Last summer, we visited Traverse City as we toured Michigan. As always, I checked out Tripadvisors’ best things to do in [city]. Number 1 in Traverse City is “The Village at Grand Traverse Commons”, an “old state asylum that is being renovated into shops, restaurants, wineries and more”. Best of all, it was an easy bike ride from our campground! I wish I could show you a picture of the place. It is regal and HUGE! So we went. I’m not sure exactly what I expected, but the “shops, wineries, restaurants and more” were very modest compared to the size of the buildings, but hey, the developers (they’re on their third I think) are trying and it’s a noble cause to be sure. But if the retail was disappointing, the building itself (built in 1881) and the mini-museum the developers have added was fascinating. Then I saw they have a tour and the timing was good for us. It was $25 each (ouch!) but hey, we’re on vacation, and it’s definitely a unique attraction. The tour was actually pretty good. The guide, like many Traverse City residents had direct connection to the asylum since her father worked there (the asylum was closed in 1989). We only got to see one unrestored building, but the talk of psychiatry before meds was interesting.
Which brings us to this book. As the subtitle states, it is “A memoir of 45 days in the Traverse City State Hospital”. The author, after attempting suicide twice, checked himself into the hospital, and being a journalist, wrote this day-by-day account. The book was originally published in 1952, so I’m guessing his stay was, say, around 1950. The book is just a memoir, not a documentary or expose, so we only see what happens on floor D-3, which I would characterize as similar to the minimum-security section of a prison. The patients on D-3 were allowed out on the grounds, and even into Traverse City. There was a canteen which they could buy food, and men and women could meet. If you were unruly on D-3, you would be sent to D-4 or one of the cottages (which we saw on the tour). The most startling revelation in the book was how little treatment anybody received, and how well they were treated by the State (the author, by voluntarily checking in, was charged $2.30 a day, about $30 in today’s dollars). But these were the days before any psychotropic meds. Thorazine was introduced in 1954, lithium in 1949. The only treatments mentioned in the book were the “shock” treatments, electroshock and insulin shock. The author, for example, only got what I would call a teensy bit of “talk therapy”, more like pep talks from a wise doctor. Still they kept him for 45 days. Most of the book is a somewhat depressing (and sometimes tedious) day-to-day account of the travails and antics of the other men on D-3. The author did have a romantic affair with a woman named “Suzy” about which I could not stop thinking of James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain” song, coincidently about “Suzanne”. It was very cool to read about the dances, after we toured the wrecked and disintegrating dance hall at the hospital.
To be honest, I’m not sure I would have liked this book so much if I hadn’t been at the hospital myself. Otherwise, I would probably only recommend it to someone researching psychiatric care before 1950, or the demise of the state-run asylums around 1980-1990. Closing the hospitals and turning the patients out on the streets is not covered in this book (obviously) but the book is a fascinating window into the change in cultural attitudes toward the mentally ill.