Category Archives: Canton Asylum for Insane Indians

Canton Asylum for Insane Indians in South Dakota was also known as Hiawatha. It opened in December 1902 and closed in 1934 after charges of neglect and abuse were validated. Dr. Harry Reid Hummer and Oscar Sherman Gifford were its only two superintendents. Its only patients were Native Americans, typically called Indians. It was the only federal insane asylum created solely for an ethnic group and served only Indians.

A Long Day

Western Lunatic Asylum Medical Staff, 1896

Attendants had a difficult job in any asylum, and the ones at the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians were no exception. Besides their special duties when new patients arrived (see last post), they were in charge of general housekeeping on their wards. They were in immediate charge of the nursing of their patients, including the dispensing of medicine and changing surgical dressings. They had to make complete notes about the physical and mental condition of every patient at least once a month.

Attendants were to keep patients comfortable and clean, bathing and changing them as necessary. They had to look after bedding, sweeping, dusting, brightening the floors, hardware, plumbing, fixtures, etc. in their patients’ rooms, as well as clean the lavatories and toilets. Attendants had to accompany patients who could take outdoor exercise, and direct patients in any work tasks they were able to do. Attendants also waited table during meals, submitted a report to the superintendent each morning on any changes in their patients, and accompanied the superintendent and/or physician while he made his rounds.

In 1907, male attendants were paid $480 annually, and female attendants $420. This amounts to $11,500 and $10,100 in today’s dollars, using a Consumer Price Index calculator.

Attendants at Pennsylvania Hospital for the Insane, circa 1860s, courtesy University of Pennsylvania

Nurses at St. Elizabeths, 1917, courtesy Library of Congress

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Attendants Also Drown in Detail

Hospital Staff, Tulalip Indian School, 1912, courtesy Library of Congress

Dr. Hummer found it difficult to keep good help at the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians. Though part of the problem resulted from Hummer’s bad temper and difficult personality, another part lay in the nature of the work. Attendants in particular had a hard time. They were supposed to be on duty from 6:00 a.m. until 9:00 p.m., though on alternating nights they were allowed to leave at 6:00 p.m. However, they couldn’t leave the premises without Hummer’s permission.

Attendants had a detailed list of 36 specific duties, though they were supposed to do just about anything required of them. A new patient always presented additional work. Attendants were to  conduct new patients to their wards and search them for valuables and weapons, make a note of all their clothing, mark the pieces, and then take on the care of the patients’ clothing. They were also to bathe the new patient upon admittance and examine him or her for vermin, marks, or bruises.

The next post will discuss attendants’ daily duties.

 

Staff of Arizona State Asylum, 1914

Stewards and Nurses, Brooklyn Navy Yard Hospital, Detroit circa 1890-1901

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Beset by Details

Dr. Harry Hummer

When Dr. Harry R. Hummer took over the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians after Gifford’s resignation, he immediately became caught up in the many details of running an asylum. In 1917, Hummer engaged in a fruitless round of complaint letters and rebuttals concerning a defective heater body for the asylum boiler. The Herbert Boiler Company sent a length of pipe to the Indian Bureau to finally end the dispute.

The assistant commissioner of Indian Affairs informed Hummer that though the pipe was solid with lime deposits, the boiler company wasn’t responsible for the break in it, which was the point of contention. Hummer should have made sure he ordered a water purifier with the boiler feed to prevent the problem, and hadn’t. Assistant Commissioner Meritt threw the problem back in Hummer’s lap, telling him to investigate the problem before it affected the boilers as well as the piping.

It seems little short of laughable that someone with Hummer’s medical training, and in his position,  should be handling problems with lime buildup in his facility’s boiler pipes. However, Hummer brought many of his problems on himself by refusing to delegate. Since he knew little about mechanical systems, he could not foresee issues that might arise. Eventually, his refusal to delegate brought him problems completely opposite to those of his predecessor, Gifford, who had delegated far too freely.

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No Job Too Small

Oscar S. Gifford

Superintendents felt strongly that only one person could be in charge of an asylum. They wanted no interference from boards of directors or trustees, or from the public, since they felt that no one but themselves really knew their business. Superintendents also disliked sharing power–patients and staff should have no doubt as to who was in charge. Superintendents often fought a running battle with outside forces who wanted to provide oversight or help them. Superintendents frequently got their way, but that meant they were also inundated with administrative tasks that ate up their time.

Oscar S. Gifford, the first superintendent of the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians, had to personally accept and receipt for $14 and $2, the property of patients Miguel Maxcy and Arch Wolf, respectively, when they were transferred from St. Elizabeths in January, 1903. He personally took patients to church at times, escorted new patients from their reservations to the asylum, and picked up escaped patients after they were caught and detained. He wrote annual reports, corresponded with the Indian Office, and reviewed employment applications among other duties. Despite his extremely small institution, small staff, and few patients, Gifford eventually ran into trouble because he could not manage to supervise any of them effectively.

Sample Asylum Report, courtesy University of North Carolina

Patients in St. Elizabeths

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Gaining Prestige for Asylum Management

Bellevue Hospital, NY, 1885, courtesy Wellcome Images

One of the immediate issues facing insane asylum superintendents was their initial lack of status. The term “mad-doctor” had little to recommend it as an indication of learning and professionalism. Even the term “alienist” did not convey to the public the intricacies of helping disabled minds. To enhance their stature, these early psychiatrists found it helpful to band together in professional groups.

The American group first communicated with each other informally through letters. Then a group of thirteen insane asylum superintendents met in 1844 to share information and exchange ideas about the treatment of the insane. They named their group the Association of Medical Superintendents of American Institutions for the Insane.

German psychiatrists united as a professional body in the Association of German Mad-doctors in 1864, though the General Journal for Psychiatry and Psychic-forensic Medicine had begun publication in 1844. The British organized the Psychological Society in 1901. They changed their name to the British Psychological Society in 1906, to avoid confusion with another organization of the same name.

These early societies were successful in gaining stature for their profession. Many alienists began to testify as expert witnesses in public trials, and the public in general felt safe in relying on their judgment.

Published June 25, 1911, courtesy sundaymagazine.org

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Lighter Jobs

McLean Asylum for the Insane

Work was considered essential for patients’ well-being and cure in insane asylums. For patients to get well, they needed peace, an unvarying routine, and light tasks that would occupy their minds. Though much of patients’ work helped the institution itself by defraying labor expenses, most superintendents also believed in its therapeutic value.

Often, patients could work on projects they actually enjoyed, and sometimes earn money from them. Since a goal of treatment was to enable an individual to rejoin society, working for money was not discouraged. At the McLean Asylum, women did plain sewing, but also fancy work that they sold. At the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians, female patients did beadwork for money. A man named M. B. Viken wrote to Dr. Hummer in 1927 to ask if he could get a beaded belt that he had bought at the asylum years earlier, repaired. By that time, however, Hummer had no occupational therapy at the asylum other than chores. He sent regrets that he could not accommodate the request.

Psychiatric Patients Making Toys, circa WWI

Shoshone Women Doing Beadwork, courtesy Princeton University Digital Library

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The Alternative Meal

Though meals at asylums ranged in quality, it was far better to voluntarily eat a meal than to decline one. Doctors were concerned when patients refused to eat, often considering the refusal part of their mental condition. No matter how unpalatable a meal was, the alternative was probably worse.

An article in the American Journal of Insanity gave one doctor’s recipe for a meal delivered through a tube in the nostril: “A mixture of  two or three eggs, half an ounce of sugar, half an ounce of olive oil, and one pint milk or beef tea, strained through coarse linen cloth.”

The whole concoction could be administered within a few minutes. The doctor made no comment on his  patients’ reactions to the procedure.

forcefeeding2.JPG

These pictures show the trauma involved in force-feeding.

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Meals at Asylums

Dr. Harvey Black

The quality of food at asylums ranged from the piece of bread and five prunes Nelly Bly received on Blackwell’s Island to the abundance of milk and eggs sickly patients received at St. Elizabeths. Many institutions made a point of offering enticing food to patients who had problems eating; one woman at Hilltop recounted the generous breakfast of oatmeal, bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, milk and juice, and the evening pot of chocolate brought to her by staff.

Physicians generally considered it positive when patients put on weight. Notes on a woman named Katie at the Southwestern Lunatic Asylum in Virginia said that she had “fattened up some.” Of another woman there, the physician wrote that she had “gained flesh and strength.” Of others, doctors noted that patients had “improved in flesh” or had “grown stout.” There never seemed to be any attempts to help patients lose weight, even if they were described as “quite stout.”

The superintendent at Southwestern Lunatic Asylum, Harvey Black, wrote in his first report that three things were necessary to help patients recover and go home: a sufficient quantity and variety of good food, neat, comfortable clothing, and a sufficient number of efficient ward attendants. He spoke of a planned orchard of 400 apple trees, peach and pear trees, grapes, and berries, and stated that even more than that was needed. If nourishing food did have curative powers, Black seemed to want to provide it.

Southwestern Lunatic Asylum

St. Elizabeths, N-building, courtesy Library of Congress

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New Ideas About the Insane, 1903

Dr. G. Alder Blumer, courtesy Stanford Medical History Center

The last post discussed the confidence which characterized the field of psychiatry in its early years, specifically 1903. During the American Medico-Psychological Association meeting for that year, members could congratulate each other on the 750 pages of journal material which had been submitted and printed in the American Journal of Insanity. Though some topics or hypotheses might seem off-target to modern readers, they represented an attempt to understand and help patients in asylums recover their reason and return to society.

On a darker, note, however, was the Association’s discussion of insanity in general. The group’s president, Dr. G. Alder Blumer, had addressed the problem of “curtailing the evil of insanity” in one of the sessions. Curtailing insanity did not lie in bettering the treatment of the insane, according to Blumer. That merely perpetuated the problem. Dr. A. B. Richardson followed up these sentiments with this: “The general result [of charity toward the insane] is that the survival of the unfit is extended . . . they are nursed, protected, and housed, brought to a procreative age, and then turned loose on the community.” These prominent psychiatrists feared that the population of the insane would swell, since “they show a greater tendency to rear a proportionally larger family than the normal classes.”

This meeting was held the same year that the Canton Asylum for Insane Indians began its first full year of operation.

Crowded New York Lunatic Asylum

Waupaca County Asylum for the Chronic Insane, circa 1902

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Psychiatry in 1903

Dr. Amariah Brigham

By 1903, American psychiatrists had held formal meetings for many years, first as a select group of insane asylum superintendents, then as the more inclusive American Medico-Psychological Association. One striking characteristic of psychiatrists at that time was a confidence in their ability to understand the causes of insanity and the best treatments for it.

One very prominent psychiatrist, Dr. Amariah Brigham, testified in court that he could recognize insanity on sight. He had been called as an expert witness in the case of a murderer whom the defense characterized as idiotic and demented. Brigham had not been allowed to speak to the prisoner or examine him in order to make an informed diagnosis, so the prosecution tried to shake Brigham concerning his ability to diagnose insanity by sight.

As “proof” that he could indeed make this kind of diagnosis, Brigham, at the direction of the court, scanned the crowd attending the trial  so that he could pick out  a lunatic. Eventually, he pointed to a man in the audience and pronounced him insane. The man reacted with wild gestures, shouting and cursing  Brigham for calling him insane–which was taken as proof that he was. Brigham followed through with his testimony concerning the defendant, and though the man was found guilty, he was sentenced to prison instead of being executed.

An account of this episode is found in the “Proceedings of the American-Medico Association,” 1903.

State Insane Asylum, Utica, New York (Brigham was its first superintendent)

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