First Presbyterian Church celebrates 150 year
For as long as many of us can remember, the story of Amos Harlow and his impact on the founding and development of Marquette has been famous and celebrated. But the story of how the Harlow family also brought Presbyterianism to Marquette is less commonly known.
Olive Harlow, Amos’ wife, resided in one of several deserted, run-down log cabins at Presque Isle with her mother and daughter while her husband conducted business for his iron ore company. After meeting a Presbyterian minister along the road, Mrs. Harlow invited him and everyone in the immediate area to have a church service in her cabin, said Lottie Clark, archivist for the First Presbyterian Church and a relative of the Harlow family.
After moving into a proper house in the city, the Harlows continued to hold church services in their home with a doctor in Amos’ company who doubled as a minister. What began as a small gathering of devoted Presbyterians evolved into the First Presbyterian Church in 1857. The church, celebrating its sesquicentennial on June 15, has made several significant contributions to the Marquette community and founded programs that have gained area-wide recognition.
According to the church’s archives, one of the first cooperative nursery schools in Marquette was held in its nursery room. It also is said to have provided a schoolroom to house a program for children with mental disabilities. Thirty years ago, an adult day care center was started at the church for elderly community members in rooms furnished to meet a variety of needs.
Miriam Hilton, who was on the founding board of the adult day care center and also served as its director for twenty-one years, said the program still is active today and serves approximately thirty people a week.
“It provides services to the frail and to those who are in social danger; they come to us and we offer facilities and financial support,” Hilton said. “It’s for the elderly out there who have social and emotional needs that we can help.”
The idea for the adult day care center stemmed from another long-standing program at First Presbyterian Church casually titled “the lunch bunch,” a social event at the church targeted for elderly residents.
“Whoever wants to come and have lunch, the Presbyterian women cook it and we make special efforts for those in wheelchairs,” Hilton said. “We also celebrate birthdays; I make the cakes.”
She added that after lunch, the group often sings old hymns together. Because the church has had a difficult time finding cooks in the summer, the “lunch bunch” only meets nine months a year.
One of the newer programs, “Stephen Ministry,” was brought to the church in 1984 and trains members in pastoral counseling. Those undergoing emotional stress through such problems as bereavement or divorce can seek a Stephen Ministry counselor and receive one-on-one, confidential advice.
“It has helped a lot of people in caring for other people,” Hilton said. “It gets people through difficult times.”
Also organized at the church are panel discussions on topics with national and regional implications. A famous result of one such discussion is the founding of the Medical Care Access Coalition, a collaboration of physicians and pharmacists willing to offer free services to uninsured residents in Marquette County.
“We’re absolutely proud of that because it went far beyond what any of us could do as individuals,” Hilton said. “Panels like that give us as a good way to approach problems and see what we can do.”
The program is the first of its kind in the Upper Peninsula and has served as a model for other communities. Reaching out to the community is important to Presbyterians and has been a tradition for them since the time the religion was organized, Hilton said.
“Presbyterians are concerned with the welfare of their neighbors, and most churches have a committee to look over the community specifically and see what needs doing,” she said.
Three First Presbyterian members specifically helped Marquette in another way – by assuming leadership of it. Former ministers Robert Kulishek, Charles Coffey and Frederick Owen Clark went on to become city mayors at different points in time.
The church also is closely tied to NMU, with members often giving financial aid and offering housing to students, especially those from foreign countries, Hilton said. She added that it also is important to her church to reach out to other congregations. One such collaboration is Camp New Day, which offers the children of Marquette Branch Prison inmates an opportunity to see the sights of the U.P. and interact with counselors.
“We’re all working on the same thing—bringing the kingdom of God to Earth—and we can use all the help we can get,” Hilton said. “One congregation and one church can’t do it all by itself, but together we can.”
First Presbyterian originally was located on the corner of Baraga Avenue and Fourth Street. First named the “Session House,” the small church created a Sunday School two years later and began common church functions such as baptisms and marriages.
The following years brought both good and bad tidings to the church. The end of the Civil War saw an increase in membership so much so that the small Session House became inadequate. Subsequently, a larger brick and stone structure was erected on the corner of Front and Bluff streets, according to church archives.
But in 1868, a fire devastated the downtown area, destroying almost every building in the Marquette district. Although the church itself was not harmed, the pulpit, furnace, pews, woodwork and finishing lumber were stored in a railroad dock that went up in flames. Despite the delay, the church was finished and dedicated a few months later.
Although it emerged from its first encounter with fire unscathed, First Presbyterian was not so lucky the second time around. In 1931, the weakening structure of the church caught fire and toppled the building. The cause was never officially attributed, Hilton said.
“They never did figure that out,” she said. “They assumed it was electrical because it was an old church with old wiring, but they never settled it because it was too far gone by the time they went looking.”
Luckily, the generosity of two members helped the church recover quickly.
“It was a brother and sister; they were older and donated the money for a new church and for a fund to maintain it,” Clark said.
The architecture of the new church was English Gothic, and its stained glass windows were inspired by works from the thirteenth century, according to church archives. It was finished in 1935 and still stands today.
Lyle Rutgers, chairman of First Presbyterian’s sesquicentennial committee, said the church has several events planned in celebration.
“Every month we have some type of activity going on,” he said.
Some of the festivities include a celebration dinner, a trip to the cemetery to visit the grave sites of old members, a recognition dinner for both new and long-time members, riding in and walking beside a float in the Fourth of July parade and having previous ministers from Florida, Pennsylvania and Republic return to preach.
“The committee’s been very good, and this has kept us all busy,” he said, chuckling.
Hilton said that although the church has already done 150 years of service to the community, it does not plan on slowing down or stopping.
“We want to increase our service to the community and service to our members,” she said. “We also want to increase our membership and bring new people aboard.”
—Becky Korpi

Home away from home
The old brick and sandstone orphanage at the corner of Altamont and Fisher streets has been part of the Marquette landscape since 1915. That’s when the Holy Family Orphans’ Home first opened its doors.
The Marquette community has long had a history of looking after its own, and such was the mission of the new orphanage. Its purpose was to care for Catholic children in the Upper Peninsula who found themselves orphaned or in need of a home away from home for any number of reasons.
According to a 1915 Mining Journal article, the Holy Family Orphanage was the dream of the Most Rev. Frederick Eis, bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Marquette, who worked for a dozen years, along with other area clergy and laymen, to raise enough money to build the orphanage. The state-of-the-art facility was constructed at a cost of $100,000. The mammoth structure was designed to accommodate 200 children, although the fourth floor was not finished until years later.
The orphanage was furnished with classrooms, a dormitory, bathrooms on every floor and an annex that housed heating and plumbing facilities. There were laundry and kitchen facilities, a large dining hall and playrooms. To the right of the entrance, on the first floor, was the chapel. Durable terrazzo floors in the building added a touch of elegance and were designed to withstand years of wear-and-tear from the pattering of little feet.
The first orphans to arrive were sixty-some Native American children who were transferred from a Catholic orphanage in Assinins, near Baraga. The Sisters of St. Agnes from Fond du Lac (Wisconsin) were on hand to welcome the new arrivals to Holy Family Orphanage.
“Those were tough times at the Assinins orphanage,” said Sister Margaret Lorimer, who is writing an updated history on the Sisters of St. Agnes in Fond du Lac. “The orphanage was supposed to be self-sustaining, which meant that everyone had to work very hard, even the kids. Still, the nuns who served there seemed to love it.”
In the early years at the Marquette orphanage, children ages two through eighth grade were accepted. Later, infants were taken in, as well. Sometimes whole families of children arrived at once, if they had lost both their parents.
Sister Jeremy Quinn, general secretary and archivist for the Sisters of St. Agnes said the sisters referred to some of the children at the Marquette orphanage as “half orphans.”
“By that, they meant children who had only one living parent,” she said. “Maybe it was the father, who was off working on the railroad or in a lumber camp or in the mine, and he was not able to care for young children… so he would end up boarding them at the orphanage. Other children came from broken homes or from large families that were simply too poor to feed so many.”
Phil Niemisto of Marquette lived at the Holy Family Orphans’ Home from 1929 to 1941.
“I was just a baby when I first went to the orphanage,” he said. “One of my sisters lived there, too. Our parents came to visit us regularly.
“Back then, it was hard to find work and people had big families. A lot of parents just dropped off their kids at the orphanage. You could say they were dumping off their responsibilities.”
The nuns, who acted as either mother or teacher to their young charges, kept a strict routine at the orphanage.
“Being in the orphanage was a lot like being in the army,” Niemisto said. “Our days were pretty regimented. But we didn’t know any different. Everything was well organized—there wasn’t a lot of time for anyone to get into trouble.”
Niemisto said they all slept in a big dormitory—the girls in one wing, the boys in the other. They got up early, about 6:00 a.m., made their beds and knelt and said prayers. After that, they had breakfast—it was pretty institutional food, mostly cereal and toast.
“Then we’d go to chapel for more prayers,” Niemisto said. “Classes started at 9:00 a.m. and went until 3:00 or 4:00 p.m. There was recess and a break for lunch, which usually was a hot meal. We’d do our homework, then we had playtime.”
Sometimes the children played outside until 9:00 p.m. in the summertime. The nuns would blow a horn to tell them to come in.
“We said more prayers before we went to bed—we did a lot of praying,” Niemisto said. “If you weren’t a Catholic when you went into the orphanage, you became one while you were there. We even played religion, copying the services and the masses that were held in the chapel.”
The grounds around the orphanage served as a playground for the kids.
“There were swings and a teeter-totter, the regular kind of playground equipment,” Niemisto said. “Father Beyer was really good with the kids, I remember. They showed us a lot of movies. We went on outings. They would take us out to the Island for the day. In winter, we went tobogganing on the hill behind where [the Vineyard] is today. “
Father Emil Beyer became superintendent of the Holy Family Orphans’ Home in 1945.
“The orphanage was pretty self-sufficient,” Niemisto said. “They had a farm down by the old golf course and grew a lot of vegetables. And they kept cows, pigs, horses and chickens in a couple of barns down by where the Vineyard is now. They grazed the animals on the land down there. There were lots of trees, and we kids liked playing down there. At that time, Altamont Street was just a dirt road. The big kids helped with the farm chores and taking care of the animals.”
Niemisto said they all had jobs to do in the orphanage. The little kids swept the floor or dusted, and the older girls helped with the dishes.
“About ten sisters worked at the orphanage when I was there,” Niemisto said. “They each had a different group of kids to look after. Sister Brendan, who took care of the little kids, was also a barber. She cut the boys’ hair. Everyone had a specialty. Sister Clotilda worked in the bakery.”
During the fifty-some years that the Marquette orphanage was open, thousands of orphans passed through its doors, and often 100 to 200 orphans lived there at one time. The Marquette community was generous in donating resources and funding. Townspeople contributed food and clothing to the children. During the holidays, many families in Marquette opened their homes to the orphans, and service organizations such as the Knights of Columbus organized holiday dinners and gatherings.
“We were always well remembered at Christmas,” Niemisto said. “Santa Claus always came, and most of the kids would get two or three gifts. The downtown merchants were good about donating toys and food. They always put on a big dinner for us.”
Typically, when the children graduated eighth grade, their time at the orphanage was nearing an end. They were placed in foster homes or sent home to live with a single parent or another relative. Generally, children stayed about four or five years at Holy Family Orphans’ Home, although some were there much longer.
Niemisto left the orphanage when he was twelve years old to live on a foster farm south of Marquette.
“I loved it there,” he said. “The people were really good to me. They looked after me like I was one of their own. But even after I left the orphanage, I went back to get free haircuts from Sister Brendan.”
Sister Francis Rose served as housemother to the older boys, ages ten and up, from 1953 to 1957. She said when one of the boys was about to be transferred to a foster home, he burst into tears. “He liked the orphanage and didn’t want to leave,” she said. “I ended up talking to the social worker to see if he could stay—and they decided to let him.”
Another of the housemothers was Sister Glenn Marie, who worked at the orphanage from 1956 to 1958.
“It was the orphanage in Marquette that inspired me to become a nun,” she said. “I remember reading some flyers on convent life—and one of them showed the Holy Family Orphans’ Home in Marquette. I knew I wanted to work there. I remember praying about it.”
Her prayers were answered. The Sisters of St. Agnes assigned her to the orphanage as her first placement when she was just nineteen years old.
“I wasn’t much older than some of the girls I was looking after,” she said. “I was in charge of fifteen girls between the ages of two and a half and twelve. I had my own little room with a window that looked out into the dormitory, so I could keep my eye on them.”
In the morning, she’d get the older girls off to school. Then she’d wake the younger ones, dress them and take them down to breakfast. She spent most of her day playing games with them and reading to them.
“After supper, we started on baths,” she said. “It took quite a long time to give all fifteen girls a bath. I’d read to them, and pray with them before they went to bed. I loved it at Marquette, and was sorry when I was transferred just a few years later.”
Rich Ryan, a retired schoolteacher in Marquette, also has fond memories of the orphanage, where he lived from 1963 to 1967. Ryan was born in Marquette, but lost both parents when he was eleven years old. He subsequently was sent to a foster home in Detroit, but was so unhappy there that he ran away at age fourteen. He bought a bus ticket with money he stole and returned to Marquette, where he lived on the streets until the local police picked him up.
He ended up in probate court, and a wise judge gave him two choices. Ryan could go to a boys’ home in lower Michigan or move to the Marquette orphanage, where a group of Cuban boys was living. Knowing he didn’t want to go back to Detroit, Ryan opted for the orphanage.
“That was in the 1960s, when the Cuban government was starting to take over private property and schools,” Ryan said. “Cuban parents were worried about their children and began sending them to the United States.”
The U.S. government teamed up with Catholic Social Services in a program called Operation Pedro Pan (Peter Pan) to place thousands of Cuban refugee children in orphanages around the country. Monsignor Wilbur Gibbs, director of Catholic Social Services, instituted the Cuban program in Marquette.
“At the time I moved into the orphanage, the Sisters of St. Paul were using it as a novitiate to train young girls to be nuns,” Ryan said. “About thirty-five Cuban boys were living on the top floor.”
He remembers walking into the dormitory—rows of beds with footlockers, just like in the military.
“I didn’t know a thing about Cubans, but I soon realized I had to learn some Spanish if I was going to survive at the dinner table,” Ryan said. “We always ate well. Everyone had to be on time for meals—the nuns were very strict about that. They took really good care of us and even folded our laundry.”
The boys had chores and kitchen duty. Some had part-time jobs after school. Their lives were much like those of other students at Bishop Baraga except they didn’t go home to parents at the end of the day, but to a priest and nuns.
“We all came back at the orphanage for dinner, and then there was a mandatory study period,” Ryan said. “The Cubans really valued education and wanted to make a life for themselves. They were an inspiration to me, and became some of my best friends.
“I know that not everyone has fond memories of the orphanage, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me. It was a godsend—it literally saved my life.”
Ryan was the last boy to leave when the diocese closed the orphanage in 1967. Northern Michigan University later used the building as a vocational center.
Abandoned since 1982, the old orphanage waits patiently these days to serve the community in yet another way. It is owned by a Phoenix businessman who plans to renovate the old building into a senior housing complex.
If and when that happens, the orphanage will have come full circle in the Marquette community, from nurturing the very young to serving the elderly.
—Kathy Pohl

Author’s Note: Thanks to Rosemary Michelin and Katelyn Weber at the Marquette County History Museum and to Sister Jeremy Quinn at the Sisters of St. Agnes, Fond du Lac (Wisconsin) for their research help.

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