In this Thursday, March 28, 2013 photo, Rep. Anne Donahue looks at a memorial stone at the site of a Vermont State Hospital cemetery in Waterbury, Vt. Vermont mental health advocates are trying to decide what to do with the abandoned cemetery near the former State Hospital, which was forced to move by flooding from Tropical Storm Irene. (AP Photo/Toby Talbot)

by Wilson Ring

WATERBURY, Vt. (AP April 1, 2013) — An all-but-forgotten cemetery and its dozens of long-dead patients of the forerunner of the Vermont State Hospital are reaching from beyond their hillside graves to help modernize state law regulating what happens when someone dies and no one claims the remains.

The issue emerged from the shadows of history because of Tropical Storm Irene, which more than a year ago inundated the hospital complex, destroyed many old patient records and rendered the complex unusable. As plans were made for a new hospital, some feared the cemetery was in danger of being forgotten again.

“Somehow it felt incredibly important to give those people back the dignity of their identity,” said state Rep. Anne Donahue, a Republican from Northfield and longtime advocate for the mentally ill. “I wanted to find out who was here.”

The patients in the Waterbury cemetery came from points all over the state, from Holland on the Canadian border to Bennington, in southern Vermont. One was born in Prussia, most of which is now Poland. Another was from Ireland. The youngest was a child who died at birth along with his mother. The oldest was 82. Their demises resulted from a variety of causes, but many list variations of insanity as an underlying condition; in one case, it was brought on by “domestic affliction.”

What they all had in common was dying between 1891 and 1913 while in state custody as patients at the Vermont State Asylum for the Insane. At the time they were buried, the cemetery, up a steep hill just above the Winooski River, looked out over a farm field now covered by Interstate 89.

“They were all individuals who had no one willing to claim their bodies, and so they ended up here,” Donahue said.

Many of the original records of their lives — and deaths — were lost when Irene’s floods inundated the nearby hospital complex. The state hospital itself was moved from Waterbury, and its permanent replacement is under construction in the town of Berlin.

Donahue said she first heard of the hillside cemetery last fall during a ceremony marking the permanent closure of the last remnant of the hospital, abandoned during the August 2011 storm with the remaining patients spread across the state while officials figured out how to replace it.

Over the decades, people have acknowledged the presence of the cemetery. A historian who wrote about the state hospital noted that in the 1970s, the indentations of the original graves were still visible. And it was marked in 1991 with a granite headstone remembering the people buried there: “May their spirits soar. You are remembered.”

Donahue spent months going through death and census records, as well as leftover information about the cemetery and the people buried there. Her list isn’t definitive, but it offers a glimpse into a time when people with mental illness were hidden away.

Sally Town was 30 when she died in childbirth along with her baby. Her pregnancy had been discovered two weeks before her death. Her death certificate said she died after her brain was destroyed by syphilis.

Amelia Platka died at age 63 in 1898. The native of Germany died of liver disease. The cause of her insanity was listed as “domestic affliction.”

After hearing their stories and others, Donahue wanted to use her position as a lawmaker to pass a law guaranteeing the cemetery would be taken care of forever. But in researching the case, she found that that site, on state land, was already protected.

Instead, she was shocked to learn the reason why no more people were buried at the cemetery after about 1912: State law began allowing the bodies of people who died unclaimed to be used for medical research, a practice that eventually fell into disuse.

After she started working on a bill to repeal that law, she heard from Vermont’s health commissioner, Dr. Harry Chen. He told her the state had no clear mechanism for the ultimate disposal of unclaimed remains.

Right now, there is one body being held by the medical examiner that has no next of kin. A couple of others, in which the next of kin wants nothing to do with the ultimate disposition, are being held, Chen said.

“At any given time, there are a couple corpses that are kind of waiting for people to claim them or figure out how to dispose of the remains in a respectful way,” Chen said. “It’s sad.”

The Vermont Medical Examiner checked with other states and determined that the procedures for dealing with unclaimed remains varies widely across the country, Health Department spokesman Robert Stirewalt said.

Donahue’s proposal outlines how unclaimed remains should be cremated and then held by the medical examiner’s office for three years while a search is conducted for someone willing to keep them. After that, they could be buried or disposed of through other methods.

The bill has passed the House and is awaiting action in the Senate.

Man Being Brought From Richardson Is the Third Case Which Has Developed Within Past Three Weeks

Marshal Perry is in receipt of a telegram from Richardson, stating that two men, Maher and Espy by name, left the Tenderfoot town yesterday with an Insane person in charge, who will be kept here until there is some improvement in his condition or otherwise, until he can be sent outside to Mount Tabor (the early name for Morningside Hospital).

This is the third case of insanity which has developed in the Tanana during the past three weeks. Jack Spencer was brought up from Gibbon and tried before Commissioner Erwln, and, although he was discharged, the general opinion appeared to be that he was a fit subject for the wheelhouse, unless he could be kept away from the Influence of hootch. Jack was Interdicted by the Jury which tried his case, or a recommendation was made to that effect.

The case of Mrs. Black is hardly a week old. Mrs. Black, the mother of a family at Gibbon, went violently Insane at that place, and the commissioner there having no jurisdiction to try the case, the afflicted woman is now on her way to Rampart, where she will be held awaiting some improvement in her condition or until her case is dispensed of by Commissioner Green.

Commissioner Hedger has already dispensed of the case of the patient at Richardson, but there being no place at that point where such cases can be properly handled, It was thought best to send the Insane person to Fairbanks. The name of the man is not known here, the Richardson commissioner having failed to mention it in his various dispatches.

by Eric Cordingley

The weather here has finally turned to “regular” fall weather and we have lots of rain.  This means, of course, that the ground has finally softened up to uncover markers which I hope to do next weekend, weather allowing.

The virtual cemetery is nearing 400.  Check it out!

Riverview Abbey Mausoleum and Crematorium

A recent trip to Riverview Abbey revealed more sad news about former patients whose remains were sent there for cremation (paid for by the family) and then left.  At least 8 boxes of ashes were treated that way and later scattered in the woods behind the crematorium.  Some patients’ cremains were sent to relatives in other states, but for the most part, the ashes were left on the shelf of the crematorium until they were scattered by the staff.

The situation regarding the unclaimed cremains of Charles Marjanen at the Oregon State Hospital is still pressing.  It will be at least another two weeks before I can get to Salem to scan the death certificate.  I will send it out to the team when that happens. 

The Oregon State Hospital has opened a new museum in Salem.  I hope to get there over holiday break and will send photos.

As I reported before, my meeting with Betty Kehoe, former secretary to Wayne Coe, went very well.  At 88, she is still lively and her memories are sharp.  I hope to meet with her again soon – she says she has some documents to show me!

She had specifically asked me what ever happened to Basil Davis, an Aleut man who she developed a friendship with during her time at Morningside.  I believe he was transferred back to Alaska, but where, and is there any way to trace him?

My meeting with the manager of Holman’s funeral service is delayed for awhile until I get through mid-terms.  A recent phone conversation revealed Holman’s holds the records for Davy Sunnyside Funeral Chapel, which handled the funeral contract until 1968.

Born in Ruby, on March 26, 1921, to Charles F. Ross, of Stockholm, Sweden, and Emma A. (Alexander) Ross, of Anvik, Lawrence recalled being raised by “the doctor” because of early diagnosis of polio. As Emma’s ninth child, he remembered all his siblings and extended family well, having lived along the Yukon River until 1955.

Lawrence began institutional living at Morningside Hospital in Portland, Ore., at age 34. He also lived in facilities in Anchorage and Valdez before moving permanently to Fairbanks in 1973 to be closer to his sister, Edith.

His career as a janitor began in the days when he used to keep the Pioneer Hall in Ruby clean. Quite a storyteller, he would recount housekeeping chores he did at Harborview in Valdez. His jobs at Denali Center included picking up laundry, wiping down tables and handrails, and checking to make sure that office doors were locked after hours.

In the community he helped make furniture and did a lot of sanding. Lawrence was known for his recycling efforts as he would collect cans, remove each tab for separation and crush the cans before turning in his collection. He has been recognized for his contributions in donating money he earned to children’s causes.

Known to many as Larry, Ross had enjoyed support from Fairbanks Resource Agency over the years. He appreciated regular visits, car rides, and meals shared with OBRA specialist and friend, Billie Kassel.

Lawrence was a shareholder of Doyon Limited Native Corporation. Favorite traditional foods he enjoyed included salmon strips and any kind of ribs. A fan of country music, tapes of Patsy Cline, Merle Haggard and Johnny Cash could be heard playing from his room.

Lawrence had a remarkable memory and would recall the names of family members, people who used to live in the village during the 1940s and 1950s, and a number of staff and residents who worked and lived at Valdez, Careage North and Denali Center. He would fondly recall the names of elders and say he missed them.

Lawrence was preceded in death by his parents, Charles and Emma Ross; sisters, Dora Alderman, Mary Demientieff, Katherine Carlo, Gertrude Gunderson, and Ann Dunn; brothers, George Cristo, Mark Cristo, Mitchell Cristo, Charles Ross, Jr., William Captain, Edward Ross, and Robert Ross.
He leaves to cherish his memory sisters, Edith Nollner and Sophia Graham; numerous nieces and nephews; special friends, Billie Kassel and Don Thibedeau, and the many loving staff and friends he made during the years at Denali Center.

Visitation will be held at 11 a.m Friday July 27, 2012, at Chapel of Chimes. Funeral service will follow at noon with burial afterward at Birch Hill Cemetery where he will be laid to rest next to his parents.

Arrangements were entrusted to Chapel of Chimes Funeral Home.

Published in Daily News-Miner on July 25, 2012

I was surprised by a number of things in the article:

• Morningside was the largest private psychiatric hospital if the West Coast
•  135 Alaskans, many of whom were Alaska Natives, were still patients
• Nearly a third of the patients were children, most of whom were developmentally disabled

The treatment philosophy (therapeutic community) described in the article is rather forward-thinking for 1964. The article noted that Morningside looked more like a farm than a hospital, there were no uniforms for the patients or staff, patients were encouraged to participate in education/work and recreation, and the goal for most patients was self-sufficiency and discharge.

You can read the whole article here: Morningside Hospital Aids Community Mental Health (268)

AKHF Supports “Lost Ledgers” Project

By Lina Olofsson

My mother died last year, leaving a box with an old diary, some pictures and old letters from my grandfather.

Gus Berglund, seated on the right

My grandfather, Gus Berglund, was born in 1881. He lived in the little mining town  - Malmberget  - in the north of Sweden, just about 100 kilometers north of the Arctic Circle. He came from a large family, with three sisters and six brothers. His father and the older brothers worked as iron-ore miners.

At the age of 27, my grandfather Gus immigrated to Canada with one of his younger brothers – Conrad – and four of their friends. They arrived to Quebec on the Empress of Ireland on May 1, 1909. Their brother Erik had emigrated some years before, and was living in Spokane, Washington with his young wife and a son. Their sister Elin emigrated some months after my grandfather, and she settled in Vancouver, Canada with her husband and four children.

1917 Letter to Morningside Hospital

From 1910 to 1914, the two brothers, Gus and Erik Berglund, worked together in different railway camps in the Spokane-Seattle-Vancouver-area. Sometimes together – sometimes apart.

My grandfather kept a diary during the first years in Canada and United States, where he wrote some short notes about the different jobs. But the last note is dated 1914, and there are no letters after that time saved between the siblings in Canada and their family in Sweden.

But I found a letter (0) from February 1917, written by a brother in Sweden to Doctor J. W. Luckey at Morningside Hospital, asking about my grandfather Gus. He had heard that Gus had been admitted at Morningside, but the family was worried and could not get in contact with him at the hospital.

Gus Berglund, standing left

The patient records I found from Morningside state that my grandfather Gus Berglund was admitted from Knik on May 8, 1916. His diagnosis was, “Catatonia, Silent, uncommunicative, Morose”. About a year later , on June 7, 1917,  he was discharged to Seattle where his brother Conrad was living with his family.

Gus probably went Alaska, to build the Alaskan railway, which was constructed at that time in the area of Knik. He probably lived in the Wasilla railway camp with his brother Eric when he was taken ill. Or maybe he went to Alaska for the gold? I probably never will find out what happened to my grandfather Gus in Alaska.

After First World War grandfather Gus returned to Sweden. From 1923 to 1932 he was building railways in the north of Sweden.

Mamie Ball and her husband Harry were two of the gold-seekers. Harry died in 1927 but Mamie lived in Nome until she was committed to Morningside in 1941.

Her death certificate was among those posted on the Records Archive earlier this month. It’s interesting for a couple of reasons. First of all, there was a note written on the back of the Oregon Death certificate that detailed her death soon after her arrival in Portland.

The other interesting aspect is that there are two death certificates, one from Oregon and the other from Washington. It appears that the Oregon certificate, filled out soon after her death, was corrected by Eliza Scott, her sister. Mrs. Scott lived in Seattle and took Mamie’s body there for burial. Apparently, the Washington death certificate was needed to do that. The death certificates and note can be found here. Ball Death Certificates (301).

Thanks to Portland residents Eric Cordingley and David Anderson for their many trips to the Oregon State Archives in Salem and for scanning all of these documents. Their continued commitment provides a rich source of information for families of Alaskans sent to Morningside.