Everyone has heard of that proverbial son that “only a mother could love.” Well, the Alabama Boys’ Industrial School had hundreds of them during its first fifty years. But, thankfully, it had not one, but seven mothers ready to provide the love and guidance these boys desperately needed.
That was just how Elizabeth Johnston envisioned her home for wayward boys. In the words of her niece years later, the founder wanted to bring “the mother love of home into the impersonal institution.”1 Beyond that, Mrs. Johnston also had strong beliefs about which of the sexes might be better equipped for such a challenge, and she shared them in one of her early reports to the governor. “Whatever may be the suspicion with which men may view the work of women, as a business matter, in caring for these boys, no man who has known a loving mother can fail to appreciate the fact that women know better how to deal with boys than men, and make money go farther than a man can. The Board would rejoice if they could feel that it was best to turn this whole work over to men chosen by the State, but they cannot be sure it would be best for the boys.”2
With that in mind, the enacting legislation signed February 23, 1899, called for the new school to “be under the management and control of a board of directors which shall consist of seven ladies . . .”3 Such a structure might not be so shocking in the twenty-first century, but it was unheard of in the United States at a time twenty years before women even had the right to vote. The Alabama Boys’ Industrial School would become the first school of its kind with a board of directors comprised entirely of women.4
The first board was nominated by the governor and confirmed by the senate, and the members were to have staggered terms of office ranging from two to six years. After these initial terms of office, subsequent terms were to be for six years. “Thereafter,” the charter stated, “the lady members of said board shall be elected by the continuing members thereof.” In other words, the ladies of the board were given the right to choose their own members, and several of them served for many years thereafter.5
In addition to Mrs. Johnston, who served as the board’s president, the initial members were Mrs. George B. Eager, Mrs. Erwin Craighead, Mrs. T. G. Bush, Mrs. E. S. Fitzpatrick, Mrs. S. D. Cole, and Mrs. James G. Converse. A few of these deserve special mention. Mrs. Eager, Mrs. Johnston’s good friend from the Alabama Federation of Women’s Clubs and also her traveling companion in touring some of the country’s boys’ schools, was elected vice-president. Mrs. Craighead, who was also active in the Federation of Women’s Clubs, served on the board from 1899 until her death in 1926. She was an early advocate of vocational education, and the dining hall was eventually named in her honor. Mrs. Bush served as the treasurer of the board from 1899 until her death in 1930. It is said that she delighted in visiting the school to hear the band and view the military drills. Her consuming interest, however, was in seeing “Christ’s life emulated on campus.” Mrs. Bush’s dedication to her faith led her family to donate money for the campus chapel, which still stands as a tribute to her.6
The seven ladies had considerable power. They were authorized to select “employees as to them shall seem necessary or expedient, whose term of office or employment shall be for such time as the board may prescribe; and said board shall have the power to remove any such officer, agent or employee at any time, with or without cause.” The charter further stipulated that “the board of directors have power to make such bylaws, rules and regulations, not inconsistent with the laws of this state, as shall be necessary or expedient for the government and management of said institution.”7
ABIS was the first institution of its kind to have an all-female board of directors. Mrs. Johnston (center) poses with two other board members in this undated photo.
So who were these sons of Alabama that were to be placed under the care, custody and control of these seven remarkable ladies? The state’s first juvenile code, enacted in 1907, eight years after the ABIS was chartered, goes into considerable detail in describing this new legal designation known as the “juvenile delinquent.”
Be it enacted by the Legislature of Alabama, that any child under fourteen years of age, who violates any law of this State, or ordinance of any municipality thereof; or who is incorrigible; or who knowingly associates with thieves, gamblers, whores or vicious or immoral persons; or who is growing up in idleness or crime; or knowingly visits or enters a house of ill fame; or who knowingly visits or patronizes any policy shop, bucket shop, pool room, billiard room, bar room, or club room where liquors are sold; or where any gaming table, or device for gambling is or is operated, or who loiters about any such places; or who habitually smokes cigarettes; or who wanders about the streets at night without being on any lawful business; or who habitually wanders about any railroad yard or tracks; or jumps or hooks on to any moving engine or car; or unlawfully enters any engine or cab or habitually use vile, obscene, profane or indecent language; or is found in possession of any indecent or lascivious book, picture, pistol, dirk, bowie knife or knife of like kind or of brass knuckles; or is guilty of immoral conduct in any public place, or in or about any school house; shall be deemed a juvenile delinquent person and shall be proceeded against, as such, in the manner hereinafter provided.8
The moral leaders of Alabama were obviously concerned about the evil influences that might have an impact on the state’s youngsters. No further elaboration is required concerning thieves, gamblers and prostitutes, but policy shops and bucket shops are not part of today’s vernacular. A policy shop was an establishment where men wagered on commodity prices. In a time before betting on sports, gambling on the price of cotton or hogs had to do. A bucket shop was a place that sold beer by the bucket.
Who could imagine a time when “jumping onto a moving engine or car” was such a problem that it deserved special mention in the juvenile code? It was more common than most imagine, as will be seen elsewhere in this book. As far as some of the other offenses mentioned, it is staggering to conceive the numbers of teenagers who would be lined up outside today’s juvenile courts if children were still routinely hauled in for “wandering about the streets at night without being on any lawful business,” using “profane or indecent language,” or possessing an “indecent or lascivious book.”
The new juvenile code applied to youngsters of both races but did not address the uneven situation in the correction of delinquents. While white youth would be sent to ABIS, black youth would continue to be confined in county and state facilities with adults until 1911 when the Alabama Industrial School for Negro Children was established in Mt. Meigs.
Nevertheless, the above was the working definition of a juvenile delinquent, and the new school on the eastern side of Birmingham had a place for those who were not black. The school’s charter described the type of youngster that could be admitted to the school, specifically, white males “between the ages of six and eighteen who, by their cause of conduct or surrounding, are likely to become base or criminal or hurtful to the state, or the best interests of society, to be committed to the keeping of said school under the provisions of this act . . .” 9The document went on to provide examples such as begging, being abandoned, not attending school, idling away one’s time on the streets, being orphans or paupers, having parents who were drunkards or imprisoned, and last and presumably not least, having been arrested and brought before the police courts of the state.10
Undoubtedly in an effort to prevent more occurrences like Mrs. Johnston had witnessed at the mines, the institution’s charter specifically addressed matters of a more serious nature that heretofore had caused young men to be sentenced to the penitentiary.
“Be it further enacted,” it decreed, “that when any white child between the ages of six and sixteen years shall have been tried and convicted of any crime, punishable by imprisonment, in the penitentiary or in jail or by hard labor for the county, before any court of this State, the Court may, if of opinion that the interests of the child would thereby be promoted, sentence such child to commitment to said school, in lieu of such imprisonment or hard labor for the county.”11
Those empowered to commit boys to the school were any justice of the supreme court, chancellor, judge of probate, circuit judge, or judge of any city or criminal court of Alabama. In a marked departure from how the juvenile justice system of today operates, the charter also allowed a parent or guardian to commit his or her child, or for a boy to commit himself voluntarily to the institution.12
If one reads the 1907 juvenile code and the ABIS charter carefully, it is easy to see that there was considerable inconsistency surrounding the handling of juvenile matters. In some cases, it is stated that a juvenile must be under the age of fourteen, in other cases the dividing age is sixteen, and in some situations a youth could be sent to ABIS if he was simply under eighteen. In most every instance, a boy could be kept in custody until his twenty-first birthday. Cases involving underage offenders were also being heard by a variety of different courts subject to the whims and legal interpretations of a countless number of judges. Most of this confusion was finally clarified by 1915 when amendments made to the Alabama Juvenile Code established the juvenile age as under sixteen, where it remained until the 1970s.
So, the new Alabama Boys’ Industrial School had quite an assortment of young men ranging in age from six to twenty-one for offenses running the gamut from a smoking cigarette to a smoking gun. The success of the school would not only require an ample portion of motherly love, but also all of the talent and energy these seven women could muster.
1 Avery, 62.
2 ABIS reports, Second Biennial Report (Montgomery: State Printing Office for Alabama Industrial School for White Boys, 1903), 5-6.
3 ABIS reports, Sixth Annual Report (East Lake: Alabama Boys’ Industrial School, 1905), 48-56.
4 Avery, 62.
5 Sixth, 49.
6 James Thomas, interview by author, Birmingham, June, 2010.
7 Sixth, 49.
8 Acts of Alabama, sec. 340 (1907).
9 Sixth, 49.
10 Ibid., 50.
11 Ibid., 51.
12 Ibid., 49.