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Prior to the opening of the first Lunatic Asylum in 1835, those who could afford to do so sought care at the institutions that were located in the United States.
Not all those who needed care would go willingly and often relatives seeking help for their insane would take them to such institutions under the guise of a pleasure trip. Once in the strange city they would be left there, forgotten, for the rest of their life. Based on such a scenario, J.T. Steeves provided an interesting anecdote in 1887. He claimed it was a true story that had been related to him, and he could back up his claim. This may not be possible after the passage of 110 years, nonetheless, it does make an interesting aside, and we present it just as the good doctor wrote it...
"I am reminded of an anecdote or biographical fragment of interest, the truth of which is well vouched for. Many years ago, before there was an Insane Institution on Lancaster Heights, a gentleman resident in the City of Saint John, whose son became alienated in mind, seeing that there was no suitable place for his treatment at home, concluded to place him under care in an institution in Massachusetts. Father and son took passage in a steamer, in due time arrived in Boston, put up at a hotel, and on the following morning set out for the Asylum, which they soon reached, entered, were shown into the waiting room, and sat waiting the entrance of the doctor. The son was not in ignorance of the intention of his parent, nor was he agreed to the propriety of the proposed step - faulty though his mind was certified to be, he had mentally laid his plans to defeat his governor. Immediately upon the entrance of the doctor, the son arose, stepped forward and addressed him, saying ‘I have brought this gentleman here to place him under your charge for treatment.' The father interposed, showing not a little discomfiture and excitement, urging that it was the son who was crazy, but the son commanded enough composure to at once inform the doctor that the old man believed everyone was crazy but himself, and suggested withdrawing to another room and sending for attendants immediately, as his father, when opposed, was very violent and dangerous.
The doctor was hoodwinked, the attendants were called, who seized the protesting, frenzied old man, and place him is a ward. The son paid the immediate charge, returned to his hotel, took possession of his own and his father's effects, which included a considerable sum of money, and in a few days embarked on a Cunard steamer for England, whither (sic) he safely arrived, and there he lived many years, never returning to this country. It was a few weeks before the gentleman was able to convince the doctor that there had not been, and was never a mental ailment justifying his being brought to the Asylum, and kept there for treatment. In the meantime the son was rocking the cradle of the deep well pleased with himself and the success of his little ruse, so the gentleman has to obtain, as best he could, sufficient money, and quietly get himself home, a little chagrined."
There is very little in the annual reports in the way of humour, and this exception is pointed out as an indicator of the personality of Dr. Steeves and, no doubt, others who served as medical directors in the Saint John, and other Asylums.
Comments of strange happenings in the Hospital were not uncommon on the streets of Saint John. Though whispered as if they were great secrets, they were not hidden away at all, as they medical directors had a responsibility to report each one whether a drowning or a suicide or something more tragic such as this event, which occurred in October 1855 and was subsequently reported by Dr. Waddell. Later comments were picked up from news reports at the time and were combined into a story by E.S. Matheson and carried in the newsletter Echoes.
"It was not until late October, 1855 that Dr. Waddell was seriously tested. The Saint John Morning News of Wednesday, October 31, reported that a tragedy took place at the Hospital which was described as the ‘Most revolting transaction that has ever occurred within the limits of the province.' Two hospital attendants, Mr. William Carrol and Mr. Barry Mills, were killed on the grounds of the hospital by a working patient, Mr.John E. Clarke. Mr. Clarke was employed by Dr. Waddell, and a few minuted before ‘the fatal deed' he carried ‘coals to replenish the fire in the private apartments of the Doctor, whose wife and family were present at that time.'
Today in Cedar Hill Cemetery there stands a grey obelisk baring the inscription ‘In memory of William Carroll, a native of Wicklow Ireland, for fifteen years a faithful attendant in the P.L. Asylum, who was killed in the discharge of his duty Oct. 29, 1855, aged 72 years.' "
Today, visitors can still view the basement's tiny seclusion rooms that have
not been used for nearly 100 years. They date back to a time when the mentally
ill were often shackled and bound.
But a visitor who ventures no further than the main building's front foyer sees
only a reception area rich in wood, leading to oak-trimmed executive offices,
original tin ceilings circa 1850, and bevelled glass.
Even now, former Centracare employees vividly recall the ghosts that roam the
behemoth. There are stories of engineers hearing voices at night in the boiler
room, of elevators suddenly stopping on floors for no apparent reason, of
babies crying in the basement and beds being dragged in the attic. Some are
still horrified when they recall watching people having electric-shock
treatments and how attendants often had to drag patients, kicking and
screaming, to their appointments.
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