Page 124 - Demo

122Soldiers%u2019 and Sailors%u2019 Children%u2019s Home %u201cWatch out for the carpet,%u201d warned Paul Wilkinson, Superintendent of the Indiana Soldiers%u2019 and Sailors%u2019 Children%u2019s Home. Underfoot, the garish floor covering was loose and rumpled. Draped haphazardly over the steps, it offered little in the way of security to anyone navigating the wide central stairway to the upper floors.Built in 1867 by the Grand Army of the Republic as a sanctuary for children orphaned by the Civil War, this main building had been a majestic structure in its era%u2014and it still was. Standing four-stories tall in a Victorian Italianate design, parts of its outer brick fa%u00e7ade had been stuccoed to cover smoke damage from a disfiguring fire. Unable to meet modern building-and-safety codes due to the prohibitive costs involved, for the last 30 years all the upper floors have been closed off. Originally, the Home%u2019s staff members, as well as throngs of young charges, lived in this building. Today, there are several attractive newer residences, a school, and other buildings in an academy-like setting with sweeping green lawns and a small lake. We were told that children between ages 3 and 18 are placed here for a variety of reasons. In some cases, their parents are in active military service, while others have parents who, for some reason, are temporarily unable to care for them. None of the children are legally available for adoption.As we climbed the stairs, it became obvious that Paul loved his job%u2014being in charge of one of the few state-run children%u2019s homes left in the U.S. With pride, he told us of the institution%u2019s current operation and its history. He explained how he and some of his staff were trying to organize and preserve old records that had long been neglected, so the heritage of the place would be there for future generations. As he spoke, his enthusiasm was both sincere and contagious. Now we were traversing the last flight of steps. At the very top, Paul unlocked a door and we entered the vaulted attic space. The darkened wooden beams swept up impressively to a steeply pitched gable. Sunlight filtered in through windows on all sides. There were brick chimneys rising through the space, serving the many coal fireplaces that once provided heating. We gawked, walked, and looked around. It was an absolutely amazing space.Despite being constructed nearly 140 years ago, the wood floor was surprisingly squeak-free, but I thought I heard an occasional chirping. Paul said they had successfully eliminated all the bats, but a few birds had found their way inside. Suddenly, I noticed tiny flashes of light high above. Several modern smoke detectors attached to the ceiling were announcing that they were on duty and fully functional. As it turned out, most of the attic was empty, but I did spot two large steel tubs with warped sides. They had once been used as cisterns, supplying water to the entire building. Two more were on the other side of the stairway entrance.After John finished shooting, the three of us returned to the main floor. John asked Paul what his background was. Coincidentally, he had a degree in Industrial Education from Ball State University, as did John. Leaving the old building behind, we walked into the sunlight, and into a different time%u2014our time. It actually took us several minutes to readjust to the 21st century and settle into our SUV. Like much in our contemporary world, our car was well crafted, comfortable, and reliable%u2014but it couldn%u2019t compare to the magnificence and hand-craftsmanship of this massive old Childrens%u2019 Home we had just been privileged to visit. %u2014LB