May• 2019 | 63AS THE BOYS grew more numerous,
we had endless run-ins with social
workers, who kept us toeing the line
on regulations for minimum square
meterage, number of occupants,
nutrition – and provided ballast
to Tom’s often airy efforts to give
the boys a home. For when it came
to hiding extra kids or stretching
rations, Tom was not above cutting
corners. “Mr Butterfield,” one irate
social worker finally said, “this thing
is a white elephant. Either get it up to
code or I’ll shut you down.”
I had never seen Tom so sombre.
Fortunately, Larry Arrowood, a
college classmate of Tom’s, came
through with a cheque from his
fraternity. Arrowood later became
our business manager, a tribute to
Tom’s infectious talent for involv-
ing others. For that matter, a steady
stream of students and townspeople
also joined us year after year, cook-
ing, sewing, scrubbing and helping
the boys with their homework.
Tom’s basic credo was simple: all
a child needs is someone to love
and be loved by. But he realised
they might need more than he knew
how to give.
In 1970 he got his master’s in
social work. Even so, Tom learned
more from his boys – and I learned
more from him – than either of us
ever got out of a book.
Take Mike, for instance. He was
a chronic hothead, wise beyond his