WORKING AT FAIRFIELD HILLS HOSPITAL
IN NEWTOWN, CONNECTICUT.

Jerry Haffke Remembers:

Part V

Classroom Training and Going to Fairfield House

Trip to Plymouth Rock and Provincetown, Cape Cod

  Over the first two weeks of intensive classroom training on the third floor of Shelton House we trainees, despite of our various backgrounds and age differences, became quite comfortable with each other.

 During my first weekend off, while in class, Jerry Hatchey had asked me if I would like to take a ride to Plymouth, Massachusetts and Cape Cod.
 We left in his car on Friday evening after eating supper in Bridgeport Hall. Taking Route 7 through Sandy Hook, Derby and Ansonia, and connected to I-95 North in New Haven.

 Eventually getting to Providence, Rhode Island, Jerry decided to drive through downtown Providence to show me the city. Of course, I was always eager to see new sights and thus was happy that Jerry was eager to be my guide.
 Providence, as I remember it, seemed to me, generally speaking, just as seedy looking and dilapidated as downtown Hartford and New Haven.
 Since we didn't have much time to really explore the city, I don't want to sound too judgmental, but must say that from what I saw, driving through the downtown area, the city didn't impress me at all.
 We stopped at a Farm Shop restaurant and had a hamburger, fries and coffee and also bought a cup of coffee each to take with us.

 Arriving in Plymouth it was already dusky and getting darker quickly.
  Jerry knew his way around amazingly well and immediately drove me to see the famous Plymouth rock. Telling me a little about it's historic significance, we got out of the car to look at it.   

 Happy that I had seen this historic landmark, we drove around Plymouth for a short while and I remember that this struck me as quite fascinating with it's old, well kept houses and buildings.
 By that time darkness had set in as we drove on to Cape Cod. Listening to a classical radio station on the car radio, I remember that I was startled to hear the broadcast of an event featuring a speech by a National Renaissance Party speaker.
 What I heard was even more startling because what he said was pure Nazi ideology! Even martial music was included, and I was completely dumbfounded...
 Jerry too was amazed and told me a little about this strange party. I don't know what radio station it was that presented this program but assume that since there were no commercials it was a public radio station.   
 The broadcast wasn't just an excerpt, but the entire rally. The broadcast was simply amazing!
Can you imagine this being broadcast today on public radio?

  On Cape Cod we made our way in the direction of Provincetown. Driving for a while, with very little traffic around since it was off season already, Jerry pointed to the gates of a compound with a large seeming mansion type of structure sitting way back in a distance and told me that this was the Kennedy estate, home to our president's family.

 Since there was very little to see in the darkness, we kept on going until we finally arrived at the outskirts of Provincetown.
 Actually there were only lots of dunes and plenty of small motels along the road and Jerry said that it would be best to check into a motel before we got too close to Provincetown because the motel prices would increase drastically the closer we got to the town.
  He pulled into a 'ma and pa' type motel, so typical of that era and we went in to register.
 
A room with two beds for two nights cost us about 20 dollars, I believe.
 After registering and looking at our room, we went back to the car and Jerry drove into Provincetown.
It was already past eleven at night and there was very little to see or do besides going into one of the many bars which seemed to flourish in Provincetown.
 Jerry pointed out that many of the bars in Provincetown were gay bars because Provincetown, even in those days, had a sizable homosexual community.
 Since neither Jerry nor I felt adventurous enough to explore gay bars and we weren't 'bar-people' anyways, we only stopped at a seedy looking diner, had some coffee and drove back to our motel. Watching some TV to wind down, we soon fell asleep.

  The next day, Saturday morning, I awoke, took a shower, got dressed and went outside into the very cool and windy morning. The sky was overcast and didn't look very promising.
 Feeling cold I walked toward the large dunes in back of the motel. Jerry was still asleep.

 Climbing up the dunes, I soon saw the ocean.
Actually, I think it was more of a bay, since I saw the outline of land in the distance.
It was, nevertheless, a beautiful sight.
...But the icy wind soon changed my adventurous mood and I went back to the motel.
Jerry was up by then and we made plans to go back to Provincetown.

  Eating breakfast at a more 'civilized' diner, Provincetown looked more inviting than it had the night before. Since Jerry and I were both 'outsiders,' which in today's English would be termed 'nerds,' we hadn't come to Cape Cod and Provincetown to have 'fun.' We were there to look at the sights, observe the people and learn.

 This old Portuguese fishing town was interesting to us because we loved history. Having walked all over town, admiring it's small harbor, it's old buildings and it's beautiful but deserted beach, we returned to the diner for a late lunch.
 After eating we walked some more and ended up climbing sand dunes to do some beach-walking.

 This, remote area was completely deserted. All alone by the magnificent Atlantic ocean we discussed, while walking, religion, philosophy, history and politics.
...It was getting late and we were hungry again.

 Jerry wanted to introduce me to eating lobster. I was reluctant because eating those big ugly crabs didn't strike me as exactly my idea of a meal. Jerry finally convinced me that I should at least try lobster once.
 So we ended up in one of the many lobster houses in Provincetown.
People in the restaurant who were already eating wore those huge bibs and I remember thinking how crazy that looked.
 The smell in the place struck me as repulsive...
Being not an enthusiastic fish eater, even the Friday fish meals at Bridgeport Hall and the accompanying fishy odor in the cafeteria was awful enough... and here I was even paying to be exposed to this horrendous smell.

 After we ordered, with Jerry ordering for me, the plates with the huge lobsters came.
Jerry explained the different dishes and utensils to me and I followed his lead. The whole operation struck me as awkward and not worth the trouble. Eating some bites of lobster I decided that it wasn't bad, but certainly not worth the trouble and smell...
 Thus I couldn't wait to get out of that place and after Jerry, who loved lobster, was eventually finished, we paid and left.

 We were tired from walking all day and tracking through the sandy dunes.
It had been, all in all, an exciting day...
 
 Sunday morning we checked out of the motel early and decided that we would drive around Cape Cod some more and leave around noon to be back at Fairfield State Hospital in time to relax and get enough sleep to go back to work in the morning.

 Jerry wanted to take a ferry-boat to Martha's Vineyard, but we had to give up on that idea due to our time limit, after we checked out the departure and arrival times.
 Driving around we saw many beautiful sight but I don't recall any specifics.
...We passed again by the closed-gated Kennedy compound, slowing down to get a good look. But there was really not much to see except the road that lead to a large house in the distance surrounded by lawns, fields, bushes and trees.

 Back in Plymouth, we took another look at the rock, bought some picture post-cards, and went on our way back to Connecticut.
 
 We arrived back at Fairfield State Hospital just in time to still get supper in the cafeteria.

Back in class

 Back in class, Monday morning, Mr. Bouton rambled on in his usual monotone voice. The general mood was subdued. We were going through the various psychiatric illnesses and their manifestations.
 Becoming aware of his listless class, Mr. Bouton told us to pay close attention since there would be a 'quiz' at the end of the day.
After a couple hours of studying mental illnesses, we took a break back on the fire-escape.  
 There was a coffee pot set up in Mrs. Dieffenbacher's office where we could get coffee in paper cups. Holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other we stood by the fire-escape taking enjoying the fresh autumn air. In a distance, to our left in the direction of Kent-House and the large soccer-field, we could take in the beautiful surroundings of our hospital. It was calming and reassuring.
 
 Stepping back inside, after 15 minutes, Mr. Bouton came in with a portable screen and asked me and Pete to get a movie projector from Mrs. Dieffenbacker's office.
 Wheeling the projector on a special table with wheels, we helped Mr. Bouton set it up and threat the roll of film. Then we pulled down the classroom shades and watched a thirty minute movie which was filmed, years before our time, at Fairfield State Hospital. The educational film was in black and white and it looked gloomy and boringly clinical.
The narrator praise the hospital and explained various behavior patterns displayed by patients.
 The patients were real, because I knew a few of them from my work in the linen room.
Even some of the 'old timers' working at the hospital could be seen and some where even interviewed.
 This movie must have cause quite a stir, when it was made and for some time thereafter!
 
 We watched the techniques of 'hydrotherapy,' how to restrain a patient, seclusion room set-up and various other topics with special emphasis on the inherent dangers to the patients if wrongly restrained.
 It was an old-fashioned film even in 1963 and some of the techniques were no longer applicable. But it was, nevertheless, instructional to a degree and fascinating because I knew some patients and employees in it.
 
 After the movie we discussed with Mr. Bouton what we had seen and learned for about thirty minutes when it was time to go for lunch to the cafeteria.

 While sitting and eating with the rest of the class, Jimmy Fowler came to the table pulling up an extra chair to it and began his union talk to the new employees. Having a friendly, outgoing way about him, he seemed to have no trouble in keeping the new trainee's attention. A smooth talker, only occasionally breaking into a slight stutter, which seemed to work to his advantage because it made him seem more vulnerable.

 Everybody signed up for membership in the CSEA. I couldn't help but admire Jimmy.

Coming back to the classroom, we found Mr. Bouton there with a bunch of restraints. We were each given one and told to observe as he demonstrated how to make the correct loops and then how to place them on each other's wrists.
 He emphasized how important it was to be completely proficient in being able to make these loops correctly in a second and to know exactly how to place them on a severely disturbed patient's wrists and legs.
 I had seen restraints, rolled up, in the linen room and even delivered them to the various wards. But I had never known, until this moment, how they were used properly.
 Making those loops, quickly and efficiently wasn't easy, though it looked easy enough.
 Spending all afternoon practicing, we finally seemed to have mastered the technique.
 
 We would practice more during future classes and find, to our consternation, that we still had problems doing it correctly and speedily.
 The restraints were made out of some kind of super-strong cloth material which was interwoven with some kind of padding in order not to hurt the patient when he strained against them and thus tightening the loops.
...After countless washings in the laundry though, they would become thinner as the padding wore off. Thus they had to be thrown-out, to be replaced by new ones.
 
 After endless practice, Mr. Bouton brought in our quiz papers and we had to mark-off multiple choice answers. The questions were easy, but looking at the sometimes tricky seeming multiple choice answers, one could easily become confused and uncertain. I got most of the answers right and so did everybody else.
Mr. Bouton dismissed the class and we went back to the dorm.

Aerial view of the hospital complex.

  Our first two weeks of classroom training were almost finished. We learned about taking temperatures and cleaning the thermometers with alcohol wipes after using them.
 Then we practiced taking blood-pressures on each other and how to move bed patients with a draw sheet.
I still looked back to working at the linen room with some sadness.
Those had been innocent, worriless and happy days.
Pete and I felt stifled and oppressed in class. Both of us had never liked school when we were younger in Germany, and here we were, after having worked so happily at the linen room, pushed back into being pupils again.

 Having no choice but to keep on going we nevertheless looked forward to report as trainees to Fairfield House.
 The only thing that worried us was that this building had a bad reputation. It was the maximum security building which housed the most violent and dangerous patients of Fairfield State Hospital and even the employees there, the ones we had met delivering linens and in the cafeteria, seemed like a bunch of super-macho bullies to us...-although, Gerald Brown worked there and he surely didn't fit this image.
 Talking to Gerald, we couldn't get him to give us much hope either, as he told us some horror-stories and seemed to get a kick out of our anticipatory fears.
 Telling us about patients 'going off' and attacking aides... and about employees who seemed to thrive on that kind of environment and violence.
 He, himself, didn't like Fairfield House and wanted to get out of that building. This surely wasn't very reassuring to two 21 year old, physically small, boys who had never fought with anyone.
I weighed only about 128 pounds and had a waist of 29 inches. And Pete, though a little stockier, didn't weigh much more...
 What were we going to do when a patient would go wild and attack us or throw furniture around which probably weighed more than we did?
 
  We had to report to Fairfield House the coming Monday and this was finally the end of our first two weeks of class. It was Friday and we looked forward to the weekend. On our way to the cafeteria after class to eat supper we ran into Gerald Brown outside of Norwalk Hall.
He was fiddling with his old Ford, checking the oil and the lights in an odd looking methodical way.
 Asking him what he was doing, he explained that he too had the weekend off and was planning to drive up to Montreal, Canada.
 As always he was puffing on his cigar when he asked us if we wanted to go up there with him.
Pete said no, because he didn't like Gerald very much because of his 'eccentric' behavior...
I though, being more tolerant, was delighted to say that I would love to go and see Montreal.
 Gerald seemed happy that he didn't have to drive alone and told me to get some clothes and be ready to take off immediately.
 It was about 6 pm and he was anxious to get going. We would be driving all night, more or less and he wanted to have as much day light time for the ride as possible.

A trip to Montreal with Gerald Brown

 
Cathedral in Montreal 1963. Gerald Brown is in foreground.

  Gerald was a very nervous driver which made me quite tense too. We went through the back roads of Newtown to Brookfield and Route 7.
 Gerald told me that we would be going up Route 7, all the way to Montreal. We drove through Canaan into Massachusetts, trough Pittsfield and further on until we reached Bennington, Vermont. There we stopped at a diner, ate something and kept on going. It was night time and I can only recall Vermont in a haze.

 There was no traffic to speak of and I felt like we had reached the end of the world. Mountains on both sides of Route 7, looked threatening and overpowering in the darkness.
 We came to Manchester, Vermont and continued going North. Then eventually, we came to Rutland and after driving about three more hours we saw Lake Champlain on our left and Burlington approaching.
 
 Gerald seemed happy and excited and explained to me that we would soon see the lights of Montreal in the distance. I too became excited, but Montreal seemed to be further than I thought because I still didn't see it after driving quite some time.
 Then we came to the Canadian border where a sleepy looking border guards just waved us through.
...And then, all of a sudden, like a mirage, we could see the lights of Montreal in a distance.
Crossing a large bridge we finally had come upon a web of highways reminding me of New York City.

 
 Gerald had been in Montreal many times and thus knew his way around.
We stopped at a cheap hotel, I think it's name was 'St. George Hotel' but I'm not sure.
 There we rented two rooms at a very reasonable rate. Unfortunately the room I had wasn't bigger than my room at Norwalk Hall and the bathroom and shower was shared with many residents on the same floor...
 We had breakfast of bacon and eggs, in the attached restaurant and decided to first get some sleep.
 
 Gerald's knocking on my door awoke me after about four hours of sleep.
I went to the community shower and let the hot water give me new energy and enthusiasm.
 When we hit the street, Gerald pointed-out steak-house, telling me that later we would go there to eat. He explained that he knew the owner, a Jewish fellow, quite well and that we would get a special deal there. Then, walking around, he showed me the famous Catholic church, which looks like Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris.
 We walked up the endless steps of Mount Royal and continued on to the Jewish Section of the city.
There he stopped two older ladies talking to them in Yiddish. They suddenly got very angry trying to hit him with their pocket books. I couldn't understand what he said, despite Yiddish being very close to the German language.
I was embarrassed and felt like a fool.
...After a few minutes the two ladies continued their walk, looking back at us every once in a while and cursing us in this strange language.
 Asking him what he was doing and what he had said to them, he only laughed and wouldn't tell me.
...Well, that was 'eccentric' Gerald Brown!

 Finally, in the evening, after walking all day without eating lunch, we ended up at the steak-house which Gerald had pointed out to me earlier. I was starving by that time. The steaks were good and when the owner appeared, Gerald called him over to the table. The guy surely knew him and seemed to treat him with a certain weary reluctance.
 Gerald trying to perhaps impress me, spoke to him like a big time wheeler and dealer and the owner just barely took him seriously.
...Another embarrassing situation for me to go through!
Gerald Brown was getting on my nerves and I couldn't wait to get back to Connecticut and away from him.

  We left Sunday noon to drive back to Newtown. The ride back was much more enjoyable because it was day time and I was able to observe clearly what I had only seen as dark outlines on our way up.
 Vermont was quaint and beautiful. The green mountains surrounding Route 7 on both sides were impressive and I loved the small towns and villages with their white New England type of houses and stores. They looked in many ways like Newtown except for the impressive Green Mountains.
 Connecticut was hilly but the mountains of Vermont were breath-taking.

 Bennington, Pittsfield, Canaan, New Milford, Brookfield and finally we were back in Newtown Sunday evening. In front of Norwalk Hall we ran into Jerry Hatchey who asked me if I would like to go and get something to eat at the drive-in restaurant on Route 25.
 Happy to see him and very hungry, I thanked Gerald Brown and changed cars to go with Jerry who was smirking when I told him how Gerald Brown had embarrassed me with his crazy behavior.
He knew right away what I meant, because he had know Gerald for some years.
 
 We ate at the drive-in and went back to Norwalk Hall. I was tired from the long ride from Montreal and wanted nothing more than to relax in my room and read for a while, before going to sleep.
...Monday was a day I didn't look forward to at all...
 We had to be at Fairfield House at 8 am and I wanted to be in good shape to face this new challenge.
I heard Pete come back from somewhere when he knocked on my door.
He too was worried about the next day and asked me to make sure that he would be up in time.

Fairfield House

Waking up at about 6 am I knocked on Pete's door until he answered and promised that he was awake.
Then I took a shower, got dressed and waited until Pete knocked on my door.
We went to the cafeteria to eat breakfast.
 Having no appetite, I managed to eat some oatmeal, noticing that Pete too wasn't eating much.
The cafeteria was near empty because most people had left to be at their wards by seven. Since the other trainees in our class lived off the grounds, we didn't see any of them.
...Only people who lived in the dorms could eat three meals at the cafeteria. Thus the trainees who lived at home couldn't eat there in the morning.
 Gert, already at the end of the serving line, made sure that nobody unauthorized would try to sneak a meal. She knew everybody and was fully aware of who could eat three meals and who not.
 Jimmy Fowler came in and after getting something to eat and drink, sat with us at our table. Noticing our somber behavior and commenting on it, we told him about our worries concerning Fairfield House.
He laughed and told us not to worry as it wasn't as bad as we had heard.

 At quarter to eight we left Jimmy behind and walked over to our new place of work.
Fairfield House, an ugly looking building with a small entrance door loomed like a menacing giant in front of us. Holding our breath, we walked into the dark looking little foyer where we had to report to the building supervisor's office.

 If I remember correctly, Kas Kobus was the building supervisor. A nice, genial guy, he told us that we would be assigned to 1A and 1B, and that we could decide between us where we wanted to work.
I knew that Gerald Brown worked on 1A and thus told Pete that I would like to go to 1A.
Pete, since he didn't like Gerald Brown, went gladly to 1B.
 
 The rattling building-elevator took us to the first floor. The whole place smelled of urine and oatmeal...
the hallway leading to 1A and 1B on opposite ends, looked dark and foreboding.
There was a lot of screaming and aides were walking around unlocking doors for half-dressed patients.
I saw Gerald and latched on to him. He was the ward-charge that day which made things easier for me.
At least I knew him, crazy or not, he was my best hope for survival in that chaotic place.
Gerald introduced me to Jack Shanley, an old looking guy, who seemed easygoing and helpful. Gerald and Jack told me that the criminally insane and most violent patients were on 1B.
 Happy that I had instinctively chosen 1A for myself, I followed Gerald and Jack in their daily routine. I think there was another aide there but I can't be certain.

 In the first seclusion room, restrained by his wrists and legs and wearing boxing-gloves was a young looking creature making guttural sounds and jerking his restraints.
 I was told that this was 'Rudi' and that he was self destructive. If loosened from his restrains, he would chew his own hands, arms and legs and even scratch his eyes out...
 Gerald told me that Rudi's mother, who came to visit him on a regular basis, was almost as crazy as her son.

 Rudy had the strength and body of an eighteen year old and the mind of an infant. Severely retarded, it was rumored that his mother had sexually abused him.
 Gerald and Jack told me that Rudy's restraints had to be released every two hours for a short while, which meant that two aides had to hold on to his arms and legs for that time, in order to prevent him from harming himself. He also had to be fed and usually spit food back at whoever fed him.
 His battered looking body with previous marks of attempts to eat his own flesh was a horrible sight.
To top it all off, he was also almost completely blind...

 Never in my life had I seen anything like this poor soul, nor had I even imagined that 'people' so handicapped and so cursed by nature existed.
 To speak of him as a 'vegetable' might sound cruel and politically incorrect, but what else was he?

 As I learned later, when I had to help release him from his restraints and boxing gloves, he was incredibly strong and wily. We had an exceedingly difficult time to hold on to him and prevent him from hurting himself or us. 
 To put restraints and boxing-gloves back on him was an indescribable time consuming battle.

  Compared to Rudi, the other patients were no big problem. I only remember David, who would follow me around and loudly repeat the same word over and over again.
He too was retarded, but more on the level of an six year old child. Being about my own age, he was strong and would, when angered, pick up one the very heavy wooden rocking chairs like it was a box of matches and throw the chair against a wall in the day-hall.

  The day-hall was austere, furnished mostly with heavy wooden benches, a few rocking chairs and a heavy wooden table.
There was a continuously playing television mounted in a box with doors to close and protect the TV when needed. This box was bolted to the wall about eight feet off the ground.

 The large windows surrounding the day hall were squares in a heavy metal frame which could be cranked out to open about six inches. One needed to have a key to use the cranks.

  Housekeeping had to be done by the aides and I soon found myself sweeping and mopping the hallway, the unused seclusion rooms, the bathrooms and the day hall floor. Most of the retarded patients on 1A were incontinent and I remember having to stop my cleaning routine when smelling fecal odor coming from a patient...
 This also meant that I had to pull the soiled clothing off them in the shower room, which they sometimes resisted and give them a shower and then get them dressed again.
 Most of the patients didn't seem violent but, nevertheless, didn't like to have their clothes changed and to be given a shower.
 There was almost always a lot of coaxing, threatening with seclusion and some physical struggle involved.
 
  One older patient on 1A, who wasn't retarded, always reminded me of a hobo...
Having read many books about America in Germany, I had always loved to read about the hobos, their camps and their riding trains in pursuit of work during the great-depression.
 Pictures of 'hobos' had left a deep impact on me..... and this fellow, perhaps in his sixties, always reminded me of  them.
 I remember that his last name was 'Lagerfeld,' but can't recall his first name.
He used to have a harmonica and play the songs of a bygone times frequently.
I couldn't ever see anything wrong with him as he was a kind fellow who, when he was in the mood, would help with the ward routine, like cleaning, serving food from food-trucks unto trays, and even feeding some of the patients.
 He was like a general 'factotum' who had found his home but was not really crazy. Actually he didn't seem much different from many employees at the hospital...

 Sometimes, when I had the time, I would sit and talk with him while he sat at the large table in the day-hall rolling his own cigarettes with 'George Washington' tobacco and a simple rolling-machine.
Cigarette papers, hand rollers and tobacco were distributed freely to all the wards by the hospital and aides learned soon how to roll cigarettes for their patients...
 This tobacco was strong and more suited for pipe smoking than cigarettes, but was still better than not smoking at all... The ritual of smoking seemed to break down barriers between patients and employees with its peculiar form of social interaction...
 Often we would bring cigarettes to work and share them freely with patients.
Thus smoking with patients was a very important aspect of our work, because it subtly created a link and a better understanding and acceptance of each other as just two human beings sharing something and bringing us together, not as patient and 'caretaker,' but as equals enjoying a social habit...
 
 Since patients had so little else left in the world, smoking was an all important issue and aides better learned that as soon as possible. Often just the promise of a cup of coffee and a smoke, could defuse a tense, threatening situation within seconds.
Needless to say that even non-smoking aides carried cigarettes and matches with them.

 Around noon the food trucks came, brought through the tunnels from Bridgeport Hall by patients.
The locked doors between 1A and 1B were opened and I saw Pete again. He liked his wing but was too busy to tell me any details. There was a dining-room, which also served as a visiting room, between the two wards and most of our patients would eat there first, before the patients of 1B got to eat there.
 
 The stainless-steel food trucks were heated and plugged into wall outlets at Bridgeport Hall while waiting to be delivered. They had large stainless steel containers which could be removed. The deep large containers were usually filled with soup and potatoes or whatever the menu provided.
 On the wards were an assembly of large rinsing sinks and a commercial type of dishwasher with water-temperature gage.
 Food was served on army-style stainless-steel trays and ceramic looking soup bowls and cups.
These trays, bowls and cups, as well as the silverware had to be washed by aides in the dishwasher and stored in the kitchen across from the dining room...
 Also the serving utensils like, ladles, serving tongues and large serving spoons were cleaned by aides and stored in the kitchen.

 After eating, the silver ware consisting of butter-knives, forks and spoons had to be counted to make sure none was missing and kept by a patient as a possible weapon.
 This whole process of feeding the patients, rounding up the silver-ware and then washing it all in the dishwasher was a big operation and took time...
 Jack Shanley showed me how to operate the dishwasher and how to first preheat the water to the right temperature and then how much soap to add...
 It was a steamy, hot process that worked well enough...

 We also washed the dishes from 1B, because the patients there, many under court commitment, had to be watched at all times to make sure that they would not be able to escape. Thus, when their time in the dining room came, they were locked in and brought back to the ward as soon as they were finished when the ward door would be locked immediately after them... So it was left to the aides on 1A to wash the dishes for them and make sure that there was no miscount of the silver ware. We also had to sweep the dining room floor with straw brooms and wet-mop afterwards.

 After finishing with this involved task, Jack Shanley and I went to eat at the cafeteria joining some other employees from Fairfield House.
 

 When we got back to the wing, Gerald Brown, being the ward-charge, was busy setting up the 2 pm medications in the medication room.
 He had a medication tray with small plastic cups sticking out of holes in the tray which was placed on a special cart with small wheels... He already had pulled out little cards of a certain color from a wall mounted contraption in which the little cards were kept according to time and color. Patients names were written on a small strip of white tape below each little plastic cup in the large tray...
Gerald explained to me that after going through the correct cards for 2pm, he would put the pills or liquids from large pill and liquid bottles into the small measuring cups and then move the cart through the ward and pass out the medications.
 Since this would not be my job for years to come, I was only curious but not deeply concerned and moved on to see what else needed to be done...
 There were indeed a lot of patients who needed to have their pants changed because of their incontinence.. This kept me busy for quite some time and I soon realized that it would be soon time for us to go home at 3:30 pm.

 Sitting for a while in the day-hall, smoking with my friend 'Lagerfeld,' I heard the afternoon shift coming in. Gerald Brown introduced me to them, I believe there were just two of them and then after listening to their jokes and banter, Gerald, Jack and I left the building.
 Pete was already outside waiting for me.
 

Continue to page VI of 'Working at Fairfield Hills Hospital'

Return to Part I
Working at Fairfield Hills(State) Hospital - How I came to Fairfield Hills Hospital - Summation of my
immigration story - Arlington, Virginia and Washington, DC - Meeting Pete in Danbury, Connecticut - Mrs. Morrell's
Guest House - Working at Danbury Hospital - Hearing about Fairfield Hills Hospital - Getting a job there - Mrs. Adams
and Mrs. Schwaller - Central Linen Room - A Listing of Former Employees at FHH--People I Knew and Loved -