WORKING AT FAIRFIELD HILLS HOSPITAL
IN NEWTOWN, CONNECTICUT.

Jerry Haffke Remembers:

Part VI

Working at Fairfield House

 I worked at Fairfield House some days the entire eight hour shift and on other days four or less hours with the remaining time spent in Shelton House for classroom instructions by Mr. Bouton, Mrs. Morris, Mr. Peterson and Mrs. Dieffenbacher, until mid December 1963.

 Some days I even had to work on Fairfield 1B, the maximum security, disturbed ward. There were frequent 'Code 99s' coming from 1B, when we had to drop everything and run from 1A to 1B to help subdue a disturbed patient.
 
 Actually 1B wasn't all that bad to work on, but it was certainly tense as one had to constantly watch his back. We learned to use an almost psychic intuition when dealing with  patients.
 I learned to be able to monitor facial expressions and body language carefully in order to 'know' when a patient showed even the slightest sign that he was fighting some inner demon and was thus ready to 'go off.'
 One had to always be prepared to expect the unexpected.
Often a patient would be just fine, even talking to an aide quite rationally, only to turn around and try to attack him, seemingly not recognizing the aide at all, but attacking a hallucinated person represented at that moment by the aide or nearest patient.
 
 The ferociousness and strength displayed at such a moment is frightening to behold.
Even a slightly built patient would often display an incredible strength, literally lifting a day-hall bench over his head and hurling it like a spear....A bench that was almost too heavy to be lifted by two persons.

Some patients, aware that they would 'go off' at any minute and not wanting to hurt anybody, would suddenly approach an aide and ask to be restrained to a bed quickly.
This happened many times during my work at Fairfield House and I'm more than grateful that some patients displayed such sense of responsibility and character under those circumstances.

 We also used seclusion rooms to keep patients in for a period of time. These rooms were only used if everything else failed. 
There was only a mattress on the floor of the room and nothing else. The mattress was made of some virtually indestructible material so that a very disturbed patient couldn't tear it apart.
 
 Before going in there, the patient was stripped of all clothing and thus completely naked.
This was done so that the patient couldn't harm himself with his clothing or commit suicide. Often patients in seclusion rooms would scream endlessly and slam their body weight against the seclusion room door. Those were harrowing sounds which sometimes would disturb the whole ward and agitate other patients to also 'go off' like in a chain reaction.
 
 When a 'code 99' was called over loud-speakers in all patient buildings, aides from all those buildings would rush to the ward in trouble.
 The code would come like this: "Code 99, Fairfield 1B," repeated over and over again until cancelled from the ward in trouble.
There were usually two telephone-operators working in Newtown Hall, the administration building, to whom requests for a Code 99 would be called in and they would then announce it over the loudspeaker system.

 This is not to say that these incidents happened every day. Many days would be relatively peaceful, if not even tranquil...
But, nevertheless, it was a constant threat which subtly pervaded one's mind and state of awareness. Always expecting the unexpected was like a slow acting poison which subtly accumulated and grew into an ever present state of inner tension and paranoia...
Thus, many employees were closet drinkers, if not alcoholics.

...I noticed, for example, how Jack Shanley would go at lunch time to his car and have a few swigs of bourbon from a pint bottle.
On one occasion he even took me to his car and offered me a drink too, which I gladly accepted....

 The occasion was when our beloved President Kennedy was assassinated on November 22, 1963....

President Kennedy is Assassinated!

 I remember distinctly how I was sitting in the day-hall of Fairfield 1A, helping 'Lagerfeld' roll some cigarettes and trying to keep David calm, when suddenly the program on television was interrupted with the announcement by Walter Cronkite that president Kennedy had been assassinated in Dallas, Texas.....
 Stunned, I ran into the hallway calling the other two aides, Jack Shanley and Gerald Brown, to the day-hall because president Kennedy was shot.
 We were all completely in a state of denial. This was not possible right here in America!
 No, it must be a mistake, perhaps a misunderstanding or misinterpretation of a small incident...

 Walter Cronkite announced somberly that president Kennedy was seriously injured by a bullet coming from a 'book-depository' building.
 Then, after a short while, there were pictures showing the motorcade, the open Lincoln in which the president, Jackie Kennedy, Governor Connolly of Texas and his wife were riding....

 Then, later, came the announcement that president Kennedy was dead...
I don't remember any details and the timing of events because I and everybody on 1A watching the events being broadcast was unable to comprehend the situation. We were, like in a trance, mentally and physically paralyzed...
...Everything seemed to have become unreal and we still couldn't believe what we were told on the news.
 
 The shock was so deep, so indescribable, that it seemed to have erased my memory beyond the words: 'President Kennedy is dead, he was assassinated.'

 And this is when I went with Jack Shanley to his car to have a good shot of bourbon....

 November 22'nd was also Pete's birthday and we had planned to go out to the 'White Birch' and celebrate with friends.
Of course this never happened. We were in shock and genuine mourning.

 Pete had a TV in his room and we were gathered there until late in the night to follow the news-reporting of the assassination.
We learned about 'Oswald' being the 'lone assassin' and that he was connected to a Communist organization called "Fair Play for Cuba" and that he was a former Marine sharp-shooter who had just recently purchased an Italian made cheap rifle with a scope through mail-order.
 The whole thing sounded to me, even then, like it was not quite right, but I didn't dare to voice my opinion to our friends...
...And when Oswald was killed by Jack Ruby later, I just knew in my heart and soul, that there was more to this story then we were told.
 Pete too, was convinced that there was something strange about the story we were told in the news.

Perhaps it was our growing up through the post-war years in Germany and the constant barrage of East German propaganda and West German counter propaganda, which had made us more aware of political lies and manipulations than our naive American friends could possibly understand...
..But we knew right away, instinctively, that there was something fishy about the story presented to the American public about the assassination of president Kennedy.

 What we couldn't accept, though, was that this could happen in our beloved America!
It just didn't fit in with our previous perception of this naive seeming, kind and gentle giant.
 
 Little did we know that it was this event, this point in history, which would change America, ever so gradually, into a completely different Nation... Little did we know that this wonderful, generous America, so respected, emulated and loved around the globe, would become a hated, maligned and feared bastion of Corporate Fascism, with an all embracing, stifling bureaucracy as scheming and debilitating as we had witnessed in Communist Germany.

Oswald shot and killed by Jack Ruby

I want to join the U.S. Navy

 For me, personally, there was another looming prospect on the horizon. I had reason to believe that I would soon be drafted into the U.S. Army!
 I don't quite remember how I knew exactly, but I think it was some kind of notification from my draft-board in Arlington, Virginia, where Pastor Schumann had registered me, according to the law, upon my arrival from Germany.
 Actually, I wasn't adverse to going into the Army, seeing it as a new adventure and challenge. My only objection was that I wanted to first finish my training at the hospital and also to get to know the language and culture of America better, before going into the Army. This was not to be though...

 One day, I decided that since there was no hope of gaining more time and experience at the hospital, I would at least go into the Navy. Why, at that time, I was attracted to serving in the Navy, I don't remember. Except perhaps, that I used to see Navy posters in Danbury and Bridgeport, showing the neat looking white uniforms of Navy personnel and the promise of travel all over the world.
 Anyways, talking to Jimmy Fowler about my thoughts regarding the Navy, he offered to drive me down to Bridgeport to talk to a Navy recruiter.
This we did, and I ended up talking to a recruiter at the Bridgeport post office.
He told me that I could become a Navy medic and made the whole thing sound quite attractive to me. Especially since I would continue to learn in the Navy what I had started at Fairfield State Hospital....
 The recruiter brought out a test for me to take and to my own astonishment, I passed.
...I was on my way to become a Navy 'corpsman.'
 All that was left for me to do was that I had to go to New Haven and pass my physical to which he would personally drive me in his Navy sedan. Checking some papers, he gave me the time and date when he would pick me up at the hospital dorm and drive me to New Haven.

 Picking me up at Norwalk Hall a few days later, early in the morning, we were on our way to New Haven.
In the car were two other guy whom he had already picked up from their homes.

 The New Haven Induction Center, serving all military branches, was a good sized, modern building. Upon our arrival, we were told that we could not leave until all tests and physical check-ups were finished and that, if we didn't finish, because the place was crowded with prospective recruits, we would have to stay overnight to continue the next day.
The whole atmosphere at the center was quite intimidating and regimented already and thus I got my first taste of military life. Most of the personnel there, besides the military doctors, were Navy corpsmen and some Navy nurses.

 During the course of the battery of physical examinations, blood tests and other procedures, a young Navy corpsman took me aside.
I didn't know what to expect and thought that he had found something wrong with me. He calmed my apprehension and began to explain to me what I was really getting into.
...Asking me if I thought that I would serve aboard a ship or in a hospital, I said yes, emphatically. He looked at me sternly and said that my chances of that would be almost astronomical. No, he said, you will find yourself being attached and serving with a Marine unit in Vietnam...
 Vietnam? I had only heard this remote country, somewhere in Asia, mentioned a few times on the news and had thus no idea what he was talking about. ...He said, that Vietnam was getting 'hot' and that already more and more troops, of all branches, but specifically Marine units, were sent there and that I, sure as hell, would be sent there as a Navy corpsman attached to the Marines!
 
 To this day I can still not figure out what motivated this Navy corpsman to risk so much by trusting me with such a devastating secret. Why did he care what happened to me? ...I had never met him before, so what motivated him risking his career in the Navy to help out a dumb immigrant from Germany?
 And I still have no answer beside the fact, which I mentioned previously, that the American people in those days were the most kind, generous and helpful people I had ever met. ...Really, there is no other answer unless one believes, as I am tempted to do sometimes, that he was my guardian angel, appearing to me at a time of great danger....

 When I thanked him, he told me to finish the physical as was required of me and then just tell the Navy, when they would notify me to report for induction, that I had changed my mind and would wait until the Army would draft me... Which I, indeed, ended up doing.
 

...But decided on waiting to be drafted into the U.S. Army

 II received my notice from the Navy to report to the Brooklyn Navy Yard on January 2nd, 1964, and immediately wrote them back, that I had changed my mind and would wait to be drafted into the Army.
...Sure enough, the Army would soon after my letter to the Navy send me a letter headed with the feared 'Congratulations,' that I was drafted into the US Army!
I was to report on February 17th, 1964 at 8 am to the draft-board office located on White Street in Danbury.
...They had simply used my Navy physical which made the whole draft-process even faster!
 We were to be sworn-in at the New Haven induction center and then put on a train for Army basic training at Fort Jackson, South-Carolina. So here I was, having narrowly escaped being a Marine medic, only to be drafted a little later into the U.S. Army!
 This was the middle to end of December, 1963 and I had only a good month left before reporting into the hands of the Army.

Soon the Army 'knocks' on my door
and I decide to make an unplanned visit home to Berlin

 For my birthday, on November 26th, my mother had sent me 150 dollars as a surprise gift and so I decided, before going into the great unknown realm of the Army, to use the money and visit her for Christmas as a surprise.
 
 I booked a round trip flight on Icelandic Airlines from a travel-agency in Danbury. Icelandic Airlines still used much cheaper propeller planes in those days and the round trip cost me about 150 dollars... Then I went to see Mrs. Adams.
 Explaining to her that I had been drafted and that my induction date was February the 17th, I asked her to give me a 'leave of absence' so that I could visit my mother and family in Germany before going into the Army. She was quite understanding and told me that I could not, by state regulations, get a leave of absence, but that she would let me live in the dorm and eat in the cafeteria when I returned from Germany, waiting to go into the Army.
....In other words, I had to quit my job at the hospital before leaving to go to Germany and could upon my return live on the grounds until the date of my Army induction.
What a generous, kind offer!
I thanked her, went to 'personnel' in Newtown Hall and resigned my job at Fairfield State Hospital with only a few days notice.
Selling my beloved Sears record player to a friend in the dorm, I had just a few things left to store in Pete's dorm closet.

My Icelandic Airlines propeller flight going to Luxembourg first and then Frankfurt and Berlin, was scheduled to  leave at 8 pm on December 21st.
 It was snowing heavily that day and very cold.
Jerry Hatchey drove John Kilpatrick, Pete and me to Idlewild Airport in New York.
The drive was treacherous and frightening and I was worried whether the flight would even take off under such conditions. Jerry didn't seem to mind the snowy, icy roads but I know that this was just another example of the kindness and generosity coming from the American people I had experienced so many times...
 We took I-95 and then the Long Island expressway, sometimes just inching our way forward due to the slippery road conditions and the heavy traffic.
 Finally arriving at the airport still in time, only to be told that the flight was delayed for approximately an hour in order to de-ice the plane.
 When the time came at around 10 pm to board the plane, I said my "good byes" to my faithful friends and was on my way to Luxembourg and Germany. This was to be the last time I would see my good friend Jerry Hatchey as he had left Fairfield Hills Hospital when I returned from Germany. How much I wish that I would meet Jerry again because he was such a good friend!

 The flight was strenuous and seemingly endless. We flew from New York to Gander, Newfoundland and then to Reykjavik, Iceland, Glasgow, Scotland and then to Luxembourg. There I had to change planes and fly on a much smaller plane to Frankfurt, Germany from where I would catch a Pan Am flight to Berlin.

Berlin Christmas 1963

 I landed in Berlin, Tempelhof Airport (where I had once worked as a Fire Fighter), on the 23rd of December, just in time for Christmas.
Needless to say, my mother was stunned to see me standing at her apartment door.
 After explaining my reason for coming, because I had been drafted into the U.S. Army, she wasn't happy to hear that, but tried to keep her fear hidden from me. Spending the Christmas holidays with relatives, with my aunt Gerda who at age 94 is still alive to this day, my Grandparents whom I would see for the last time on that visit and many other friends of the family and former friends of mine, I was happy to have made that visit.
 I felt like a seasoned adventurer talking about America and Canada. Everybody seemed fascinated with my accounts of America and astonished about my 'success' there.
 Feeling 'on top of the world,' I decided to visit my old friend and mentor the Jesuit Pater Manitius, who lived and taught at a church near the then still partially destroyed Anhalter Bahnhof.
Pater Manitius had been a friend and mentor, reading my awkward attempts at poetry patiently and discussing religion, philosophy, politics and, of course, my possible conversion to Catholicism with me. 
 He had even taken me on a personal visit to a Jesuit seminary in Berlin-Wannsee... And it would not be presumptuous for me to say, that he had hoped for my conversion and for my 'call' to the priesthood.
In fact, upon learning of my desire to emigrate to the United States, he had even promised that I could, in all possibility, attend a seminary in Chicago....Only the unexpected, sudden arrival of my sponsorship through the Lutheran Immigration Service, brought those plans to an abrupt end.

 Having called him first from a telephone booth across from our apartment building, to make sure he was available, I arrived at the rectory and was received by him with genuine happiness.
 Telling him about my experiences in America and my love for that country, I felt sorry that I couldn't offer him better news in the form of wanting to become a priest or wanting to join the Jesuit Order. Instead though, moved by his kindness and faith in me, I told him that I would like to convert to Catholicism.
 Of course, he was happy to hear of my decision and gave me a booklet to study and proceeded to tell me that he would want to personally confirm me into the church at a 'High Mass' (Remember, this was before Vatican II) which he was celebrating on New Year's morning at the church.
 
Thus I was confirmed into the Catholic church during this beautiful, moving ceremony with massive chorus, organ music, Latin chants and a candle in my hand to begin a new year and soon, a new life....

 Pater Manitius was an impressive sage-like priest and it hurt me to have to say 'Fare Well' for the last time, leaving him behind in his ankle-length, black, Jesuit robe.
...He was such a great and noble man, so intellectual and yet so humble...a man who had impressed me so deeply with his knowledge and devotion to God and the Catholic church.

 Reading nowadays about the corruption of the church and of the Jesuit order, I can only wonder, how this could be true since my experience with the Jesuit Order has been nothing but positive.
 Pater Manitius was a hero to me, having told me how he had joined the German Wehrmacht, as an infantry soldier during the final days of the war in order to become a prisoner of war and serve, secretly, as a priest to the other prisoners.
 Ending up as a prisoner of war in a French P.O.W. camp, he had suffered many atrocities from physical abuse to slave labor in France. As a truly dedicated priest he had chosen to suffer the same pain and indignities as all the common German soldiers had suffered in order to be able to serve them as priest and confessor in their most horrendous time of need.

One very special visit was my introduction to Pete's sister Ingrid and her then four year old daughter Pia and Pete's brother Klaus Wagner.
 I had promised Pete to visit them and tell them about America, because he wanted nothing more than for them to come and live with him in Connecticut.
 Going there, their apartment was in Berlin-Wedding, in the afternoon, I ended up staying with them until one a.m.
... Ingrid in her thirties then and Klaus a little older, were fascinated by my stories about America and Fairfield Hills Hospital. Holding Pia on my lap, I felt like I had known them all my life.
 
 We drank beer and some cognac and the time flew with our animated conversation. Rarely had I met such wonderful people.
..Pia instantly called me 'uncle' Holger and Ingrid and Klaus treated me like a long lost brother.
Since Pete was already working on their visa and on finding a sponsor for their immigration to America, I had no doubt that I would meet them all again in Connecticut.
 And they did make it, except for Klaus, who, as Pete told me later, simply disappeared in Berlin. Somehow I get the sense that that is not the whole story with him, but, most likely, I will never know what really happened.
 Klaus was an avid reader and interested in the very same things that I was interested in. In other words, he was a 'seeker' and semi-intellectual 'nerd' like me and I was very disappointed to find out, after my stint in the U.S. Army, that Klaus had 'disappeared.' 
 He would have been a great friend and kindred soul to me and I still miss him.

 Ingrid and Pia arrived in the United States in 1964 or 1965. I was in the Army then and that's why I can't remember the exact year. Pete, in anticipation of their arrival, rented an upstairs apartment in a two family house on Hickock Avenue in Bethel, where they lived for two or three years before they bought a two family house right next door.
But I shall write about all this as my story continues...

 Soon my time in Berlin was coming to an end. Having visited all my relatives and friends and even been taken to see Wagner's 'Tannhauser,' I re-confirmed my Icelandic Airlines return-flight which was to leave from Amsterdam, Holland to New York, with stops in Shannon, Ireland, Reykjavik, Iceland and Gander, Newfoundland, on the 14th or 15th of January 1964.

 Saying a sad "Auf Wiedersehen" to my mother, family and friends, I left Tempelhof Airport one day before my Amsterdam departure date to New York.
Staying overnight in Amsterdam, strolling through the streets of that beautiful old city, I could hardly believe the eventfulness of 1963 and early 1964 and wondered where this year, which had so promisingly started with my 'High Mass' confirmation into the Catholic church, would lead me.
 
 Amsterdam, this beautiful old city, was calming to me but it was certainly not my beloved America...and I looked forward to return there despite knowing what lay in front of me...
 Having worked previously for the U.S. Army and Air Force in Berlin, I thought that I knew already, quite well, what being in the Army was like and that it couldn't really be all that bad...
 Standing guard duty with many American soldiers in Berlin and from my subsequent conversations with them, I thought that Army life seemed quite good, all in all...

 Well, a big surprise was waiting for me, indeed!

Back in the 'good old' USA
and ready to serve in the Army

 John Kilpatrick and Pete were waiting for me at the newly named John F. Kennedy International airport in New York. It was early evening and I remember that the roads back to Fairfield State Hospital in Newtown, Connecticut, were still snowy. It seemed as if  had never left.
 John offered to have me stay at his cabin, but I didn't care much for that idea.
Since the cabin, with it's outhouse and no running water, wasn't exactly my idea of winding down from an almost 16 hour flight, I told him that I would stay at the motel which I had often seen, just off the main road to the hospital on Route 25.
Thus, I registered there upon our arrival at the hospital and then visited friends at the dorm for a while.
 Being quite tired from the long flight, John returned me to the motel where I went to sleep after taking a long, hot and relaxing shower.
 The next morning John came by and took me to breakfast at the hospital.
Seeing Gert standing, as usual, at the end of the serving line, I worried that she would send me away. But Gert, having taking a liking to me, didn't say a word and just smiled at me with a knowing smile (at least that is how I perceived it).
Having eaten at the cafeteria, I went to see Mrs. Adams around 9 am and she was so happy to see me, that she got up from her chair behind the desk and embraced me against her ample bosom. Telling me that she had worried that I might decide not to come back from Germany, she called 'personnel' and told them that I would be staying as a guest on the grounds, with a room again at Norwalk Hall and complete meal privileges.
 And so I lived for two weeks for free in the dorm, eating three good meals in the cafeteria!
God, I was so happy to be back in the 'good old' U.S. of A!
 What a marvelous free and uncomplicated country America was in those days!

Can anyone imagine this happening in today's America?

"You're In the Army Now"!

 On February 16th an ice-storm hit our area and John Kilpatrick had a terrible time driving me on the early morning of February the 17th 1964 to the Selective Service office in Danbury.
 In front of the little office we saw a large 'Providence Arrow Line' bus parked and my heart took a sudden leap. This was serious business and I was on my way to a rather dubious adventure!
 John parked the car and went into the office with me where we found about twenty, or so, young men anticipating their coming doom accompanied by their parents or friend.
 The little office was quite crowded, to say the least and little old ladies and old men, wearing VFW or 'American Legion' head-gear, passed out New Testaments and bags containing a small array of tooth paste, tooth brushes and combs.
I made my way through the crowd to report my presence at the desk. The old lady there checked my name on a list and I was officially there...
 
 After a short, moral boosting lecture by a selective-service representative, we were told to say "good-bye" to our accompanying folks and to board the waiting bus which would bring us to New Haven where we would be officially sworn into the Army.
The bus left after a few moments of confusion and calling off the names on the list...Everybody was there, the bus door closed and off we were.
Seeing John standing by the curb waving, I waved back and settled into my seat. I still couldn't believe that I was on my way into the Army.

The song, 'You are in the Army now,' came to my mind.... Yes, I was in the Army now.
 

 Since three years in the Army is a long time which would, inevitably, lead me away from the subject of my work at Fairfield State Hospital, I shall skip that whole chapter of my life, leaving it behind for another story and continue on the next page with my return to the hospital in March, 1967 with my 'Honorable Discharge' papers in hand, to continue where I had left off in February, 1964, with classes at Fairfield State Hospital.

My official Army picture, taken in April 1964,
right after basic training at Fort Gordon, Ga.

Continue to page VII 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 -