Monday, September 3, 2018

Henry's Story

Henry is the secret of my mother's family. Everyone has one -- a family secret, something that hasn't been passed from one generation to the next because it may have been too scandalous, too embarrassing, too-something. A secret that stopped with one person who never passed it along. (I fear this post is terribly long -- too long for some of you! But so many asked about the asylum, I really couldn't break it up into two posts.)


My mother and her sisters never knew their grandfather. My own grandfather's refusal to discuss it led to speculation. Was he a drunkard? Did his wife leave him? Why did my grandfather say he was "raised" by his older sister? What was his father's name?

His name was Henry and he was a Mennonite farmer with six children, my grandfather being the second-to-last of them. He was born in Ohio, his father part of a line that came over in the 1700s and his mother a Canadian whose ancestor, Nicholaus Erb emigrated from Switzerland to Germany in the 1600s, then to America and finally Canada. Henry moved to Ionia County, Michigan where he had what appears to be a relatively prosperous farm on 100 acres. He died in Traverse City, Michigan at the Northern Michigan Asylum, after living there for thirteen years. When he was committed, he was considered a pauper.


No one knows what it was that sent Henry, over the edge, dealing with mental illness in 1900. Probate records including medical reports by two different doctors spoke of delusions, visions, voices, mania, belief in supernatural powers. He was interviewed in the county jail and had $2.50 to his name when my grandfather, his brother and sister had him committed.


We can only guess that the fortunes of his farm had suffered. We do know that sixteen years earlier his wife had died, some of his children had moved away from the farm and that six years prior, over a two-week period, both a married daughter and his youngest son died. Did grief send this 63-year-old Mennonite farmer who loved music into a despair that evolved into mental illness? Or was this some genetic issue? We still don't know.


And would this have happened today? Remember, in 1900, one could be admitted to the asylum for any number of reasons. These might include epilepsy, depression (post-partum and otherwise), alcoholism, mental retardation, even menopause. Little was required to start the process -- fill out a form, have the judge sign off. By 1900, two doctors had to sign off on Henry's case before the probate judge approved the petition.

It was Henry's story that made me want to see the place where he spent the last sixteen years of his life, the Northern Michigan Asylum. Now a condo/shopping/dining complex, the buildings have been, in part, restored, maintaining the original brick and many features of its early existence, which hark back to 1885. While the main building of the complex has been altered to suit today's diners and shoppers, some of the remaining outbuildings of the asylum remain unrestored, in partial ruin. (Below, the music room in one of the men's residence halls.)


  • It is important to remember that what I write here about treatment at the asylum and mental health is as it was reflected during Henry's time -- 1900-1913. As time moved forward, treatments changed, wards became over crowded and perceptions of mental illness evolved. The Northern Michigan Asylum, later the Traverse City State Hospital, achieved a much dodgier, less compassionate reputation. I'm focusing on the earlier days for the majority of this post; some thoughts on the later years near the end.


The asylum was built on what was known as the Kirkbride Plan. Thomas Story Kirkbride was a psychiatrist who, while traveling in Europe, learned of how Quaker sanitariums were managed. They operated on a moral compass, with the belief that beauty and love were the best possible therapies for one dealing with diseases of the mind.

Kirkbride brought this concept back to the United States in the design of many sanitariums and asylums around the country. The Northern Michigan Asylum consisted of numerous buildings including one very long, segregated unit -- men on one side of the quarter mile building, women on the other and administration in the center. This Italianate-style of architecture featured elegant cupolas which provided a dual purpose in the ventilation system. The infirmary and chapel were also in this building.


The grounds included additional residence buildings homes for inmates as well as numerous farm buildings.


Each patient room had a 12-foot ceiling, a window with discreet security mesh "bars," and art was plentiful on the walls. (If you look carefully at the photo below you will notice a discreet steel or similar mesh on the bedroom window.)


Fixtures on the heating vents were made of intricately scrolled ironwork and chair rails along the halls were polished to a shine.


Even the floor of the showers featured a tiled mosaic (remember, this was before the days of laying mesh-backed tile) with a pattern. All this work was done by hand.


Armchairs and tables -- many made in the workshops of the asylum by the inmates themselves -- were comfortably placed in hallways. Inspiring quotes and sayings were stenciled on the walls.


Remember -- construction on the buildings of the asylum began in 1883 and was finished two years later, a massive project when one considers that the motorized equipment we associate with buildings such as this did not exist at that time. Yet it featured a central heating system and electric lights. The ventilation system was state-of-the-art for the period, designed to alleviate the recycling of air to prevent the spread of disease.


Beneath the property, an underground system of tunnels allowed staff to move from one area to the other without having to bundle up to go outdoors in the cold Michigan winters. (The tunnels remain one of the "high points" on the tour for some of the participants. They are musty, dim, dank, with spiders clustered on the overhead pipes and awkward, uneven floors.)


The residence buildings had a music room and large dining hall and kitchen. Residents ate off of white tablecloths and many would have contributed to some way to the meal, whether it was through gathering and tending to the produce or caring for the extensive dairy herd.


It's curious to imagine what Henry would have thought of this place upon arrival -- if he had the capacity to think much about it at all. He was a Mennonite farmer who lived a simple and perhaps somewhat austere life. He probably would have been accompanied to the asylum by train, arriving in Traverse City in March, long before spring had come to Northern Michigan. Unlike the day we visited in August, when Henry came through the drive pictured below, it would have been cold and no doubt snowy. More than likely he was transported to the asylum by carriage. The first automobile was driven in Traverse City in 1899 and while the asylum may have been an early adapter, that is unknown. Did any of his children accompany him on that journey? No one knows.


Upon arrival, Henry would have seen (if, indeed, he was aware) a long, elegant building of golden brick and many windows. After intake and exam he would have been assigned a room either in the main building or one of the residence halls, and eventually a job.


Everyone at the asylum was given a job, a way to contribute. This served a double purpose -- it not only helped the institution become self sustaining, it also provided a sense of personal value and self worth to the inmate. They may work in the gardens or woodworking shop or on the land.


I would like to think that Henry found a spot working on the rich northern Michigan farmland, perhaps in the orchards or with the livestock.


Superintendent James Munson believed strongly in Kirkbride's Beauty Is Therapy approach, which was at the time, a revolutionary concept. Remember, this was more than a half-century before psychiatric drugs were first used. Munson believed that the emotional well-being of a patient would be enhanced by a beautiful environment, inside and out. Gardens, orchards and farmland was visible from the windows in each patient's room.


No strait jackets or restraining devices were permitted except in extreme cases. Munson felt the patients were now "home" and the environment should reflect this. Henry would have joined his fellow inmates in the dining hall at a table with a white linen cloth and fine china that was marked with the state seal. His table -- and other areas in the buildings -- would have fresh flowers from the asylum's prolific greenhouse (which delivered blooms and produce in all seasons). Staff dined on an elevated platform (barely visible at the right in the photo below) so they could keep an eye on their patients.


The beauty is therapy approach was also the reason great care was taken to include art and music as part of the inmate's daily life. Inspirational sayings would be stenciled to the walls and the halls were lined with art. It is said that Henry was a wonderful singer and perhaps he found some joy in singing with the others.

It is easy for me to imagine that Henry was in a good place for the last years of his life. Photos of the asylum paint a pleasant picture and wouldn't we all like to spend our last days, if not at home, in a place where we were surrounded by beauty, felt a sense of personal worth and value and were well cared for?


These may be rose colored glasses and I freely admit it. We don't know how ill Henry really was or if he was a danger to himself or others. Did this beautiful environment of white tablecloths, art and fine china fly in the face of his more simple upbringing? Did his family visit him? Today it takes four hours by car to get to Traverse City from Lansing where my grandfather lived. In 1900 one would travel by train and even during Henry's lifetime when the auto came into somewhat more common use, the trip would take two or three days. The journey wouldn't have been an easy one.

I mentioned earlier that the asylum had its bad days, too. It evolved into the Traverse City State Hospital. Our guide tells us that as a school boy, he would visit as part of his classroom activities, spending time with the residents, much as school children today might visit a nursing home. But he also recalls people at the gates and the windows screaming to be let out.


And therapies changed. Electric shock therapy and insulin therapy (in which one is put into an insulin coma and removed from it before they die, returning docile -- until it needed to be repeated) were two of the more extreme therapies that evolved as the century progressed. Lobotomies became more common -- often with disastrous results.


Rooms became wards and wards became crowded -- not just here but at other such places as well. Eventually, many of these state hospitals or asylums were closed and their populations simply released into the streets where many became homeless or imprisoned.


Commenter Karen mentioned in my "birthday" post where I first spoke of the asylum that her grandmother's sister was admitted to this asylum when she was 14 years old and died there at 104 and said that "It was a horrible place." Author Steve Luxemberg, in his profoundly beautiful and moving memoir/investigative work "Annie's Ghosts," speaks of another Michigan institution called Eloise and of his family secret, an aunt named Annie, who spent many years there. It is likely that had Annie's story been one of today, she would have lived her life independently or in a group home.


There is much to be said, good and bad, about the evolution of mental health in the years since Henry was in Traverse City. On the good side, many medications can help those once "locked up" deal with depression and other even more significant mental illnesses. Psychiatry and counseling have lost the stigma they once had. For some, group homes or mental health financial assistance make relatively independent living possible.


On the down side, many can't afford to seek help or pay for their medications. Countless people who could be helped may well be living on the streets or in jails. Too many fall through the cracks and sometimes those who most need a patient advocate to work through the complexities of the system may not even know what a patient advocate is. Their worlds are crumbling in much the same way as the unrestored buildings of the asylum itself.


Chances are likely that if we look around us, we will know at least one -- and probably a good many more -- individuals who, during Henry's era, and even many years after -- could well have been an inmate at the Northern Michigan Asylum or some other mental health institution. Some now lead seemingly perfectly normal lives and yet their interior world may be a private hell. Others may have issues more obvious. And some have found the support and assistance they need, perhaps with well regulated medication combined with a solid human support system.


All are human beings who deserve to be heard, to be respected. We may not always understand. But we can try.

The archival photographs in this post are from the book "Angels in the Architecture: A Photogrpahic Elegy to an American Asylum" by Heidi Johnson. That, an other books on the asylum (later Traverse City State Hospital) are available at Amazon.

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49 comments:

coffeeontheporchwithme said...

I read every word, Jeanie, and found it incredibly interesting. As a child, I remember driving past what was known as "The Ontario Hospital" on the way into Woodstock. I didn't know what it really was, but I would see residents sitting on park benches and they would wave at the cars and I would wave back.

I honestly don't think I know of one family that hasn't been touched in some small or large way by mental illness. Thankfully people are much more open, accepting, and understanding of the many afflictions.


The facility that you described sure seemed to have a good philosophy when it began and I'll bet the agricultural aspects, at the very least, felt familiar to Henry. -Jenn

Valerie-Jael said...

A very interesting and moving story. I'm glad that he was in a place which offered some beauty. Thanks so much for sharing. Hugs, Valerie

Joanne Huffman said...

A thoughtful post. I don't think we're much further in attitudes and insights towards dealing with mental illness.

DUTA said...

Since most problems are transmitted genetically, people should talk about illnesses in the family, including mental ones. Indeed, one cannot escape genetics, but it can be delayed and softened, if we take the right measures.
Very thought-provoking post!

Mae Travels said...

Jeanie, this is a remarkable piece of scholarship combined with personal history. Your insights and observations about changes in both the official view of mental illness and its needs, and the way that sufferers have been treated are fascinating. Thanks for sharing it.

best... mae at maefood.blogspot.com

David M. Gascoigne, said...

Erb is a very common name here in Waterloo Region, Ontario. There is even a town called Erbsville, five minutes from my home, slowly being absorbed by the expanding City of Waterloo. I often travel along Erbsville Road or on Erb Street. Other very common Mennonite names here are Bauman (my wife's name), Martin, Brubacher, Metzger, Schantz, Detweiler, Schneider, Schwartzentruber, Gerber, Jantzi....and others. When you consider the reasons that may have existed for committing your ancestor to an asylum, you might wonder whether inbreeding had any influence. There are several medical conditions here specific to the Mennonite community, due to constant inbreeding. The percentage of children born with Down Syndrome and related issues far exceeds the incidence in the population at large. My wife was raised in a conservative Mennonite home but left to live a modern life, as did many of her siblings and cousins. Some still cling to the old Mennonite faith (a cult) from a religious perspective; others not. Some have become atheists, some go to Baptist churches. Strict adherence to Mennonitism is difficult and can be quite brutal. Women are treated as chattels in every way. In most aspects of life they are segregated from males and are not even permitted to speak to another male unless their husband or a close relative like a brother is present. In their whole lives they often do not travel more than thirty kilometres from where they were born.I could go on but you probably know all of this! There seems to be a great deal of interest these days in people tracing their ancestry. As for me, I have not the slightest interest in knowing. A fellow I know recently told me that he learned that he is a distant relative of some luminary - a fact that will not change his life one iota!

Misadventures of Widowhood said...

Interesting post! I passed up a chance to go on a trip to see this hospital turned tourist attraction. I see I made a mistake. It's part of our collective history, here in Michigan. I didn't know about the 'therapy of beauty' concept which would have been a radical change from the 'snake pits' descriptions of other asylums around the country. It sounds like something from a 'sales pitch brochure' but in reality, I wonder how well it worked. For the depressed and the menopause type 'illnesses' I'll bet it did, but for other, organic type illnesses it wouldn't have helped at all.

And this post begs the question of why my own ancestor was committed to an asylum (1900) way out in Kansas when this place was not far from where he lived. He suffered off and on all his life from taking a bullet in his head during the Civil War. I suppose it was based on money as the place he was in was run by the military.

We are so lucky---those of us who don't have to deal with mental illness in our daily lives. It's very sad how so many who do end up in the streets.

Mac n' Janet said...

Such an interesting post. My husband's maternal grandmother died in a mental institution and his father had Alzheimer, I've ofter wondered if there was a connection.

Linda @ A La Carte said...

A truly fascinating account of mental illness years ago and the institutions. This one seems like it was progressive for it's time but I'm with you wearing rose colored glasses. I believe we all probably have some mental illness in our history. Thank you for this great post.

bj said...

I read every single word, Jeanie...so very interesting.

The French Hutch said...

Jeanie, this was a long post but was full of informative info about the history of mental illness in this time period. How interesting reading about Henry and family. It certainly leaves me fulstrated I know you too about the whys. I would certainly like to know the why. We can only imagine as you point out to the possibilities. We have a facility here with a long history. After much constrovery in the state, a new smaller building was built and many patients turned out! The university bought the old buildings and land with a renovation with new wings with plans for a welcome center , performing arts and museum with history about mental illness for the hospital. I need to plan a trip here, it would be so interesting. I enjoyed all of your information and photos. I hope you find more answers to your many questions.
Have a wonderful day.

Linda d said...

I know each state is different but that seems like better care than our mentally ill are getting in California right now.

It’s a fascinating story and speaks of our humanity even today. We could use more dr. Kirkbrides in this world.

Pat @ Mille Fiori Favoriti said...

This was a fascinating post, Jeannie. Your ancestor looked well care for in this facility, and I'm sure you are happy to learn more about him. Life was so much harder back in his era. I heard stories from my own family that makes me wonder how they could have coped with all their tagedies and hardships. In these days those with mental illness are not being well cared for, and as you said, many end up homeless or in jail. Our society should really do better.

Marilyn Miller said...

Fascinating post! I couldn't help noticing the mention of Mennonite and Quakers influence. Surprising to hear how they were served their meals and each room had a view. That is more than I would have expected during that time. Not sure mental illness is treated any better today. Your story gives me thoughts to think on.

Karen thisoldhouse2.com said...


What an amazing place! and story.. thank you for sharing. ON Staten Island, where I grew up - there was Willowbrook - now closed with a college campus on the grounds. Some of the old buildings remain. It didn't have half the asthetic appeal or kindnesses this place apparently had.

Joyful said...

I read your post with great interest Jeanie. I can easily see why you'd think your great grandfather lived out his days in relative, peace and harmony at the asylum. No matter what really happened I guess it is fair to say that the asylum was ahead of it's time. I'm glad these issues can now be talked about relatively openly.

My name is Erika. said...

You've done a lot of research Jeanie. That makes this piece quite interesting. Even though you focused on your great grandfather, the underlying story is that there are family stories we can't fully know. They don't even have to be old stories. In a way it makes the hunt more frustrating, but in another way it makes it more exciting. Thanks for sharing. hugs-Erika

Pam Richardson said...

Jeanie, what a fascinating post. I found myself so absorbed in your research and info. All families have stories and even secrets yet to be discovered. Thank you for shedding light and hope for those who suffer from mental illness. They deserve our compassion. Thank you for sharing this personal story!

Dr. Kathy McCoy said...

Fascinating, Jeanie! It’s so interesting how treatments for mental illness have evolved over the past century — in some cases showing improvement (medication) and in some cases worse (too many of the mentally ill living on the street). Attitudes have improved for sure. Mental illness is talked about more and hidden less. Your story is interesting and does a great service in raising awareness.

Bleubeard and Elizabeth said...

A most impressive post, Jeanie. Your research and great story tells much about the problems with mental illness in the country back then. I remember my grandmother telling me one time that if she got sick and lost her mind, she didn't want to live. She told me about some relative (I was too idiotic to remember or may have never known) who threw their own poop across the room and she didn't want that happening to her.

I'm really glad you shared this with us, because I suspect every family has at least one relative like Henry, who may have been more sane than you know.

Iris Flavia said...

This is such an interesting piece of your family - if a sad one also.

Those were sad times for sure. Menopause, oh, I´m just waiting for that...

Sixteen years, oh, my!!! Oh, my!

But Kirkbride sure made it "bearable".
It does not look that bad after all. Great that they had work, too. And that there was art!! And singing!

I think that place was much, much better than the "homes" we in Germany have for the elderlies.
My Grandma lived in a place where even I got lost. It all looked the same. Halls and halls and halls with doors, one looking like the next.

Those "therapies" must´ve been hell.

To imagine... 14 - 104! Oh, that is not fair.

But you are right - others just fall off the system, that´s certainly worse.

Respect. That is it.

Thank you. This was a very interesting post (also because I "broke" into a closed asylum that was... hell)...

Tracy said...

What an amazing post! Such a SAD story is Henry's! :( Goodness... how sad... In the past, things, and even people, were hidden. I don't think such things happen as much now. The asylum building was/is beautiful. Beauty is Therapy... what a wonderful idea. And how radical that must have been back then! It sounds like he was in a good place... and hopefully it, and the people there, helped him. I'm glad we live in an age where mental illness and how to treat is more in the open. While it hasn't lost all the stigma, I don't think, here are places and ways to get help, and that is a good thing. It is sad to think of the past, and how many lives were "lost" to asylums... Thanks so much for sharing this, Jeanie ((HUGS))

BeachGypsy said...

I've been waiting on this post ever since you told me you were working on it. You have done a great job it is a most fascinating subject. My, how times have changed! It seems this place was a very progressive and caring place with a great philosophy and I hope it was truly like that for the very real patients there, your family member included. That building LOOKS HUGE!!! I wonder how many staff, doctors,dining staff, nurses, aids, etc they employed there? I read every word too, and it was fascinating. Thank you for a great and informative post, full of facts and still very interesting!

Victoria Zigler said...

An interesting and moving post. Thank you for sharing Henry's story with us. I hope his last years were as you like to imagine them.

Tristan Robin said...

Isn't it surprising how much more compassionate some people were when knowledge and education were less prevalent?! This reminds me of stories I've read about some prisoner-of-war prisons at the turn of the century, which were often far more humane than the ones we use today.
Was this a public hospital? I was thinking it seemed like a place where I would have been perfectly happy to spend my final years, reading books, tending flowers, and eating on white linen tablecloths! Today that would require retiring to a fairly posh b&b.
I love the exterior shots of the building ... it looks like a grand English estate. It's a shame they let the interior architecture rot and fall away.
Thanks for the fascinating tour!

shoreacres said...

This is a fascinating history, Jeanie -- both of Henry and of the institution. It's especially interesting that such ideas as beauty as therapy were displaced by so-called sciences (e.g. lobotomies) which did terrible damage.

And of course it reminds me of my own dear aunt, who was confined to a different sort of institution -- the women's penitentiary -- for a time. But there, too, it was assumed that a caring and lovely environment was critical for rehabilitation, as was productive work.

We focus so often on the importance of love that we forget even Freud himself said that "“Love and work are the cornerstones of our humanness.” Those who hope to find ways to eliminate work from our lives may be doing us a disservice!

Rita C at Panoply said...

Several thoughts while beginning and throughout reading this: 1) why the word inmate vs resident or client? 2) you could easily write a book on Henry, historical fiction 3) I kept thinking Henry was probably in a good place, just as you did; after all, he was a farmer and his environment was glorious, and he likely did contribute to both the farm and art aspects. The early days of NMA seemed to be more like today's better assisted living facilities. I would love for you to explore writing more of your Henry.
Thanks for sharing such an interesting post, Jeanie! I could've read more!

Running on empty said...

I worked in a psychiatric ward of a general hospital that has been pulled down. I saw one session of electric shock therapy while protests against it were going on down in the street outside. I also worked in two psychiatric hospitals. One has been partially pulled down and developed for housing. A small portion still stands and ghost hunters go in there. Their photos show it covered with graffiti. The other one I worked at, a grand old complex of buildings similar to your ancestors, that also was a farm, though not when I worked there, has been turned into apartments. Some have a lovely view, especially the ones in the towers. Ethically I would never mention the patients’ names, but one, elderly then, who is dead by now, his name was Johnny Walker!

Doodle T said...

Just beautiful, Jeanie. I am so glad to know you through your blog. Thank you for a very moving account of a story that, you are correct, we all could tell.

Preppy Empty Nester said...

Wow, Jeanie... so interesting. I smell a book deal! Have a great week.

Sandra Cox said...

One hears so many horror stories about asylums. It's wonderful to hear something positive.
A very well written post.

William Kendall said...

Haunting is what comes to mind, reading your story and seeing images of the place.

Lynne said...

I too read every word . . .
The unknown, not sure, wondering . . . is what would cause me angst . . .
I am sure it must for you too . . .
I think grief alone could have been the result of Henry’s admission . . . but even that . . . one can’t be sure . . .
The mystery surrounding, “no one talking about IT.”
Leaves me wondering all the more . . .

Very interesting piece . . .

Although the availability of medication is present today, so many slip through the cracks . . .
Isolated, home bound, wandering, street lives/living, alcoholism, drugs, frozen in a life of confusion . . .
in/out constant emergency visits . . .

Insane . . .

La Table De Nana said...

14-104 got me.
Imagine ..I can't..100 years in an awful place.
Yet many live their whole lives in an awful place..themselves..through no fault of their own:(

Of course I am reminded of Van Gogh.And the mausoleum in St-Rémy that is a psychiatric asylum.
So beautiful..so sad.

Judy at GoldCountryCottage said...

Jeanie, I read this whole post and found it very interesting and informative. As is the way with news and reporting, one has to wonder how much is true. If so, it was a wonderful and compassionate way of handling these problems and who is to say that it wouldn't have been the best way going forward. The stories heard about the drawbacks of some medications makes me wonder how helpful they are in some cases. I'm glad that Henry had the benefit of that way of thinking and that he did get to work in the fields. It sounds like his life was full before all the bad things happened to him, things that would bring down the strongest of humans. That really is a beautiful building and seen from the outside, you would never have known the sadness that must have lived there..Thanks for sharing, I really enjoyed it..xxoJudy

Polly said...

A very well written post Jeanie, very moving and sad but I hope Henry lived a calm and relatively happy life. I suppose a scrap of comfort is that some of the patients wouldn’t know where or why they were there.
As others have said, I think many families in those times had someone or knew someone who had been confined to one of those places, on this side of the Atlantic as well as yours. The menopause, oh dear I would be a candidate with that problem!! Perhaps the most tragic residents were the unmarried mothers. People were committed to save embarrassment for the family.

BB said...

I think they committed people more readily back then. Our healthcare system still doesn't recognize or provide nearly what is needed for the mentally ill. Our attitudes have improved, but could improve a lot more. The stress on the families of children with mental illness is herculean.

This was such an interesting post about the institution and your great grandfather. The first insane asylum in America was built in the 1700s about 30 miles from where I grew up. It had a history of very scary stories. Mental patients were treated horrible in the 1700s. One of the tales claims that it is haunted. After reading your post, I may tour it.

This was so interesting, Jeanie.

Carol @Comfort Spring Station said...

Fascinating history - I love the idea of beauty and mental health being related. I agre with that.

tlcukjourney said...

Oh my goodness Jeanie, I just realized that you live in the States!! All this time, I thought you lived in England. Well there ya go.. we learn something new every day!
This was a fascinating blog post. I have heard history of Asylums before and it's just sad. Still today, Mental Illness still has a long way to go in treatment and acceptance and understanding.
The pictures were amazing as well.
Much love,
Tammy

Mary K. said...

Jeanie thank you for telling us Henry's story. I can only imagine that being exposed to such a beautiful surrounding would have had a very good effect on anyone living there.

Sami said...

I loved your beautiful post about Henry. The building was beautiful and the patients seemed to have been cared for with good therapies, at least to start with. The therapies they had later are just awful and barbaric!!!

Danielle L Zecher said...

It is fascinating that you've been able to go there, and to learn so much about Henry. I know there's a lot you'd still like to know, but I think you've pieced together a lot. Your posts are the only ones that ever tempt me into looking into my roots. I always back away from the idea quickly, but you've at least made me think about it.

Hopefully you're right about the time that Henry was there. It does sound nice; living in a pretty place, being well cared for, and having meaningful work to do. It sounds like Henry may have been fortunate enough to have been hospitalized at a good time in the hospital's history.

Sally Wessely said...

I am blown away by the extensive research that you put into this post. You found out answers to so many of your questions through your research, and you went the extra mile by visiting this asylum and taking such interesting photos. Those answers gleaned much have meant much to you, but in the answering you then found you have more questions.

My heart breaks for you great-grandfather because no matter what his experience was, it must have been one which he would not have chosen for himself. On the other hand, perhaps he found some moments of rest and peace. We can hope that is true.

My husband’s mother worked at a psych tech at the State Hospital in Colorado in the sixties. She had trained as a nurse in Switzerland before they came to the United States in 1939 as refugees. She was a very determined woman who got this training after learning English and learning to drive. When we were teens, we would drive on the grounds of the hospital to pick her up after work late at night. It seemed so scary to me. I imagined all kinds of things about what might happen in those wards. The grounds were beautiful, and during the day, one would see patients outside walking or sitting on benches. Jim even worked there as a teen and drove tractors through the tunnels (much like the ones you photographed) to take the food from the kitchen to dining halls in different buildings. He said it was terrifying thing to do as he drove through those tunnels.

So much as changed in the way these institutions are run these days. While there have been improvements in treatment, I also think that the patients have less freedom and are not allowed to work or to walk the grounds. Treatment of the mentally ill remains a quagmire in so many ways.

This story is quite powerful. Thanks for taking the time to do all that went in to writing it.

Lisa from Lisa's Yarns said...

Beautiful post. I hope that Henry was content in the asylum. I imagine it was lonely as it seems like it would have been hard for family to make the trip to visit him.

Phil’s brother has some pretty major mental health issues. He lives in a halfway house kind of accommodation but he is alone in his apartment and he can’t work as he just isn’t employable. So I often wish there was a better alternative for him - a place where he had some companionship and opportunities to work. But I know the state of asylums and state hospitals were such that they needed to be closed down. But it seems like there is a middle ground to be found as so many homeless people seem to suffer from mental illness (at least from what I often observe in Minneapolis).

Katie Mansfield said...

Wow. What a story. So sad.Thanks for sharing at Keep In Touch.

Jeanie said...

Thank you for all these wonderful thoughts on Henry. I so appreciate your visits.

Jeanie said...
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Have a Daily Cup of Mrs. Olson said...

Jeanie, it saddens me at how easily someone could be committed back then. I think people who had bi polar were often committed. They had no idea what was wrong with them. I had a friend that was in a place like this for a while. She had developed multiple personalities after being molested by her grandfather for years when she was young. She had pushed it into the back of her mind, but it cam out; along with about 7 different personalities. I actually witnessed seeing some of them. It was the weirdest and saddest thing I have ever seen. Thankfully, they were able to help her. Thanks for sharing with SYC.
hugs,
Jann

Misadventures of Widowhood said...

An interesting read. Thanks for pointing it out to me.

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