For nearly 80 years, Pennhurst State School and Hospital was a reminder of how society viewed and treated people with intellectual disabilities. Over its existence, Pennhurst was home to more than 10,600 people. Many spent decades there, working to keep the institution running by performing various jobs. While some enjoyed the lives they had fashioned for themselves at Pennhurst, for many others, life there was crushing. Pennhurst also played a central role in the lives of its employees and in the rural Pennsylvania community where it was located. Controversy plagued the institution for its entire existence, and it is remembered primarily as a place where bad things happened. However, it was much more than that. This book provides a window into that separate world, reminding those who were part of it of what they saw and did there and giving those who know only what they have heard or seen a different picture of what Pennhurst truly was.
Conceived in the era of eugenics as a solution to what was termed the “problem of the feeble-minded,” state-operated institutions subjected people with intellectual and developmental disabilities to a life of compulsory incarceration. One of nearly 300 such facilities in the United States, Pennhurst State School and Hospital was initially hailed as a “model institution” but was later revealed to be a nightmare, where medical experimentation and physical and psychological abuse were rampant. At its peak, more than 3,500 residents were confined at Pennhurst, supervised by a staff of fewer than 600. Using a blended narrative of essays and first-person accounts, this history of Pennhurst examines the institution from its founding during an age of Progressive reform to its present-day exploitation as a controversial Halloween attraction. In doing so, it traces a decades-long battle to reform the abhorrent school and hospital and reveals its role as a catalyst for the disability rights movement. Beginning in the 1950s, parent-advocates, social workers, and attorneys joined forces to challenge the dehumanizing conditions at Pennhurst. Their groundbreaking advocacy, accelerated in 1968 by the explosive televised exposé Suffer the Little Children, laid the foundation for lawsuits that transformed American jurisprudence and ended mass institutionalization in the United States. As a result, Pennhurst became a symbolic force in the disability civil rights movement in America and around the world. Extensively researched and featuring the stories of survivors, parents, and advocates, this compelling history will appeal both to those with connections to Pennhurst and to anyone interested in the history of institutionalization and the disability rights movement.
A nurse who gives invisible shots, a girl who likes to dart into corners and a man who still sits in the common room are just three of the spirits haunting the Pennhurst Asylum in Spring City, Pennsylvania. How do I know that? I have spent the past Halloween season working in the Mayflower building, 2nd floor and have witnessed the paranormal activity first hand. Over twenty-five years ago, Pennhurst State School and Mental Hospital was closed down due to resident abuse. Today Pennhurst has been turned into a Halloween attraction. I took a job as an orderly working in the Mayflower building, one of the most spiritually active of all the buildings. People are fascinated with Pennhurst and want to know more of its past and its present. Intrigued, I decided to do my own research. I have written a book bringing the past and present together to not just entertain, but also enlighten.
Abandoned Asylums takes readers on an unrestricted visual journey inside America's abandoned state hospitals, asylums, and psychiatric facilities, the institutions where countless stories and personal dramas played out behind locked doors and out of public sight. The images captured by photographer Matt Van der Velde are powerful, haunting and emotive. A sad and tragic reality that these once glorious historical institutions now sit vacant and forgotten as their futures are uncertain and threatened with the wrecking ball. Explore a private mental hospital that treated Marilyn Monroe and other celebrities seeking safe haven. Or look inside the seclusion cells at an asylum that once incarcerated the now-infamous Charles Manson. Or see the autopsy theater at a Government Hospital for the Insane that was the scene for some of America's very first lobotomy procedures. With a foreward by renowned expert Carla Yanni examining their evolution and subsequent fall from grace, accompanying writings by Matt Van der Velde detailing their respective histories, Abandoned Asylums will shine some light on the glorious, and sometimes infamous institutions that have for so long been shrouded in darkness.
Nearly two decades after it closed, the South Carolina State Hospital continues to hold a palpable mystique in Columbia and throughout the state. Founded in 1821 as the South Carolina Lunatic Asylum, it housed, fed and treated thousands of patients incapable of surviving on their own. The patient population in 1961 eclipsed 6,600, well above its listed capacity of 4,823, despite an operating budget that ranked forty-fifth out of the forty-eight states with such large public hospitals. By the mid-1990s, the patient population had fallen under 700, and the hospital had become a symbol of captivity, horror and chaos. Author William Buchheit details this history through the words and interviews of those who worked on the iconic campus.
Ghost. The very word tempts the mind with lurid images of lost souls trapped in an alternate dimension. Many of us will never encounter a ghost or perhaps be aware of its presence. But that doesn’t mean they don’t exist – in fact, they do exist- in the battered walls of the Mayflower Hall, Pennhurst. With its morbid history, Pennhurst State School and Hospital left behind a tragic legacy of neglect and abuse. Opening in 1908, Pennhurst was created to isolate the mental and physically handicapped from “normal” society and institutionalize them. The most vulnerable lived at Pennhurst—children. Conditions quickly became strained by limited staff, overcrowding and lack of funding. Finally in the 1980’s, Pennhurst began closing its doors. Today the remnants of Pennhurst are hard to ignore with its towering fortress of crumbling buildings and rustic grounds. But during the Halloween season, Pennhurst Haunt offers several attractions for the curious or thrill seekers. Ghost Hunt is located in the Mayflower Hall. For several years, I have spent time in this dark, eerie building and have witnessed the paranormal first hand. This sequel to the original Ghosts of Mayflower offers a reader a chance to spend some time in one of the most haunted locations in Pennsylvania. And if you dare, please come visit us.
Eloise, which started out as a poorhouse, later became known as Wayne County General Hospital. From only 35 residents on 280 acres in 1839, the complex grew dramatically after the Civil War until the total land involved was 902 acres and the total number of patients was about 10,000. Today, all that remains are five buildings and a smokestack. Only one of them, the Kay Beard Building, is currently used. In Eloise: Poorhouse, Farm, Asylum, and Hospital, 1839-1984, this institution and medical center that cared for thousands of people over the years, is brought back to life. The book, in over 220 historic photographs, follows the facility's roots, from its beginnings as a poorhouse, to the founding of its psychiatric division and general hospital. The reader will also be able to trace the changing face of psychiatric care over the years. The book effectively captures what it was like to live, work, and play on Eloise's expansive grounds.
Roland Johnson's autobiography is the triumphant story of a man who rose above an intellectual disability and devastating abuse to become a prominent leader in the self-advocacy movement. As a child, Roland was sent away to live at the infamous Pennhurst State School in Pennsylvania, where he was sexually assaulted and forced to do unpaid manual labor. When he finally got out, he discovered the "real world" had no place for people like him - people who weren't considered normal or valuable by societal standards. Through a hospital counseling program, Roland ultimately began to find his voice. He discovered an ability to speak his truth and to fight for other people with disabilities. He would become president of Speaking for Ourselves and bring wide-scale awareness to the struggles faced by people with disabilities, as well as the unique gifts those same people have to offer. Lost in a Desert World brings you into Roland's life through his own voice and both encourages and challenges you to connect to your own humanity as a means of connecting with the humanity present in all people. Roland Johnson was a man of great courage, vision, and determination. He had an alternate kind of intelligence - one not based on what we call intellect. In Roland Johnson's world, understanding - one person for another - is the way of the future, the only route to true freedom. CRITICAL PRAISE "Roland Johnson has an important story to tell. In writing this truth-telling autobiography, he becomes a powerful witness to the cost of segregation and the hope of community." - Joseph P. Shapiro, author of No Pity: People with Disabilities Forging a New Civil Rights Movement "Roland Johnson was a friend and a hero of mine. He was a great pioneer of the frontier of human being. Read his book." - Justin Dart, father of the ADA, Americans With Disabilities Act, and Chairperson of the President's Committee on Employment of People with Disabilities under President Bush "Roland Johnson was a good and true man whose friendship I cherished. He was a teacher to many of us, and now this book will carry his voice across the country." - Gunnar Dybwad, internationally respected advocate and past president of the International League of Societies for Persons with Mental Handicaps "Roland is a man who accepted you for who you were. He was a friend to everyone and wanted to help people live their dreams and have control over their lives. It was an honor to have him as my friend." - Tia Nelis, Chair of the Board of Self-Advocates Becoming Empowered (SABE) "It is rare, even in fiction let alone autobiography, when an author's words leap off the page through the ear to awaken the reader's heart. I never knew Roland Johnson. But thanks to Karl Williams, I am able to know Roland's playful spirit, his soul full of knowing, the truth of his experience. Bravo to both." - Lucy Gwin, Mouth Magazine "... Intimate and vivid portrayal ... Roland Johnson's autobiography ... breaks new ground regarding the authenticity with which it projects his voice ... Karl Williams' preservation of Roland's words, and Roland's voice, his unique manner of speaking intact, shines new light on the meaning of 'speaking for ourselves.' ... (A) work of pioneering authenticity ..." - Melissa Probst, AAMR Journal "Lost In a Desert World is so good and Roland's talking is so much like him, it felt like I was in the same room with him again ... Loved every minute of it ... It made me want to reach out and hug him ..." - Robert Perske, Author
In rare historical photos, discover the story of the hospital, her caretakers, and those cared for at Harrisburg State Hospital for over 150 years. Harrisburg State Hospital opened in 1851 as the Pennsylvania State Lunatic Hospital, the first public institution in the state. Situated atop a hill overlooking the Susquehanna River, the original building was an early example of a Kirkbride design hospital. The facility closed in 2006 after serving the commonwealth for 155 years. Harrisburg State Hospital: Pennsylvania's First Public Asylum presents a pictorial history of the hospital from the first year of only 12 patients through the peak of state care, when the population reached over 2,500 in the 1950s. Harrisburg State Hospital was an innovative leader in the treatment of the mentally ill, pioneering new methods of therapy even before they were common practice. It was a community and a home for those whom society could not otherwise care for.
