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Rider Story: Mary Jane Baade
The 14-year old boy told his long widowed mother he
wanted a little sister with "blue eyes and brown hair."
One month later Frank Kemper had his baby sister. Mary
Jane Baade, age 2 years, 2 months, came to Grand
Island on the orphan train to meet her new family.
Of the nine traveling west that summer of 1912, Mary
Jane was the "littlest one of the whole bunch," she says.
She remembers bits of the journey. It was the first time
she had ever been outside.
Placed in a New York orphanage when she was two
weeks old she lived inside the walls of the Catholic
institution for the first 26 months of her life. The nuns
there stitched the children's clothing from old bed-sheets.
Mary Jane left the orphanage to travel thousands of miles
to a new home. After the 2 1/2-day train journey, Mary
Jane was anxious. The other children pushed her to the
back as they scrambled outside at their final stop.
wanted a little sister with "blue eyes and brown hair."
One month later Frank Kemper had his baby sister. Mary
Jane Baade, age 2 years, 2 months, came to Grand
Island on the orphan train to meet her new family.
Of the nine traveling west that summer of 1912, Mary
Jane was the "littlest one of the whole bunch," she says.
She remembers bits of the journey. It was the first time
she had ever been outside.
Placed in a New York orphanage when she was two
weeks old she lived inside the walls of the Catholic
institution for the first 26 months of her life. The nuns
there stitched the children's clothing from old bed-sheets.
Mary Jane left the orphanage to travel thousands of miles
to a new home. After the 2 1/2-day train journey, Mary
Jane was anxious. The other children pushed her to the
back as they scrambled outside at their final stop.
Agents who traveled west to arrange placements had selected the Kemper home for Mary
Jane. Many of the orphan train children had to line up for inspection when they got off the
trains. Farmers would check their teeth and overall health before choosing them.
"I was spoken for before I got to Nebraska. They didn't line me up," she says.
"When I got off the train, my brother was looking for me," she says. "There she is!," she
heard Frank yell. And from that day forward she was, at last, part of a family.
Frank carried his little sister everywhere. "They were such wonderful times," she says.
Indeed she was lucky. Mary Jane had been chosen.
Of the nine children sent to St. Libory, two asked to return to New York. One family "worked
the sam hill out of their adopted boy," Mary Jane says.
Fortunately, the orphanage kept close tabs on the children it placed in homes. At that time,
widows were allowed to adopt children. Once a year, each July, "they would visit, to check
on us," she says.
"The sisters and Grandpa, who was really a priest, would always come to my house first. I'd
sit on his lap, and he'd ask me where all the other children are living-as if he didn't know! He
would always give me a dollar bill before leaving. That was big money.”
Frank and his mother, Adelaide, took the little girl home to St. Libory. The official town
population was then 110 people. "But when I arrived, they changed it to 110 and a half," she
says, smiling.
Scared in her new surroundings, Jane didn't say a word for two weeks. Soon her mother
grew worried. Perhaps the little girl could not hear or speak. She resolved to take Mary Jane
to the doctor the following week. That Sunday, Adelaide asked her son, "Do you have a
clean handkerchief for church?"
Jane. Many of the orphan train children had to line up for inspection when they got off the
trains. Farmers would check their teeth and overall health before choosing them.
"I was spoken for before I got to Nebraska. They didn't line me up," she says.
"When I got off the train, my brother was looking for me," she says. "There she is!," she
heard Frank yell. And from that day forward she was, at last, part of a family.
Frank carried his little sister everywhere. "They were such wonderful times," she says.
Indeed she was lucky. Mary Jane had been chosen.
Of the nine children sent to St. Libory, two asked to return to New York. One family "worked
the sam hill out of their adopted boy," Mary Jane says.
Fortunately, the orphanage kept close tabs on the children it placed in homes. At that time,
widows were allowed to adopt children. Once a year, each July, "they would visit, to check
on us," she says.
"The sisters and Grandpa, who was really a priest, would always come to my house first. I'd
sit on his lap, and he'd ask me where all the other children are living-as if he didn't know! He
would always give me a dollar bill before leaving. That was big money.”
Frank and his mother, Adelaide, took the little girl home to St. Libory. The official town
population was then 110 people. "But when I arrived, they changed it to 110 and a half," she
says, smiling.
Scared in her new surroundings, Jane didn't say a word for two weeks. Soon her mother
grew worried. Perhaps the little girl could not hear or speak. She resolved to take Mary Jane
to the doctor the following week. That Sunday, Adelaide asked her son, "Do you have a
clean handkerchief for church?"