The Pink Collar: Women Behind the Scenes at King’s College

By Laurie Sterling, Ph.D. 

Founded in 1946 to educate the sons of coal miners, King’s College first admitted women as full-time day students in 1971. In 2023, the College marked the 50th anniversary of the graduation of those women and celebrated them along with other “first” women at King’s. Another group of women, though, predates these “firsts”—the “pink-collar” workers, women working in fields historically considered women’s work. A paradox lays at the heart of their place at King’s.  “A Community of Hope,” the College’s 2021-24 Strategic Plan, calls for us to be “hope bearers,” to bring “hope to the students and families of our region,” and to “nurture the collaborative spirit on our campus.” Strikingly, these women and their work are fundamental to this mission, and yet there is a certain invisibility to them. They are, in the words of one former student, “hidden people” whose histories are hard to trace. Melody Ferkel ’97, whose mother Eleanor Ferkel worked in housekeeping for fifteen years, notes, “They are underappreciated in a lot of ways, but they are such a part of the foundation.”  

Their invisibility is written and rewritten in the annals of the College. They were the people who the College was meant to serve—working class people of the Wyoming Valley whose lives could be transformed through education. But Bishop Hafey’s vision of educating the sons of coal miners erases generations of the Valley’s women—they were neither the sons nor the miners. Ironically, even the College’s current statement on King’s Catholic and Holy Cross identity, in its clear attempt at inclusivity—describing the founders’ vision “to educate the children of coal miners”—elides the original gender bias. And when Father Grimes’ Rooted in Hope comments that “dorm life gradually became a lively and integral part of the college” in the 1950s, one wonders who cleaned those dorms and cooked for those students. Their names are absent. 

Such a history is not unusual in working class regions. Even today, women in blue-collar communities have fewer employment opportunities and face the widest gender gaps in wages. In the post-war years, facing the collapse of the anthracite industry, Northeastern Pennsylvania could not have been a hospitable place for working-class women. Indeed, as one weaves together the history of some of these women who served the College, common threads emerge—hope and an ethic of care balanced against hard upbringings and hard work. These threads, so fundamental to King’s own history and mission, reflect the language of the College’s strategic plan: “Hope inspires the courage, hard work, and perseverance necessary to effect meaningful change.” 

These women provide striking examples of endurance, hope, and hard work. Evelyn Hummer (1935 - 2020) worked in food services at King’s from 1989 to 1998. Her daughters, Margie Kane ’20 and Lisa Hummer Pugh ’95, tell of her difficult upbringing. Hummer’s father died walking to work in the mines when she was young. “They lived up on Larksville Mountain,” Kane recalls. “They were very poor. Her mother was an alcoholic. When my dad died, my mother was taken in by another family in the church in town.” She adds, “She was working when she was still young. She used to walk through Plymouth and say, ‘I worked there, and I worked there.’ She was constantly working her entire life.” 

Dr. James Wallace, Professor Emeritus, tells a similar story of perseverance about his maternal grandmother Rosalia (“Rose”) Krisinger, who worked as a cook for the Holy Cross community.  Wallace recalls: 

"My grandmother had a very difficult life early on. She got pregnant at 19. The man who got her pregnant was on his way to her to propose marriage, and he was stopped by another man who said to him, “She doesn’t love you; she doesn’t want you near her. The whole family is horrified by what you’ve done to her. You need to go away.” And he went away. And the man who sent him away then goes to my grandmother and says, “I’ll take care of you; I’ll be your child’s father.” And [he] married my grandmother and was a horrible human being. One of my mother’s earliest memories is of the cops coming to the house to take photos of my grandmother’s face because it was so brutalized by this guy."

Fleeing her abuser, Krisinger and her two children left Johnstown, Pennsylvania, for Wilkes-Barre, where her sister Mary lived.  “When she got here, she’d take any kind of job,” Wallace recalls. She worked at Lazarus Department Store; she worked for a caterer. She and Mary “picked up whatever they could.”  Krisinger’s cooking skills brought her to King’s. Wallace remembered, “When they built Holy Cross Hall [1966], the priests lived on the 11th floor, and she applied for the [cook’s] job, and she and her sister both worked there. They cooked for the priests.”  Krisinger “adored” the C.S.C.s and King’s, which provided safe harbor and community while her already-ample skills as a chef blossomed. 

Despite often difficult histories, or perhaps growing from them as a counterbalance, a second thread runs through the stories of these women—a profound ethic of care. Pugh says of her mother, “She always wanted to be the kind of mother that she didn’t have,” and this desire carried over into Hummer’s work at King’s. As is the case with so many of her coworkers, Evelyn Hummer took the role of what philosopher Nel Noddings would call “one-caring.” Pugh remembers, “She would defend the kids at King’s because they were hers. [She thought,] ‘They’re dorming; their mom isn’t there, so I’ll be there to listen to them when their test didn’t go so well, or they have a fight with their roommate.’” Pugh recalls her own time at King’s: “There’s nothing like that environment. . .it was homey.” And she credits women like her mother: “It’s the people in food services that know your name, that know what you like to eat, who have it ready for you because they know that you’re rushing to class, and that was our mom.” Comments from other alumni illustrate that Evelyn was representative of the larger culture of the women in food services. Many alumni fondly remember the kindness of Jennie Grasso, who worked in the cafeteria in the 1980s and 1990s. Jenny’s superpower, an ability to remember nearly every student’s name, was immortalized in a Crown article entitled, “Jenny, How Do You Remember All Those Names?” 

Such stories abound. Sara Yankalunas Corrice ’92, describes experiences that are common to many King’s alumni:  

"It was the support staff that I often truly connected with during my part time work as a student aide at the Counseling Center. I became quite close to Nancy Murphy. . .She always thought of little things—never running out of candy in the office because it was a way to comfort the students who came in."

Similarly, Jennifer Moyer ’00 shared the impact of Nancy Gaughan, who worked the morning shift on the Esseff Hall desk: 

"She had the most incredible sense of humor and was just so kind. . . She took pride in getting to know the residents of the dorm, and she was this steady presence that I always felt like I could count on. When I turned 21, she pulled me aside and handed me a rectangular wrapped package. In it was a bottle of Carolans Irish Cream with two rocks glasses. I was so touched by the gesture. . . I still will only buy/drink Carolans (not Baileys). And every time I buy a bottle, I think of Nancy and toast her kindness."

Ferkel recalls similar relationships that her mother forged when housekeepers would clean dorm rooms: “She didn’t just go in, make the bed, vacuum, and leave. They would engage. A lot of the students developed such great relationships with the housekeepers; they were like moms to them.” 

These experiences clearly demonstrate how these women built a foundation of community at King’s, and their outreach and care sometimes took broader forms. Wallace remembers that because Krisinger “was very talented in domestic things, she’d do all kinds of things for King’s. I remember . . . she would sit [at home] sewing big Ks on lettermen sweaters.” 

Maryann Stobodzian, currently a groundskeeper at King’s, has also used her skills to care for the broader King’s community, transforming the King’s campus through her landscaping, a job more blue-collar than pink. Stobodzian started as a part-time shuttle driver in 2016, which allowed her to interact with the students. “It was about the same 20 students who used the shuttle, but I formed so many nice relationships with them. I was invited to so many graduation parties that year,” she laughs. During this period, she started groundskeeping part-time, and during her second semester, she was offered a full-time position landscaping, work that she was already well-versed in. “I saw so much potential on the campus, so I just started nicking away bed by bed.” 

Anyone with longevity at King’s can’t help but notice the transformations that Stobodzian’s vision and work has wrought. She transformed “Maria’s Garden,” dedicated to the memory of Dr. Chris and Melissa Alexander’s daughter, Maria, from a small space that felt “overgrown” and “bulky,” to a beautiful oasis filled with flowers and color. “That was very personal to me,” she explains. “I wanted to make it lovely, as if a little girl would love that garden.” Stobodzian’s outreach is still broader.   This year, she planted “an enormous amount of flowers” around Flood Hall with a definite plan.  “As they get bigger, I can scoop them up and move them around campus.”  She sees this project as “planting for the future.  I won’t have to have King’s spend money on them.” And this project is also planting for the community. “Anybody that wants seeds, I’ll gladly save them seeds.” She adds, “I think that brings people together. 

Ideally, such care is reciprocal; reciprocity completes a caring relationship. While these pink-collar women at King’s cared for the students, the students and the college community also cared for them. Melody Ferkel says of her mother: “The interactions that she had with the students made her feel valued and made her not feel unimportant. . . because she was able to give that touch of home to students who were homesick.” The benefit to Eleanor herself was still greater. She started working at King’s during Melody’s junior year after the death of her husband. “After my dad died, she just went into this horrible depression.” To get her mother out of the house and out of her depression, Melody suggested she apply for a job at King’s. “That really helped pull her out of the sadness and grief she was experiencing every day. It helped her through a very difficult time.” 

The younger Ferkel also spoke of the sense of community forged by her mother and her colleagues: “They were always together . . . They were like their own club, getting all this stuff done behind the scenes without getting noticed.” Wallace, too, mentioned the sense of community at King’s that was so evident to him as a child: 

"[My grandmother] was the most spirited person, and she had a lot of friends. . . who would come to the house to help out. And I remember they would be in their blue shirts with the King’s insignia— “Is there anything we can do?” One time they built bookcases in the basement for my family. After work they’d stop by and have a beer, and they’d chat. It was just this nice community of people who she met through King’s."

Stobodzian, too, notes the support of the community: “The appreciation from the students is huge to me. I’ve had students that just come up to me and say how much they appreciate it. . . I’m constantly being told how much people appreciate me. That’s one of the things I love about this community.” 

While we may not think an institution can participate in relationships, essayist Vicki Hearne argues that institutions, too, are bound by the reciprocity of relationships: 

"The responsibilities and the ties signaled by reciprocal possession . . .recognize an acknowledgment by each side of the other’s existence."

Some interviewees acknowledged the ways that the College reciprocated these women’s work and care. Through their hard work, these women finally found access to the college education that could changes lives. For some, like Evelyn Hummer and Rose Krisinger, their children were afforded the opportunity to attend college. For others, their own determination and work ethic gave them access to a college education. Hummer’s elder daughter, Margie Kane, recognized the importance of this benefit: “When I knew that they had this great, wonderful benefit, I interviewed for a job . . .I decided, ‘Alright, then I’m going to school too,’ and I did. I went back when I was 35.’” 

Amy Higgins ’19 has worked at King’s since 2009. “When I was 8, I knew I wanted to go to college, and I knew I’d probably have to pay for most of it myself, so I started saving,” she recalls. “I graduated from high school, and I had $7,000, and I enrolled at the community college, but . . .I was working full time, and trying to go to school full time. That didn’t work. And then life moves on, and you have children, and you continue working to put food on the table.” When Higgins learned of the tuition benefit, she thought, “’Really? I could do that? I’ll take any job,’ I thought, so I went on different websites—Penn State, Misericordia, King’s—until I saw Custodian, and I thought, ‘Yeah, I could do that.’” While working full-time at King’s and raising two boys, Higgins completed her bachelor’s degree. The path was neither easy nor efficient. “I was allowed to take two classes per session, so I would try to take as many classes. . . as I could, but it still took me . . . nine years.” An honors student who was determined to get the most out of her college experience, Higgins is currently the night shift supervisor in the Facilities Department. She says, “My eldest, Seth, is a senior here, so there’s a benefit in staying. That benefit of a college education—it’s what brought me here, and it’s what is keeping me here.” Stobodzian, too, expresses gratitude for a benefit she pursued at King’s. After working for her husband Joseph’s landscaping business for 15 years, she began “actively looking for a job that would cover us with insurance. . . As far as I’m concerned, King’s took a chance on me. I was about 42 when I started here—an older woman starting landscaping, it’s a hard job.” 

There is little doubt that these women have been “hope bearers,” fundamental to King’s College’s sense of community, collaborative spirit, and success. Their ethic of care has been both integral to and reflective of the values of Holy Cross. As Wallace notes, “the Holy Cross were committed to that reciprocity, that sense of community. That was infused through all of King’s College.” Wallace, Ferkel, Pugh, Kane, and Stobodzian all commented on “family” feeling at King’s, noting, as does the College’s own Strategic Plan, that such intangibles have defined King’s. Their stories demonstrate that many have experienced the reciprocal care of King’s. But, there are also other stories that run counter to our mythology and our values—stories of significant wage gaps between women and men in the same positions; stories of a single mother passed over in her quest for a promotion because a male colleague was “the head of the house” and had a family to support; stories of a supervisor who saw to it that students were no longer able to pass gifts to housekeepers in appreciation for extra services. Without reciprocity of care, community and “family” are hard to maintain. 

In Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, when Scrooge views the revels sponsored by his former employer, Fezziwig, the Ghost of Christmas Past says, “A small matter. . .to make these silly folks so full of gratitude. . . He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money.”  Scrooge famously replies, “It isn’t that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count ’em up: what then?” Dickens reminds us that things “impossible to add and count,” acts that seem “slight and insignificant,” actually have great human value. They are the basis of care, of respecting “the inherent dignity of every person.” In a world that increasingly eschews such human value in favor of that which we can count and quantify, the Ghost of Christmas Past reminds us that King’s must keep the spirit of our past alive and animate. Our “welfare,” our “reclamation,” and, indeed, our future, depend upon such living memory. 

Image at Top: Secretaries keeping things running behind the scenes in 1967.