Today’s Highly Therapeutic Yet Truly Morbid Fact!
The Kirkbride philosophy in mental health treatment regarding employees (as illustrated at the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum), accepted only kind and gentle people who would not be keepers but attendants. The doctors and nurses were instructed to be supportive at all times, to encourage patients to take responsibility for their behavior, to suppress destructive thoughts, and, most importantly, be reassured that they were not doomed forever.
Throughout its history, thousands of people have been employed at the Asylum; some spent their entire working career there, although the majority did not. Typically, the attendants had no training in caring for the mentally ill. For many, the job was overwhelming, making the turnover rate very high. Most employees resided at the hospital. On a typical day the attendants arose at 5:45 AM, and opened the patients’ rooms at 6:00 AM. They got them up and dressed for breakfast, then acted as waiters in the dining room where they could keep a close watch while the patients ate. After everyone was fed all the knives and forks had to be collected and counted, to be certain that any potential weapons were returned before the patients were allowed to leave the dining room. Those that were physically able were then sent to work on the farm. The less able were allowed to read or take classes in sewing, knitting, and other forms of arts and crafts.
Therapy in the form of entertainment was provided in the auditorium. Concerts and plays were staged, sometimes by guest artists, but more often by patients and staff. Plays with scripts encouraging good behavior and wholesome activity were performed often, and regarded as highly therapeutic. It was thought that playing a role would stimulate a sense of normal society in a patient and would withdraw him or her from the antisocial thoughts and deeds that had landed them in an insane asylum.
Dancing as therapy was encouraged despite the irony that, in the Victorian Era, social dancing, like the stage acting, was considered by many to be immoral, and thought to induce mania and dissipation. In the Asylum such diversions were considered healthy and curative. Reverend D. S. Welling, an Asylum chaplain, believed that there was no exercise more helpful to stimulate a sedentary patient than dancing, stating, “It is very proper for lunatics in an asylum to engage in it” but also warned the sane world that “none but lunatics and sick persons should resort to it.”
Attendants were also expected to keep the patients under control at all times without the use of profanity or violence, except in extreme cases requiring self-defense. The rules made it very clear that mechanical restraints and/or isolation techniques could be employed only with a physician’s approval. However, the rules could not always be observed. Sudden violent outbursts amongst the patients occurred so often that expecting the attendants to seek out a doctor for permission to restrain or isolate was not realistic. The unruly patient had to be dealt with immediately, before the situation became dangerous.
Confinement cribs, chair cages, and isolation cells, were still an unfortunate necessity at the Asylum until the day it closed. The rusted rings to which the most violent were chained can still be seen in the isolation cells on the third floor. Attendants had to make sure that their charges bathed regularly, if able, and if not, to assist them. Bedding and clothing were changed and cleaned once a week. The wards and dining rooms were cleaned every day. At least one attendant was to be stationed wherever the patients were gathered at all times. After the patients were put to bed, employees were expected to retire to their rooms up on the fourth floor no later than 10:00 PM, unless given a special pass to be out later.
The attendants’ duties were extremely demanding considering their pay which at the end of the century came to a mere $25.00 a month [about $800 today]. Living at the hospital certainly cut costs, but it must have been quite unnerving with the constant noise, and unsettling strains of laughing and crying down the hallways.
The attendants’ lives were made somewhat easier in 1890 when electricity was installed as well as, in 1892, elevators.
Culled from: Lunatic: The Rise and Fall of an American Asylum
And Now Some Words From The Good Book!
My favorite book is Wisconsin Death Trip, a collection of 19th century newspaper articles from Black River Falls, Wisconsin accompanied by glass plate negatives taken by the town photographer in the same era. Here are some excerpts from the book, accompanied by a photo of a mother caring for a probably doomed child. Most of them were, it seems.
“Marie Sweeny, who ran away from her husband at St. Paul and has been creating trouble at Ashland with her wild mania for breaking windows, has finally been captured. Reports from St. Paul say that she was a model wife and mother, but some injury to her brain entirely changed her character. She ran away from home 2 years ago, and since then… has been in more than 100 different jails, serving short sentences for indulging in her wild sport.” [10/6/1892, Badger State Banner]
“Curtis Ricks, the ossified man, died at his home in Racine. Mr. Hicks since 1879 [has] been a helpless invalid. About 8 years ago his joints began to stiffen and his flesh turned to bone… For the past 2 years he has been traveling as a ‘freak.’ Hicks was formerly a well-known engineer on the Chicago, Milwaukee, and St. Paul road. He leaves a wife and 7 children.” [10/27/1892, Badger State Banner]
“James McDonald, a drayman, went to his barn in Eau Claire to feed his horses and found 2 of them dead with their throats cut. On the barn door was pinned a note saying that there were too many horses around and that 15 more would have to be killed. McDonald has no enemies. It is believed to be the deed of an insane man. McDonald is a poor man and had to mortgage his home to buy the horses.” [11/24/1892, Badger State Banner]
Garretdom!
And here’s another sad olde story:
Driven to Death by Family Troubles.
Mrs. Lizzie Kramer, thirty-five years old, the wife of George Kramer, a grocer, living at Mascher and Huntingdon streets [Philadelphia, PA], committed suicide yesterday at her home by taking laudanum. The woman is said to have been low-spirited for some time, caused by frequent quarrels between herself and her husband, and early yesterday morning she sent her son to a neighboring drug store and secured a bottle of laudanum. She went at once to her room, and when her mother visited her shortly after she was found lying on the bed in a semi-conscious condition, and the empty bottle was on the floor. She told her mother what she had done. Dr. Bebe was hastily summoned, but it was too late, and although everything possible was done to counteract the effect of the drug, she died soon after the doctor’s arrival. She leaves three children , the oldest being twelve years of age.
Culled from the collection of The Comtesse DeSpair
1886 Morbid Scrapbook