Mother Lawrence and the Pisgah Home Colony

By Theresa Thorud*
After raising several orphans and selling their farm in Iowa, the Lawrence's came to Oregon in 1909 with their pocketbook full of money. The couple soon integrated into the East Ankeny Baptist Church, where the Rev. Yoakum one night, in June of 1911, opened the basement to feed a few consecrated souls. Hattie Lawrence watched as the young men carved their spoons from wood for utensils to eat with. The endeavor grew and a year later the Rev. Yoakum transferred the program over to the capable hands of Mrs. Lawrence. Hattie had earned the title "Mother Lawrence."
The few consecrated souls soon increased in number as Mother Lawrence took charge of rescuing Portland's down and out. On the East Side, a two-story home was made for the outcasts, a painted sign was hung and the "Pisgah Home" was Christened. As the vagabonds found their way into Mother Lawrence's facility, some found salvation, others found hope, some struggled to find their way and drifted off. It was of no concern to Hattie, they all needed love and a guiding hand.
The outcasts of the city were not limited to men. Mother Lawrence purchased a lot not far from the Pisgah Home. With donated lumber and the labor from her "boys," as she affectionately referred to her charges, a home was built for the women.
The Lawrence's used the proceeds from the sale of their Iowa farm to support the endeavor. Hattie was the matron of the Pisgah Home and her husband, Albert, took charge as secretary and treasurer. Local cafeterias helped with supplying food, donations of money and clothing; other necessities would trickle in from time to time. The Corbett estate provided space to store donations to the Pisgah Home, and even the court system would send their contributions by supplying inmates after they sobered up in lieu of more jail time.
With the expansion of the Pisgah Home in size and scope, letters of support and gratitude came pouring in from Commissioners, Judges, the Mayor, and even Governor West, who recognized the work of Mother Lawrence and the influence the Pisgah Home had on uplifting the hopeless. From a few consecrated souls eating with carved out spoons in 1911, to over 6000 meals served in the first quarter of 1913, the influence this Iowa couple had on Portland was phenomenal.
Barely able to meet the needs of everyone who sought help, Mother Lawrence would turn no one seeking help away. In March of 1913, she pleaded to the public for assistance in any form possible. The Oregonian was kind enough to give the Pisgah Home a fair amount of space in the newspaper, listing the plight of the home and the need for donations. Contributions came in many forms, giving aid to Mother Lawrence and her charges. The home was supplied with a few horses and a cart to carry supplies and offerings to the home. A donation of farm land in Lane County was also given with the understanding the donor's name would remain private.
The Chapman Logging Company offered Mrs. Lawrence the opportunity to purchase 640 acres of logged off hillside outside of Scappoose for $16.25 an acre. The offer was nearly half of the market value. The Lawrence's were down to their last little bit of savings, as they spent a great deal of their own money taking care of those who sought help. It was by the grace of God they managed to come up with $500.00 for the initial down payment. The purchase of the acreage was the beginning of a new chapter for the Pisgah Home.
Request for supplies for their new endeavor went out to the public. The list was long and included almost everything one might need to build a home on top of a hillside that had been logged off. A call for lumber, hardware, furniture, blankets, food for animals and humans, all the way to a donkey engine and a shotgun for Brother Casey. The long wish list was posted in the Oregonian for all to read.
It was late in December of 1914, when Mother Lawrence and her band of wayward souls made their way to the Union Train Station. Seven railroad cars were loaded with men, a handful of women, supplies, lumber, nearly everything they owned, in the dead of winter. They pulled out of the train station on the Portland-Astoria line headed for Scappoose. The passengers would have seen the swollen Willamette running towards the Columbia as the tributaries full of rainwater fed the mighty river. A short stop at Claremont Tavern with her wide verandas, sweeping views and a string of power poles lining Linnton Road may have been on the agenda, to disembark the patrons of the infamous tavern. Onward the Pisgah Colony traveled, their destination: the remote hills above Scappoose far from the convenience and vices of the big city.
Pulling into Scappoose they were greeted with torrential rain and a few volunteers from the logging company. Loading the supplies, the trip up the remote muddy logging road was short of the experience Lewis and Clark had when they traveled to Astoria in 1805. Other than transportation and a mucked-up logging road, the band of weary travelers had no idea what to expect, nor did they have any idea where they were headed other than to follow their guides.
Mother Lawrence and her band of misfits had little idea what they were getting into, other than a handful of dreams and determination. Pressing to the outer edges of civilization in driving rain, the first line of business was to build shelter. A wagon laden with lumber was unloaded and make-shift shelters where hastily put up. Mother Lawrence sketched an outline of a 20 x 40 foot two story building with a lean-to kitchen to one side. The "boys" went to work; "Pathfinders Hall" was the first of many permanent buildings erected in what became known as the "Pisgah Home Colony."
The year following the move to the west hill above Scappoose the colony suffered a blow when a cafeteria closed in Portland, one of the main sources for the Colony's food supply. A call to the public went out, there was little food and certainly not enough to feed all in the colony, nor was there enough available work for those capable of working. Hattie's "boys” needed good paying jobs rather than toiling around the farm.
Spring turned into summer and the colony yet again was in need of more supplies, the gardens they planted were found by the local wildlife who turned it into a smorgasbord, leaving little for human consumption. In addition to the need for supplies to perform work on the gardens, the inmates were in dire need of shoes and clothing. By late October that year, 1915, the colony was facing winter with the prospect of caring for a greater number of people along with payments due on the debts that had been incurred.
The citizens of Portland, eager to help the Pisgah Home, set up camp in various locations throughout the city, including the Blue Room of the Portland Hotel. On the day given to the Pisgah Home for fund raising, March 2, 1916, women and young girls braved the Oregon rain soliciting donations. Due to the wet weather, the little band of discouraged solicitors ended the day with little to show for all their hard work. "Tag Day" as it became known, was extended another day because of the poor turnout. The young ladies sold Primroses as a token of appreciation for donations made, and thus earned the nickname, “The Primrose Girls."
Still pressing on in the spring of 1916, Mother Lawrence was ready to put the home Colony into the chicken raising business. She once again turned to the Oregonian for help with soliciting the public for assistance, looking for the use of an incubator. The farm was also in need of a harness and anvil.
The colony struggled, and yet seemed capable of overcoming the tremendous odds they faced each day in their endeavor to survive. Mother Lawrence was at the helm with her strength and commitment to her charges. Getting sick was not an option, but when one places so much of one’s energy into such a project as running a home for those who are not able to help themselves, in the middle of wildness far removed from the convenience of town, eventually all that expenditure of time and energy will catch up. Because Hattie was plagued with pneumonia, she was unable to fully participate in the day to day administration of the home, and donations fell to the point where none came in to help support the colony. Ill and having destitute people depending upon her, Mother Lawrence turned to her most ardent supporter, the Oregonian.
Hattie contracted pneumonia about the same time the U.S. joined in the war that was raging on in Europe. Men and boys enlisted, leaving families behind. The Red Cross solicited Mother Lawrence to help care for the elderly mothers of the enlisted men who had no means of caring for themselves. The colony grew and buildings were added to the growing concern, isolated far from town. The need for supplies and help continued to expand.
Then came the storm of 1919, paralyzing the region with snow covering the ground not in inches but measured by the feet, causing electrical outages and delayed travel times, Mother Lawrence was confined to a limited area with no means of gathering the needed donations and supplies. With the administration of the home falling on her shoulders, and no one else to help solicit donations for the colony, supplies quickly ran short. To add insult to injury the Red Cross demanded the installation of a heating plant to the Woodmere Old People's Home which was added to the growing list of Mother Lawrence's charges during the war. Again, she turned to the Oregonian, pleading for assistance from the public.
In February 1920 the pastors of Portland took heart by dedicating their services to the old folks taking refuge at the Pisgah Home Colony. Celebrations all over the city which included concerts, theater, shared memories of long ago, and other activates were planned for eight days of fund raising. The "Old Folks at Home Week" had the ambitious goal of raising $35,000.
The celebrations throughout the city brought in a substantial amount of contributions toward the old people's home. For Hattie, the consequences of growing old hit home May 21, 1920. Albert Lawrence was on the corner of E 39th and Hawthorne when he suffered a fatal heart attack. Hattie lost her life partner and the Colony lost one of their most ardent supporters.
Hattie continued to advocate for the Pisgah Home and the Woodmere home for the aged. In December of 1920, Tag Day was drawing help from some of Portland's most prominent citizens, Mrs. R. E. Bondurant, president of Albertina Kerr Nursery and W. G. MacLaren, superintendent of the Pacific Coast Rescue and Protective Society, donated their time and energy to help Mother Lawrence's cause. It was a constant battle funding the many facets of Mother Lawrence's endeavors.
In 1921, Portland was experiencing an unemployment problem. With overflowing jails, the best way for the municipal authorities to deal with the vagrants was to send them to the Pisgah Home. Taxing the already stretched resources of the Pisgah colony, the city found a way to relieve itself of the burden of having to care for the young men. With Judge Rossman sending young men who could not find work to the Pisgah Colony, he was stretching the ability of Mother Lawrence to care for so many charges under her wing. She pleaded with the city council for help. Commissioner Barbur was firm in his belief that the city had no jurisdiction over a colony of vagrants in Columbia county. Supporting that belief was Commissioner Bigelow who was not in favor of monetary donation. Commissioner Mann was ready to put the young men to work on "the rock pile."
Hattie had her hands full as she stood up to the Commissioner's narrow view of the situation. She explained that the young men the city was sending her were upright citizens, far different than the charges she had collected in the past. With the high unemployment rate, these young men had little hope for productive industry. If no work was provided, they had a greater chance of turning to other means of support.
Mayor Baker, inclined to agree with Hattie, deferred any action until the commissioners had a chance to discuss the situation with Judge Rossman. The meeting was adjourned, with Mayor Baker inviting the Commissioners to meet with the Judge the following day. Hattie left with mixed emotions, unsure of the final outcome.
The Colony struggled to survive, but with the determination and grit that Mother Lawrence instilled in her charges, they eked out a living surviving the Great War and the Great Depression. What the Pisgah Home Colony did not survive was the death of its most ardent supporter, Mother Lawrence. Hattie was struck by an automobile while crossing the street in 1937. The fatal blow reverberated in so many ways impossible to imagine. With the building being abandoned after her death and vandalized over the years, what little remained gave way to a fire a little more than 20 years later.
The only remaining testament to Mother Lawrence and her endeavors is a long, winding road shaded by overgrown trees. Should you travel the Pisgah Home Rd. with all its twists and turns to the Pisgah Home Cemetery, slow down long enough to take in the surroundings and give homage to a remarkable lady who offered herself so selflessly to orphans of society, young and old.
*Patrick Ahern contributed to this story
After raising several orphans and selling their farm in Iowa, the Lawrence's came to Oregon in 1909 with their pocketbook full of money. The couple soon integrated into the East Ankeny Baptist Church, where the Rev. Yoakum one night, in June of 1911, opened the basement to feed a few consecrated souls. Hattie Lawrence watched as the young men carved their spoons from wood for utensils to eat with. The endeavor grew and a year later the Rev. Yoakum transferred the program over to the capable hands of Mrs. Lawrence. Hattie had earned the title "Mother Lawrence."
The few consecrated souls soon increased in number as Mother Lawrence took charge of rescuing Portland's down and out. On the East Side, a two-story home was made for the outcasts, a painted sign was hung and the "Pisgah Home" was Christened. As the vagabonds found their way into Mother Lawrence's facility, some found salvation, others found hope, some struggled to find their way and drifted off. It was of no concern to Hattie, they all needed love and a guiding hand.
The outcasts of the city were not limited to men. Mother Lawrence purchased a lot not far from the Pisgah Home. With donated lumber and the labor from her "boys," as she affectionately referred to her charges, a home was built for the women.
The Lawrence's used the proceeds from the sale of their Iowa farm to support the endeavor. Hattie was the matron of the Pisgah Home and her husband, Albert, took charge as secretary and treasurer. Local cafeterias helped with supplying food, donations of money and clothing; other necessities would trickle in from time to time. The Corbett estate provided space to store donations to the Pisgah Home, and even the court system would send their contributions by supplying inmates after they sobered up in lieu of more jail time.
With the expansion of the Pisgah Home in size and scope, letters of support and gratitude came pouring in from Commissioners, Judges, the Mayor, and even Governor West, who recognized the work of Mother Lawrence and the influence the Pisgah Home had on uplifting the hopeless. From a few consecrated souls eating with carved out spoons in 1911, to over 6000 meals served in the first quarter of 1913, the influence this Iowa couple had on Portland was phenomenal.
Barely able to meet the needs of everyone who sought help, Mother Lawrence would turn no one seeking help away. In March of 1913, she pleaded to the public for assistance in any form possible. The Oregonian was kind enough to give the Pisgah Home a fair amount of space in the newspaper, listing the plight of the home and the need for donations. Contributions came in many forms, giving aid to Mother Lawrence and her charges. The home was supplied with a few horses and a cart to carry supplies and offerings to the home. A donation of farm land in Lane County was also given with the understanding the donor's name would remain private.
The Chapman Logging Company offered Mrs. Lawrence the opportunity to purchase 640 acres of logged off hillside outside of Scappoose for $16.25 an acre. The offer was nearly half of the market value. The Lawrence's were down to their last little bit of savings, as they spent a great deal of their own money taking care of those who sought help. It was by the grace of God they managed to come up with $500.00 for the initial down payment. The purchase of the acreage was the beginning of a new chapter for the Pisgah Home.
Request for supplies for their new endeavor went out to the public. The list was long and included almost everything one might need to build a home on top of a hillside that had been logged off. A call for lumber, hardware, furniture, blankets, food for animals and humans, all the way to a donkey engine and a shotgun for Brother Casey. The long wish list was posted in the Oregonian for all to read.
It was late in December of 1914, when Mother Lawrence and her band of wayward souls made their way to the Union Train Station. Seven railroad cars were loaded with men, a handful of women, supplies, lumber, nearly everything they owned, in the dead of winter. They pulled out of the train station on the Portland-Astoria line headed for Scappoose. The passengers would have seen the swollen Willamette running towards the Columbia as the tributaries full of rainwater fed the mighty river. A short stop at Claremont Tavern with her wide verandas, sweeping views and a string of power poles lining Linnton Road may have been on the agenda, to disembark the patrons of the infamous tavern. Onward the Pisgah Colony traveled, their destination: the remote hills above Scappoose far from the convenience and vices of the big city.
Pulling into Scappoose they were greeted with torrential rain and a few volunteers from the logging company. Loading the supplies, the trip up the remote muddy logging road was short of the experience Lewis and Clark had when they traveled to Astoria in 1805. Other than transportation and a mucked-up logging road, the band of weary travelers had no idea what to expect, nor did they have any idea where they were headed other than to follow their guides.
Mother Lawrence and her band of misfits had little idea what they were getting into, other than a handful of dreams and determination. Pressing to the outer edges of civilization in driving rain, the first line of business was to build shelter. A wagon laden with lumber was unloaded and make-shift shelters where hastily put up. Mother Lawrence sketched an outline of a 20 x 40 foot two story building with a lean-to kitchen to one side. The "boys" went to work; "Pathfinders Hall" was the first of many permanent buildings erected in what became known as the "Pisgah Home Colony."
The year following the move to the west hill above Scappoose the colony suffered a blow when a cafeteria closed in Portland, one of the main sources for the Colony's food supply. A call to the public went out, there was little food and certainly not enough to feed all in the colony, nor was there enough available work for those capable of working. Hattie's "boys” needed good paying jobs rather than toiling around the farm.
Spring turned into summer and the colony yet again was in need of more supplies, the gardens they planted were found by the local wildlife who turned it into a smorgasbord, leaving little for human consumption. In addition to the need for supplies to perform work on the gardens, the inmates were in dire need of shoes and clothing. By late October that year, 1915, the colony was facing winter with the prospect of caring for a greater number of people along with payments due on the debts that had been incurred.
The citizens of Portland, eager to help the Pisgah Home, set up camp in various locations throughout the city, including the Blue Room of the Portland Hotel. On the day given to the Pisgah Home for fund raising, March 2, 1916, women and young girls braved the Oregon rain soliciting donations. Due to the wet weather, the little band of discouraged solicitors ended the day with little to show for all their hard work. "Tag Day" as it became known, was extended another day because of the poor turnout. The young ladies sold Primroses as a token of appreciation for donations made, and thus earned the nickname, “The Primrose Girls."
Still pressing on in the spring of 1916, Mother Lawrence was ready to put the home Colony into the chicken raising business. She once again turned to the Oregonian for help with soliciting the public for assistance, looking for the use of an incubator. The farm was also in need of a harness and anvil.
The colony struggled, and yet seemed capable of overcoming the tremendous odds they faced each day in their endeavor to survive. Mother Lawrence was at the helm with her strength and commitment to her charges. Getting sick was not an option, but when one places so much of one’s energy into such a project as running a home for those who are not able to help themselves, in the middle of wildness far removed from the convenience of town, eventually all that expenditure of time and energy will catch up. Because Hattie was plagued with pneumonia, she was unable to fully participate in the day to day administration of the home, and donations fell to the point where none came in to help support the colony. Ill and having destitute people depending upon her, Mother Lawrence turned to her most ardent supporter, the Oregonian.
Hattie contracted pneumonia about the same time the U.S. joined in the war that was raging on in Europe. Men and boys enlisted, leaving families behind. The Red Cross solicited Mother Lawrence to help care for the elderly mothers of the enlisted men who had no means of caring for themselves. The colony grew and buildings were added to the growing concern, isolated far from town. The need for supplies and help continued to expand.
Then came the storm of 1919, paralyzing the region with snow covering the ground not in inches but measured by the feet, causing electrical outages and delayed travel times, Mother Lawrence was confined to a limited area with no means of gathering the needed donations and supplies. With the administration of the home falling on her shoulders, and no one else to help solicit donations for the colony, supplies quickly ran short. To add insult to injury the Red Cross demanded the installation of a heating plant to the Woodmere Old People's Home which was added to the growing list of Mother Lawrence's charges during the war. Again, she turned to the Oregonian, pleading for assistance from the public.
In February 1920 the pastors of Portland took heart by dedicating their services to the old folks taking refuge at the Pisgah Home Colony. Celebrations all over the city which included concerts, theater, shared memories of long ago, and other activates were planned for eight days of fund raising. The "Old Folks at Home Week" had the ambitious goal of raising $35,000.
The celebrations throughout the city brought in a substantial amount of contributions toward the old people's home. For Hattie, the consequences of growing old hit home May 21, 1920. Albert Lawrence was on the corner of E 39th and Hawthorne when he suffered a fatal heart attack. Hattie lost her life partner and the Colony lost one of their most ardent supporters.
Hattie continued to advocate for the Pisgah Home and the Woodmere home for the aged. In December of 1920, Tag Day was drawing help from some of Portland's most prominent citizens, Mrs. R. E. Bondurant, president of Albertina Kerr Nursery and W. G. MacLaren, superintendent of the Pacific Coast Rescue and Protective Society, donated their time and energy to help Mother Lawrence's cause. It was a constant battle funding the many facets of Mother Lawrence's endeavors.
In 1921, Portland was experiencing an unemployment problem. With overflowing jails, the best way for the municipal authorities to deal with the vagrants was to send them to the Pisgah Home. Taxing the already stretched resources of the Pisgah colony, the city found a way to relieve itself of the burden of having to care for the young men. With Judge Rossman sending young men who could not find work to the Pisgah Colony, he was stretching the ability of Mother Lawrence to care for so many charges under her wing. She pleaded with the city council for help. Commissioner Barbur was firm in his belief that the city had no jurisdiction over a colony of vagrants in Columbia county. Supporting that belief was Commissioner Bigelow who was not in favor of monetary donation. Commissioner Mann was ready to put the young men to work on "the rock pile."
Hattie had her hands full as she stood up to the Commissioner's narrow view of the situation. She explained that the young men the city was sending her were upright citizens, far different than the charges she had collected in the past. With the high unemployment rate, these young men had little hope for productive industry. If no work was provided, they had a greater chance of turning to other means of support.
Mayor Baker, inclined to agree with Hattie, deferred any action until the commissioners had a chance to discuss the situation with Judge Rossman. The meeting was adjourned, with Mayor Baker inviting the Commissioners to meet with the Judge the following day. Hattie left with mixed emotions, unsure of the final outcome.
The Colony struggled to survive, but with the determination and grit that Mother Lawrence instilled in her charges, they eked out a living surviving the Great War and the Great Depression. What the Pisgah Home Colony did not survive was the death of its most ardent supporter, Mother Lawrence. Hattie was struck by an automobile while crossing the street in 1937. The fatal blow reverberated in so many ways impossible to imagine. With the building being abandoned after her death and vandalized over the years, what little remained gave way to a fire a little more than 20 years later.
The only remaining testament to Mother Lawrence and her endeavors is a long, winding road shaded by overgrown trees. Should you travel the Pisgah Home Rd. with all its twists and turns to the Pisgah Home Cemetery, slow down long enough to take in the surroundings and give homage to a remarkable lady who offered herself so selflessly to orphans of society, young and old.
*Patrick Ahern contributed to this story