3F#1 PATRICIA ANN CORBIN

When Donna's children were placed in the Summit County Children's home in November 1945, the kids were separated and put in different 'departments', according to age and gender. The departments at the Home were kept segregated so the two brothers were in separate departments according to age, as were the girls. They didn't see a lot of each other. Dallie was seven years old, and it wouldn't have occurred to him to even try. His sisters were five and three. The only time he saw Ron was when Grandma came to see them when she could. And the only time he saw Patty Ann was once on the way to Robinson School, which they attended.

She told Dallie that she and Jackie were being transferred out to "Sunshine Cottage." It was where the Tuberculosis Sanitarium was when it was functional. Dallie never could understand why the county would put children into that kind of an environment. But that was the last time he saw Patty Ann, until their reunion 39 years later, organized by Patty's daughter, Elizabeth.

* * *

FINDING PATTY ANN - A CHILDREN'S HOME REUNION

"Some time during the year of 1983, Ronnie had mentioned to me there would be an annual reunion at the Summit County Children's Home for 'alumni' in August. I received a notice in the mail August 15th concerning the date, time and place of the reunion.

I was filled with a great feeling of mixed emotions. This was the institution that had broken up my family when I was seven years old. My memories of the 'Home' were not good ones. We were in the Children's Home during the years following World War II, and I have always assumed the reason I found my experiences at the Home cold and structured was because of tensions brought about by the war overseas. But a seven-year old doesn't comprehend explanations, especially when he sees his world dissolving around him, being filled by strangers. I don't recall one single experience prior to the cold shock of losing my family and being placed in the Home, that I would describe as a distasteful or unpleasant memory. All the memories I have of an unpleasant life began that day I was taken into the Home clinic for a de-licing and scrubdown. And it remained an unpleasant experience for me, until that glorious day Grandma came to take me home with her. At that time, Donna (or "Mom" as I remembered her) was the vaguest of memories.

But I realized that going to the reunion at the Children's Home meant the possibility I might find Patty Ann there also, and to miss that opportunity was unthinkable. I was prepared to risk dealing with all my old fears and apprehensions of that cold place in order to find Patty Ann again. Besides, Ron was going, and I believed Jackie would also go, even though she had expressed reservations (and I couldn't blame her for her reluctance).

The events of that first trip are mostly a jumble in my mind, but I remember driving up to the ominous-looking group of brick buildings, looking for all the world like a medieval fortress, heading around the side street toward the driveway, and turning in toward the parking slots.

There was a roofed picnic structure in a large grassy area behind a collection of buildings, where kids were running around and playing. Food was laid out on picnic tables.

Abbie and I strolled around waiting for Ronnie, since I didn't see his car. I scanned the faces of people milling about for a familiar face. I didn't expect to see one, since I remembered no one from the Children's Home. But I had brought along the only picture I had of Patty and Jackie, which was taken prior to our stay at the Home. I thought someone might recognize Patty and know what had become of her. I walked around a couple of buildings, pointing out to Abbie where the dining hall had been, where there was a back entrance to my wing, remarking how small it all seemed when I got up close to it. I remembered the halls, the dormitory, the dining room as being enormous; the other kids as strangers, even though we all shared the same accommodations for at least a year and a half. For me it was like coming back to visit a prison I'd spent half a lifetime in, after an absence of ten years or so.

Ron showed up with his longtime friend, Luke Warner, and Luke's wife, Jean. Luke was one of Ronnie's wing mates, with whom he had struck up a friendship that has lasted a lifetime. Abbie and I joined them for a short walk around, then headed back to the group to watch for any sign of Patty. There was one woman several alumni were hovering around, Arvilla (last name omitted), who apparently had been a Home resident for many, many years. I showed her my picture of Patty, and asked if she remembered her. Surely, this person who'd been there so long would recognize Pat. No, she couldn't say she did. I was a little dismayed. How could this woman have been in the girls' wing for so many, many years and not remember Patty? Well, as with most of my personal experiences with this institution, this trip back was proving to be disappointing.

I must say that even though I didn't find Patty there, going back this close to the object of many waking nightmares was therapeutic for me. It wasn't as big as I remembered it, and if you looked at the buildings just the right way, it wasn't even foreboding. It was simply representative of a life-jarring experience I had early in life that marked the way I would see things for many years of my young life." (Author's Notebook Diary)

* * *

On October 1, 1984, under a newly-relaxed federal law permitting family data to be given to family members, Jackie called the Summit County Children's Services Board (as the Children's Home came to call itself), asking for information about Patty's adoption. She received in the mail a letter from A Mr. Walter Junewicz, stating in effect that Jackie's request had been turned over to a Mrs. Chema, the social worker researching the case record, and indicated that she would respond as soon as her heavy case load permitted. The letter included her phone number at the Home.

Soon afterward, Jackie and Mrs. Chema had a phone conversation in which Mrs. Chema told Jackie that the only information in the record was that Patty had been adopted by the Hensley family, Dora and Patrick Hensley, gave RD#3 Box 252, Barberton, Ohio as their address, and that was where Patty had gone to live.

Jackie and I talked about this information shortly after her conversation. We were frustrated to have so little to go on. However, we planned a trip to Akron to visit the Akron Library and the county courthouse.

After dragging her through the Akron Courthouse and the Akron and Barberton City Libraries, and the Barberton Bureau of Vital Statistics, Jackie finally got a copy of Pat's adoption birth certificate from the Akron Bureau of Vital Statistics, and we studied the data in that document. One would, of course, have needed to know Patty's adoptive surname to have obtained this document earlier.

Pat's adopted mother's name was Dora Edna Ling of Clinton, Ohio, and the father's name was Patrick Henry Hensley of Indiana. Dora was 26 at the time of the adoption, and Patrick was 36. The date on the birth certificate as received by the "local registrar" at the time this certificate was issued was November 12, 1940, just nine days after Patty was born. Although Patty was at least five years old when she went into the Home, she was left with no personal history before her adoption. There is no indication on the certificate that Pat ever was adopted, or who her natural mother was, beyond the cryptic numbers that bureaus use to 'enumerate' people.

Jackie and I had made a lame try at determining from the Akron post office just where RD#4, Barberton would have been. We were sent out to the Barberton post office. When we arrived there, it was pointed out to us that the address could have been anywhere along a delivery route in the late 1940's when Patty would have been adopted. Jackie and I called it quits and went home.

The following weekend Abbie and I went to Barberton to visit the city's library for City Directory information. There was nothing to shed light on my search for Pat. We visited the Barberton Health Department, without success, and again paid a visit to the Akron Library to again check the City Directory. Satisfied that we had left no stone unturned looking for a clue, we went home to discuss for the rest of the weekend what we had.

Abbie and I went over the address data I'd gotten from Jackie, and Pat's "new" birth certificate with a fine tooth comb. Then I again noticed Dora's hometown was Clinton, Ohio. I looked up Clinton on an Ohio map, and there it was, right next to Barberton.

The following weekend Abbie and I went to Clinton to inquire at the Clinton Post Office as to how to find this address. We were referred to Mrs. Mary Knopf, the community historian. We went to her home, but there was no one there, so we decided to visit the local school system and see what we could learn in terms of an old address. We were well received at the elementary school where we were shown old yearbooks and class photos, while the secretary looked in the records for an address. There was nothing.

Our trip to the local high school, shared with another community, wasn't as helpful. In the spirit of the litigious times in which we live, the principal took our family information, names and phone number, and agreed to get back in touch with us if any information was found in the files. Since so much time had passed, they would have to search through boxed-up files. When I called back a couple of weeks later, they had nothing to report. They indicated they had found nothing. I wasn't sure if they had nothing, or were just being cautious, but it still amounted to a big zero.

In the meantime, I had been on the phone to Clinton to catch Mrs. Knopf at home. She remembered the Hensley family, but didn't know what had become of them. She gave me the phone numbers of several neighbors who'd known them. She said she knew they'd moved to Independence, but didn't know where.

As the weekend approached, Abbie and I paid a visit to Independence. We first stopped at the community library to check their directory -- they didn't have one. Our next stop was at the local high school. They were most supportive, but only moderately fruitful. They had an old address, and provided a couple of old yearbooks. After all the intervening years, I finally had a picture of my sister as a grown teen. They made copies for me, and we were on our way.

We drove over to the house Patty had lived in as a high school student, and took pictures. It was hard, sitting there in the car, knowing I had missed catching up with my sister by half a lifetime.

The following Monday I got on the phone and called the numbers for the neighbors Mrs. Knopf had given me: Orlie Anderson; Aida and Francis Sage; and Bill Himelregh. The third person I called remembered Dora Hensley had a close friend named Christine Hauck of Barberton. I was given her phone number.

I had much trepidation at this point. Mrs. Hauck was up in years and perhaps wouldn't appreciate strangers popping into her life. I was getting too close to finding my sister to lose the trail by handling my clues indelicately.

I called Mrs. Hauck and identified myself, explaining my situation to her; that I was trying to locate my sister after so many years of separation. I asked permission to pay her a visit. With kind graciousness, she agreed, and the following weekend Abbie and I went to see her. She was a lovely, elderly lady with a generous measure of patience and compassion. As I explained my story to her, she brought out several photos to show us and promised she had some pictures of Patty she would send me as soon as she could locate them. She told me a little of Patty's background, what little she knew. She said the family had moved to Tiffin, Ohio, and she gave me their address. On my way home there were many thoughts going through my mind, of Patty, and of the events. Many apprehensions as we were getting closer to my sister.

Some time within a day or two I called the phone number in Tiffin that I'd been given, and talked very briefly to Patty's adopted mother, Dora. She was ill with a debilitating disease. Patty didn't live there, that she had not lived there in some time. She asked me to call back in a few weeks when she felt better and she would talk to me.

I paid Jacquie a visit a couple of days later to bring her up to date on our efforts. I had learned from Aida Sage that Mr. Hensley -- Patrick -- had succumbed as a result of injuries from a fire on the family property. (Later, Dora was to say he had died of a heart attack.) Aida also indicated that Patty was believed to be living in Texas and California.

The weekend following our visit to update Jacquie, Abbie and I started for Tiffin early Saturday morning. After a nervous two-hour drive we rolled into Tiffin and headed for the street where Patty's adopted parents lived. I located the house, sat there studying it for a few minutes, and then drove to a tavern for a couple of drinks to calm my tension. If the lady I talked to on the phone, Pat's adopted mother, closed the door in my face, I'd have a dickens of a time getting in touch with my sister. Finally, my determination to see this search through after 39 years of separation overcame my irrational fears, and I walked up to the door and knocked. A young woman came to the door, and I identified myself. She let Abbie and me in and invited us to sit down in the living room.

I began making small talk, then Dora, Pat's adopted mother, supported by a walker, appeared in the doorway and took a seat. We again introduced ourselves to her and began to explain our mission. Dora was most sympathetic and understanding, and explained a little of their family situation, that Pat had moved to Oklahoma with her husband shortly after her marriage, and they didn't routinely stay in touch. The young woman was Pat's daughter, Elizabeth, who was staying with her grandmother, raising her own family and looking after grandma. Pat's adopted father, Patrick, had passed away several years before. Elizabeth gave me several photos of Patty, of Elizabeth's children, her husband, and of Dora and Patrick.

Elizabeth had mentioned earlier that she had expected me, since she'd been paid a visit the day before by Jackie. First, I was astonished, then quite angry. One of my last comments to Jackie when I'd briefed her was a request that she let me 'feel' this visit out so as not to create any problems of strangers descending on this family. She had agreed. Then she barged in anyway, endangering a long and difficult search for our sister. Jackie has demonstrated an attitude of "barging in" where she decides she has a right. I had been all that concerned that my own visit might not be well received, and marveled that Jackie's preliminary visit might well have created the very problem that I was "tiptoeing" to prevent. Anyway, we were all introduced, and now the problem was to find out where Patty was, and to try to contact her.

* * *

Pat's daughter, Elizabeth, arranged a reunion for her mother and her mother's siblings under the sponsorship of Pat's adopted mother, Dora.

Elizabeth was arranging, or rather negotiating, for Pat to return home to Tiffin from "out west," to be reunited with brothers Ronald and Dallie and sister Jacqueline. Also to attend the function were Elizabeth's in-laws, including the extended family of husband Lewis Stull. The event was to take place 6 July 1985 at the home of Elizabeth and her family and Dora, in Tiffin, Ohio.

Ron and Jackie had arrived early in the week of 6 July to greet Patty. I purposefully waited out the get-together to give my siblings a chance to meet Pat and get re-acquainted after so long a separation. I also wanted an opportunity to see my sister alone for a while because I didn't know how I would handle my feelings and I had so many questions to ask my sister.

Ron, Jackie, and spouses shared Ron's camping trailer during that portion of the week they were there and, along with Pat, celebrated the Fourth of July in Ron's grand style. I don't know how their gathering went, other than the fact that Pat was indifferently shut out of the festivities except on the Fourth, but I understand there was more than enough heat, and it wasn't from the sultry weather! I never explored the rumor. That's why I'd wanted to be alone with my sister for a few moments after so long a separation.

The reunion itself was surprisingly uneventful. None of the joyous explosion one would expect. There was rather a little tension between Ron and me since we had not been on good speaking terms for some four years, and with Jackie who seemed uncomfortable over the fact of our tension. The spouses, whose support for the most part was comforting, tended to be left in the background in the beginning, but became an integral part quickly enough.

We ate picnic, talked, and finally broke up the gathering toward the end of some particularly unnecessary joke telling and jibing at this author on the part of Ron with contributions from Bill Soles. Dallie and Abbie left first since they intended to drive back to Cleveland immediately.

To say that day was a momentous occasion would be an understatement. To say it bordered on disastrous would not be incorrect. I had considered trying for press coverage, but decided what we wanted was privacy. I didn't know what anyone else was feeling, but I was filled with feelings of wonderment and emotion. And anxiety. The four of us together for the first time since 1945.

* * *

On our way back home to Cleveland Abbie and I compared notes on our impressions and reactions to the day and the people. I have a notoriously bad memory for first-time information, so I asked Abbie to write down her first impressions of this sister of mine she didn't even know that I had when we were first married:

"Straight hair, no upper teeth, tattoo of tomahawk on left arm, an Indian ring [of hammered metal and turquoise] --

Mentioned didn't like to sleep with [sister] Jacquie cus [sic] she [Jackie] used to wet the bed --

Remembered Ron or Dallie [it was Dallie] making her an airplane out of two sticks [out on Van Evera Road]. Elmer threw it in the fire because "wood was needed. " [Actually, the author broke a pane of glass in our storm door throwing the plane from the roof of our shanty trying to make the plane fly].

She recalled visiting a house with white pillars, sometimes with Jacquie and sometimes not.

Patty said she was in several foster homes before she was taken out [of the Children's Home when adopted], said she liked Christine's daughter Norma Jean [Christine Hauck, the friend of the family who told us where to find Patty], but who was never allowed [or didn't want to] come when Patty had slumber parties, etc.

Said Dora had not wanted to adopt her, had wanted a boy. Everything she ever did, Dora and Patrick [or sometimes just Dora] chaperoned.

Said Dora had inherited the farm, 180 acres. When they had the house built in Independence, it was $40,000 [in the mid-1950's]. Patty went to the bank with Dora and the banker was surprised Dora only financed $12,000."

Patty said she met Robert Merrell right after high school, that he was stationed at the Nike [missile] site in Independence. She said she would have married anyone to get out of the house and away from Dora. Instead, Merrell moved in and the Hensleys made them an "apartment" downstairs in the basement of their house. Then Merrell was transferred to Painesville. She said at one time they lived in Euclid. Then they went to Oklahoma [Merrell's home state and the location of his people's "reservation"] where Denny was born.

Patty said several times that she had twins who died when they were 12 and 13. She also adopted another little girl who died at 6 or 7 from drugs someone gave her.

Denny has a daughter, Sarah, but would not marry Sarah's mother [the daughter was named Samantha Kaye, the mother was Sarah Rich].

Among other places she has lived she mentioned Kansas, said she hated Oklahoma, and probably would go back to Fort Worth, Texas where she believed her son Denny was, although she and Ben [Merrell's brother] looked for him for a week before coming to the reunion.

She said Dora really did wrong and screwed up [her daughter] Liz's life because she would have "fit in" better with her Indian kin [on Merrell's side of the family].

Patty said she used to be called "Rusty Berry" -- in fact, she said she had her name legally changed to Rusty Barry "allegedly to avoid Merrell." I asked her where Elizabeth's father was now and she said Denver, Colorado.

She mentioned she had been in prison for 'passing bad checks'. She used the name Merrell now because she can get medical treatment from the Indians.

She said when they were coming [to Ohio] they stayed overnight at a mission in Joplin, Missouri."

"She [said she] lost her teeth in prison and had a partial plate which was taken about a year ago when she was rolled and beaten up with an iron pipe in a park in Los Angeles at 2 p.m. "He" also ruined the breast prosthesis she had, and broke two ribs. She's had one breast removed and a tumor in the other breast shrunken by cobalt treatments. She has 'plastic' [Teflon] intestines, the originals having been removed because of cancer; she said she'd had rectal cancer, too. She has only one lung. She said that on her last trip to the hospital, before coming to Ohio, she was given a clean bill of health and is cancer-free.

She said Bob Merrell 'sold' Elizabeth to Dora. When Patty asked him why, he said he guessed he 'needed a drink'. Dora tried to get Denny too and kept sending Welfare to her, but it didn't work.

She said when she lived in Kansas she worked as a machinist [or machine operator] and a bookkeeper, owned two trailers put together in a "T", had a couple of cars and lots of other stuff. Then, she and Denny were each in the hospital 17 times in one year and she lost everything, and was $35,000 "in the hole" when she filed for bankruptcy. After that, she just gave up.

Impressions: Patty is 44 and could easily pass for 54..."

* * *

Patricia Ann Corbin was born 3 November 1940 at City Hospital in Akron, Ohio. She was the first daughter born to Elmer J. Corbin and Donna Lenora Davis-Stout.

On her birth certificate, she is listed as Patricia Ann Hensley, daughter of Patrick Henry Hensley, age 36, of Indiana, and Dora Edna Ling, 26, of Clinton, Ohio.

According to her birth certificate, Patty wasn't delivered by a physician. She was Certified by E. A. Freeman, the Certifier, and registered by W. R. Dodd, the Registrar. The "date received by the local registrar" is given as 11-12-40, even though Patty's birth date was 3 November, 1940 under the name of Corbin, and she didn't become a Hensley until 1950. I don't understand these bureaucratic niceties, but they are supposed to be the law of the land...even if they are inaccurate and incomplete.

I remember vague splotches of our lives together as brothers and sisters before 1946. I do remember that for the most part our lives seemed carefree and content, and if there were bad times, they've been blocked from my memory by the events of 1946. I remember having had a conversation with one of my sisters about their being moved from the Home to the Sunshine Cottages. And I also remember being given a tiny gold-colored heart charm from a necklace, to remember her by. Always in the back of my mind that sister had been Jacquie, but she would have been too young for school anyway, so it had to have been Patty Ann. It was on the way to school that we'd had our two encounters.

This is the sum total of my memories of Patty, although one day many years later when Ron and I each had families and careers, he told me he'd seen and talked to Pat one day in Fairlawn, Ohio. When I asked him why he hadn't let me know, he said Patty had related to him that she was "scared" of me, that I'd tried to "fool around" with her when we were children. And yet, years later, he couldn't remember ever telling me this.

In the meantime, over the years I tried to locate both Patty Ann and Jacquie.

Once in the 1960's I enlisted the interest of one Helen Waterhouse, a human-interest columnist for the Akron Beacon Journal, to help me get information from the Children's home personnel on the whereabouts of my sisters. Ms. Waterhouse and I were to meet and discuss my problem. But a week before our meeting, she met with tragedy. I was devastated. Aside from the public loss, she had considerable influence, and could have made a difference in my search efforts.

It would be over twenty years later before I would be able to find a way to locate Patty Ann, thanks to a newly enacted law dealing with birth information, the information our younger sister Jacquie was able to obtain from a social worker with the Summit County Children's Services bunch...and the untiring aid and assistance of my wife Abbie.

* * *

No one of the four siblings fits their personality profile better than Patty Ann.Grant Lewi, in his Astrology for the Millions, described her Scorpio sun thusly:Sun 10 degrees in Scorpio:

"The dualism of Scorpio makes it a baffling sign, for the Scorpio combines materialism with spirituality. She is 'the world, the flesh and the devil' and also the spirit that renounces them. She is full of the zest of life, which is, however, meaningful only after she had added a unique, almost mystic significance. The search for inner values, for the key to the riddle of the self, the world, of life itself, is Scorpio's basic motivation, and her search, whether it takes her to spiritual heights or into the darkest of subconscious depths, is always intense. To her, life is real and earnest, and the grave is not its goal. Scorpio takes herself, her work, her ideals, her love seriously and insists that others do the same. Yet at the same time she is aware of the fleetingness, the futility, the smallness of it.

Not usually religious in any orthodox sense, she has her own personal religion, which is more mystic that philosophic, and which is part of the depths of her profound nature. Scorpio is the only sign that never produces a shallow person. The best of the rest slip into non-entities from time to time, but a Scorpio is always consequential. You must reckon with her even if you dislike or despise her. She can sink to the lowest level of them all if the sense of futility turns her great energies inward instead of outward. But to whatever level she may sink, she carries with her an essential dignity, as if to represent the greatness of Lucifer in fall as well as in glory."

* * *

In Heaven Knows What, his work on astrological aspects, Grant Lewi saw Patty Ann this way:

"Independence marks you for your own. You have a cavalier disregard for public opinion in respect to your private life, and a judicious estimate of what the public wants with respect to your public life, so that you are a colorful person in whatever sphere you move..."

"You are an ardent protagonist for the right, the friend of the underdog, a sort of 'accusing angel', conscious of moral and social values and eager to impress your concepts on any who come within your ken. You are logical, intellectual, fair in argument, but very set in your opinions..."

"Despite your independence you have a just regard for the social amenities and will not do anything to offend good taste -- if you can help it. But if it comes to a choice between living your private life as you want it, and conciliating public opinion, then public opinion can go hang. Emotionally, you are sincere, honorable, loyal and ardent..."

There is, of course, much more to Patty Ann's aspects review, equally revealing, but of more a parental relationship nature.

Lewi says, "The aspects [in a horoscope] color the function of each planet in a chart. Planets and aspects are also affected by their house placement. The Sun colors the personality and alters how an aspect may be 'used' by different individuals; Free Will determines how she will respond to the 'inner energy level', and all aspect manifestations are influenced by age, maturity, self concept, etc."

Sextiles and trines in aspects can be thought of as 'easy', squares and oppositions as 'difficult', and conjunctions as 'varying'. Donna Lenora's horoscope had two conjunctions, one trine, nine squares, and two oppositions -- no sextiles. Patty Ann's has four conjunctions, one sextile, one square, and one trine.

Born 3 November 1940, Patty Ann's Sun was in Scorpio and her Moon was in Capricorn, according to Grant Lewi's Heaven Knows What. Her personality profile aspects were taken from his book's outline and used as reference.

It must be remembered that in those passages dealing with mother-father-child relationships, that Patty was born of and raised by Donna, her natural mother, to the age of five, then placed with one after another parent figure until her adoption by the Hensleys in 1950.

Betty Lundgren's Astrological Insights into Personality offers a more analytical review of impacts astrologically on Patty's personality, insight into the nature of her relationships with the parent figures in her life. Copyright prevents a complete reproduction of a Lundgren horoscope, but the following excerpts give a capsule look at how Patty might have developed:

"Scorpio children are born in a mother-dominated atmosphere. Too, they do not come into an environment that is warm and loving, and a parent may be missing. Often Scorpios are unwanted children...

Scorpios born in this type of atmosphere pick up all the unpleasant vibrations. Like any...(child)...Scorpio needs lots of attention and love, but the the father ignores the child and the mother often gives only minimum care...There is little affection, warmth and holding. The child needs affection early in life." (Excerpted...)

Material extravagances are not valid replacements, and the child is seen as ungrateful for any lack of enthusiasm.

The child will search for "mother love that was missed in childhood..."

Like a child that is deprived of candy, these Scorpios have a lifetime craving for affection and family love, often substituting intimate closeness instead. The object of this closeness -- the lover or spouse -- discovers that for the Scorpio mate, intimacy is not the essential object of the relationship.

"Scorpios are born to go through great transformations. The life is such that either they spend a lifetime trying to create a family experience for themselves, or they go into the business of self-transformation. The problem here is one of direction...because they felt unaccepted in early childhood, acceptance becomes very important to them..." (Excerpted)

Some Scorpios become "control freaks" with their mates, needing to control their relationships. As a result, too often they lose standing with the mate. This Scorpio spends a lifetime trying to define herself -- a personal crusade.

"The Scorpio female grows up to be strong and secretive like her mother, and she often copies her mother's mannerisms. This gives her magnetism and an air of secrecy. She carries in her, however, a feeling of personal insecurity, a sense of worthlessness that can only be assuaged by getting into love relationships...

If there's too much maternal influence in her adult life, it's difficult for her to form a good relationship with her husband. The secrecy that Scorpio projects is a cover for the fear of rejection. The Scorpio child is extremely intuitive and 'knowing'; she is laughed at or rejected when she tries to share her thoughts. Rather than facing rejection, she learns to keep her thoughts to herself..." (Excerpted...)

This child will enter relationships with men who will abuse her, and she will accept the abuse, feeling she deserves no better, even though maturity will bring with it a desire in her for greater respect.

This Scorpio, as her horoscope also indicates, grows up into a life of tension oriented illnesses.

"The Scorpio personality is so moody, so emotional, so sensitive, so intuitive, and so afraid to show emotion for fear of rejection, that all these emotions are pushed down inside, and they churn around the digestive and intestinal tract. As Scorpios hit their forties, the tension begins to tell, and they are more prone to high-tension disorders or intestinal digestive stress disease..." (Excerpted...)

* * *

Patty Ann's aspects, her Sun opposition Jupiter, etc., are blueprints of her feelings of inadequacy, and of her relationships both with her adoptive parents and with her mates. And of her adoptive parents' attitudes toward her -- the heartache she will live with. Some higher being determined she would live with her "Karma" even before she earned it.

* * *

I have used personality profiles as developed from an individual's horoscope throughout this biography/genealogy as a weak attempt to put some kind of personality perspective on the subject individual. In Patty Ann's case, I fortunately came into 121 pages of interview with her as a means of developing a personality. Why do I include a horoscope profile? Because the parallel between her profile and her story is remarkable.

Over a period of five years, from 29 April, 1985 to 2 April, 1990 (and ongoing as of this writing), Patty Ann wrote me over 28 letters, staying in touch after our reunion. My correspondence with her was at first tenuous, sometimes having my letters returned as unforwardable. I would simply wait until another of her letters arrived, knowing that she was aware that I wanted to maintain a relationship with her.

Her first letter was return-addressed 'Gen. Del., Tulsa, Okla.' Over the five-year period her letters came from Tulsa, Oklahoma; Indianapolis, Indiana; Aurora, Colorado; Tucson, Arizona -- until she finally settled in Fort Worth, Texas.

We became somewhat acquainted through those letters, as she told me something about herself and her past; her feelings about her adoptive parents, and her sense of the loss of her children. She recounted her struggles with her adoptive mother, Dora, and with herself. And she shared her loneliness and her desire for a relationship with her siblings. I could read the hurt in her words, and the feelings of rejection; her feelings of worthlessness. I also noted the subtle change in her lifestyle and the determined effort to have control over her life. Her thoughts about settling down and having a 'normal' life.

Patty Ann's account of events and dates in her life bounce from one occasion or emotion to another, recounting her anger and rebellion more so than any chronological sequence of events. Patty's reflections on her past dealt more with her relationship with Dora than with any other topic.

I asked her if I could use some of the information and facts in her letters to construct her biography and she graciously consented to let me select personal thoughts from her letters to express some idea of who Patty Ann Corbin is:

"P. Merrell

General Delivery

Tulsa, Oklahoma 74101

April 29, 1985

Dear Dale

Sure am glad you and Jackie spent time to find me, I always wondered about my real family but never thought I'd find out.

...seems like I'm all over going to hospitals. I've had cancer five times, but didn't show up again this time. I use the Indian hospitals when I can, it's free.

I haven't worked in the past year and a half. Don't even have a home right now. I usually stay with my sister-in-law, and a few times had to sleep in the weeds. Guess I sort of gave up on living. I lost two homes due to illness. My second husband left when I lost my breast and lung.

I was a CPA here in Oklahoma for a long time then went to California when the kid's dad was giving me a hard time here, and worked bookkeeping and waitressing.

I never got along with Dora. In fact, I tried suicide once while still with her. Elizabeth has tried to come between the bitterness we have had, said Mom has changed a lot. I will try to get to Ohio for the reunion she has planned. Will be my first time back in 18 years.

My life hasn't been the greatest, lots of lonely times. I lived alone for about four years and started drinking way too much and messing up, then my ex-brother-in-law, Ben, and me got together somehow, and it's been pretty good for me the past eight months but I never go past one day at a time. At least he doesn't beat me up like the other two and I'm happy for a change.

I love to fish and camp, ride motorcycles, most anything that has to do with the outdoors. Guess I'm the tomboy type. I love any kind of animals, and raised a bunch of kids that belonged to others.

Denny just turned 23, he has a beautiful little girl, but I don't know if he sees much of her since they split up. He likes to party too much but does have a good job as a pipe installer...Give my love to Abbie and I hope to meet the both of you this summer. Meantime I will write and get started on the past 39 years.

All my love,

Pat"

* * *

"R. Merrell

Samuels

Fort Worth, TX 76102

July 1, 1989

Dear Dallie

Can you believe it's already July? When I was a kid, it took twenty years to get to Saturday to get to go to the movies.

...I'm messing around with a janitorial business. Could do pretty good if I set my mind to it...however, I only want five nights a week, four or five hours, but this weekend is tied up with extra floors. I guess making money isn't really my bag. I just want to survive and enjoy life...don't know what I'll do with this small business I inherited when the lady retired...I know everyone wants floors like we do them, but I just want my rent paid. Once again, my free spirit and Indian blood overtake sanity. Ha!

Of all Momma Donna's kids, and from what I have heard of her, I think she would have appreciated you and me the most. I think you'll understand that statement if you think on it awhile.

I quit going to the doctors as I think I felt better before I did so. Even though I rarely go to church, I am very strong and spiritual with the Lord. He's the only one who carries me every day, not man. And I do feel better. I believe, eat right, smoke, drink my few beers and trust in God as well as enjoy what He has for me to enjoy. I'm rarely indoors and Andy says I'm brown as a nut, but usually he calls me squirrel. He's still just my best friend as the other love walked when he left many years ago but there's many different kinds of love, I guess.

...I love you and Abbie much.

Love,

Sis"

* * *

February 9, 1989

Dear Dallie

I really did enjoy reading about your visit with Aunt Virginia. Helped me to get to know my mom and dad a little bit. I'll write to her when I finish your letter.

They didn't do surgery on my knee yet as my blood sugar was too high, so I'm still messing around with the stupid brace.

You said you hoped I didn't have any painful memories when you sent that information. I really don't about any of it. I'm sure our parents did the best they could for us as times were hard and there sure wasn't any welfare back then. Bitterness and all that will run a person crazy, and I don't relive the past, I just take each day as the important one and try to be happy with what I'm blessed with. I gather Jacquie is bitter about the past from the way she talked to me. But I figure the past just made me stronger and more able to survive.

I signed up for rehab (rehabilitation) but it will take a while to get it started as there are a lot of doctors to go to and a lot of tests. Don't have any idea what kind of schooling I'll get but it's going to be more stable for me than odd jobs. Can you believe me talking about stability? But I'm really done with travelling for a long time, I hope, unless I get to go to Ohio one more time.

...hope you and Abbie are both doing great. Write soon.

Love, Rusty"

* * *

On Memorial Day, 1990, Patty Ann visited with us at our home in Cleveland, Ohio for six days. For the first three days we talked about her past, filling eight 90-minute tapes which generated 121 pages of interview transcript. We covered her childhood and adoption, marriages and battering, and her resultant lifestyle during the past five years.

She spent much of our discussion vilifying her adoptive mother. She also reminisced about her adoptive dad and relived many unpleasant experiences and escapades.

By her account, Patty Ann suffered a great deal from the upheaval that wrenched our family apart. Whether from circumstances or of her own influence, her suffering dogged her for most of her life.

Marked by a fiercely independent and altruistic nature, she is inclined to take personal interest in the plight of others less fortunate.

Experiencing the same pain and loss of family, and orphanage childhood we all endured, she was parceled out to foster homes. Because of her robust health and bearing, she was used and abused as cheap labor, and treated like a leper. Rejected by one after another potential parent because of her age and size, she was finally accepted by a childless farm couple.

Even in this couple, Patty Ann was eventually molested by the husband, and emotionally and physically abused by the stern, suspicious and socially conscious wife. Patty Ann was emotionally rejected by her adoptive mother, who nevertheless 'did her duty' and saw to Patty's daily needs while meting out emotional abuse, until Patty attempted suicide, after which she ran away. Patty Ann finally became pregnant and married a man socially unacceptable to her mother, partly to get away.

Patty lived immersed in feelings of self-worthlessness. She endured abuse and battering and feelings of worthlessness until she was 37 years old. Even then, it took counseling at a battered women's shelter (after four marriages to three men) before she would finally start to accept herself as a worthwhile person. All because she wanted to be loved.

Patty Ann had cancer five times, first ovarian cancer, followed by the loss of a breast and some intestine. An inherited diabetic, she requires special medical treatment for the smallest injury to heal, and makes at least yearly trips for cancer follow up, which generally results in regressive treatment.

* * *

"...what does the front of it [Edwin Shaw Sanitarium where Sunshine Cottage was] look like? Because I've had this dream over and over and over...[about the white columns in front]...and there's always this boy upstairs, trying to get me in that room with comic books. And I'd run back down stairs. And I still, even at forty-nine, I have a dream of a huge place...this is a recurring dream...usually of people I know there. Like maybe sometimes of Bob (Merrell) with me, sometimes of Andy [Bray] with me. People that I know. And...I have an apartment or something. But it'd be just a room. And all these kids. I keep saying, 'Who are all these kids?' And I can't figure out who all these kids are. But the house. I believe it's a [cavernous] house and there's grown people that I don't recognize. But there's always these kids that are crying. And they're sickly. But the boy and the comic books...I've always felt that the boy and the comic books is someone that has crossed my path..."

(Patricia Ann Corbin-Hensley-Merrell, 26-28 May, 1990)

* * *

"There's a lot of things I think I remember. There's one thing I really [remember], that I've never forgotten. It was Dallie...Ronnie was, as I remember...always out and about. And [Dallie] was...more or less in charge of me and Jacquie when we were at [home]...

I wanted something to play with. I remember it quite well. [Dallie was] the one that made [a stick airplane] for me. And I can remember getting out...I played with that airplane...I was four or five...and that was...the only toy I can remember, and I think all he did was put two sticks of wood, it was more like a cross, and I flew that thing, and I played with it. And another thing he fixed me was my horse. I rode that broom into the sunset...

Didn't we have some kind of pot-bellied stove? I think that's why I never forgot that airplane, because [Elmer] came in, and it was cold. And he took my little airplane, and I started crying, begging him not to burn it. And then he said, "You don't want your baby sister to be cold, do you?" And he threw it in the fire. And I never forgot it...

I remember a shack-like thing. And I don't ever remember it having a floor in it. Ronnie says it wasn't like that...And I remember a couple of windows, that there was newspaper put on with some grease splattered on it so some light would come through...and Jacquie and I stayed in the same crib, because I'd get mad because she'd wet the bed...

I can remember dad coming in and throwing up, and momma told me not to get worried, because he was just sick. I realize now he was just drunk. I can remember...you boys weren't with us...daddy would take us...you remember those old-time bar chairs? I can recall sitting up on them. In the beer joints. Just as big..."

(Patricia Merrell, 26-28 May, 1990)

* * *

"...my little horsey that...the boys tried to get us toys...Dallie was the one taught me how to become a real good horse...by sticking my heels of my shoes in the cans. Then I could really gallop. On my horse. Then he turned the broom up, made me a little rein. And...[swoosh]...I rode into the sunset for, gosh, who knows how long...

...you know, I don't recall...we might have been a little hungry. But I can remember...there was always something...

I remember us being happy. We didn't know any better...Dallie was...he stayed closer to the house. Ronnie would take off. And Dallie was more or less the one that took care of us when they [mom and dad] were both gone...

I can remember going to Grandma's house. And every time we left, dad was upset...

I remember the only time daddy ever busted my butt, I threw some flour at one of the guys. He didn't...he just smacked me. And it broke my heart. Cause, I remember, Elmer took me...and Jacquie everywhere, to all the beer joints. Everywhere he went. Right [up to] before we left [for the Children's Home]..."

(Taped interview with Patricia Merrell, 26-28 May, 1990)

* * *

"And I don't know if it was the day...we were taken away...I remember the Sheriff's Department coming up. And he said...I don't remember if it was the day we left...cause I totally tried to block that part out, when they took us away. But I remember daddy being in the police car...and the cop says, "Well, damn, Corbin, you can't even buy those boys shoes for school." And daddy said, "Don't take my babies". I remember that. And he said, "I promise I'll get them shoes. Just don't take my babies." And he was crying. And momma started crying. And, of course, me and Jacquie started crying. And I can remember the two boys were just standing over there, just looking. Cause everybody was crying. And, I don't know...that's when they took me and Jacquie. Cause they said it was partly because we didn't have enough food, and you boys didn't have school shoes. And...Jacquie and me were holding each other..."

"Now, I can remember mom holding me and hugging me...I can remember that...'Don't cry, baby. Don't cry. Everything's fine.'"

(Patricia Merrell, 26-28 May, 1990)

* * *

Going into the institutional life of the Children's Home, from the comfortable warmth of sibling family life, was like being drenched with ice water to all of us four kids.

Ron was in there for the shortest time, leaving about six months before me. I was in the 'Home' from November, 1945 to the summer of 1947., about 23 months. Jacquie was apparently there longer than me, as she was fostered out.

But Patty Ann was there the longest. She wasn't totally free of that environment until 1950. As a child of independent nature, it was tough on her.

We were all subject to two particular pressures in the 'Home'. It was difficult psychologically, adjusting to institutional atmosphere, especially belonging to that club of orphaned kids.

Being an orphan in 1945 meant to some people that you were dirty, wild, untrustworthy; you were 'different' than normal kids. And you were prey to unscrupulous people, some of whom fostered kids to get cheap and plentiful labor.

The second pressure was the peer pressure all kids have to live through, except that in our generation we had to deal with the influences of World War II, about which we knew nothing; and an adult administrative attitude that in 1990 would be considered abusive to children.

Certainly many orphaned kids came out of that 'Home' with serious psychological problems that they didn't have when they went in. I was one of them. So was Patty Ann.

* * *

"...I remember, I'm sure it was the C Department. I was in C and D Department, in the Children's Home. And in C Department, I was almost the oldest, and there were boys and girls there, the little ones. We were combined.

...it wasn't very long until they put me in 'D'...it (separated) the boys from the girls. But they used to put this little boy in my bed. And he'd wet the bed, you'd grab this wrought iron thing, and...all the kids at night got to watch you get your butt paddled. And every time the lights would go off, I'd throw him under the bed, and before morning, I'd jerk him back up there. And I swore I'd (bop) him if he told, too. Because I wasn't going to get my butt whipped, you know...and I would!. I'd throw him under that bed. ...Arvilla Turner and I ran together.

...to this day, she's the kind of person I would befriend, because she was 'different', and they made a lot of fun of her...she was institutionalized. No one wanted her. She would always be so happy when I came back from foster care. Because I ran with her." (Patricia Merrell, 26-28 May, 1990

* * *

Some time later, probably in mid-to-late 1946, Patty Ann was transferred to the newly-created Sunshine Cottages, a part of the late Edwin Shaw Tuberculosis Sanitorium located near Springfield Lake, allegedly because of overcrowding at the 'Home'. She was placed in all-girls D Department because of her age.

Perhaps it was in 1947 that Patty Ann was fostered out to area homes. These, according to Patty, tended to be difficult rather than pleasant experiences. The least she could expect was to be put to work, either doing housework, or chores outside the house. On at least one occasion she was physically attacked, injured, and was taken to a hospital emergency room.

Eventually, in 1948, she found herself with a Stow couple named Mates, who kept her for quite a while. While she enjoyed staying there, which was even materially beneficial, she ultimately wound up heart broken and heading back to the "Home', instead of to court for an adoption, as she had expected. She was sent back to the 'Home' after a year or so.

* * *

"...would sit there and wait...at the Children's Home. I can remember, I believe it was [Dallie], that I would slip down there, and [he] would meet me. And we would talk about things, and then we'd have to slip back. Because we'd get in trouble.

And that's where I ran on to this lady. She knew me right off. And she said she was dad's second wife. And they had children, and her children were at the 'Home'. And...that's the one and only time I saw her. She knew me right away. I remember, she was quite thin...

They had called me Rusty, and Jacquie [was] Dusty. The janitor named us that...the janitor was automatically my 'paw-paw'. Years ago, I finally got to see the 'Gold Dust Twins'...on a box of soap...in an antique shop...they had these old boxes. And it was the 'Gold Dust Twins' on some kind of washing powders. And he called us 'Rusty' and 'Dusty'. And he would slip us little pieces of candy, and stuff like that. 'School Cop', he was my uncle. I called him my uncle. We made [up an] imaginary family, see. But that's where [those names] originated from. Bob [Merrell], of course, called me Patty all the time. But they used to call me Rusty all the time at the Children's Home. And then, some of the girls picked up on that. And Jerry Wayne [Berry], he always liked to call me Rusty. Nobody at...Fort Worth knows me by the name of Patricia. That janitor, he was really good to me and Jacquie. See, Jacquie...she was not in the Children's home as often as I was. I was gone and...she and I actually separated in the Children's Home. And then this Mrs. Thompson [our social worker] had told me she had been put out with this family. And, apparently this family had adopted her.

Now, I do know, there was a time, I had asked my [adoptive] mother...about my sister. How mother knew where she was, I don't know. ...mother said that the time was not right...that Jacquie was having a lot of mental [emotional] problems...that she was having a lot of problems with her [new] home. Mrs. Thompson got us together during one of the times Jacquie was having problems, she came to mother, picked us up. She took Jacquie and me out to eat. And I got mad at Jacquie cause...see, what it was...on the menu, she looked for the highest price. And that was the second time she'd done that. The second time she took us out, Jacquie should have remembered cause I was at the Hensleys, probably about...nine [years old]. Mrs Thompson said that she [Jacquie] was having a lot of problems...she thought maybe it would help [seeing her sister again]. So...now in the Children's Home, I can remember...part of it was Jacquie's fault. I was in the shower...that's when we were together. I was in 'D'; she was a little bitty girl. One of the older girls come in...I believe it was Arvilla...that's when Jacquie was still in 'C'...with the (younger) boys and girls. Arvilla came and got me, and told me to go over there and get her some clothes on. She and some kids was messing around. Time I got over there, they were in a locker, playing together. And I jerked her out of there myself...if I wasn't around, Arvilla tried to look out for Jacquie.

And Jacquie was, she was kind a...I was the shyer one of the two...in those days. But I was the scrapper...and Jacquie wasn't. I was the one did the fighting.

...they threw eggs...at me and Jacquie. And there was an older girl came up. Now, I had egg running down, and I had this fight with the one boy that egged us. And you came up, and it wasn't...and Ronnie came up. And we were hid behind that one tree. And that was when you guys said you would always be around to protect us. And I don't think it was very long and we were all gone...

And, see, Jacquie was not in the Children's home...near as much as I was. I'm sure part of my problem was that I was rebellious. And I was put out...and, of course, I was a 'chunk', and I was put out mostly for work. Because I was older.

This one foster home, I know...oh God...not only...and those social workers...I thought a lot of Mrs. Thompson, but she never would believe what I said.

I was at this one foster home...I was probably six [years old]...and this lady...I don't recall her name. I know there were no other children in the [foster] home. Just me. ...I had gotten up extremely early, all the floors, everything had to be done...and mind you, I was just a little kid. And if there was no work to be done in the house, and you know how hot and humid it gets in the summertime...from six o'clock in the morning, I would stand right at the corner of the house. And I was taught I'd better not wet my pants. And I certainly better not have a bowel movement in it...and I was not allowed to move until this woman came to get me. And it was extremely hot and humid that day. And I was standing there, and this neighbor lady brought me...and I had told Mrs. Thompson what was wrong there. There again, she...you know. Orphans are liars. They lie to get their way. I don't care...that was Dora's problem...the lady next door brought me this glass of water. And set it there. You know, a six-year old kid, been out there for hours in that heat, and I'm looking around...and I didn't think I was going to get caught. And I ran and drank that water. And there she stood, with the scissors. That's what this scar on my leg, right there...she cut that hunk...of meat out. It just so happened that Mrs. Thompson pulled up, and rushed me to the hospital. And then she believed me, see?

And then she believed me, see?

And when the Mates had me for so long, by the time I got back to the Children's Home, I was really too old for adoption. ...I remember, his name was Bill [Mates]...and hers was Beatrice. Bill and Bea...[they were] very good to me. Bill went out...Elizabeth has my picture album. In there is a picture of me with my little ponytail, and this beautiful Indian pony that Bill bought me. And, ah, they were real good. He built a stall off of the garage. And...they were very good to me. Jerry...when he had to baby-sit me...they couldn't understand...they adopted him in infancy...they couldn't understand why every time I was left with Jerry, that I...had my head bleeding. There was always something...that happened that was an 'accident'. And I really believed Jerry that it was an accident. I was six, seven years old, but...I might have been older. Yeah, they were extremely good to me. The only thing I held against them was the day that I thought that I was going to court to be adopted, I went back to the Children's Home.

And then they called, they wanted me for Thanksgiving, and I was all ready on Thanksgiving...and that was the straw that broke it. I spent Thanksgiving with Arvilla Turner. And I think all the rest of the children had been put out in homes. Because...the Mates were supposed to pick us up. See, ...I don't know if they did it with you, but they tried to put us all in some kind of home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Always. Might be...eight or ten of us in one home. But, thanks to the Mates, I didn't.

I had been with them long enough to have the 'waiting period' and 'checking out period', and all that stuff. And I was ready to go to court for adoption...[but] because of the jealousy of the boy.

It was right after that. Dora and Patrick [Hensley] were walking through. I guess they were just bringing them through to look. They had been approved for adoptive parents. And I had somebody down, whipping up on them. And dad just pointed, said, "That's the kid I want..."

They had been taking out this set of twins...a boy and a girl. That's who mother wanted, the boy and the girl. And Patrick won out.

...She was the boss. She dominated. Except when he hollered. He was pure Irish. And she backed down from him when he blew. But he was good to her. But...I don't see how he tolerated her, because...I can remember...see, they slept in separate bedrooms for many, many years. Mother believed you only slept with a man to make a baby." (Patricia Merrell, 26-28 May, 1990)

* * *

PATRICK AND DORA HENSLEY

Patrick Henry Hensley was from Indiana and Dora Edna Ling Hensley was from Clinton, Ohio, just outside of Barberton, a suburb of Akron. Patrick had been married previously. Because of a bout with mumps at age 28, he couldn't father children. The couple decided to adopt. And, in 1950, Patricia Ann Corbin became Patricia Ann Hensley.

Dora and her older sister Ruth were heirs to the family farm of 180 acres. Eventually, Dora, who was business minded, bought out Ruth's ninety acres. Patrick worked for Standard Oil for most of his Ohio life, with Dora investing family income in Standard Oil stocks and bonds over the years.

"Mother was tight, believe me. When they first got me from the Children's Home, daddy not only worked for Standard Oil, we farmed. We had 108 milk cows when I came. We milked the cows, and we always had hogs, bulls...we raised wheat...we had a lot of hay, alfalfa...just me and him. ...See, mother's cousins lived directly across the field: Clifford, and Richard, and Blaine...Topp. Anyway, they lived directly across...and come harvest time, dad and I would go to Uncle Clifford's farm, then we'd go to somebody else's farm, then we'd go to our farm...we made all the rounds. This is how harvest was done. The women were supposed to do the cooking, but, see, I was daddy's right-hand man, so I worked the fields. And...that's how we got that done. And they knew daddy had a full-time job. He was the only one that was not a full-time farmer. And there was no allowance in my life, with my folks.

I had to buy my calves and raise them, and turn around and sell them...for everything, for anything, you know...or I could go over to Uncle Clifford's and help buck hay...and he'd pay me...I think at that time it was a nickel a bale. I was pretty stout in those days...that's probably why my back is so damned bad now. ...We did a lot of that stuff." (Patricia Merrell, 26-28 May, 1990)

* * *

Dora's dad died in a gasoline fire as a result of smoking. She was young at the time. Not long after her mother died of blood poisoning from a blister inflamed by dyed stockings. Dora's sister, Ruth, who was an alcoholic, married an alcoholic named Bill. They lived on the farm for a while, helping out until they too had a fire. This, of course, all transpired before Patty was adopted.

Dora's thing about cigarettes extended to her promising God she would never smoke if Patrick wasn't called away during World War II.

"Well, daddy did smoke, but he quit. That's how it started. I'd get his cigarettes, you know. But mother told..this is mother. She said, 'Now, Patty, if you ever start smoking...', I think I was about fourteen...I'd been smoking for a couple years, but she didn't know anything. She didn't catch me. She said, 'Patty, if you ever start smoking, if you'll just be honest with me...I won't get mad'. So, I...this played on my mind, you know. I felt guilty about slipping around smoking anyway. So about a month later, I said, 'Mother, I've started smoking...' 'WHAT?' Ahh man!! There goes the lilac bush, across my legs [laugh]. I knew then. Don't trust this woman, boy. She'd said nothing would come of it; she liked to beat the hell out of me." (Patricia Merrell, 26-28 May, 1990)

* * *

"On the farm...and mother, I already told you, was a fantastic seamstress...we did not buy store material, like women do. You know, pick out pretty, we went and picked out what? Feed sacks? I was going to wait...for the [empty feedsack] material. In those days the feed sacks came out...floral prints. We would go...with daddy, pick out the feed, and I got to pick out what feed sacks I wanted. Even my bloomers were made from feed sacks now. And for my dresses. Always, the dress...was down (to mid calf length). Always. Some of the girls were wearing the crinoline petty coats and the cute little...and I always wanted the bra with the little ballerinas. But see, I matured...at nine years of age. I was having periods. I was five feet six, from the time I was ten. I was the tallest girl in the class. All these little boys at Arthur Murray Dance Studio [stood at mid-chest level]...and I was always overweight.

...I was already heavy. I was already the tallest, and [was] always [wearing] these funky-assed glasses, and oh!...I never...[see] I don't like curl around my face. I don't wear curl around my face. Mother...'Oh, Patty, you look so pretty...' Pretty, my ass! Fat face, curls around my face? I did not look good. When I come out of the Children's Home, I could sit on my hair [it was so long]. That's the first thing that went was my hair. And I cried. You know, I wanted my hair." (Patricia Merrell, May, 1990)

* * *

Though Dora was creative with the feed sack material, she wanted any child of hers to have store-bought culture. She saw to it that Patty Ann took dance lessons at Arthur Murray Dance Studios, and ten years of piano lessons.

* * *

"And I loved the trumpet. She refused to let me play the trumpet, after [she saw] I liked it. And I...also took up...the drums...on my own, unbeknownst to her. I was the first...I had my picture here, as the first girl base drummer, for the VFW band, boy. But anyhow, then...that was in Independence...I was good, too, man. I could hit that...sling them things, and go like that...you betcha...and I loved it. That's one thing...daddy let me go on them trips. We would win...we were state champions, every year, every year...

Anyhow, I graduated from feed sacks...then...she decides that I'm flat-footed. Right? All the kids are in saddle shoes. I got these stupid...oxfords, with the steel thing that I have to wear. Right? I have to wear these stupid shoes because I'm not going to be flat-footed.

Then, we go into Robert Hall's, daddy is going to get something, and the lady says to me, "Stand up straight". I guess I was kind of mad because mother and I had gotten into it, and I guess I was kind of stooped. Next thing you know, mother's going to get me a back brace so I don't walk around like that. She's going to get me this stupid back brace. And [then] all the girls are wearing makeup. You know, you remember Tangine lipstick Abbie? ...that you barely saw...O.K., Daddy got me a pair of saddle oxfords, daddy got me some Tangine lipstick, and that was something else that was...illegal, a no-no. Anyway, I had them all in a little plastic bag , hid in a field. So,. I'd cut out to get the bus, I'd get that little plastic bag to put my Tangine on, and try to look like a...normal kid. Well, I got caught...about six months after that. She beat the hell out of me..." (Patricia Merrell, 26-28 May, 1990)

* * *

"I remember one time she lost her purse; she said I stole it, and I got a hell of a beating. I think it was the May Company...She was real great with the lilac bushes.

* * *

My father was a Mason...he was 32nd degree. He didn't...flaunt it. And I got in Rainbow Girls. And when you become the...Worthy Advisor...that's the top [achievement] for that...year...all the girls had...I did have a boyfriend. All the girls...you get down on the altar, you know, and you're dressed in white, and the light shines down on you. And you go through your...little funky things. See, I went through all those 'chairs' before I became 'top dog' there. And all the girls always had their boyfriends bring roses to you...you know, there's a ceremony...and that made my dad really proud...I told the boyfriend, I said, "Now, my father had paid for all this." And, I said, "I'm not going to slight him by having you give me the roses...at the end of the 'Stone Light'..." I said, "...my father will give me..." And he understood. And...daddy was so pleased when it come...well, he was just standing there, you know. And...mother knew I was going to have him give me the roses, but he didn't know it. And when they brought the roses...that bouquet of roses to present to me, they gave them to daddy. Ah, man, you talk about the apple of his eye, when he walked out there, now.

Elizabeth has all my Rainbow pins, and...all the things...that I accomplished. And my Rainbow ring. I don't know why in the hell she's got them, but she's got them. Daddy bought me a ten-carat topaz ring. See, my folks never bought anything cheap. I never had many clothes, but they were quite expensive. And just like the ring, it was quite expensive. [When] I got out there [in Tiffin], Elizabeth was wearing it all these years.

Do you know what our first sex education classes were? We saw little chickens popping out of eggs. Mother didn't sign the paper for me to take the sex education classes, so I got my butt whipped. And then she found out the other mothers were going to let their kids go see chickens popping out of shells. And then she signed.

See, I think if we had...well, I wish they would check out people...that adopt children. Because, like mother...'You do it my way'. It doesn't matter if you got feelings or emotions... 'I don't have time to listen to your crap. You do it my way...or else'. And, you know, I said, "but Momma..." It's just like her going to tell me about periods [menstruation]...I'd already been on my period. She threw the...Junior Kotex up in the closet, said, 'We'll discuss this later when it comes time...". I said, 'Oh, well, I use them now'. Now, Abbie, will you believe this woman? I had, when I started my period, I had a normal cycle of, one month, miss two months, and [then] another [good] month.

Patrick Hensley went to the family doctor, Dr. Brown, with me so I could have...this most embarrassing...examination...because I'd never had one, he had to have a paper signed...so the doctor could...go into me, to see if I was pregnant. Cause Dora got it into her head, when I missed two months, that I was pregnant. I think I was...thirteen.

"I've been very fortunate. When 'Uncle Mark' pulled his stuff, I had sense enough to know right from wrong. Now, I did want to be loved...'Uncle Mark' was this friend of Patrick's..he took me down to the basement, and start..boy, I run like hell. And I always wondered why [when] he kissed me, putting his tongue in my mouth. Now, see, I'm about nine years old, I don't understand stuff like this. I always thought that...when I asked my mother about it, she slapped my face. And then when I told my mother about him pulling my panties down, and trying to have me feel him...'you do not talk filthy in this house'. Now, I mean 'Uncle Mark' pulled my panties down and took his thing out and boy...I ran like hell. I was in the basement. Next thing I know, he's [fffttt]. And I run!

And, I had told mother before, I said, "I don't like Uncle Mark kissing me, he always sticks his tongue in my mouth." [She would say], 'Don't you be talking like that...'

"And the, as things...I used to love to go to sleep in mother and dad's bed. And then they would take me...to my bed. And...poppy got to where he'd come to bed before Dora. He never...actually...penetrated me...or anything. And I was very lucky there. But when I told my mother, that's when she hit me with a frying pan, and told me never talk about daddy again like that. And I kept it to myself. But I was smart enough on bridge nights that [when] she left the house, I made sure that I was at a friend's house to spend the night.

She'd let me go to certain girls' houses...that were [children of] fine, upstanding parents. I was not going to get in any trouble because...you know...but, ah, I always protected myself that way, and I made sure...I did not know that this was considered...now, this is...maybe I did know, and did not want to admit that my father was doing...until I went to the Battered Women's Shelter [in Colorado]."

"I'll tell you, some of the things that has gone on in the foster homes, and my adoptive parents' homes, you know...it's disgusting, it's shameful, but it happened. My foster father, I loved, idolized. But I was no..I couldn't be alone with him. Wouldn't be alone..and, you know what? When they got my little girl [Elizabeth]...I hope I'm not condemned for this, but I prayed...that God would take my dad. I prayed for him. Because I could not...I prayed for it. Because she might have gotten raped. But, see he fell ill in his health, you know? But, still, there are things a man that's...in ill health can do...without being able to penetrate. And I used to worry terrible about that. I really did. And I know that Elizabeth was as much a daughter to poppy for ice cream. It was just a joke. Hairy arms, right? And she was already mad because I didn't kiss her...when we left. And I jumped in her lap, she threw me clear across the...I hit my head on the fireplace. I was a teenager then. Twelve, thirteen?" (Patricia Merrell, 26-28 May, 1990)

* * *

"...you talk about me being tender-hearted, Dallie...this [tendency] has not just started, this is something within the past twenty years. Arvilla Turner, I picked up on her because I felt sorry for her.

Let me tell you about Willy Williams. He was cross-eyed, pimply faced...he was from Barberton, Ohio. And his sister had polio. She had those little slender thighs...they lived in a shack...somewhere out in [the] country. They had very little of anything. All right. We were going to have this teenaged canteen dance. Of course, mother was chaperoning it. I don't know what possessed me...to do it. But I asked this little cross-eyed, pimply faced boy if he would go to the dance with me. We got out there on the dance floor, and one of the prettiest cheerleaders, the head cheerleader, I might add..Willy and I got out on the dance floor, and everybody started laughing. And he couldn't dance. And he got real hurt, and I ran inside the bathroom crying. Because, I mean everybody in the gymnasium was laughing at him and me...

So, here comes this Carol, the gorgeous cheerleader...well, she was gorgeous to me...and she got it together for me...talked to me and made me feel better...and she brought me out and set me down, and everybody was looking, and she brought Willy in, leading him by the hand. And she started teaching him how to dance...and...before the evening was over, it was beautiful. And it turned out that Willy...could really boogie. And, by that time, I nearly lost him. Because he could really get down with it, and all [of them]...and that poor little cross-eyed, pimply faced thing...and that Christmas we all found out they were not going to have a Christmas...at the Williams house. So, we took up for present and that. The mother was an invalid, and the father, I think, was a boozer. And then were two children, there was the girl..she was my friend, that's how this all came about...she was quite religious. She became a nun. And, thanks to Carol...and myself, they had a very nice Christmas. And then, it was right before the first of January, Willy Williams was killed on a motorcycle. And, that was a very large funeral. The community paid for his funeral. But I never forgot that. I was so glad I'd befriended him. I was really glad. And, if there's another Willy Williams out there, I'd be out there...but I could handle it better now. They wouldn't make me cry."

* * *

Patrick was transferred by Standard Oil to Independence, Ohio. Dora had gone ahead to make arrangements to have a new home built there so the farm could be sold and the family could move.

They were to have a ranch style with three bedrooms, dining room, kitchen..all single story.

"She loved picture windows. They had a big picture window in front, then when you sat at the dining room table, there was a big picture window...it was nice...daddy had a real nice patio outside...half an acre, because daddy liked sloping lots. And then we had a little stream...that ran through...it was a pretty lot. He planted little shrubs all around the patio, in hopes they would grow and be a private patio."

Patty had accompanied Dora to the bank for financing...the house cost $45,000; Dora financed only $12,000 of it.

"Mother was a hell of a manager. Father got an expense check (from Standard Oil). That's all...that man lived on. The one and only time (he signed his own paycheck) for twenty years....the bank didn't recognize his signature..." Patrick turned his paycheck over to Dora.

The move was very upsetting to Patty Ann, as she transferred to Independence High School in the middle of her junior year. This meant starting all over, making new friends in peer crowds whose cliques were already established. Patty Ann would feel odd-girl out, not a marvelous position for a teen with a self-confidence and self-esteem problem. She was self-conscious about her weight, which was just slightly on the pudgy side; about her clothes, which were meant to hide her rather than fit her into the crowd.

If she took a size 16, Dora bought her size 18, closed up to the chin, lengthened to the mid-calf. Pedal pushers, pants were taboo. Shorts were an invitation to rape!

* * *

"O.K., I'll never forget the first time I met Reverend Tobias. That was when we moved to Independence. And I'm about...probably fifteen. I walk into the church, I got this hat on...that looks like...a grown woman's hat. Course, I've got the body of a grown woman. I've got this...it's a beautiful coat. For an old lady. And my dress. It's for an old lady. I have the heels and...now, that's one thing my father always insisted on, heels..with a dress. That's the only thing he insisted...cause he thought flats made you walk like a cow. O.K. Reverend Tobias says, "What year of college are you in?" "Oh..", I said, "I'm just a junior..." I looked ridiculous! Yes, I didn't look like a teenager. I looked like a grown woman. And all the fads that everybody else went through...was a no-no for me. "Oh, my God, don't show your body. Do you want these men..." I wore a size 16 dress. Mother bought me a size 18 dress so my body wouldn't be seen. Now, you know...this is a great way to go through high school, and junior high, and all this horseshit. And never did I own a pair of pants. Maybe overalls were allowed then when I farmed. But, no, no and never any shorts. "My God, do you want some man to rape you?" I mean, you know? Come on. She had a fit because I had to have a gym suit." (Patricia Merrell)

* * *

Reverend Tobias, pastor of the Evangelical United Brethren Church on Independence Square would become very important as emotional and moral support in her life. She attended church Sundays, sang in the choir (along with a later school friend, Cherry Wickes).

Reverend 'Toby' would be a friend to listen, share her frustrations, mediate her disputes with Dora.

Patty Ann was commuted to school from Barberton to Independence by Patrick as her drove to his new assignment each morning.

"And it was tough, you know? Everybody already had their friends. I remember when they were building their home, see, I would ride to work with dad. And he would drop me off, there was nothing in the house. He'd drop me off at the house...at six o'clock in the morning. I had to stay there 'til the bus came. Then I'd get off, I didn't know anybody...or anything. I'd have to wait 'til daddy came back, pick me up, take me back to Barberton, see. The house wasn't even finished. But, you know, just like everything that went on." (Patricia Merrell)

* * *

Trying to fit into school, she went extra-curricular, joining the band, German Club, F.T.A. (Future Teachers of America) where she became a teacher's aide to Ms. Foote, her German teacher and Assistant Principal. Ms. Foote was another source of sympathy and understanding for Patty.

* * *

"...and I was overweight...and I was country. So, we move...to the city. I did make a few friends there. Cherry Wickes, Sharon Lombaurght...Cherry came from an elderly family...she was 'change of life'. I think Mrs. Wickes had about eight...miscarriages, and then Cherry came along. Sharon was just...mother didn't like her. She thought [Sharon] was a slut. Which she wasn't. She was a good girl. But her father was a cop, too."

* * *

Patty joined the high school girl's basketball team.

"...tough in basketball. I was tough in track. I was doing everything to establish myself. Have people like me. Have my mother, at least, think I was something other than a football to be kicked around, you know? And I was trying. Made fairly decent grades. But it was just a constant battle with her. Just constant..."

* * *

I had certain homes [I could visit without supervision], yes. But they all had the 'discussion' [initiated by Dora] that I was an orphan, and I was not to be trusted, and I was this, and I was that. Yeah...never, ah...if mother had kept her mouth shut...I probably would have had a better childhood. There was no need for everybody in the neighborhood knowing that I was an orphan. And...I'm just [pshshw]...I don't know. I got...to me, Dora and...Jackie's mother should never have been allowed to have adopted."

"I was never allowed to go to any of the...well, umm, Junior-Senior Prom. Guess who became the chaperone? It was Patrick and Dora. Anything I ever got to go to, if mother and father were not the chaperones, little Patty was not allowed to be there.

The man that mother and dad set up to take me to the prom...reneged...and there I had this beautiful formal that...my mother was an excellent seamstress. She could go, take a look at a formal, and go home and make it. She always made my formals. And they were beautiful. She was real good at that, but...

Mother had...even my Senior picnic, Dallie...she was the damned chaperone. The Junior-Senior Prom. her and daddy went to the damned prom, I sit in the house. I mean, who in the hell else has their mother at every function? At high school. I mean my Junior Prom, that they set me up a date. He didn't show up, but my Momma and dad were up there. My Junior-Senior Prom. Old Dora was there. My Senior picnic, Dora was there. I was some little wimp that was dominated...that's true. I was nobody. Oh yeah, Ms. Foote, the German teacher? She loved me. The principal, he loved me...and Reverend Tobias, Reverend 'Toby'...he understood..."

"They used to call me 'Dody' in high school...I realize today it was...and still is, probably, a nervous [habit]. It's not so much nerves now, but when I was in high school, and with such a traumatic childhood -- Great childhood, ha! I would fit...and mess around...[talking] on one subject, and take off [talking] on another subject... I was the 'Dody Goodman'...kind of like Archie Bunker's old lady, Edith? Dingbat. I was! Yeah, yeah, yeah...because mother...had beat up on me...in the morning...she'd get a switch and switch [me] on [my] legs. [Even in high school]...I never [had to explain away the switch marks on my legs...] because I was the Dody Goodman, the dingbat. I was a faker, Dallie. I was the class clown. I faked all my feelings. All my feelings. Nobody ever knew...she was 'Adorable Dora'. "The fine, upstanding"...citizens. That's the way [it was] when I went to school. Many times I came home from school crying. But they didn't see it. I was the class clown in school. That was my front. I'd go home and cry my eyes out. I only performed because that was the only way I could get people to know I was even there. And then I'd go home and cry. Cherry said, "You know what?" She said, "I don't understand your mother at all." I said, "Well, who does? It's just something you got to put up with..." She said, "But why is she at school all the time? Telling them how bad you are?" I said, "That's Dora's thing, I guess." I called her 'mother' then.

The teachers, the principal, Ms. Foote...Ms. Foote said, "I'll tell you, Mrs. Hensley. She's not doing this stuff [you're accusing her of]. She's making straight A's. She's my teacher's aide..."

* * *

I was a perfectly miserable, shy, backward...uptight...wanted-to-die teenager. I had such a hell of a time getting through those years. If it hadn't been for Ms. Foote, my German teacher, and Rev. Tobias, I would not have made it. My mother was so...cruel, so mean...so everything. So embarrassing; she would go to the principal, 'Well, Patty's not doing this, not doing...that'. The principal, he said, 'You know, we think a lot of [Patty] here'. Ms. Foote, she was vice principal, she sheltered me. She was my German teacher, I was her teacher's aide. But oh! Mother'd go down [to the school]...I think she's messing around with...' HELL! When did I have time to mess around. I mean, you know? That old woman took me to school, she picked me up at school..."

* * *

"I think the biggest thing was when I started my periods, Dallie. I started them one month, I'd skip two...she would think I was skipping classes [and messing around]...but I worked for the principal...Ms. Foote...they knew where I was all the time. That's why I told you I had to seek counseling. Cause nobody would listen to me. And I had to talk to somebody. I just had to."

"But, yeah...Independence is where she threw me down the damned stairway...see, I was in my junior year. It was in Independence when I tried to commit suicide. I was having trouble in school...being made fun of...I had one real bastard...of an English teacher, Mr. Donovan...he really taught me a lot, but I couldn't stand him. He would go...there was a beer joint about two blocks

from the high school. He would come in there drunk. He would cut me down so bad...in that class...because I was overweight...he knew I was adopted and he would degrade me so bad. And I would leave a lot. And, I tried to talk to Dora about this. I kept trying to tell my mother that I was having this kind of problem. And I knew he was going to the beer joint. And I had class right after...the beer joint thing. I had a hell of a time. She would go down there, "Why is she having so much trouble, blah, blah, blah?" Hell, she wouldn't listen to me. If she'd listen to me...well, all this stuff kept on. And I ran off from home. I had a little savings account. And I ran away because I couldn't take it any more...mother was on me...she wouldn't believe me...she was always coming down to school, jumping...talking to the principal about me...I just left."

"She threw me down. That's the only time dad ever hit me. She threw me down to the landing...in the cellar. And, I was so mad...and in those days my temper was ten times...my temper is mellow now. I got her down. I was on top of her, choking her...because she threw me down those cellar steps. And dad had to hit me to get me off her. And then, I tried to commit suicide."

"I took an overdose of pills...whatever was in the...medicine cabinet. Aspirin, there was...she had some tranquilizers and stuff...and my dad walked right in...dad took me to the emergency room...and they pumped my stomach. She sent my ass to school the next day, and I broke out in hives terrible. The school called her. When she had to pick me up at school because of the hives, she took me to the doctor. They said it was an allergic reaction to the medication. She was really mad about that. But when we got back from the doctor's...he gave me...whatever they give you...she was really pissed...about having to take me out of school to go to the doctor's...and she beat my ass because I broke out in hives...beat the hell out of me; that time with...he had that...razor strap of dad's. He used..a razor? ...my legs, my back, my butt. Yeah...about twenty minutes, I guess. I just always covered my head. And the police came...the law showed up [I guess it had been] reported from the emergency room. They said I had to have psychiatric treatment because it was reported I had tried to commit suicide. Well, they took me to the psychologist, Dr. Brown. His brother, the other Dr. Brown, had been the family doctor. He was the [one] that [had examined me] at age 13 because I'd missed two periods, and mother just knew I was pregnant...and how embarrassing...my father had to sign the papers, and stand right there. That was the most embarrassing thing. And the doctor had said, 'Will you let her alone? You know her normal cycle; one month...miss two months, then the next month.' Because I was pudgy, and...it was disgusting...take a thirteen year old kid with her legs up there, and her father there, and the doctor's there, and they're going...it's the most disgusting thing I've ever had...one of the most disgusting. This is Adorable Dora.

Anyway, I went [to counseling] two days, they 'cut me loose'. He told her, he said, "I'm going to tell you what. This child...you're going to have to be let loose, because she's a teenager, she's becoming a woman. You're going to have to let her grow up, or put her back in diapers." And then they called mother in there, and she went for about eight months [laugh].

* * *

And this is the time...that Dora was accusing my dad, Pat, of having an affair with a secretary. And hell, he wasn't doing [anything]. But they figured she was going through the change of life. I don't know...but I can remember...see, they slept in separate bedrooms for many, many years. Mother believed you only slept with a man when you wanted to make a baby. And...she had one hell of a time going through the change of life. It took her well over ten years. My father told her if she didn't go to a doctor for some help, he was going to leave. She accused him of having an affair with a secretary. My father never had a secretary. And [then] there was some red-haired woman, I don't know who that was...I can remember these arguments...and my father came unglued. He said he was not tolerating anything else. If she was going crazy over these...this all...just popped up, out of nowhere. I'd never seen it before. I think father was right, it was the change of life. Consequently, when she went to the doctor, she kind of mellowed out." ( Patricia Merrell)

ROBERT WAYNE MERRELL

Patty Ann managed to survive high school in spite of her insecurities, in spite of her flirtation with suicide, in spite of her running feuds with Dora.

"I had worked two summers...while in high school, in the x-ray department. I wanted to be an x-ray technician. But they didn't have...an opening for me; the classes were full. That's when mother convinced me to become a nurse. I [had] begged to become a missionary. And my mother vetoed that. Then, I got into nursing. Well, instead of being supportive, I had a lot of hassles through that too. When I wanted this, "No, you can't do that...", and all, up until I decided to turn my own life around and think about...[Patty Ann]...sometimes being Number One. Now, I don't always put myself first. But after you've gone all your life...being second, it's hard always, to put yourself first." (Patricia Merrell)

* * *

Patty Ann got into nurse's training at Cleveland General Hospital. Along the way a Dr. Ismet Halik was brought into her life, as apparently Dora wanted Patty to show interest in him.

"...now, Dr. Halik, he could take me anywhere...I was eighteen, and he was 43, 44 years old...mother thought the world...the sun rose and set on this guy. And I had to call him Dr. Halik too. I couldn't call him by his first name... Yeah, she had a fit for me to marry him."

* * *

Patty Ann had also met a young soldier name Robert Wayne Merrell, who was stationed at the Independence Nike Missile Site. He was native American Indian, part Osage and part Cherokee, and a real charmer.

"I started dating Bob, too, but they kind of...now, daddy liked Bob...mother at first..." ...Bob came up, and first thing that happened, his damned car broke down in the driveway. And it sat there for a week. We didn't go anywhere. My dates...consisted of...I was allowed to be picked up at seven o'clock, and I better have my ass home at ten o'clock. That was my dating.

And daddy, daddy liked Bob. Daddy and him used to go fishing, go to bowling alleys. They did a lot together. It was mother that didn't like Bob."

* * *

Bob Merrell didn't fit Dora's idea of a socially acceptable beau for Patty Ann. Their courtship saw many obstacles, all named Dora.

* * *

Another socially unacceptable event was the night Patty asked Dora if Patty could invite a doctor-nurse husband and wife home for dinner. The nurse, Elizabeth Johnson, was Patty's nursing training supervisor, and would figure very much into Patty's future.

Patty hadn't thought to mention to Dora that the couple was black. Dora was mortified; Patty was embarrassed; the couple was non-plussed and understanding to Patty, 'assuring her they were accustomed to such reactions'.

* * *

Then there was the evening Patty Ann and two nurse-trainee friends decided to visit the soldiers over at the Nike base. One of the trainees persuaded Patty to let her drive the car, a brand new standard shift Patrick had recently bought. The friend hit a telephone pole but, ironically, Patty Ann was the only one to suffer injury, a concussion from hitting her head on the windshield. Patty took the blame for the accident, claiming she had been the driver, so that Patrick would be able to file a claim.

Patty's injuries were apparently not obvious to Dora, who had come to the emergency room; or they were ignored until Patty passed out and wound up on the floor.

"My God, my mother didn't even care that I was the only one hurt; I passed out in the emergency room. I was lying on the floor when somebody finally noticed. Jesus! My mother [had] left me standing there, worrying about Jean and Sylvia being hurt. There was nothing wrong with them, and I passed out, because I had a concussion...I hit the dash so hard...on impact. I lied and said that I was the one driving, because I knew the insurance wouldn't cover... [Dr. Halik] came to the hospital. Mother was so gung-ho on me marrying this guy...

And, daddy, he came around about two weeks after the insurance had paid off. He said, 'Annie...Annie Banany, I want to know the truth'. I said, 'What's that, Poppy?' "You weren't driving, were you?" I said, "No, Poppy, I wasn't driving. But I just lied because I knew the insurance wouldn't pay for it." He said, "I know". And that's when he talked to me about Halik. My daddy said, "Are you still seeing Tommy Hawk Joe?" That's what he called Bob. I said yes. He said, "honey, you're in a lot of hurt...with Dora and Halik." I said, "Daddy, I'm not going back to Turkey. I'm not marrying this old man. I don't want no part of it." He said, "Well, you and Tommy Hawk Joe better do something quick, because mommy's fixing to marry you off to that Halik fool'."

* * *

Around July of August of 1959, Patty Ann realized she was pregnant. At first, Dora was prepared to blame the doctor.

"Daddy already knew who the father was...as soon as I tell my mother, my father knew that I was pregnant. And he had gone to the base, and Bob and him had discussed it. And Bob told him, he said, "Yeah, I want to marry her. That's...the reason she's pregnant." And, daddy, said, "Well, just stay away 'til I get it [fixed]'...because mother was going to call the law. I was under age...on statutory rape. And I refused to tell who the father was. Well, of course, poor old Reverend Toby got called in. I said, "It doesn't matter, Reverend Tobias, I'm not going to have...the father of this baby put in jail because this is what we wanted." He said, "Do you want to get away from home that bad?" And I said, "Yes I do. But I also love the man. And he loves me." He said, "Well, let me handle Dora..."

Anyways...she started a bunch of bullshit with me. A bunch of it. She had Bob...now, I want to tell you, this woman could connive. She had Bob shipped off to Fort Knox. She had him shipped off...saying I was not even eighteen. My mother knew everything and everybody...of importance. But she never knew her own family. She had him shipped off, and told the commanding officer...if he was not shipped out, she would file statutory rape charges on him. I had no control...I was under age.

Bob was writing me letters and sending me money...I never saw the letters. She sent the money straight back, tore [the letters] up. And, his CO down there, she was writing him, too, telling him not to let [Bob] send me money, anything else. Cause Bob was trying to get me down there. And his CO called him in; his CO in Fort Knox said, "Merrell, I got two things for you. Now, you make a choice. I'm either going to send you back to Independence, Ohio, where that stinking bitch is harassing me...so I can get her off my back, or you can go to Germany." Bob said, "I'd like to go back to Independence." And they shipped him right back to Independence. We snuck around. We got married. I guess mother thought we had not slept together yet. She [wanted to have] it annulled. [But] I was pregnant. We're getting ready to go to church [to get married, but] I was [not yet eighteen]. She was trying to get Bob put in jail for statutory rape, or in the stockade.

Then, during the time she keeps putting the wedding off, that's the time I keep hitting the home for unwed mothers. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...

It was some place in Cleveland. She would carry me over there; Bob would come and get me. She would carry me back over there; Bob would come and get me. She was going to have this child put up for adoption. So, Reverent Toby happened to be there when Bob brought me back. I said, "Reverend Tobias, I will never give my child away." He said, "well...do you think you could support a child?" I said, "I don't care what I have to do, I will support my child...I am never giving my child up." Well, she took me back...to the home for...I told them people, "Do not check me in. Let me use your phone." She said, "Are you calling that Indian?" I said, "No, I'm not". And I called this Elizabeth (Johnson) and her husband, and that's when I had Elizabeth and Ray come pick me up. Of nurses' training...she was my instructor and he come in to give lectures. And they came and got me. Now, I'm...not showing or anything, but I know that I'm at least two month's pregnant. And I went and stayed with those people. I stayed there...let's see. I was two month's pregnant. I stayed with those people...for about three months...without letting my mother...or Bob...know. It was fancy; fancy place. They were established -- doctor and nurse.

But she was...Dora was giving me such hell, and Elizabeth (had) befriended me. I mean, she must have been fifteen years older than me...and she kept saying..."I know you can do this. I know you..." And if it hadn't been for her, I've...she was the one give me the confidence to make good grades. All I knew was this woman had befriended me.

Daddy used to come by and give me money. And make sure I was alright...and he's say, "Are you going to the doctor?" I said, "Daddy, I live with a doctor". You know? [Eventually] they allowed Bob in the home. In fact, they became...very good friends. And then I called the chaplain, Reverend Tobias. And finally dad, Reverend Tobias, and Bob showed up. And, God bless these people [the Johnsons], I mean, they even let me stay [during] the turmoil. And I told [Reverend Tobias], I said, "I'm telling you, I'm sick of this. Something's got to be done. You've got to talk to Momma. You've got to do something. She wants me to give my child up for adoption. I refuse. If she takes me back there, I still refuse to sign my child away. And she harassed me, and harassed me." O.K. Reverend Toby talked her into letting us come back. Bob slept...in the spare bedroom, and I slept in my bedroom. She made me a beautiful wedding dress. She called the wedding off. She made me another...she...increased it...I was getting pretty big then. She called the wedding off.

Daddy seldom got pissed, and seldom raised his voice. And I mean, like I was that...well, finally, December 5th...we'd already had breakfast and everything. We were going to have...all his buddies wanted to have a military wedding, with Reverend Tobias, who was the [unit] chaplain. I was in maternity tops by then...that she didn't make.

And I was supposed to meet him [Bob] down...all them guys...were down there waiting. And she was going to call it off. And papa came unglued. "Damn it, Dora, she's going this time. I'm tired of all this bullshit. She's already pregnant; she's not going to give that baby up. She's going to marry him. He wants to marry her. He says it's her baby...his baby; what the hell else do you want?" (She said), "Well, I'm not going." He said, "set your damned ass down. Come on, girl..." And daddy took me to church. And she stayed there...she showed up...right...before they performed the ceremony." (Patricia Merrell)

* * *

And then daddy, he liked his beer occasionally, but he was a serious, serious diabetic. He would hide his beer down in the basement. And drink it hot...slip over there and get him a beer. And then...we finally got our own little place...cause she just... It wasn't too far from them...up the road. And it was a beautiful pink cottage. It had been a garage. But it was like a pink honeymoon cottage in back of these people's house. And it had an itty-bitty upstairs for the bedroom. And Bob and I moved in there. And dad started stopping by for lunch. Oh!...Mother found out. Aww, hell, yeah, when mother found out..."

* * *

When she was first married to Bob, Patty had a job as a 'tank reader' for Standard Oil, servicing residential units.

On 1 May, 1960, Elizabeth Ann Merrell was born at University Hospitals of Cleveland. By 3 March, 1961, Bob received a General Discharge from the Army as the result of military proceedings per UR AR 635-209: discharge because of unsuitability (Col. E. A. Wilson, commanding). Bob shirked his duty, was AWOL several times, and was accused of a generally bad attitude. These charges could easily have been a result of his ongoing contest with his mother-in-law over his relationship with Patty Ann. But Bob would later exhibit the 'fine' qualities of an alcoholic, wife beater, and derelict as well.

The couple headed for Hominy, Oklahoma, where Bob hailed from. A little over a month after they arrived, Patty Ann was pregnant with a second child. Apparently, Dora stayed in touch with Patty and her baby daughter. Dora went to Oklahoma and talked Patty into letting little Elizabeth return to Independence until Patty's pregnancy was over.

* * *

According to our interview on Memorial Day weekend 1990:

"When I got pregnant with Denny? She [Dora] took her [Elizabeth] home. Only supposed to be for a short while. Bob was working the oilrigs. And Bob was the one convinced me it would be better. So, O.K., and I cried so bad that Bob let me fly an airplane home. And my best girlfriend...now, mind you, Bob and I were married. My best girlfriend, Cherry Wickes, wanted me [to] go [to] church with her. This [is] when we [were] in Independence, Ohio. She come by [and] wanted me [to] go [to] church with her. We always went to church together. And because I was pregnant, my mother went off the wall...slam that door in my girlfriend's face, and took me down [and] put me on the bus. After I had only been there two weeks, and Bob had sent me there to stay a month, and was going to send me another plane ticket. But after I wanted to go to church with my girlfriend, she didn't want...mother was always, AHH [surprise, shock] my God, what will the neighbors think..."

I went on back, and after Denny was born, well Bob left me before Denny was born...I couldn't get a divorce until Denny was born. It's against the law in Oklahoma. If you're married, you cannot get a divorce until the baby is born."

On 18 January, 1962, Denyal Stanley Merrell was born in Tulsa. Patty then contacted Bob so she now could arrange for her divorce.

"So, anyway, Bob went down with me. I'll never forget it...so then Denny was four months old, when the law came and arrested me. They came...in...Tulsa. Tulsa didn't have anything on me. Kansas wanted me. I had never been in Kansas before, except to ride through from Ohio.

So, Oklahoma...now let me...this is another one...see, you're talking about days that...O.K....didn't have the best childhood. But I never saw the kind of life...that I got involved in...after I got married. Mother and dad; when everyone else was [trendy], I was watching...Lawrence Welk...and all that stuff that mother wanted...the only music that I was ever allowed to listen to was Beethoven, Strauss...course, I was playing the piano, too. So, anyhow, they came and arrested me. At [my] house. And, they took me...the Oklahoma police; said I was under arrest. And I know nothing about the law...nothing. They took me to the Kansas state line. And told me, 'Get out of the car and walk over there'. I said, 'Why?' And saw another cop car sitting over there. They said, 'You just get out [of] the car, and walk over there'. So I walked across the state line...they took the cuffs off...and I might have...I was scared to death...and the Kansas police said, 'You're under arrest'. And I still don't know what for! Ol' stupid me. I just start bawling' and all this stuff. O.K. They take me...I go to several different jails. And, this one jail, there's a young under-sheriff, who'd shot his brother...but he was still the under-sheriff...he would bring his baby in, and his wife's ironing while I was in this cell. And I'd do all that ironing, and baby-sit the little baby. And mind you, now, Dallie, I was in this jail...for about eight months. And I don't...see anybody...they just keep telling me I'm going to court and I have a lawyer. I'm in Parsons, Kansas.

Anyhow, I get this under-sheriff's wife, she likes me a lot. So they bring the baby in, I'm the only woman there...kid. And then the trustee starts parading all these people by my cell.

Denny's still a baby; four months old when I left him. And, these people were keeping Denny, they brought Denny down. Denny was so fat, I didn't even know he was my own son. And this is after I'd been in there...oh, God...four months, I guess. So Denny's eight months old. And I don't even recognize him. Course, he screams and hollers; doesn't want anything to do with me...

Then they take me...to a little store...and back behind the store is the J.P. [Justice of the Peace]. I'm in there, and he says, 'You're guilty, and you're going to the 'chicken farm'.' I keep saying, 'What am I guilty of?'

So, they take me to the Lansing Penitentiary. And this guy's with me, right? And they pull up to this huge 'castle' thing, so I start bawling' again, cause I know I can't stay in this...'castle'. Well, it was the man they were taking in there. Well, they brought him right back out because the man was not a man; he was supposed to be in the female penitentiary with me. But he had a wife and three, four kids, cause they took him to his wife's funeral while he was in prison with me.

So, anyway, I get up there, and it's a pretty place, the women's penitentiary, 'cept you know you're not free. And, 'Mom' Phillips said, 'You don't belong here'. She's superintendent. And I'm scared, crying, shaking. She just looked at me, she said, 'You do not belong here'. Then she looked at ol Gary, said, 'You belong here'. She said, 'How'd you plead?' I said, 'I have no idea what I'm here for, yet'. And, what it was, the Justice of the Peace told them I was guilty, they sent me down for six months. Five, if I had good behavior. Well, the superintendent, she took me under her wing. I was never locked in a room...after one week Isolation; had to have one week Isolation.

I worked in the office, and kept her and her husband's apartment, and I cleaned. Cause she sheltered me away from the general prison population. Cause, I don't know what she saw in me, but she knew that I was no drug addict, no prostitute...

Anyways, the day...the day after Christmas, she went to the parole board and asked them if I could be sent to Tulsa to be with my boy...for Christmas. And they said no.

On the 24th [of November?] Lucille Merrell [Bob's mother] goes up before the judge in Kansas on this hot check charge. Because she had so many children, he says, 'You pay court costs , and I will put you on probation'. And do you know what she did? She wrote the judge a hot check for court costs. They pick her up on Christmas Day and when they bring her...when they take her to jail, she tells them she was the one that did the forgery [that had been the charge Patty was found guilty of], and they got her for forgery. And they gave me the pardon. And, that's the story of my prison life."

* * *

During our interview, Patty Ann related to me some forty-seven years of her life story. I taped for three days, but still significant parts of it weren't taped for one reason or another. However, one of the 29-odd letters she'd sent me between 1985 and 1990 was dated August 27, 1987, postmarked Aurora, Colorado:

"...Bob and I ran off to Oklahoma as mom was still keeping us apart even after we were married. I got pregnant with Denny and she came to take Liz home until after he was born which was Jan 18th 1962. Bob was a wife beater and we separated before Denny was born and were divorced right after his birth. he was five months old when I was arrested for 'hot checks'. I was sent to Lansing Women's Prison in Kansas for five months. Mom sent a letter to the authorities to have me sent away for life if possible, and all, tried to find Denny, but I would never tell who was keeping him as I'm sure he would have been taken.

While I was in Lansing, mom went to Oklahoma to find Bob, at which time she paid him $1,500 to sign adoption papers for Liz. I didn't know this until just before dad passed away and he told me. She never let me see her or come around and dad was dead for almost three years before I knew it."

* * *

At the time of our sibling reunion in Tiffin on 7 July, 1985, and for some time thereafter, there was inference...and sibling belief...that Patty Ann had sold her daughter for $1,500; information which seems to have gotten to Patty's siblings either during or after the reunion. Patty has denied that cruel charge, both in person and by letter. At this writing, this author and his spouse apparently are the only kin to believe Patty's rebuttal.

* * *

"Bob used to degrade me and all...but he'd always say to me, 'Patty, you can make it...' And when he left...I was glad he left...I got to thinking, 'If I'm going to make it, how am I going to make it?' I was so shy and backwards. And I was thinking, 'How am I going to make this? I'll never make it'. And, becoming a waitress helped me a lot...learn how to talk..."

* * *

NEIL THOMPSON

In short, order Patty Ann landed a job with Century Electronics as a machine operator trainee, one of seven women among seventy male employees.

"And I was the only single woman there. And I was teased...and harassed. And, I'm not kidding you, Dallie, sometimes I'd just shake before I'd enter that machine shop. They never knew it.

I did not go to any machinist school. I learned the machine shop work...I was doing printed circuit boards. I was taught on the job. They had a lay-off, and their best employees, they wanted to save. So they asked me if I wanted to go over...to the machine shop. I said I'd never worked in a machine shop.

I started on the burr bench. Then all of a sudden they needed somebody on the drill press. Well, the main supervisor, Neil Thompson, he'd say, 'Put her on'. I said, 'Neil, I don't know any...' 'You can do it.' So, I became very good at the drill press. They needed a turret lathe operator. Neil put me on it. And all of a sudden, Neil and I were...a thing. how it came about, I don't know, but...he was my supervisor...and he and I started dating.

And Neil and I became engaged, as a matter of fact. But that's something else. Then I became very proficient on the induction welder, the sand blaster, and the Bridgeport. And I eventually...some of the guys were against it, of course, I eventually became...foreman. And then...they came over and said, 'Oh, you do sign language?' I said, 'Yes, I'm proficient with sign language.' They said, 'Well, we have a deaf person here.' And he was excellent on the printed circuits. And then he had a friend, who was also deaf. Anyhow, before it ended up, I was supervisor of the deaf line. I had...all the printed circuits for the deaf, plus I had them in plating, plus I had some in the machine shop. Well, all this time I was dating this guy...we did become engaged. He was a transfer from the state of Washington. And I was making big plans for my remarriage. And...everybody at the shop making big plans for my remarriage. And...everybody at the shop

was...real happy about it. In the meantime, Neil had quit the company, and had gone on to bigger things. But we were still...low and behold, three weeks before we were getting married, this lady and two boys...comes to my door. Mrs. Neil. Mrs. Neil Thompson. All this time, the trips he took back to see his mother in the state of [Washington]...

But, I got to thinking, 'How would I feel if some woman came in...', and Nina was real nice. She'd set and visit and everything...and she really believed that I'd had no idea. She knew that I had no idea, because that wasn't the first woman that it had happened to. But she did. She thought Neil was so in love with me...and I guess, in his own way, he wanted both of us. And I got to thinking, about how I would feel if someone...took my child's father...and here she had two beautiful boys. And you know, he did love Nina, but he also loved me. And she sent him over, bag and baggage. And [he'd taken his] wedding ring off, he was so excited. I said, 'Neil, you're disgusting!' I said I guessed she was throwing him out; he could sleep on the couch. Now, get you...I'm heartbroken, but I can't tear this woman's world apart. And I'm acting like I had a man [visiting] in the back bedroom! There ain't nobody in my back bedroom. But I keep saying, 'Shhh...stay in there...stay in there.' And I saw Neil peeping. I said, 'Well, you'll have to sleep on the couch tonight, Neil'. Cause I had Denny.

"...but see, every time I would call and say, 'Momma, I want to come up there'

"...Well, now, it's just bad timing...it's just not the right time now...'

And the only time I ever got up there, I never...I never let her know, at all. I showed up...at her doorstep. Denny was born in '62, and I think I was up there the first time...but see, I didn't know they'd left Independence. I went up there one time and the house was sold...to strangers. I was never told about that. [To] find out where they were...I called my father's work.

The first time I showed up in Tiffin, she made me lay back...Denny was little then. Elizabeth was still a baby. And I slept out...on her grass...and daddy slipped out and brought me blankets...I was not allowed in there." (Patricia Merrell)

* * *

In the late spring of 1963, Patty managed to arrange to meet Dora and Patrick in the Springfield, Missouri bus depot so that she could see her daughter Elizabeth. An acquaintance was to drop Patty at the depot.

"He [the acquaintance] was in some kind of business for himself. First off, he wanted to rent a motel [room], and I thought, 'Oh my God.' I can't think of the man's name. I ought to know him. Anyway, he rented the motel [room]. He got me and Denny a bed; he got a bed. He said, 'Now, don't be afraid. It's just cheaper if I do it this way'. But he...was a wealthy man. I don't know how wealthy. And he treated me and Denny real good. And the next day he carried me down to the [bus] station. My dad was standing there. I'll never forget. I had on a white dress with little butterflies. I love butterflies. And it had those little....that's when I had both dresses, I could wear that...those little shoestring straps, you know? I tried to look nice, because I hadn't seen them in a long time, and I was trying to get Elizabeth back. And I stood right there beside my dad. I must have stood there ten minutes. And that guy come up...and pushed me, said, '[whisper] Is that your father?' I said, 'Yeah. Daddy, don't you know who I am?' And he backed off and jumped. 'Are you...? Patty?' But I stood there right beside him, and Momma was right there! Neither one of them knew who I was.

They'd drove [from Ohio]. We'd agreed to meet there [in Springfield] so I could see Elizabeth. They did not want me into their home.

I was down to about 105 pounds. This is when I'd started off bleeding and hemorrhaging. he kept glancing at me, but Momma was right there...and she went like...turned her head again. And he kept glancing. And that dude...whatever his name was...he was black...ten or fifteen years older. Pushed at my shoulders...'[whisper] Is that your father?' I said, 'Yeah. Hey daddy. How you doing?' Boy, he jumped back next to Mom. It was a long way to go for...just a couple of hours. [But] that's all they'd give me. And, anyway, we went to a park...we had a little picnic, and daddy bought some orange Popsicles. Like I said, Denny was little. Well, that Popsicles just dripped all over his little outfit and he was just a little...sticky mess. I took him over and turned the faucet on, and...he was naked. I didn't think anything of it. What was the harm! OHH!! She went off the wall...Denny started screaming. And daddy picked him up and was drying him with a towel. Momma said, 'Pat. Put him down. He's too heavy.' And he turns and says, 'Shut up. This is my grandson'. And took him over there and was drying him off, and got him dressed and all that...he was about...no more than sixteen months. And Elizabeth's about eighteen months older. But...you know...it should have been...I don't know. That was mother. She would not...anytime...see, the only time I was able to, to get...I was hurt." (Patricia Merrell)

* * *

Along toward 1969, while still working for Century Electronics, Patty Ann became involved again with Bob M