University of Virginia Library

Nowhere To Go

Western State Mental Hospital

By Robert Nersesian

Over half the patients at the
Western State Mental Hospital in
Staunton reside in the Old Site. It is
here tours such as the one held by
David Bromley's Social Problems
class begin, with the four of us in
the car alternately staring at the
many patients with walking privileges
and making nervous jokes
about who we were going to ask for
directions to the main auditorium.

The auditorium itself could not
have held more than 200 people
comfortably. The walls were brick
with peeling green paint kind of
splashed on it. Here the tour was
given an introduction which explained
that the Old Site is one of
the oldest state mental hospital
complexes, with some of the oldest
buildings in continuous use in the
U.S. For the 2,700 patients there
were 21 physicians, 2 dentists, one
chaplain, 4 psychologists, 13 social
workers, 44 registered nurses, and
48 practical nurses (a ratio of one
nurse for every thirty patients).

It should be added here that the
Old Site is designated for use by
those patients who are deemed
incurable, are unwanted by their
relatives, or have no one to take
care of them in the outside world.
Most of them have been there for
years, progressively venturing out
less and less, until the point where
the doors to the rooms in a
woman's ward have been locked to
prevent the patient from returning
to bed.

Most Are Old

Most of the patients are also old,
and although "cured" as a nurse
pointed out, have nowhere to go.
For the younger patients they try
to arrange jobs, but for the most
part with a family that doesn't
want them, release for a patient is
difficult. As a nurse said, "they
(families) feel they have dumped
their problems on us."

After this introductory talk we
began our tour at the men's
diabetic ward: splintered floors,
bare light bulbs, rooms that
measured six and one-half feet by
twenty feet with six iron frame
beds in each, no running water
(basins were used), and saddest of
all, 54 patients, all over fifty years
old, sitting, standing, lying on
benches along the dark corridors.

Little of Everything

The nurse on duty, when asked
about the patients replied "they're
not all diabetes. There's a little bit
of everything."

How many nurses do you have?

I'm the only one."

When was this building constructed?

"1840." We were taken to the
women's' alcoholic ward. Most of
them had walking privileges and
were out. There was one patient,
though, who showed us the handicrafts
that the ladies made. You
could see she didn't get chances like
this too often in front of people.
One person put it "She answered
questions you didn't ask." In
general, it was cleaner and cheerier
in contrast to our previous stop.

The women's disturbances ward
was the closest thing they had to a
maximum security floor without
actually saying it. Our guide opened
up a steel wire door that led to a
dark hallway. She walked in slowly
and didn't make any kind of
gesture as to whether she wanted us
to follow or not. Finally, one
person followed her and the rest of
us did likewise.

Metal, Concrete

The walls and floor of this
corridor were concrete. It was so
dark it would have been difficult to
read anything. There were metal
doors that led into the patients
rooms; even the outside locks on
them looked worn. Inside the
rooms were beds and sometimes a
small dresser, sometimes a night
table.

It was quiet except for the
occasional shout of a woman. There
was the now familiar sight of
people sleeping on the benches that
lined the hall, except this time they
were women of all ages in gray
hospital gowns. On the corridor
walls were small, color photo
posters of pretty girls, puppies,
Americana in the form of a
mountain bordered by a lake.

As the nurse in charge spoke to
the group an old woman paced
back and forth between a drainage
opening in the floor and a door at
the end of the corridor. She would
go up to the door, peer through the
crack between it and the jamb, turn
around and walk to the opening,
then return to the door, very
slowly, very methodically. She was
still doing it when we left.

Anticlimax

The rest of the tour was just a
sugar-coated anticlimax. Faces,
mostly elderly, on a background of
pastel-colored walls; therapy, recreation,
rehabilitation the predominate
theme of the New Site. It
didn't seem to mean much after
what had happened at the disturbances
ward.

A sign posted near the main
auditorium seemed to sum up the
whole visit. It was an announcement
for some sort of program to
be held and it read as follows:
"Talent Show, Friday, October 12
in the Main Auditorium."