The First Orphan Train West

Part 3 of my article on the Orphan Trains: 

On Wednesday evening, Sept. 20, 1854, 46 boys and girls between the ages of 7 and 15 became the first Orphan Train Riders sent west by the CAS. It appears to have been a grand adventure for most of the children. Let me give you some highlights of that journey.

The first attempt at the Emigrant Plan as Brace called it—the movement did not become known as the Orphan Trains until just a few years ago—actually started on a boat, the Isaac Newton. From Rev. E. P. Smith's, the agent who accompanied the orphans, journal we read: "As we steamed off from the wharf, the boys gave three cheers for New York, and three more for Michigan, their destination. All seemed as careless at leaving home forever, as if they were on a target excursion to Hoboken.

"We had a steerage passage, and after the cracker-box and ginger-bread had passed around, the boys sat down in the gang-way and began to sing. Their full chorus attracted the attention of the passengers, who gathered about, and soon the captain sent for us to come to the upper saloon. There the boys sang and talked, each one telling his own story separately, as he was taken aside, till ten o'clock, when Captain S. gave them all berths in the cabin."

Rev. Smith's journal goes on to tell about the journey to Dowagiac, Michigan, their final stop.

At Albany they switched to a train. His description sounds like a horrible experience to me. For example, "The conductor, a red-faced, middle-aged man, promises to give us a separate car; but, while he whispers and negotiates with two Dutch girls, who are traveling without a protector, the motley mass rush into the cars, and we are finally pushed into one already full—some standing, a part sitting in laps, and some on the floor under the benches—crowded to suffocation, in a freight car without windows—rough benches for seats, and no back—no ventilation except through the sliding doors, where the little chaps are in constant danger of falling through."

That night they were told that passengers furnished their own lights. They had none, so they endured the dark. Luckily, children aren't bothered by things that trouble adults. When the train passed through Rochester, many of the children saw country scenery for the first time. Their remarks showed their excitement: Again from Rev. Smith's journal:

"What's that, mister?"

"A cornfield."

"Oh, yes; them's what makes buckwheaters."

"Look at them cows." (Really oxen plowing.)

Rev. Smith said it was difficult to keep the children on the train. Arms stretched out, hats swinging, eyes swimming, mouths watering at the orchards of apples, and screaming, "Oh, oh! Just look at 'em!"

At Buffalo they boarded another boat, landed in Detroit at ten o'clock Saturday night and took a first-class passenger car to Dowagiac. The next morning they filed into the Presbyterian church, which was also the schoolhouse.  At the close of the sermon, the people were informed of the object of the Children's Aid Society. Every child was placed with a family. This first attempt at placing out was so successful that the Emigration Plan, or Orphan Trains, continued carrying children west for the next seventy-five years.

The Orphan Trains were the first step from indenture to modern foster care. Rev. Brace was the first to demonstrate the superiority of foster care over institutional care.