I recently visited the Brattleboro Retreat Tower. It is a place that holds a long history and such a presence. While it was intended to be a groundbreaking facility, and it certainly was in many respects, there are chapters in its past that range from disturbing to heartbreaking, just like all psychiatric facilities of their time. I wanted to take a moment and offer the history of the location for a few reasons. First, this hospital continues to treat patients today. There is a stigma with mental illness and I do not want to sully the good work and compassionate care that The Retreat offers today. Secondly, to overcome the horrors of the past, we must look at what was true and weed out what is false. Rumors run rampant in places like these. While they may make a scary story come to life, real people lived and may have suffered and died here. There are feelings of shame, fear, anger, hostility, and degradation that still echo within the walls and stones and trees of these places. I want to offer this piece as respectfully as I can with the intention of healing and creating a bridge to our fellow humans here now and those of the past. I feel that I am here today to bear witness to those grieving and in pain, whether they have a physical form or not. I also think that sensationalism and fear will continue to keep these cycles and belief systems alive. It is my hope that by leaning into the understanding of history, we can gently release the chains that hold us back, paving the way towards a better future for us all. I hope this inspires you as well.
The history of this hospital began in 1834, when a donation of $10,000.00 by the late Anna Hunt Marsh, was given to the town of Brattleboro, VT. The intent was to create an independent hospital for those in need of psychiatric services in the area. Watching her husband treat psychiatric patients with the newest conventional therapies and practices of the time, Mrs. Marsh wanted to help create change because she felt that the treatments were not working or humane. She wanted a place that would focus on compassionate treatment for the patients. The new hospital would be modeled after the English hospital, The York Retreat, where the patients were cared for, not shuttered away to suffer like many in the asylums of their day. With this mission statement and later inspiration from English Quaker, William Tuke, the American father of psychiatry, Dr. Benjamin Rush, Dr. Eli Todd, and its first superintendent, Dr. William Rockwell, the Vermont Asylum for the Insane, wanted to focus on the “moral treatment of patients with diseases” and not as a result of “sins” or “character flaws”. (1) Therefore, the hospital was to incorporate fresh air and physical activity as the perfect medicine for patients. Dr. Rockwell also vowed to have the medical staff treat the patients as a ‘family’. Dr. Rockwell would see each patient daily and keep careful notes of their progress. There were no fences walling the patients away from the town. There were picnics and gatherings where the residents of Brattleboro and the hospital would be able to socialize together. This gave the hospital a cutting-edge reputation. They were also the first to have a swimming pool, book club, bowling alley, a patient run newspaper, and a working farm. While these aspects were groundbreaking and a breath of fresh air to read about, it wasn’t as bright as it would seem. Peeling back the layers, one can quickly see how treatments and desire for funding corrupted the clean, unbarred windows and large patient rooms. Competing with the newer state-run facilities and dwindling funds, Dr. Rockwell and the board promoted the idea for area residents to commit their family members and town paupers to the facility. There were also locked units and treatments that were horrific to torturous. By the last year of his tenure, Dr. Rockwell was unable to keep his ‘parental attitude’ and family centered philosophy towards the patients because there were just too many with a population of about 500 people. There were also many rumors of small, dirty, underground patient rooms unfit for living, illegal confinement, and abuse. (2)
In 1873, Dr. Joseph Draper took the place of Dr. Rockwell following his death. He did not help in keeping the original philosophy of the hospital either. In a lot of respects, he did little to help the crumbling facade it struggled to keep, including the growing patient mortality rate. (3) He did however believe in having patients engage in physical activity outdoors, including strenuous manual labor. This led to the construction of the facility’s tower. Beginning in 1887, the patients began to build a castle like tower on the grounds to help restore the hospital’s reputation. Using granite from hospital grounds and quarries in Brattleboro, as well as the white quartz from the hillside itself, the tower began to take shape. However, the project stopped due to the death of Dr. Draper. After a few years of being on hold, the hospital trustees and medical staff thought it would be nice to complete it in honor of the late doctor. In 1894, through the labor of the patients themselves, the tower was finally complete. Standing at 65 feet tall, the spiraling staircase allowed patients to see all around the area, from lush green hills to the flowing Connecticut River.
Although it is beautiful to look at and quite a marvel, the tower did not remain open as long as it was intended. There were rumors that some patients died by suicide at the tower. Yet, there are no records to support such occurrences, especially since they were not generally announced at that time. So, the door was welded shut, keeping everyone from walking the spiral staircase to the top. To this day, the hospital has withheld how many people died from that tower, if at all. Sadly, their unwavering silence does not stop the rumors and legends. Even if one person fell from the top, by accident or not, it would be too many. The only recorded death at the tower was in the 1923 and it was due to a self-inflicted gunshot wound. This happened after the hospital chose to seal the metal door shut and forbid anyone to walk to the top of the tower. It is a heartbreaking tragedy and it continues to reverberate through our collective consciousness and history.
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Breaking free from the whispers and memories held within land (I will be posting that next week), I crept closer to the tree line, unable to find my words. I was overcome with a mixture of emotions from the memories and energy offered by the land as I gazed up at the Brattleboro Retreat Tower. I had read you couldn’t see it until you were right up on it. The articles were right. I did feel it however, long before it came into view. The dark woods, capped with a canopy of sturdy oaks and majestic pines hid it from sight. Peeking through the swaying branches on a chilly September morning, it stood before us; a creation of a time gone by. I must admit, I couldn’t believe how alive it felt as it stood silently overlooking the town. A specter encased in stone, it loomed as far as it could see, spanning time and space as a sentient guardian to those who have lived and moved upon this land for years. From the base of the tower, its energy was intense and intimidating, mixed with a pang of sorrow. I could only imagine how the patients felt as they stood beside it, just as I was. Surely, there must have been some pride in its construction for some. Others, well, the tower may have meant something else entirely and perhaps it lingers here within the shadows and mists of this early autumn morning.
Studying the tower, I noticed the familiar quartz blocks and bricks that I saw along the trail to the tower. Another amplifier of thought, emotion, and experience on this land. Reflecting on the properties of the quartz, I understand how it can affect us. No wonder why this place hums with a buzz of disorienting energy, especially with such an immense quantity. It drapes the land in a blanket of memory and energy. Acting as record keepers, the stones can continually tell the stories of the past. They are the silent witnesses, a neutral observer to our human history, recording everything from the good, bad, to the indifferent. If one is willing to listen, hopefully without judgement or fear, those ripples can touch us, asking us to witness them and their lives lived, not to weave a story with imposed pity or prejudice. When we are in a place like this, it can be difficult to unplug ourselves from the perceived pain and sorrow, but if we are to do the work, we must try to witness the actual history and not add to the wild myths and legends of our imagination and deepest fears.
After taking a moment to rest on one of the large cap stones that was once on the top of the tower, I took a deep breath and centered myself. I was trying to peel back the years of gossip and rumor in order to find the layer of the hospital itself, when it was known as the Vermont Asylum for the Insane. That name makes me shudder, but if I am going to do the work, I need to take my own advice. I feel that if we are to work with spirits, we need to meet them where they are at, just like we do for the living. I am after all, in their house. Finding the layer of the asylum’s memory, I took another breath and introduced myself. I told them I meant no harm. I was not going to tell them where to go. I was only here to offer them space if they wanted to talk and be heard. I asked for permission to do so, and it was granted.
When I was ready, I walked the base of the tower slowly. Respectfully, I gave an offering to the land and the spirits, reaffirming that I did not mean them any harm. I was seeking friendship and connection if they wanted to commune with me. It was up to them. Left hand trailing behind me on the stones, I slowly walked the circular base. I began humming or whispering an unknown song that felt like a faraway dream. All the while, there was a loving energy flowing from my heart. It was a little shy, yet gentle and soothing. I felt my energy being lulled as much as I was trying to do the same for those who may still wander here. I was surprised by the ease of opening up and grateful for their willingness to connect. There were a few wisps of memory that flowed through my mind, but they were gone as quickly as they came. I felt myself being observed with curiosity more than anything else and honestly, I am okay with that.
When it was time, I thanked them for their kindness and willingness to be open to me. I know that I would be back at some point in the future, but I made it clear that I didn’t know when. I also said that I would light some candles when I got home if they would like, and I felt that it was welcomed. I left a little more water as a thank you, and closed our session, disengaging from our connection and clearing the shared ties. “May there always be peace between us and thank you for sharing your space.” I whispered as I exhaled and bowed. Pulling myself back to the present moment, I cleared myself and packed up. The rest of the trek through the woods felt peaceful. I was glad that we had come here. It is a place that has always called to me. Maybe it was for the exchange on that misty morning. Perhaps a deeper reason will be revealed in the future. I do know that I will reflect on this experience with a smile. Something changed within me that day and I look forward to see how this experience will unfold.
Be well today,
Renee Bedard ~ The Whispering Crow
References:
1 – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brattleboro_Retreat
2, 3 – https://vermonthistory.org/journal/misc/InsaneAsylum&State.pdf
The Whispering Crow 