Canton Asylum

William A. Jones was Commissioner of Indian Affairs When the Canton Asylum Opened

Few people ever wanted to enter an insane asylum, no matter how well run or up-to-date it was. And, like all institutions run by fallible human beings, asylums were not immune to mistakes and misjudgments on the part of their staffs. One problem the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians faced that St. Elizabeths and McLean didn’t (see last few posts) came as direct consequence of its long-distance oversight.

The Canton Asylum for Insane Indians was not under a trustee or board of visitors system like the other two asylums, though it is certainly untrue that this establishment was never inspected or investigated. However, the asylum was managed for the most part from thousands of miles away. The asylum’s superintendent in Canton reported directly to the commissioner of Indian Affairs in Washington, DC, and the seven commissioners who held the position during the time the asylum was open very seldom, if ever, actually visited the place.

Agents or inspectors from the Indian Office did come by fairly regularly, but none of these men were psychiatrists. They found it difficult to determine how well the patients were being treated  for mental health issues, and usually confined themselves to commenting on the state of the buildings and how efficiently the superintendent ran his farming operation. Medical staff from the Indian Office eventually began visiting much more often as the asylum grew in size and came to the notice of the commissioner through complaints. Dr. Emil Krulish became a frequent visitor and made numerous criticisms that honed in on treatment and the way the superintendent, Dr. Harry Hummer, managed his personnel and patients. However, his voice was ignored and Hummer continued to thrive in his position.

House of Indian Agent Will Hayes, circa 1920-1940, courtesy Library of Congress

Home of Indian Agent William Shelton, circa 1910, courtesy Denver Public Library

______________________________________________________________________________________

A Shell Shocked Soldier is on the Left

Professionals and laypeople alike have probably always observed that war could affect those who went through it, both physically and mentally. After the Civil War, some people who tried to put their finger on what had changed with returning veterans, discussed the “soldier’s heart” phenomenon. This was a (usually) negative change they saw in their loved ones, which they were sure came from being in a war and exposed to combat. Observers primarily believed that physical changes in the heart were responsible for the changes they saw in the person, though they also believed that pining away for their homes during their period of service could bring on nostalgia-related mental symptoms. During WWI, “shell shock” was a descriptive term for the physical effects constant bombardment took on soldiers engaged in long bouts of trench warfare, but physicians also recognized a mental component that they termed “traumatic neurosis.”

WWI era medical professionals had enough information about war-related mental trauma (now called PTSD) that they anticipated its occurrence. In 1917, the National Committee for Mental Hygiene  formed a task group called “the committee on furnishing hospital units for nervous and mental disorders to the United States Government” which began to canvas likely facilities in which to house mentally ill soldiers. Veterans Hospitals were obvious sites, and the committee also contacted the superintendents of the government’s two insane asylums: St. Elizabeths in Washington, DC and the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians in South Dakota.

My next post will examine their responses.

Doctor Attempting to Cure Shell Shock Through Hypnosis

Private Read Was Buried By a Shell in 1917, Which Resulted in Constant Swaying and Nose Wiping

______________________________________________________________________________________

Farmer's Rally Against Foreclosure in Minnesota, 1933, courtesy Minnesota Historical Society

The Great Depression affected all regions of the country, so it’s understandable that townspeople in Canton would fight to keep open any institution that gave employment to its citizens. (See last post.) Townspeople and civic leaders had a history of supporting and encouraging all their local businesses, and some were surprisingly successful even through the dire economic times of the Depression.

In 1912, entrepreneurs erected a scaffold and ski jump east of Canton, which allowed skiers to zoom down a peak for an eighth of a mile at 100 miles per hour. The site was used to host ski tournaments every couple of years (except during the Great War), and became very popular. Canton saw 5,000 attendees in 1925, 10,000 in 1927, and between 15 and 20,000 attendees in 1932–even after the bottom had dropped out of the economy. Most people would not likely spend a lot of money attending these tournaments, but businesses which could provide anything attendees needed would benefit financially from the sheer mass of customers.

A 1929 advertisement urging travelers to “Stop at Canton So. Dak.” featured the Sioux Valley Ski Tournament held in Canton and extolled the attractions of South Dakota in general and Canton in particular. Along with a photo of “The World’s Finest Ski Hill” were two photos of the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians, “The Only Institution of its Kind in the World.” Though the asylum certainly was not a pleasure spot, it was a tourist attraction. People visiting relatives in Canton or passing through often visited the asylum, which was open to interested sightseers. Again, revenue from these visitors probably didn’t have a great impact on the town, but various merchants sold postcards and souvenirs of the asylum to tourists.

Souvenir Plate of the Canton Asylum

Souvenir Spoon from the Canton Asylum

______________________________________________________________________________________

Family on the Road Searching for Work

The community of Canton had always been loyal to the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians. They bragged about it to anyone who would listen and disparaged any criticism of it, pointing to the wonderful write-ups local reporters and other visitors routinely gave when they toured the facility. Citizens wanted their town to grow in both size and prestige, and always hoped that the unique institution in their midst would contribute to that goal. The asylum also meant steady jobs for a number of townspeople, and a market for the town’s goods and services.

During the 1933 battle to shut the asylum down (see last post), however, even more was at stake. The entire country was suffering as the Great Depression worsened, and the asylum now presented an economic lifeline that couldn’t be replaced. Throughout the country, bank failures had wiped out personal savings for many families, who often found themselves homeless afterward. In 1933, a quarter of U.S. workers who sought jobs were unemployed, while hunger and poverty were rampant. A report from December, 1932 shows that (including superintendent Dr. Harry Hummer) nineteen people were on staff at the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians, and undoubtedly others worked there on small contract projects. When every job was so important, the people of Canton were not about to let the asylum close without a fight.

Girl at Gees Bend, 1937, courtesy Library of Congress

Destitute Native Americans, 1933, courtesy National Archives

______________________________________________________________________________________

Few townspeople liked Dr. Harry Hummer when he first came to Canton, primarily because he was replacing the very popular former superintendent of the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians, Oscar Gifford. However, Hummer eventually began to fit in and the Canton community stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him when the asylum was threatened with closure. On September 28, 1933, the front page of The Sioux Valley News proclaimed that Sunday would mark the 25th anniversary of Hummer’s stewardship at the asylum. The paper also mentioned the community’s hope that he would continue in place, along with the asylum, in order that he and his wife could “remain active and interested residents in the promotion and welfare of Canton and Lincoln county and the state of South Dakota.” No mention was made of the asylum’s Indian patients.

John Collier, Commissioner of Indian Affairs (1933-1945)

The newspaper’s real interest and concern become especially clear on another page of that same issue, where it discusses the “first four rounds in the Indian battle of John Collier et. al vs. G. J. Moen, et. al.” The first round came when “Collier darted from his corner in a surprise attack and led with a right to the jaw calling in the Indians to Washington.” The second round found his opponents securing a ten-day stay. Moen went to Washington, D.C. in the third round, and “jabbed in another five days stay which busted up Collier’s plan of attack.” Before Collier could recover from these blows, said the paper, “Moen slipped in a haymaker to the jaw in the form of a federal court injunction, which tied Collier’s hands, sent him rocking on his heels and left him gasping for breath, amid the cheers from the local gallery.”

The paper concluded triumphantly that, “After all this fracus, we’ll bet John Collier got out his map and looked to see whether Canton was in South Dakota or South Dakota in Canton.”

Mall and Capitol Building, 1933

Blackfeet Teepees, Summit of Logan Pass, Mount Reynolds in 1933, courtesy National Park Service

______________________________________________________________________________________

Panoramic View of Canton, SD, 1907, courtesy Library of Congress

The Sioux Valley News, Canton’s weekly newspaper, was unrelentingly upbeat about Canton and its prize establishments. When the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians faced closure after two serious investigations, the newspaper decried all attempts to shut the facility down and rallied to the asylum’s cause. In the September 28, 1933 issue, a front page story almost crowed about the success of legal blocks to the proposed closure,  which had been instigated by locals. Seven attendants from St. Elizabeths Hospital, the federal government’s other (and much larger)  insane asylum in Washington, DC, had come to Canton to remove Indian patients as part of the closure process. A legal injunction prevented them from doing so, and they returned to Washington without their patients.

Not content with its public delight in seeing the closure blocked, the newspaper also wanted to make sure readers knew how pleasantly surprised the Easterners had been with Canton. “They were surprised to find that everybody out here didn’t wear ten gallon hats, carry six shooters and ride cow ponies,” the paper reported. Instead, after talking with townspeople and making an auto tour of Canton and the surrounding area, the visitors “decided that this wasn’t a forgotten race out here at all.” According to the paper, the attendants found the community looking prosperous compared to the poverty in the east. One attendant even told the newspaper that he was impressed by the cordiality of the townspeople and that he wished he had a job there.

All in all, the paper wrote jubilantly, the seven attendants got the impression that “Canton is a darn nice little town.”

Hagan Hall, St. Elizabeths Hospital, Washington DC, courtesy Library of Congress

Chemistry Laboratory at St. Elizabeths, 1910?, courtesy National Institutes of Health

______________________________________________________________________________________

Family on South Dakota Prairie

Most people in Canton, SD probably knew each other or knew of each other–if they didn’t, it wasn’t because The Sioux Valley News wasn’t keeping them informed. The paper filled its pages with standard fare: world and national events, politics, serialized novels, and advertisements. Whenever it could, the paper added interest by personalizing local news. Most newspapers of the day had some sort of social section, which featured prominent citizens and their various parties, trips, and visitors. Similarly, The Sioux Valley News reported on the activities of Canton’s citizens, along with the activities of people in neighboring towns like Lennox, Hudson, and Beloit.

However, the newspaper went even further by printing the names and details of less-than-newsworthy events. Within an advertisement for Cloud Bros. & Johnson Co., the paper printed the names of six people who had bought buggies from them the previous week. (Oct. 26, 1906) When Oscar Gifford received his appointment as superintendent of the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians, the paper persuaded him to let them run the letter he had received from the Commissioner of Indian Affairs. Besides the news that he had been given the job, townspeople could also read that Gifford was to receive “2,500.00 per annum” for it. (Oct. 25, 1901) Whether he had desired that this bit of financial information be broadcasted is unknown. Likewise, when the paper printed the names of the asylum’s first staff members, it added, “Notwithstanding the most specific promises and a petition largely signed by prominent republicans of our city and county, Mrs. Naylor was not given a position at the asylum.” (Jan. 2, 1903) One has to wonder whether this public acknowledgement of her snub brought Mrs. Naylor further embarrassment or a sense of vindication.

Hardware Store in Humboldt, SD, courtesy Mundt Archives

Chautauqua Auditorium in Canton, SD, circa 1902

______________________________________________________________________________________

Independent Order of Odd Fellows

Citizens of Canton, SD were proud of their town. It offered many goods and services, and supported many civic and social clubs. Canton’s weekly newspaper, The Sioux Valley News, acted as a conduit of information and provides a lively picture of the townspeople’s interests and concerns. On October 26, 1906, just one page of the newspaper covered the following events:

* Reverend G. S. Evans gave an address at the Congregational church’s annual Harvest Festival in the nearby town of Hudson on Monday evening.

* After the regular business meeting of Centennial Lodge No. 10, I. O. O. F. (Independent Order of Odd Fellows), “an open session was held and a social time enjoyed.” After refreshments, participants enjoyed a program of entertainment. Miss Nettie Braithwaite “rendered two vocal numbers in a pleasing manner after which Hon. B. Kennedy made a few farewell remarks.”

* Gate City Chapter No. 26 required the attendance of all members at a special meeting.

* Grieg Hall decided to open a reading room for its members.

* Oscar Bailey Gifford (son of the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians’s superintendent) married Miss Alice Cedarbloom at Minneapolis on Wednesday.

Postcard, Court House in Canton, SD

Postcard, East Bridge in Canton, SD

______________________________________________________________________________________

Lincoln County Courthouse in Canton

Some may wonder how Oscar Gifford, the first superintendent at the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians, could make much of a pitch for the little town to host what might have become quite a large and important facility. South Dakota was a fairly centralized part of the country for the Indian population it sought to help, so the asylum’s location in that state was not so surprising. Canton held only a couple of thousand people, but it was one of the established population centers in the state. It had hosted a district political convention as early as 1868 and a Territorial Republican convention in 1872. Citizens had established the Lincoln County (SD) courthouse in Canton, and the building was ready for occupancy in 1875. In contrast, South Dakota’s eventual state capital, Pierre, did not start construction on its capital building until 1905. Of course, Gifford, as Canton’s former mayor and a former legislator for both the territory and state, still had influence with the people most interested in establishing the asylum.

Canton had a well-established business district by the end of 1902, when the asylum opened. The town’s first store opened in 1868, along with its first post office. Clusters of business buildings served customers along Fifth and Broadway, Fifth and Main, Fourth and Main, and a series of adjacent streets. Townspeople could easily shop at a dry goods store, meat market, hardware store, and drug store among many others. In 1903, Chraft & Hansen could advertise five cans of tomatoes for 39 cents and a 20-lb. box of soda crackers for a dollar. Though small and out-of-the-way to Easterners, with its myriad of businesses and enthusiastic townspeople, Canton could truly support a government institution.

Postcard, Birdseye View of Southwest Canton, SD, around 1912

Postcard, East Side of Main Street in Canton, SD, around 1912

______________________________________________________________________________________

Loading a Pack Mule with Flour in Black Hills, Dakota Territory, 1876, courtesy Library of Congress

Lincoln County, South Dakota, became an entity in 1862. No white settlers seemed to be permanent residents there, though a rough road cut through a portion of its far upper corner. The first permanent resident arrived in 1866 and built a dugout to live in while he planted his first few acres of hay. Other settlers began to straggle in or arrive in small groups, and quickly set up local governing bodies of commissioners, justices of the peace, and so on. Many of them found the lush Sioux Valley very attractive and rich. Other parts of the area were flat and drab, but all areas had rich soil and promising futures. The cities of Canton (site of the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians), Eden, Worthing, and Lennox sprang up quickly, and other small towns followed the establishment of the railroad.

Many of the early settlers were Norwegian, with Germans following as the second largest ethnic group. Many began their new lives in dugouts and sod homes (see last post) where they faced the severe weather common to the area. They were by necessity a tough group of people who were determined to make it in a strange, new land. However, one problem they had probably never faced before was grasshopper swarms. These pests, arriving in great clouds and eating so vigorously that they reportedly sounded like “thousands of scissors snipping.” The swarms damaged or ruined crops five years in a row during the 1870s and doubtlessly discouraged many of the newcomers or forced some to return home. Despite these struggles, the county population increased from under a hundred in its early days to 6,000 by 1880.

Iowa Family Surveys Locust Devastation in 1931

Sawing Down Trees Killed by Drought and Grasshoppers in ND in 1930s, courtesy Library of Congress

______________________________________________________________________________________