By Stephen Enzweiler
Special to NKyTribune
In the cold, grey afternoon of December 27, 1910, two priests in a Model T automobile traveled along Lexington Pike heading south toward the town of Ft. Mitchell. A half foot of snow blanketed the ground, the result of a Christmas Day storm that struck Northern Kentucky, bringing with it snow and record low temperatures. Beneath the snow, the ground was frozen solid. Ruts hard as rock made the going rough, and the automobile’s driver, 42-year-old Rev. James L. Gorey, was careful to keep it slow.
In the front seat beside him, bundled in a long, black, winter coat, his collar up and hat pulled low against the cold was the Rt. Rev. Camillus Paul Maes, the 64-year-old Bishop of Covington for whom Fr. Gorey had been assistant and secretary for more than a decade. As they reached the center of the town, the Model T turned slowly onto a narrow road (today, Orphanage Road) which led a short distance further to their destination – St. John’s Orphan Asylum.

The Orphanage was at the end of the road, down a long drive that ran along the crest of a ridge. At the end was a modest cluster of plain, brick buildings with a steepled chapel situated on 64 acres of rolling landscape above Horse Branch Creek. The location had once been the site of the Preparatory College of St. Aloysius, until it was purchased in 1868 from Covington’s first bishop, the Rt. Rev. George Carrell, by the St. John’s Orphan Society of Kenton County for $17,000. Dedicated in the spring of 1871 and called the St. John German Orphan Asylum, it was entrusted to the care of the Sisters of St. Benedict and initially housed nine girls. In 1876, a larger and more ample brick structure was erected to replace the old wooden buildings. It included a chapel, a spacious first-floor dining room with a kitchen, scullery, and on the lower level a dormitory and living quarters for the five resident Sisters.
The Orphanage had always been for girls only. But after Bishop Maes arrived in the diocese in 1885, he opened its doors to include boys. Within seven years, the number of children had grown from 30 to 45, requiring an additional three-story annex that included classrooms, a dormitory for boys, and ample new living space for the Benedictine Sisters and a resident physician.
As the Bishop and Fr. Gorey carefully made their way up the front steps and went inside, they came into the warmth of the Orphanage’s “big hall,” where they were met by the sight of a large crowd busy mixing and chatting over punch and refreshments. In attendance were politicians, city officials, police and firemen, members of the clergy, men of business, judges and lawyers, donors great and small, and just plain folks. Covington’s Mayor John J. Craig was there, along with Chief of Police Schuler, Fire Chief J.T. Swann, the orphanage Directors and Board of Trustees, its chaplain Rev. Frederick
Bocklage, house physician Dr. James Averdick, and the orphanage’s superintendent, Sister M. Eduarda, O.S.B. with her staff.
The orphans themselves – 27 girls and 48 boys – stood together gawking at the “great tree” dominating the end of the hall. Standing twenty feet high, it was magnificently decorated with garlands, tinsel, electric lights, and ornaments that were hand-made by the orphans themselves. Beneath it were the presents meant for each orphan, festively wrapped with colorful bows and ribbons to be presented to them after dinner by the kindly Bishop of Covington himself.

quarters for the resident chaplain, house physician, and Benedictine Sisters. (Courtesy of DCCH, Diocesan Catholic Children’s Home Center for Children and Families)
Bishop Maes made it a point to always attend the Orphanage celebrations each year, setting aside his heavy duties to visit the children of St. John’s. The children of the orphanages and other institutions of the diocese were a special concern of his, and where a children’s day or other special occasion was held, he always tried to be present, often bringing little gifts or souvenirs to present to each child, along with kind and fatherly words of encouragement and words about the Catholic faith.
For the young, growing soul, the Bishop’s interest was “the keenest and kindliest imaginable,” according to the 1917 history, Character Sketches of the Rt. Rev. C.P. Maes, written by Sr. Mary Camillus O’Brien, C.D.P. “He entered fully into their youthful dreams and hopes, his very interest stimulating their endeavors while it tempered them in the way of looking to God for approval and blessing: so he taught them to pray.” His love of children, and especially of the orphan, was well known throughout the Diocese among Catholics and non-Catholics alike. And he knew a great deal about being an orphan, having been one himself.
As a 15-year-old teen growing up in Courtrai, Belgium, his world had revolved around his father and mother, his siblings and cousins, and his deep Catholic faith. But in 1861, his father died unexpectedly at age 45, followed eleven months later by his mother. It shattered his world and left him adrift, traumatized and despondent. He rarely ever spoke of the experience to anyone except for very close friends; perhaps he felt it unnecessary, or just too painful. Yet everyone who knew the Bishop understood it was a truth that was both pleasing and painful to him – pleasing because God had ordained the path he would take that eventually brought him to the people of Covington; but also painful because of the growing numbers of children he saw in the orphanages and other institutions whose suffering and confusion he knew too well.

Sitting in the crowded hall amid the holiday revelers, perhaps even sipping on an egg nog, Maes enjoyed himself as he chatted cheerfully with every orphan who came up to him. They had become like his own children. He loved each one of them with joy and was grateful for their affection toward him. In his humility, he was especially appreciative to them for helping make his Silver Jubilee as Bishop of Covington so memorable that year. Well and fondly did he remember the grand parade given in his honor by the City of Covington in July and of all the St. John’s orphans who came to march in it. Earlier in April, “a splendid program was arranged by the little orphans for the Bishop who was their guest,” the Kentucky Post reported. “The Bishop delivered an address to the little charges who afterward enjoyed a feast.”
Now at the end of the year he was among them again. The formalities began – as all formalities of this kind must – with addresses by the Orphanage Society trustees, the chair of the Board of Directors, local politicians, and then Bishop Maes himself. These were followed by an ample, festive dinner and the distribution of Christmas gifts to the children. “In the big hall at St. John’s Orphanage this afternoon,” reported the Kentucky Post in its December 27, 1910 edition, “the Christmas spirit reigned supreme when the many lights on the tree were sparkling and the tots filed past the Bishop and were given their presents from the tree.” He took his time with each orphan, calling them by their name, speaking gently and with kindness, telling them of the Christ child and reminding them to always “obey Almighty God; obey His commandments; never offend Him.”
There were 75 orphans who filed past the Bishop that evening, many of them recent arrivals with hard stories in whom he took special interest, such as the three Shawbeck children. Ellen, 9, Edward, 6, and Eunice Shawbeck, 2, had been placed at St. John’s by Judge Cleary’s court, because their parents did not have the means to care for them and hence did not have a proper home. “The mother and father broke down as the children were taken from them, and as the three little ones were led away they cried to return to their parents,” wrote a reporter with the Kentucky Post. Other recent arrivals who filed past the Bishop were brothers Clifford and Carl Williams (ages 6 and 4), who had “been living with their grandmother in Latonia. But the grandmother has grown old and feeble and is unable to take care of her little charges any longer.” Such cases were especially tragic to Bishop Maes, who knew their suffering and could see the sadness and uncertainty in each of their little faces. But as sad as many of them were, there would be some orphans, grown to maturity, who would return to him many years later.

One such case was of a girl, grown to womanhood and engaged to be married, but who suddenly found her engagement broken off and her dreams of a happy wedded life shattered. A friend in whom she confided, unable to console her, advised her to go see Bishop Maes, assuring her that he could help her find consolation. Surely, the young woman lamented, the Bishop must have forgotten about her long ago . . . and how could be possibly be interested in her sad situation? Although filled with doubt, she went to see him anyway. Calling at his residence, the Bishop received her warmly, and she was surprised to find that he still remembered her! Within moments, a friendly conversation developed, and she began pouring out her heart’s grief to him, mourning her broken engagement and the loss of her happiness. But then she stopped and collected herself.
“Oh Bishop!” she cried. “How selfish I am and how thoughtless! Here I am taking your precious time and detaining you with all this. It must seem little to you!”
Bishop Maes leaned forward and asked her, “Is it little to you, child?” She answered him in a burst of tears. “No! No! It’s my very life!”
“And for that reason,” he said, “it’s everything to me.”
After 1910, Bishop Maes attended only three more Christmas celebrations at St. John’s Orphanage before his death in 1915; and even though it must’ve been a great strain upon his health, he tried to bring a little joy to the orphan’s world, gladdening them with his presence, his kindness and fatherly ways, calling each child by name and giving them a gift that might make their Christmas a little brighter.
The author wishes to thank the Diocesan Catholic Children’s Home Center for Children and Families (DCCH) for their assistance in the preparation of this article. Stephen Enzweiler is a historian and serves as the Cathedral Historian and Archivist at the Cathedral Basilica in Covington.
Paul A. Tenkotte, PhD is Editor of the “Our Rich History” weekly series and Professor of History and Religious Studies at Northern Kentucky University (NKU). He can be contacted at tenkottep@nku.edu. Tenkotte also serves as Director of the ORVILLE Project (Ohio River Valley Innovation Library and Learning Enrichment).
I volunteered occasionally on Saturdays at the orphanage when I was in high school, taking a bus from Bellevue to Ft. Mitchell, which was convenient in those days. I enjoyed reading about this history of St. John’s.