By Steve B.

During my stay, both drugs and EST were used. I was not treated with EST, only drugs, among which I am sure there were anti-depressants and tranquilizers. There were perhaps six or seven teens in my ward and one or two of them were administered EST. Memory tells me that most EST-treated patients were in the older population. On my ward, meds were kept in a locked chest located on the wall near the aides’ station. These were carefully measured and administered by the aides themselves. Mine were in powder format, mixed with orange juice for tolerable palatability.

Dr. Roy Moss, in “talk therapy” individual sessions, addressed my problems, but I was never given a diagnosis or nomenclature for those problems. Perhaps my parents were given a technical-medical name for what was ailing me, but they never mentioned it and I never inquired.

Hindsight tells me there were probably well over a hundred patients during the period of my stay, but these were scattered among different wards/dorms, and I never witnessed a mass-gathering of patients, so this is only my best guess.

There were many native Alaskans at Morningside during my stay. Again, since I have no real grasp on the total population, I can’t accurately say how many their numbers were. But I would run across them “all the time”, especially in larger gatherings such as daily cafeteria meals, so I would guess that they were still constituting a substantial portion of the general population. Most of these were older males (didn’t notice many, if any, females), and other than the normal courtesies, unfortunately, I didn’t converse with them – so I can’t relate anything regarding the frequency and/or process of returning them to Alaska. One exception was the only teen Alaskan I knew, who was an affable sort except when his anger management issues would trigger outbursts. However, I didn’t learn anything from him pertaining to native American life in Alaska. On my ward there was also a Native American named Reggie Hunt, but if I’m not mistaken, he was from Central (Warm Springs Reservation?) or Eastern Oregon, not Alaska. My first experience of Alaskan culture came in the hospital’s main office, where my parents brought me to be admitted. The walls were hung with all kinds of native crafts, a lot of masks and suchlike.

The aides were exceptional – reasonable, responsible, and approachable, some with wild senses of humor, which of course, immensely helped patients during their (in many cases) involuntary “incarceration”. The aides never abused anyone and were extremely helpful in all ways. Discipline was maintained, but I believe always in tandem with communication with the doctors – i.e., no unilateral, “fascistic” decisions were made by the aides. One punitive measure I recall was being “put on restriction”, which meant isolation from the rest of the community in the ward. Such patients would be permitted to attend the school, but were not allowed to return to the ward except at night for head-count and sleep. I recall one incident in which I was the only “innocent party” – and all the rest of the teens were put on restriction. It was a strange but exciting feeling for me to have my freedom, limited though it was, while all my peers were on off-ward restriction.

Again, I observed no abuse from “the powers that be”. However, kids being kids/people being people, there were strong rumors circulating on our ward of some teen sexual activity, but only between patients, never between staff and patients.

The quality of life at Morningside was as good as could be imagined, “considering the circumstances”. Movies were arranged, trips to local swimming pools, bowling alleys, etc. There was a rec room which included a piano; there was a “snack and fun” center with vending machines, a little shop, a small lounge, and other amenities. The school was well maintained and the teachers were quite sharp. I’m sure there was homework, but I don’t recall doing any on the ward.

Apparently Morningside would on occasion coordinate with outside physicians and/or medical training programs. One day I was asked to be interviewed by a visiting psychiatrist, to which I readily agreed. He asked the usual questions. I presume whatever data he obtained went into some institution’s records, but I can’t recall what clinic or hospital this particular doctor represented.

In addition to individual psychotherapy, there was group therapy for us (we?) teens. In his interview, Dr. Moss mentioned that this was fun but the whole teen group workshop/program eventually withered because aide staffing was insufficient to manage “difficult” teens. In addition to Dr. Moss, sometimes at group therapy, there was a woman therapist, a “Dr. Kelley” who would sit at the table with us and, like Dr. Moss, ask questions/lead discussions/prompt thinking.

I recognized a couple of other doctors around the place – by face, but I don’t think I knew their names. I think I do recall occasionally seeing Dr. Hutchens when he would be walking on the grounds.

The cafeteria was pretty amazing in terms of variety and abundance of food. Also in its attention to the exacting filling of special diet orders from the doctors. My tendency to weight-gain finally resulted in Dr. Moss directing diet orders to the kitchen. The outcome of this was taking all my meals in a special annex to the cafeteria, which was called “the Diet Kitchen”. This was efficient but unpleasant, first because the food was “dietary” and because it separated me from my peers who would of course be eating in the regular cafeteria.

Also there was a craft shop with saws, lathes, etc. Doctors would frequently assign patients a carpentry project, and that’s how I’m familiar with the shop. I remember a milk vending machine there that dispensed the most refreshing, ice-cold milk in small cartons.

The hospital also had a newsletter that probably came out once a month or maybe every two weeks. It kept us up on new and leaving patients, current patients (hobbies, aspirations), etc., had a cartoon, jokes, etc. I don’t recall the name of the newsletter.

The ward and its separate shower room and lavatory were kept spotlessly clean. I believe that the aides were hands-on responsible for these tasks.

Well, that’s about all I can remember – I hope it’s of interest and of use to you. Please feel free to ask any more questions.

A few days before she left Morningside, Dr. Henry Coe, the president of the Sanitarium Company, informed the Department of the Interior of her release. In the letter, he described her as, “strong, vigorous, active, cleanly, and the most capable Eskimo woman I ever saw.” He goes on to say that she will be leaving with a baby named Mary McLoshkin (apparently born at Morningside?) who she adopted. You can read the discharge letter (27) here.

Coe notes that Katharine was in a photo with him and a Department of the Interior inspector (above, from the Library of Congress). He also wrote that she made fine baskets. I believe that this is a photo of one of her baskets. The caption under the 1916 photo (from the National Archives II) reads, “Made by an Alaska Native who was returned by Morningside to the island of Attu, 4000 miles distant.”

Dr. Coe ends the letter with, “I am going to write up her story, one of these days. It is stranger than fiction.” I wish he had. I’ve checked many sources but can find nothing on Katharine after her discharge from Morningside. Please leave a comment if you know more about her or her family.

Nancy’s uncle, Alan Johnson or Lindstrom, was also sent to Morningside for a short period for evaluation. Nancy would greatly appreciate any photos or information on Ivor, Nancy and Alan.

Here’s what we know (from Department of the Interior administrative records) about Ivor and Nancy:

Nancy Johnson (patient #1785) was committed from Seldovia on January 27, 1939 and admitted to Morningside on February 10, 1939. She was born in Alaska and of Russian and Alaska Native heritage. Nancy was 31 when admitted and was diagnosed as having dementia praecox and depression. One record noted that she had insulin therapy at some point during her stay at Morningside Hospital.

lvor Johnson (patient # 1952) was committed at Kodiak on October 14, 1941 and admitted to Morningside on November 14, 1941. Ivor was born in Sweden and was a carpenter. He wasn’t a citizen but had been in the US for 20 years, 10 of them in Alaska. He was committed because of loss of memory and an inability to care for himself. He had positive blood and spinal Wassermans and an advanced case of general paresis.

They were both listed as still being at Morningside in 1955.

Clara Halferty was born in March 1887 in Brighton, Iowa. She married Tom Shea in 1907 and they adopted a daughter, Myrtle. In 1915, the family moved to Alaska where Tom took a job working on the construction of the Alaska Railroad. Clara immediately fell in love with Alaska.

(Photo Right: Clara and Tom Shea, circa 1907)

Tom and Clara divorced in 1916 and, over the next 20 years, she worked as a prospector and mail carrier, and she married three more times (including once more to Tom Shea). In May 1929, she visited family in Iowa and regaled family and friends with stories about her life in Alaska. A story about her in The Newton Daily News illustrates her adventurous spirit and self-reliance:

“My first experience driving a dog team turned out badly. I hitched 7 dogs to a sled. A quarter of a mile later, the dogs, sled and myself rolled 150 feet off the side hill. I attempted to straighten the tangled harness when the dogs broke loose and headed to camp.”

(Photo Left: Clara with Humpback Grizzly, Alaska)

“At one time I was out on a prospecting trip which took seven months five of which I spent alone. I saw few men and no women during these months. One always finds gold. Sometimes it is a paying prospect but more often not. The largest nugget I ever found was worth $42.”

(Photo Right: Clara’s Cache and Cabin, 1917)

Clara married a man named Simpson in the 1930’s and was sent to Morningside Hospital in December 1941. I found two records relating to her:

1943 List of Patients with No Assets:
“1958 (the patient number) Simpson, Clara. Aged 54. Fairbanks. U.S. White. Comm. 12-5-41 at Fairbanks. No property listed. Myrtle Ralphs, 130 N. Olive St., Glendale, Cal. (D)” (I think D stands for divorced)

1948 March Quarterly Report:
“1958 SIMPSON, Clara – Admitted Jan.8, 1942. Fairbanks. White. Female. Age 54. American born. Resident of Alaska. Separated. Laundress. Moderately alcoholic. Committed for delusions. Positive blood and spinal Wasserman. Confused, delusional. Diagnosis: General Paresis, advanced. Receiving tryparsamide, malaria. Prognosis: guarded.

It’s interesting that her age is listed as 54 in both documents, even though they are five years apart. She was actually 61 in 1948. She had a positive Wasserman test indicating that she had syphilis, which can cause mental illness when not treated. Clara died at Morningside Hospital on June 17, 1949 due to bronchopneumonia, cerebral sortening and general peresis.

Lubova Pontelaief was born in 1907 and was admitted to Morningside Hospital from Sitka on June 24, 1934. A hospital quarterly report from 1935 included this information about her:

1550 (Patient Number) Lubova Pontelaiev: admitted June 24, 1934  White.  Russian.  Alaska born.  Female, Single.  Age 27.  No occupation. Dementia precox, hebephrinic form.  History indicates mental disorder existed for about 10 years.  Pc. (Physical Condition) fair.

Her name appears in a list of patients from 1955, but from there all we know is that she acquired a Social Security Number in Alaska in 1965 and died in October, 1977. At the time of her death, she was living in area code 97217, the Bridgeton neighborhood in Portland. She’s buried in the Portland’s Rose City Cemetery.

Aleksandr wants to know what happened to her after Morningside and who buried her. Please contact the blog if you have any information about Lubova or ideas for information sources we should pursue.

Eddie R., patient #1524, admitted 9/26/33 to Morningside from Ruby, Alaska, also known as “Eddie the Pig” was the reason for my visit to Denali Center today.  The name “Eddie the Pig” was related to us when someone from Ruby recognized his name at the AFN conference and said they remembered calling him that as a child.  When asked why the elder said it was because his mother used to always watch the pigs and then she had a baby that looked like a pig!  The same person said that Eddie’s brother was living in the Denali Center (a nursing home in Fairbanks).

Don Thibideau, a saint, is the social worker there and he helped me.  He talked to L.R. and arranged a visit for me today.  L.R. is 89 years old.  He has been in Denali Center for 37 years!  His speech is difficult to understand but he is very alert when he listens and talks.

When I asked him about his brother “Eddie” he told me that Eddie went to the hospital in Portland before he did!  So you were in the hospital there? Yes. Don said he thinks that this is true.  L.R. had polio and says he was raised by the doctors and nurses.  He carries an “MR” diagnosis and was at Morningside, Harborview (a now closed facility for people with developmental disabilities) in Valdez and in Alaska Psychiatric Institute (API).

When asked who took his brother Eddie he said “the cops came and took him”. He said that Eddie stayed home with his mom and she didn’t want him to go. He said that “Eddie was ahead of me at the hospital” and “he died there”. He said “I was a paperboy at the hospital” and “there were lots of fights there”.  He told us that in fact there were horses and pigs in Ruby when he was a child.  When I asked L.R. how he went to Portland to the hospital, by airplane or boat, he said “by airplane, boat takes too long”.  Then he asked me what happened to the steamship “Nenana”? I told him that it was now in a park and kids could visit on it.

L.R.  said that Donald Stickman took him to Galena when he went to Portland to the hospital.  He said “how come you asked me those questions” and I told him that I had read about Eddie and was interested to know if he knew about him.  He said yes, he was one of his brothers and named the others.  He said that when he was at Valdez he got mad and threw a broom.  Then he asked me if I had brothers and I told him about my brothers.

Don was wonderful and helped me understand L.R. when he talked.  I told L.R. I was going to Portland and asked him if he would like a picture of Eddie’s grave if I could find it.  He held out his hand and said “give me the picture”.  I told him I would come back and visit and he said “when”?

Eddie R. we thought perhaps had Downes Syndrome because of the cruel nickname.  The December 1941 Quarterly Report from Morningside provided the following information on Eddie:  ”Age 10, Mongolian idiot.  Shows rather typical mental make-up and physical signs of above form of idiocy.  Is vivacious and active but very difficult to care for.  Has developed active pulmonary tuberculosis.”   He died on November 8, 1941 at age 20 and is buried at Greenwood Hills Cemetery.

Don said that there was another patient at Denali Center that had been at Morningside hospital and he died a couple of years ago.  Don said that he has a stack of his drawings.  He was from Shismeriff.  Don said he recalled some of the drawings were of animals, some of revival meetings when missionary types went there and he remembered them, and some of the drawings were of a hospital he had been in.  Don said he would find them and show them to me.

L.R. and Eddie’s sister is still alive.  I will find her and chat with her to see what she remembers and if she ever went to visit.

What a day.

Between 1901 and 1903, 69 Alaskans were sent to there, 31 of whom were later transferred to Morningside. Six men died while in Salem, including:

• William Johnson, d.23 Aug 1901 (age 30, b. England)
• Thomas A. Wilson, d. 9 Jan 1902 (age ___, b. England)
• Alexander H Carpenter, d. 30 Mar 1902 ( age ___, b. ___)
• Robert Sweet, d. 9 Nov 1902 (age 48, b. American)
• Wm. Ukas, d. 24 Jun 1903 (age ___, b. Alaska)
• Louis Bronson, d. 27 Jun 1903 (age 68, b. Germany)

On January 11, 1902, the Oregon Statesman published Thomas A. Wilson’s obituary. They reported that he committed suicide by jumping from a third floor window. The article went on to say:

“Wilson was committed to the Insane Asylum from Alaska, and he had recently shown marked signs of improvement. When realizing that he was in an insane asylum, he was very much distressed. He had thus far shown no signs of suicidal tendencies, and was generally considered a model patient.”

One of the interesting aspects of this is that the six men who died at the Oregon State Insane Asylum may be among those whose remains are in the copper canisters I wrote about on September 15. Another lead to follow the next time I’m in Oregon.

The director of Morningside sent a letter to the Secretary of the Interior each time a patient died. On March 1, 1937, Wayne Coe sent the following letter to Secretary of the Interior about Joe Falardeau, whose grave is included in the Virtual Cemetary:

Sir:

Permit us to inform you herewith that our patient, Joe Falardeau No. 1269 who was admitted into our hospital, June 14, 1929 from Cordova died February 26th, 1937. The cause of death was Cerebral Thrombosis. The body was turned over to Holman & Lutz of this city for burial in Multnomah Cemetery.

Respectfully yours,

Wayne W. Coe

Last weekend, she emailed with good news:

“I will be heading to Portland on Nov 20.  I hope I have found James Ebana’s grave.  I have talked to the cemetery staff and found their website that has a map and searchable database.  So I have found the location of the grave.  I have asked their staff to pull any records related to this and to call me.  Will see what happens.

Here is the website for 14 Oregon Pioneer Cemeteries and where I found the location of James Ebana (Ebeno) at Multnomah Pioneer Cemetery.  You may be able to search here for names.  May also need to use alternative spellings.”

Good luck, Robin! And thanks for the valuable research tool.

The family lore about my uncle said he was taken from a small village on the Yukon River in his childhood because he was acting funny. Actually, my aunt Minnie told me he was hit over the head with a frying pan and was never the same again.  Where did he go, I always wondered?

As I have gotten older, I have begun to appreciate the value of history.  After spending many enjoyable years involved with projects that celebrated the history of Statehood in Alaska, I volunteered to lead a project on gathering the oral histories and documents that pertained to Alaska’s developing mental health services.

The journey of discovery has been fascinating, but I wasn’t prepared for the deep and powerful impact the project would have on me.  I didn’t anticipate we would learn about the people.

Our first discovery was a hand-written list of names of patients at Morningside from the 1920 U.S. Census and, shortly after that, a list of patients prepared for Delegate James Wickersham who, as far as I can see, was a tireless mental health advocate throughout his career.

Then the 1955 list.  I began to recognize family names. One day at a meeting, while on break, I called a friend over to my laptop and pulled up the list, pointed my finger at a name and said “this guy has your last name—ever hear of him?”   What was I thinking!  The reaction of my colleague was immediate and profound.  “That is my brother—and we have been looking for him for decades, said my friend tears streaming down his face.  Later, recovered and thoughtful, my friend asked two questions- when did he die and where is he buried? He and his wife plan to make a trip to Portland to the cemetery where he might find his little brother’s grave.

When Ellen and I went to the National Archives, we had a small list of names we had committed, no matter what, to look for.  On the first day, we found my friend’s brother’s information – he was admitted as a four year old child and died when he was nine.  The notes in the file are brief and found among a list of other names. These I copied and brought to my friend back in Alaska.

My uncle was nowhere to be found – never on any list or in any file as we searched. Day three – 10 hours into our day we are hurrying through files – we are running out of time. We need to go home tomorrow.   I pull a dusty file of trust accounts and there is the name of my uncle. Apparently, the government, actually Morningside Hospital, was holding $.02 or 2 cents for my uncle in an account.  Thanks god for this little detail – pennies from heaven.

I began to understand the reaction of my friend as I viewed the actual evidence on the page. I didn’t know my uncle but I met him once. He was sent to Morningside when we was a young child and then spent the rest of his life moving from one institution to another until he was in his fifties and he was discharged to Fairbanks.  I was a girl in high school when he returned and while he didn’t have what we call life skills, he was a kind and gentle soul. He wrote me a beautiful letter, with immaculate handwriting and spelling.  Shortly after that he died.

Later in life when I was involved in developmental disabilities policy, I often wondered about my uncle. Clearly by today’s standards, he would have a mild slowness and would be integrated into a mainstream classroom. He even may have been a successful student with the right early supports. We will never know.

For me now and for Ellen, a good part of this effort is to see what we can do to provide information to families who are searching for loved ones.  We will do our best to honor these folks and give families answers or the tools to get answers to these unsolved and unresolved questions.

If you have comments, we would love to hear from you.