortunate to meet up with several contacts I’d made online. One woman and her father met me at the site of the Tuam Mother Baby Home, where a small memorial was displayed in memory of the many unidentified babies that were found buried in an old septic tank. In Lissawullen, I spoke to a man who remembered the young girl fostered by his neighbors in a small house next door that no longer existed. I had tea with four Sisters of Mercy who welcomed me into the small house they shared. Their convent on Society Street had been abandoned and was up for sale. There was no trace of Saint Joseph’s – it had been demolished.

I left Ireland with more information for my book but without even a photograph of Saint Joseph’s. I had desperately wanted to know what the building looked like.

Several weeks later, I received an envelope from Ireland. Inside was a photograph of Saint Joseph’s, and it had come from the most unexpected source – one of the Sisters of Mercy. I felt that was my green light, and that’s when I decided to do these stories justice by writing “The House Children.”

 —

About The House Children

In 1937, Mary Margaret Joyce is born in the Tuam Home for unwed mothers. At age five she is sentenced to an industrial school with one hundred other unwanted girls, where she is given the name Peg and assigned the number 27. Peg quickly learns the rigid routine of prayer, work, and silence under the watchful eye of Sister Constance. Her only respite is an annual summer holiday with the Hanleys, a kindly host family from Galway that has taken an interest in Peg.

At the tender age of thirteen, Peg accidentally learns that Norah Hanley is her birth mother. Once the truth is out, she struggles with feelings of anger and abandonment; meanwhile, Norah, though she loves Peg, grapples with the shame of having borne a child out of wedlock. The tension between them mounts as Peg, now becoming a young adult, begins to make plans for her future beyond Ireland.

Based on actual events, The House Children is a compelling story of familial love, shameful secrets, and life inside Ireland’s infamous industrial schools. 

About Heidi Daniele

Heidi Daniele’s passion for history and genealogy opened the door for The House Children, which is her debut novel. She has a degree in Communications and Media Arts and has worked on several short independent films. She earned the Learning in Progress Award for Excellence at a Dutchess Community College Film Festival for coproducing, writing, filming, and editing the film Final Decisions. She also volunteers at The Lisa Libraries, an organization that donates new children’s books and small libraries to organizations that work with kids in poor and underserved areas. An empty nester who lives in the Hudson Valley with her husband, Heidi enjoys gardening, photography, and exploring her family tree.

Heidi’s website: https://heididaniele.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/heididaniele/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/heidimdaniele

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/the.house.children/

 

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Category: On Writing