Notes from the San Francisco Magdalen Asylum register.
[Mrs. Swords was] taken by her husband May 20, 1863. Before leaving, she left a letter for No. 96 (Mary Augusta, 14, of Kentucky), to whom she had taken a great fancy, urging her to leave even if she had to jump from a window, and promising her a home. Her husband afterwards tried openly to force the girl out but failed.
These lines were written into the resident register of the San Francisco Magdalen Asylum sometime in 1863. Mrs. Swords (no first name given) entered the Catholic-run institution with her 12-year-old daughter, M., on May 9. Within 11 days, Mrs. Swords, 32 and born in Ireland, took a fond and likely maternal interest in Mary Augusta, whose last name may have been Binhammer, but it’s often difficult to decipher the nuns’ cursive.
The register I’ve been slowly transcribing — a copy of the original kept in the Sisters of Mercy Archive in North Carolina — begins in 1857 and ends in late June of 1872. It documents the names of 663 girls and women (and, likely, trans and nonbinary folks) who stayed in “The Mag” during those years, whether they left after a few days or dedicated themselves to the Sisters of Mercy for life.
For those who haven’t already heard me talk about this or read my 2022 Mission Local article, a group of Catholic nuns belonging to the Sisters of Mercy came to San Francisco from Ireland in the mid-1850s and started the Magdalen Asylum. It was affiliated with those in Ireland, the UK and Europe, whose mission was to “rescue” so-called “fallen women:” Sex workers, the mentally ill, those addicted to drugs and alcohol, and unmarried women and girls who became pregnant. One note in the register from 1863, regarding 7-year-old Mary Neval, describes her “premature depravity” — a local Right Reverend was likely blaming her for sexual abuse she suffered at home.
Ellen Gray, 18, entered the Mag on Aug. 1, 1858:
Went to her parents May 1, 1859. Respectably married to a German July 1859. Her infant was adopted by a lady recommended by F.P. Magagnotti.
Eliza Monaghan, 46, entered on Aug. 29, 1859:
Her mind was never perfect, by degrees she became quite (this word is unreadable) and was transferred to the Lunatic Asylum July 9, 1864.
On Oct. 29, 1858, Mary Campbell, 27, and Elizabeth Reilly, 16, ran away from the Mag “disguised in men's clothes.”
Mrs. Hanson, 26, entered on Jan. 5, 1862:
Went to the county hospital, died in St. Mary's Hospital Sept. 28, 1863. Her eldest boy sent to Orphan Asylum, the second adopted by Mrs. Kelly, Sacramento, and the baby by a lady here.
Later, the asylum also opened a prison wing, taken in teen girls who’d been convicted of minor “crimes” including homelessness, sex work, petty theft, “incorrigibility,” or “leading an idle and dissolute life.” I’ve already transcribed nearly 200 articles from local newspapers of the era, describing many of these teens and their circumstances.
Like the institutions across the pond, which have become more commonly known as Magdalen(e) Laundries, the San Francisco facility processed industrial laundry, along with providing embroidery and other sewing services for businesses and the public. The inmates served as unpaid labor, working long and back-breaking hours while the income went toward supporting very institution that kept them confined.
San Francisco’s Magdalen Asylum operated until 1931, changing its name to St. Catherine’s Home in the early 1900s. I have another register from the facility’s final years that I hope to transcribe eventually. The Irish Laundries operated a lot longer; the last one closed in 1996, and there were women alive at the end of the 20th century who remembered living in them. Who were kept as prisoners and abused, whose children were taken away from them and adopted (or sold) to other families, and whose shame kept them from admitting they’d lived in these places.
The Catholic Church has often made it difficult for families to find out more about their ancestors’ histories in these places, or for families separated by adoption and arguably trafficking to reconnect with their biological kin. We’re fortunate that the Sisters of Mercy have held on to these archives and records, and make them readily available to the public, so researchers like me can shed light on their operations in the U.S..
I’m hoping that, by sharing the names and brief stories attached to them, I can help the descendants of these patients and inmates learn more about them.
Lines listing Mrs. Swords and her daughter, M.A., on the left; Mary Augusta’s name appears on the right. What is her last name? Binhammer?
Mrs. Swords hoped to rescue Mary Augusta from the Mag, but Mary Augusta stayed with the nuns. She took her first communion on July 22, 1863, and received her Black Badge, a recognition of her dedication to “reforming herself” and also being a good Catholic girl, on July 22, 1864. In January 1868, when probably after she turned 18, she was sent to Mrs. Denis Jordan, likely to become a household servant, as many Magdalen residents and inmates did.
I haven’t been able to find solid records on her after that. Not being sure of her last name doesn’t help, although many of the people who lived in San Francisco before the 1870s stick around for long. I hope she had a good, happy life. I wish I knew.