The following letter was sent to the WEEKENDER for possible publication in the "I Have A Story" column.

However, after reading the letter it became apparent to me that here was a story that could be more deeply explored - a real tale of human suffering. struggle and a unique experience First, the letter from Larry Davis of Osceola:

"The showing of the orphan train, on TV, prompted me to to write this story. My Brother, Sister, and I came to Nebraska in an orphan train.

Four of us had been abandoned first by our mother and then by our father. My brother and I were taken to Brace Farm School near New York City: our sisters were taken to the New York City Orphanage. We had relatives from both sides of the house who lived near our home in Wellsville, New York, but none of them came to our aid. We were taken in the late fall of 1924 and stayed until the middle of the following summer.

"About 12-15 of us were about to make the trip from New York City to Nebraska in 1925. One of those chosen was a small baby: my sister was two and one-half years old, my other sister was left in New York because she was sick. I have never seen her since. I was nine years of age- the eldest in our family- it seems that children were chosen who had the best chance of being "placed" with families. As we traveled through the different states a different woman would appear to take charge of our group. We traveled in an ordinary passenger car. We slept in the seats.

Look us over!

"When we reached Omaha, a Miss Bogardus took charge of us. She had escorted other orphans. She did this for many years. She died a year or two after we made out trip and a Mrs Losche took her place as escort. I do not remember how we got from New York to Osceola, Nebraska, but I do remember walking around on the lawn of the Court House in Osceola while people looked us over. My sister was legally adopted as, was one boy: the rest of us were "placed."

"An attempt was made to place children from one family with families who lived near each other so the children could maintain contact with each other. Once a year, my sister’s adopted parents brought her to see me and to see my brother. Miss Bogardus came back later to see each one of the children to find out how they faired. All complaints were dismissed."

"My memories of the next family were painful to me! I was beaten unconscious with a baseball bat, my food was severely rationed. One time when I was 11 years I was ordered to split a pile of wood while the family was away visiting. I was sick with pneumonia at the time! A neighbor came over and helped me. I wouldn’t have survived these years without his help. This man is still living. God Bless him! I left this family when I was 13 years old. Then I spent nearly six years with the family who had my brother.

"Both of my parents were alive when I became an adult but we were labeled "orphans". My schoolmates did not know what an orphan was, but they did know it was something different from themselves. I had a lot of difficulty in school. I have no fond memories of this experience at all. I would not wish this experience off on anybody."

End of letter

"Sitting with Larry Davis and his wife, Elsie, in their rural Osceola home one morning, we drank coffee and visited about the desolation of being abandoned by one’s parents, the "orphan trains", and of surviving in a world full of strangers.

Davis, who was born in the tiny village of Coudersport, Penn, speaks of his father as "being so lazy" that he never paid rent so we just moved back and forth over the New York- Pennsylvania line. His mother, being "some in years younger than my dad", left the family. Then the father deserted, leaving Davis at nine years old in charge of three younger children.

The boys were taken to Brace Farm School, just outside New York City, which Davis remembers as being run by twin brothers, "of a scholarly type." "One of the brothers used to pat me on the head and say "this is my boy" and I was so proud because I knew no one loved me, that my family had just let me go" relates Davis with a trace of bitterness in his voice.

Orphan train

But after some months in 1925 young Davis, his brother, and toddler sister were selected to ride the "orphan train" to the Midwest for the purposes of either being adopted or "placed" with a rural family who wanted children.

The so-called "orphan trains," which ran from 1853 to 1929 were originally sponsored by the Children’s Aid Society in New York. By the turn of the century homes had been found for 100,000 children "to find new and better lives," according to material written on the subject. These children were shipped by train to towns and farms in rural areas across the country. Many times they were "herded off the train and into the town hall to be put up for adoption by anyone who would have them. Those not chosen were put back on the train to try again in another town along the route." The trains came under some criticism that the homeless children were "bound out to servitude."

Davis recalls that children were chosen to ride the train who were "in good health and placeable." He remembers twin baby girls riding the rails with him and he also remembers "sleeping in my seat" during the long ride from New York to Nebraska.

"Each state we passed through a different woman would come on board to look after us," Davis comments. "It was just by chance that I was on the train bound for York." "But at the time I thought ‘what the hell’…none of my relatives had tried to help me and I felt that I was just being thrown to the wolves…"

Davis spent a few days in York where he was supposed to be adopted by a family. But the woman discovered that she had cancer and so the young lad was sent on to Osceola.

After walking around the lawn of the Court House in Osceola, while people looked him over, Davis was "placed" with a family. His baby sister was adopted by a family at Gresham. His brother went with another Osceola family.

Painful years

His memories of this time in his life are painful and when he was 13 years old, he was asked by this family if he wanted to stay on and he said "no." "There it was the middle of the Depression and I was 13 with no place to go," he recalls grimly.

The adolescent struck out for his sister's home in Gresham, stayed there for a few weeks, and then traveled on to his brothers residence near rural Osceola. "After two weeks there. I thought I'd better get going so I packed my suitcase again and was walking away when my brother's family hollered at me to stay." Davis comments

"I earned my keep there. believe me," he adds noting that in high school there was "never any time for sports as I had to get right home every night and do chores."

He remarks that he "was not encouraged to date" and that his classmates "constantly picked on me as they considered me different from them…I was the orphan kid." "Not that any of this hurt me," the strong-willed man points out quickly. "I still think that I was a normal kid."

Beyond high school

After graduating from high school, Davis joined the CCC, then went to work in an Omaha bakery for three years.

In 1940 he enlisted in the U.S. Army which kept him occupied for the next five years.

He then became a house painter in Monterey, Calif., where he met Elsie, a native of Indiana.

"All the kids in Monterey called him "Uncle Larry,"" Elsie says with a smile, adding that he "really understands teenagers and gets along with them." She recalls one instance when they sat down to Sunday dinner and "four kids were at the table and not one of them was ours."

It is probably is reflection of his own past, but Davis has an affinity for helping youth, especially those who seem to be "adrift in the world."

Elsie says that one teenager, a boy by the name of Jimmy(?) Smith lived with her for two years in Monterey while Davis furnished money for the boy’s schooling and board. "Larry just took him in after hearing that his step-father had put him out, and he was here for two years while he finished high school," she adds. "In fact after he married, he named his first boy after Larry."

Reno and then home

Larry and Elsie Davis then moved to Reno where he once again applied his trade as a house painter. "Painting in Nevada is different than any place else," says Davis with a chuckle. "There are no state speed limits, so we could get from job to job in a hurry."

But the "go!go!go!" caught up with him and in 1962 Davis said to Elsie, "Lets go home."

"Home to me was still Osceola," the now retired painter says, "it was where I went to school."

Elsie agreed, although she had never been in Nebraska before—"I just knew that I didn’t want to be anywhere without him." So some 30 years later, Larry Davis returned to live at Osceola—the final destination of his "orphan train" those many, many year before.

Once again he concentrated on helping the youth of his community. "He would take a kid who was attending high school, let him paint with him, and then……

The couple has three children—Birdie Nielson, Monroe, Bob, Ft. Bragg, Calif., and Ellen Crist, Modesto, Calif. Eight grandchildren and two great grandchildren complete the picture.

They don’t regret their decision to move back to Osceola, either. "We have neighbors who would do anything for you," states Davis, " and she was a former classmate of mine."

It looks like the "orphan kid" has found a home.