This is a biography written by Mark Andrew Henderson (1920-2009). I have transcribed it exactly as it is hand written on the original, spelling and punctuation in tact.
To express an opinion, I think I should outline who I am and what roads I traveled. The Indians would say “you walk a mile in the other man’s moccasins then pass judgement.”
I’ll be 74 Aug 24, 1994. Had my own mortgage business, in Sacramento, 28 yrs, 1956 to 1985 when I sold out at age 65. Got bored with retirement so went back in business three years ago. Had good income from age 30 on. Owned a few nice homes in lovely areas, belonged to Sacramento’s finest country club, two civic clubs and business affiliations, 25 new automobiles and 5 airplanes. In general, I tried to live the good life and maybe catch up for the times when I had nothing, nothing at all, not even a comb, home, toothbrush, food nor friend.
Plagued by memories; you bet. I’ve tried for 67 years to push a few early ones out of my mind. To those who had done me wrong I caught up with in 1940 when I was 20 yrs old. I stalked them till they died in their eighties and nineties during the 1980’s. I kind of miss them, never felt that I had fully gotten even with them. I put the heat on them through their relatives and churches in addition to arriving unannounced at their homes when they had guests. Most people would be flattered having someone come to call on them in their 40’s – 50’s – 60’s – 70’s & 80’s that knew them in their 20’s, and this kid was only 7 & 8 yrs old at the time of their cruel treatment. No doubt they wished I had gotten blown away in World War II.
We’ll start at age 7; see how you would react to this situation. Omaha officials came and told mother they were going to take us to a nice home. She trusted them and put all six of us kids in the back seat with 1 yr old brother Bill in her arms. He was killed Febr 1945 in WWII. Well, this big 4 door open touring car arrives in front of the county hospital. Mother knew it was bad news, two men tried to pull her out of the car. Nine year old brother King rises to her defense, one of the men beat up on him, mother tries to defend him with baby Bill in her arms, they pull him out of her arms and yank her out of the car. At the tender age of 7 I felt so ashamed that I was a coward and too frightened to say a word in defense of my mother and brother. Mother was crying and asking if she could take her children with her. She was looking back and I kept my eyes fixed on her till she was out of sight, it was eight years before I saw her again.
The do gooders scattered us six children to the four winds. I was sent to some religious kooks in South Dakota. No child ever worked harder or absorbed more brutality than I did and survived. I was 8 or 9 during that period and was down to skin and bones, so after harvest was over they had some religious friends on their way to a camp meeting in Missouri, squeeze me in their Model A Ford. When they got to Omaha they asked me if I knew where I was. I said yes, at that they dropped me off and headed for Missouri. I landed in the county home, no schooling for a year and half. Then to the Masonic home, it was like a pack of roving dogs, 58 of us, it was designed for 35 and one woman trying to manage all of us. She wound up where my mother did. The Masons ran out of money, we’re down to soda crackers, milk and Welch’s grape juice. Father Flannagan (now Boy’s Town) came and took some of the boys and some of us went back to the county home.
1934 – White Hall, Nebraska State Home for Dependent Children. It’s Sept and I’m 14, I arrive at school and the principal asks what grade am I in, I said the 5th, he said “the 5th, what happened,” I said nothing. He said, if I put you in the 5th you’ll be down stairs with the little kids, If I put you in the 6th you’ll be down stairs, you’re 5’-9” tall. He says that might hurt your feelings, I’m going to put you in the 7th so you’ll be up here with the 7th through 12th. I thought I must be standing in the presence of Jesus Christ. The first person I ever met that thought I just mighty have feelings and he is going to jump two grades. I said it could be difficult for me, he said, we will help you. Swamped with studies, I had a headache every day but I love that school. Now comes the 8th grade, I’m not back in that school. Mrs. Mouden, the Superintendent of the home, with total authority over all matters including monies, decided to hire a man and wife to teach grades 1 thru 8th. That way she saved $120.00 per student that had to be payed to public school because state property was not on tax rolls. One boy, sitting next to me, Jim Manlove, smiled a lot, unusual for a kid in an orphanage he also spoke cheerfully and a little often. One day the man teacher decides to beat up on him, Jim was thin and not very strong, he was crying and asking the man to quit hitting him. Soon I saw the blood on his desk, then I saw his tooth fall out and at that I started to rise to show my disapproval. The teacher quit beating on him. Later, my turn came, his wife tried to beat my face to a pulp, I kept my eye on him in case he decided to take over. She eventually ran out of wind and I just rolled with the punches.
The home school was under county charter, which meant you had to go into the County Seat and take an exam before you can get into hi school. Mrs Mouden, the Home Supt said I didn’t pass. I said I’d take the 8th grade over, She said no, you’re not a very good student and you should learn to work with your hands so you can make a living one day.
Work with my hand, I did. Fixing screens storm windows, puttying, painting, shoveling manure, milking cows, laundry and washing dishes as other kids went off to school. After two weeks of that I wondered if the Governor had any say so over that lady. Decided to take a chance and walked seven miles from the Farm to the State Capitol in Lincoln, Nebraska. When I got there I saw on the bulletin Board “State Superintendent of Schools.” I decided to ask him to go to the governor with me. He looked it up and said, you passed and immediately went down to the Legislature and brought back a legislator to whom I repeated the story. He got on the phone and told Mrs Mouden to be in his office, with me, tomorrow morning. We were there, she lied and said I had expressed an interest not to go to school. They should have fired her on the spot. Needless to say, I was not the favorite child around that home for the next three years. I will skip reciting the types of pressure they put on me. At the beginning of my Senior year some wonderful people mysteriously showed up at the home and asked for Mark Henderson. I said, that’s me, they said, how would you like to live with us. He was Supt. Of City water and Light. Our friendship still lasts, she passed away last year.
That was 55 yrs ago when I left that orphanage. I went to University of Nebraska for a while, went into Service in WWII, graduated in the top 10% of my class of 500 at officers School. Rose to the rank of Captain and was assigned 120 men and three officers while I was still trying to figure out who I am and how to run my own affairs. Was in the 9th Air Force. Entered University of Calif in 1946 and in some manner or other, was going to school till I was 44 yrs old. Went in business for myself at age 36, sold out when 65. Took my mother out of the Nebraska mental health institution when I was 30. My wife resented her presence, mother felt she might be an economic burden to me, so having been a nurse before she encountered my worthless father, and after 23 yrs in the State hospital, she applied for employment at a local hospital. They called me, I picked her up, she said she wanted to go back to Lincoln. I took her back and they were not going to accept her because, they said, there is nothing wrong with her. I said, I know but you people have institutionalized her and the State of Nebraska has destroyed her life, my life and my brothers and sister’s. We hardly know each other, at that, they took her back.
Nice things and helping people, I’ve done but needn’t recite them here.
It’s difficult for me to feel sorry for people who say, I’ve had a bad life, I’ve been kicked around, therefore I’m going to commit crimes, steal, cheat, rob, injure and generally be mean. Yes sir, that’s my excuse for doing nothing good. B.S., we are what we think and as a man thinketh so is he.
My wisdom agrees 100% with Henry David Thoreau’s statement, quote “If I thought some one was coming to me with the express purpose to do me good, I would run for my life this very moment” Mother gave it a try, but our poverty thwarted her.
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