Introduction

My fond reflections on an era before political correctness and New World Order "privatization" became an excuse to deprive the masses of an institution which not only served as a Mental Institution, but also as an Asylum for those who were either mentally ill, or couldn't cope with life through circumstances beyond their abilities to deal with.
 
 Today, those patients who later became "residents", are found as homeless-people, living and dying in the streets of large and small cities all over the nation or in the "prison system" where indifferent and overworked guards don't know how to deal with them.
Is this more "humane"?

...Or is it just a sign of the times which allow neither compassion nor real help for those on the "undesirable" social scale with increasingly more to come in regards to their brutalization through society's complete indifference towards poor people who have "fallen through the cracks", either through mental illness or their inability to "adjust" to the "dog eat dog" society of Corporate Fascism and Privatization and are thus not exploitable as "human resources."
 
 Social Workers and Psychologists offer endless talk and come up with endless "politically correct" guidelines which sound good and humane in theory, but are for the most part unworkable in "real life" situations...
 
 Where once few formalities and even fewer social workers and psychologists were needed to give a down and out soul "asylum" at Fairfield State Hospital to either get back on their feet, or stay there permanently; it now takes "an act of congress" and endless paper-work to offer very little help,
if any at all. Having met many former patients of Fairfield Hills (State) Hospital roaming
the streets of Bridgeport and Danbury, "dumped" there and left to fend for themselves,
often without taking their medications, and without a roof over their head.
I feel sick angry and helpless at the callousness of the "system"
and the Social Workers and other "do-gooders" who destroyed, willingly or haplessly,
what once was, however imperfect, a truly practical and humane solution
to human suffering and need.

  Dedicated with very fond memories to:


John Kilpatrick*
(old-timer 1950's-1971) my best friend worked in Shelton House 2A),
Peter Wagner
(my good friend from Germany, worked at FSH from 1963 to 1969),  
Harold Huntington*
(a good friend Greenwich House 1A and Kent House),
Jerry Hatchey
(a good friend in 1963, worked night shift Cochran House),
James "Jimmy" Reed
(a good friend 1963 - 1987, who saved my life once on Greenwich 1A worked later in Cochran House 3A),
Jimmy Fowler
(1963-1981, retired to Newberry, SC, a good friend, in charge of the tunnels, CSEA union rep.),
William "Billy" Lawlor
(an old-timer and good friend 1963 -1987
worked Shelton House and later Cochran House),
Mrs. Rosa Lee Adams R.N.
(Director of Nursing 1963 to about 1970),
Mrs. Schwaller R.N.
(1963-1970? assistant to Mrs.Adams),
Mrs. Morris R.N.
(Clinical Instructor 1963-1970?),
Dr. Green
(Medical Director 1960's -?)
Mrs. Dieffenbacher R.N.
(1963-1970? Director of Nursing Education),
Dr. Robert Miller
the Medical Director 1970's -?
Richard Bouton R.N.*
(in charge of training and later Director of Nursing, taking Mrs. Adams' place),
Dorothy Harper
(good friend Greenwich 1A),
Louis "Louie" Murat
( 1963-1970, Greenwich 1A),
Gene Riley ( 1963-1970, ward-charge, Greenwich House 1A),
John Fisher (1963-1970, a good friend Greennwich 1A),
Joe Tinto (1963-1970? boss of Central Linen),
Jimmy Stewart (Central Linen),
Harvey Feingold (1970's good friend in Cochran House),
Stasionitis (good friend, Shelton House janitor 1963-1969?),
Gerald Brown (good friend,1963, Fairfield House 1A,
was gone from FSH when I returned from the Army in 1967, worked in city of Bridgeport then),
Harry Sedowsky (1963-1970's, retired, worked Shelton House),
James Green
(without him telling Pete Wagner about FHH at Danbury Hospital,
I would not have worked there --1963-1978),
"Gert" (1963-1980's, cafeteria), Nancy (1963-1980's, cafeteria),
Howard (linen-room),
Manuel (linen-room), "The Preacher" (linen-room),
Louis Pastore* (1963-1970's, Shelton House and Canaan House),
John Curtin (old-timer, 1963-early 70's), 
Clifford Walker
(old timer, good friend, head pharmacist 1963 to 1988),
Paula (good friend, pharmacy),
James Crowder (1963),
Beryl Carr
(good friend, 1967-1988, Shelton House, later mostly Cochran House),
Burt Corbett (great guy, I worked with him relief shift on Cochran 3A
when it was still the general admissions ward in 1967-68)
Marilyn Corbett R.N. (she married Burt during the late 1960's-
I worked with her on Cochran 2B in 1967-68, but don't remember her maiden name)
Marilyn...(I don't remember her last name, but she worked in Canaan House)
 Reddick Wilson*and Maude Wilson*
(1963-1980's, Greenwich 1A and Cochran 2A+2B),
Dover Seawright
(good friend, Greenwich 1A and Cochran 2B also worked St.Vincent's in Bridgeport),
Mr. Peterson
(ombudsman also worked at St. Vincent's hospital in Bridgeport),
Doris Womack (Sewing Room 1963-1988)
Paul Chuvala
(old-timer, worked with John Kilpatrick 1963-1970, Shelton 2A),
Charlie Galchus*(1963-1978, mostly Greenwich House 2A)
Barbara (who dyed my clothes orange, Cochran 2A about 1977),
Pinky Schmidt (remember "Jerry, I'd follow you anywhere"? 1976+),
Carl Trester
(good friend, ex Navy man, Cochran 2A, moved to North Carolina around 1978),
Dorothy "Dotty" Cote R.N.* (1963-1987 supervisor), 
Ben Tarioult* (1963-1970's--supervisor),
Mrs. LaFrance (later Benson) R.N.
(Greenwich House, afternoon shift supervisor with a big heart of gold, 1963-1979),
Paul Weeks ( old-timer, 1963-1970),
Mr. E.T. Riley (1963-1970) good friend, Greenwich 1A),
Rose Fair*
(1963-1979 Greenwich House and later Cochran House 2A, good friend, I used to call her "Rosie"),
Elisabeth Braxton
1963-1979 Greenwich House and later Cochran House 2A, good friend, I used to call you "Braxie"),
Gail Lincoln
(1963-1971? a good friend with a big heart),
Johnny Stevens
(1963-1980's - Greenwich House and Cochran House),
Mr. Geyger (1963-1970's, charge of Bridgeport Hall),
Danny Mason
(1960's Greenwich House)
Mrs. Henningsen
(good friend, took Pete Wagner and me under her wings in 1963 and introduced us
to some German people at Candlewood lake, also to Mr. Geyger
who was head of the kitchen in Bridgeport Hall. Worked Litchfield House 1963),
Shirley Eaton (1967-1970, good friend, part time nurse on Greenwich 1A),
Mr. Blair (worked Canaan House in 1967),
Louis Jacaruso
(a good friend, worked Cochran House, 1967-1980's),
Baptista (1970-1980, Cochran 2A, a good friend),
Kenny (in my second class 1967),
Mrs. Brazil (good friend of E.T. Riley, 1967-1970's, 
Bob Nichols
(1979-1986?) good friend, head of housekeeping),
Dr. Kyle (employee doctor Greenwich House, later Cochran House
also had his own practice in Sandy Hook--delivered my son Kenny in 1968),
 Thelma Oliver* ( 1967 - 2007 my first wife in 1968)
Dr. Douglas W. Thomas* (Psychiatrist, a good friend indeed),
Dr. Friedman (Medical Doctor for Greenwich House 1963-1970),
Bob Totten
(a good friend, class of 1967, worked Kent House and left the hospital about 1970),
George "Gilligan"
(good friend, worked Kent House, left to work at the post office and came back...remember our "Toyoties"?),
Mrs. Cypriano,(1970's Cochran House),
Carol Lockwood R.N. (1967-1970's mostly Cochran House)
Carl Atwood
(CSEA chapter president, old timer, worked in power house,
lived in Danbury Hall, retired about 1970 and Jimmy Fowler took over),
John Cavanaugh
(Greenwich 2A 1963-1980?),
Art King
(old-timer 1963-1971 Cochran House?),
Fred Paterno (Cochran House),
"Shirley" (1963-1976) house-mother, Danbury Hall),
Dennis Massi (a good friend - post office and housekeeping 1967-1988),
Dr. Green (Superintendent of FSH),
Dr. Robert Goebel
(German doctor who took us under his "wing" in 1963),
Burt Scocco (1963-1970's, Cochran House later in "Security",
"Bucky" Buxton
(1963-1980's) Cochran House, later in drug rehab or adolescent unit),
Georgette St.Pierre (housekeeping-supervisor),
Gloria Stock
(a good friend who helped me when I needed it most...Cochran 2A),
Nancy (Cochran 2A in the 1970's..remember the Bible?),
Rich Molinaro
Cochran-House Barber (good friend 1970's to 1988),
Joyce Connoly
(a good friend from personnel, 1967-1988),
Jaye Parszuchowski*
(1967-1970's) a good friend indeed...Greenwich 1A),
John Fiorito (1963-1970's, Aide),
Mrs. Palmer (Danbury Hospital Pharmacist 1963), June Hart (Danbury Hospital 1963)),
Mrs. Rachel Love (Danbury Hospital 1963)
Marty Rajcock (1979-1988) housekeeping and transportation),
Donna-Jo Morgenroth-Banik* (my best friend who became my wife,
Donna Haffke*, 1977 - 12-28-2006)
Peggy Siebert (1979-1988) housekeeping, later maintenance),
Viola Fortin
(1985-1988, housekeeping, later became head housekeeper after Bob Nichols retired (1986-1988)),
Howard "Howie" Britto (housekeeping 1981-1988),
Tom Shewan
(1979-1988) a good friend in housekeeping - tunnels after Jimmy Fowler retired),
Sandra "Sandy" LePre' R.N.
(1974-1979) good friend, charge-nurse on  Cochran 2A and one of my dearest friends at work
...remember the Cochran coffee shop where I tried to teach you how to smoke? And our "levitation" experiment?),
Judith "Judy" Anderson-Pernell
(a good friend, early 1970's in Cochran 2A and 1B),
Ronald "Ronnie" Parker (good friend Kent House late 1960's),
Frank Scinto
(1979-1987)Pharmacist and good friend who came to visit me in Vermont and moved to Florida),
James "Jimmy" Brown
(groundskeeper,1963-1970) friend from Norwalk Hall, 1960,s),
Mike Shengrian (friend from Norwalk Hall 1963),
Ruth, Pam, Irene (X-ray Greenwich House and Cochran House),
Marge Knight*
( EEG and EKG Cochran House 1970's passed away at work in 1980's),
Steven Hirst (good friend in housekeeping 1979-84),
Mrs. Anderson (housemother in Norwalk Hall),
Ruamie Burr (1963-1979) Greenwich House 1B and Cochran House,
Ruth Bevis (1963-1987) in charge of all the dormitories and, later, housekeeping),
Pete Boller*
(Aide during the 60's in Cochran House then left the hospital and returned for a while to work Cochran 2A),
Jack Shenley (Fairfield 1A in 1963),
Charlie Gallagher (Fairfield 1B in 1963),
Joan Gallagher
(who divorced John and later became a nurse, Cochran 1970's),
Ed Meschalko and Rose Meschalko
(1963 to early 1970's- Ed was an Aide and Rose worked in Sterile Supply and Operating Room),
Daisy Chang (1967-1970?) good friend, Sterile Supply and OR),
Polly Burns R.N. (1963-1969) Greenwich House Supervisor),
Lester Kaplan*, "Kappy"
(1970-1975 -was an old timer at the hospital and one of my best friends while working in Cochran House 2A, had a massive stroke in 1975 while getting out of his car in front of Bridgeport Hall,
rushed to Danbury Hospital, lived for about two weeks and then died. While visiting him at Danbury Hospital, he whispered to me: "Jerry, get out of that place (Fairfield Hills Hospital), it will kill you"! Of course he meant the tension of working with the mentally ill.),
Georgeanna Sperling
(A good friend in Cochran House 1970's), 
Isabelle Basford (1970's - 1980's)
Tommy Farrell
(1963 to early 1980's -old timer and head barber out of Kent House, also union rep. for AFL-CIO union
and competitor to Jimmy Fowler, -had a barber shop in Sandy Hook also.),
Abe Cohen (1975-1988, housekeeping),
John McDonald
(1979-1985, housekeeping-supervisor in Kent House and a good friend),
Ken Graul (housekeeping supervisor 1979-1988),
John Szimeck (1963-1974? worked Cochran House),
Barbara Haubricht R.N. Greenwich House 1967-1970),
Kasimir "Kas" Kobus R.N.
(1963-1970 supervisor at Greenwich House and Fairfield House),
Andy Polemus ( 1963-1970 - Cochran House),
Pete Shoplack (1963-1970? Greenwich House),
Mrs. Right R.N. evening building supervisor Shelton House 1963-1970?),
Laura Martino
(a good friend 1970's Cochran House),
Phil Charron
(Greenwich 1A night shift 1963-1969, then Kent House Phil's parents:
Mr. and Mrs. Charron
worked also Greenwich nights),
Mr. and Mrs. Martino (Supervisors 1963-1970?)
Doris Scott
(1963-1987 Clothing Repair Canaan House),
Irving Barr
(1967-1974? a good friend, Cochran House, last I heard in 1977 he had retired and lived in Brookfield, Ct.
from where he wrote me a very nice letter of appreciation)
Betty Cyr and Raymond Cyr* (1963-1970's?)
Dawn Schultz R.N. Supervisor (1963-1979),
Mary-Jean Carrington (1972-1987 Cochran House),
Jimmy Brown
(Outside Maintenance 1963-1979)
and his wife Carol Brown R.N. (Cochran Supervisor in 1980's),
Amanda Ethridge
(1967-1979 Greenwich House and Cochran House-a good friend who left FHH in 1977?
to move to North Carolina to get married -She came to visit me at FHH in 1979 and brought me a carton of "Camels" from N.C.
Frank Schwager (1967-1970's Greenwich House, later Cochran House--played guitar),
Mrs. Wilson R.N. (Shelton House -Cochran House)
Mrs. Primrose (1967-1970's Shelton House--had a mink farm),
Charlie Fortier (Shelton House)
Mrs. Gunderson (1963-1970's, Supervisor Shelton House),
Pete Baker (1967-75?)
Jimmy Evans (1967-1970 Fairfield House--a free spirit and friend),
Pernell Hicks (1967-1970's)
Gail Gavin R.N. supervisor and Dick Gavin (1967-1987)
Mary D'Agusta R.N.
(1963-1979 Supervisor)
Ralph D'Agusta
Ruth Pavia R.N.
(Supervisor 1967-1980's)
Chris Burton R.N. and Lenny Burton (1967-1980's)
Al Liggins
(Greenwich House 1A and Cochran House 2D)
Carol Britto
(1967-1987 mostly Cochran House)
Kass Cobus R.N.
(1963-1970's Supervisor Greenwich House--shared the office with Polly Burns)
Mary and Ernie Finn
(Ernie Finn was instrumental in the "layout" of Fairfield Hills during it's construction!!!
 I knew them both 1963-1980's--They were the oldest employees at Fairfield Hills)
Margaret "Marge" Godfrey (1970's Cochran House),
Mimi and Jimmy Vasquez (1970's Cochran House),
Jean Rogers (1967-1970's),
Doug Smith (Kent House ?),
Terry Logan* (1960's Kent House?),
Hayward West
(1963-1970's --One of the real OLD TIMERS),
George Stewart (1963-1970's)
George Poppleton (1963-1969? Greenwich House 1A)
Jo Stinson (1967-1970 worked night shift Greenwich House 2A)
Jim O'Connell (1967-1970's Cochran House),
"Herr" Kuss
(1967-1973, German fellow who worked a sideline installing television antennas),
Rita Morton (1970's Cochran House),
Mary Dubien (1970's Cochran House),
Andi Wilson (1970's and 80's Cochran Supervisor),
Barbara Barnwell L.P.N.
Sue Henley*  (Cochran House) and her husband Greg Henley,
Paul Weeks (1963-1970? Old Timer worked night shift),
Mr. Kelly (1963-1970's),
Bob Broszio (1967-1969? Canaan House),
Pat Parker (Beryl Carr's sister 1968-1970's),
Dorothy Parker,
Angela Hunter (1967-70?),
 Manuel Aquiar* (1967-1970's)
Evelyn M. Brown*
(old-timer, worked many buildings since 1960, last in Cochran House 1970-1988 passed away in 1997).
Frances DeManuel
(old-timer, worked various female buildings since the 1960's, Cochran House 1970's-1988, retired in Bridgeport, CT.)
Kay Barkasy Colgan
(She was in my class, good friend, old-timer, 1960's to 1988 in various buildings, retired in Southbury, CT.)
Dale Bennett LPN
(1970's Cochran House)
Cliff Kearnan (old-timer, late 1960's to 1988)
Ms. Raeford R.N. (1967-1988)
Shirley Eaton R.N.
(good friend, Greenwich House 1A, relief shift and Cochran House 1967-1970's)
Loraine Mercier R.N.
"Super-nurse" (good friend, Greenwich House 1A, relief shift and Cochran House 1967-1970's, husband was an attorney)
Mrs. Taubert R.N.*
(ward charge nurse Cochran House 2A, day shift, 1970's, husband was PanAm pilot New York to Warsaw)
Shirley Pavone PhD.
(good friend, 1967-1988) Greenwich 1A; Shelton 1A; Cochran 2B & 1A, Fairfield House,
Litchfield house and Connecticut Valley Hospital after the closure in 1995)
Mr. and Mrs. Livingston (old-timers, 1963-1980's)
Kay Hodgman (good friend from Greenwich House 1A, day shift --1963-1980's)
Dino "Ding" Lopez (good friend on Cochran House 2A--mid-to-late 1970's)
Andres Vega (1970's to 1980's)
Florence Brown (friend 1970's - 1987 Cochran House 1B)
Helen Jones (good friend 1963-1980's)
Louise Spencer (1960's to 1980's)
Mrs. Edwards (1960's - 1980's)
Flo Erickson (1960's - 1980's)
Betty Tabor R.N.
(1970's to 1988 worked last in "sterile supply" Cochran Basement)
Mr. and Mrs. Scott (Helen)
(1960's - 1988, long-time volunteers who ran the "style shop" in the Basement of Cochran House)
Pat Presnell (worked Southbury Training School and then FFH)
Rose Holland (real old-timer with 36 years at FFH)
Todd Bogdanoff (1970's - 1980's) Rick Pope P.A. (1980's)
Ruby Hill-Ayers (Cochran 1A, 1980's)
Valerie Malow (Social Worker Cochran House - 1970's to 1980's)
Liz Branch (1970's)
Ann Watkins (Cochran 1B, 1970's - 1980's)
Gary Douglas (Cochran House 1980's)
Esther Williams
(old-timer 1960's to 1980's worked Canaan and Cochran House)
Jamie Alcantara* (Fairfield House)
Dr. Marietta Sonida and Dr. Aurora Alcantara
Ray Conners (1968-1970?)
Donna Bourassa Physicians Assistant
(Cochran House late 1970's to 1987)
Frances Goncalues (Cochran House 1980's)
Jean Tice
(Cochran House Supervisor's Office Secretary 1970-1988)
William R Hester PhD
(Associate Clinical Psychologist From Jan 1971 until July 1975 -Worked out of Cochran House)
Dr Bob Johnson
(Chief of Psychology 1972-?)
Don Gates
Bruce Mueller
 Phillip Goldberg
 Margaret Draughon
 Vincent Franco
Jerry Mabli
(All Psychologists during the 1970's -?)
Robert Miller the Medical Director

 

Please understand that the dates I give are when I knew the listed former employees and co-workers and NOT their years of employment at FHH, unless otherwise indicated. The list of names is not done in any particular order but added together as memory served me in various intervals.
Some names have been sent to me of people whom I don't personally remember.

Underlined Names are linked to a page with the employee's picture or updated details about their lives.
 
* this mark behind a name indicates that I know of this employee to have passed away.

I want to thank Beryl Carr, who contacted me out of his retirement in Florida, for helping me with quite a few names
and many more memories!

Beryl Carr in Retirement 2007
Talented, intelligent, with a keen perception of people...
I am so happy that it was HE who contacted and encouraged me!
Thank you, Beryl!

Working at Fairfield Hills Hospital wasn't just
another job, but was more like a "testing ground"
to discover our capabilities to love and care
unconditionally and wrestle with our own demons
and shortcomings at the same time. We all had
"our moments" where we thought that we couldn't
take it any more.... Sometimes the stress and even
fear became overwhelming... And yet we all grew
to become better people...at work and "in the world."
And...no, we were not heroes, but we did overcome
often incredible situations which required more of
us than we had ever thought of as being capable of....
And THAT is why we loved Fairfield Hills Hospital,
Because we were given a chance to rise above
our own limitations and love unconditionally
without being called "wimps" or whatever...
this kind of selflessness would be labeled
in the "outside world."
Jerry Haffke

Stationitis and Gerald Brown with FHH in background--1963

    Fairfield State Hospital was planned and started on about 700 acres of land before FDR became president. But it was under the social-conscious administration of this great statesman who became president in 1933 and his public works program, that this hospital was expanded with campus like buildings and became the best mental hospital in the nation.
 It was a model institution at it's time and served nearly 4000 patients at it's peak in the late 1950's when Cochran House was added. During those years, there were about 2000 employees working there. It had it's own Electricity from it's power-house, it's own laundry, water-treatment plant, farm, cattle, diary and was thus almost completely self-sufficient.
 Patients could choose to work there or not. There was no coercion at all, but many did choose to work for a small stipend for many reasons, such as feeling useful and learning to adjust to the outside world in a disciplined work environment and also to gain some of the "privileges" associated with being a "worker".
In 1963 Fairfield State Hospital's name was changed to "Fairfield Hills Hospital".
 Fairfield Hills Hospital even had it's own movie theater, gymnasium and store (canteen) where patients and employees could have coffee, soda and snacks. There was also a library and barber as well as beauty shops in some of the larger buildings.
 The grounds were kept meticulously by a combined crew of employees and patients.
 Psychiatric Aides, like myself, had to complete a nine month training course consisting of theory taught in class and practice on different wards. After completion of this course, one was assigned to a building and shift. Just like in the army, we were asked for preferences, but often ended up with a different assignment then wished for, not out of spite, but because of need.

 Male dormitories were Norwalk Hall (where mostly Psychiatric Aides lived) and Danbury Hall (a smaller building, where mostly support people, like laundry, central linen, grounds workers, powerhouse, housekeeping etc.). Female dormitories were Stamford Hall and Woodbury Hall. Actually Stamford Hall, with large rooms, was once used for married couples until Watertown Hall was constructed probably in the late forties or early fifties. Watertown Hall had small apartments, two rooms and a bathroom, in a small hallway, separating them, but no kitchen. Watertown Hall was torn down after the closing of the hospital.
 
 Classes were run on a continuous basis because many people found out that this wasn't the kind of work just anybody could do. It required physical and mental stamina and a personality flexible enough to cope with the demands of patients in a compassionate as well as disciplinarian manner. In other words, you had to have a well-balanced, outgoing personality and instinctively know how to react to sudden aggression or even an attack from a patient, without hurting him or her. Your safety often depended on how patients perceived you. In many dangerous situations of physical violence, other patients who liked you came to your rescue. Thus there was a definite symbiotic relationship between aides and patients, as we realized that we all depended on each other. We had to be able to be friends and buddies to all patients while at the same time being able to remain in control and keep a certain distance, which is not always easy.
 To be a good Psychiatric Aide, you had to be a "natural" or you would soon realize that this wasn't the job for you and quit. Thus the relatively high turn-over of aides and the continuous classes.
 I am quite sure that the hospital name was changed from Fairfield State Hospital to Fairfield Hills Hospital sometime in late 1963.

How I came to Fairfield State Hospital

I had arrived in the United States on April 18, 1963 as an immigrant from Germany. When my sponsorship by a Lutheran Church in Arlington, Virginia and my visa came through, I worked for the US Army, Labor Service Companies in Berlin. In my unit was a guy, my age, who told me that he too had just received his visa and was leaving for Danbury, Connecticut in May, 1963. My date of departure was April 16th and therefore I was the first to arrive here. We had exchanged addresses in the US and he promised to contact me when he arrived in Danbury. After about three weeks in Arlington, living with church members and working as a "car hop" at a "Hot Shoppe" drive-in restaurant right across from the Pentagon, a card from him arrived. I decided, adventurous as I was, to go there and visit him even though I had lost his address there and he had neglected to write it on the post card again. I told my sponsor, pastor Schumann, that I would really like to visit my friend in Danbury and he agreed somewhat reluctantly to let me out of his watchful, worried eyes to visit him. Asking how to get there cheaply, he suggested to go to the Greyhound-Trailways bus terminal in Washington DC and find out about the price. So I took a city bus into Washington and found the bus terminal. The man at the counter had a hard time understanding my accented English but soon told me that it was about $30 and that I would have to change busses in New York City. I was elated when I told Pastor Schumann about the price and decided that I would leave in a couple of days after telling my employer that I had to go to New York to the immigration service to clear up a problem. They promised to hold my job for me and I was all set for my new adventure.
 
  After a most wondrous, exciting trip by bus from DC to New York which took about four hours, I was stranded at the huge bus terminal in New York for the night because I had missed the connecting bus, from the "Providence-Arrow line" by about thirty minutes. This was no problem for me since it gave me the opportunity to walk around 42nd street, eighth avenue, seventh avenue, fifth avenue and all the way down to the Grand Central Station. God, I was so excited! New York City in all its glory, the huge sky-scrapers and the crowded avenues. Grand Central Station, like a palace, marble floors, restaurants, lounges, news-paper stands, loudspeakers blaring and people rushing towards endless seeming corridors leading to their commuter trains. After eating a hot dog at a diner I noticed that it was getting dark and decided to make my way back to the bus station where I felt safe. Walking back 42nd street, I became more aware of the seedy stores and movie theaters, but I found that even more exciting. This is before the time of blatant "porn-shops" and "peep-shows" but there were certainly stores there that could fit that description. They were then called "book stores" which sold seedy books about Kinsey's sex research and related subjects and "men's magazines" with lurid cover pictures. The movie theaters were showing movies of all variety but mostly advertised soft-porn type shows. Since I could see the corner of seventh avenue and 42nd street and thus could make out the beginning of the bus terminal, I decided to go into a movie theater nearby which advertised "Trouble with Harry". Since these theaters showed the same movie continuously, I walked in during the middle of the showing and was amazed that people were smoking inside. Anyways, I watched the movie twice and then walked back to the bus terminal at about 9pm.
  The man behind the bus terminal information counter had told me that my bus would leave from the lower level, gate 7, at 8am and I had checked right away to make sure I knew for certain where my point of departure was. So I could be at peace while spending the night at the terminal, either walking around or sitting in the waiting area wooden benches. Eating a hot dog at the terminal diner at six o'clock in the morning, I was still wide awake from all the new sights and sounds of New York City.

Danbury, Connecticut

  The bus left punctually at 8 am and I enjoyed the ride through parts of Manhattan, Harlem, Yonkers into Connecticut immensely. New England was so beautiful and scenic that I could have broken down and cried tears of joy. The white wooden buildings, the austere churches, the white picket fences and field-stone walls immediately touched my heart and soul. Ridgefield, Connecticut approached in all it's morning glory. School children in uniforms, school buses, the town square, I was completely entranced. After stopping there and unloading some boxes and bundles of newspapers at the local bus stop, we continued past the old Danbury Fairgrounds into Danbury. The city seemed much bigger than I had imagined and I began to worry just how I would be able to find my acquaintance from Berlin, Peter Wagner. We pulled into a shopping center, North Street shopping center it was called on a large white sign and stopped in front of one of the stores which served as the Danbury bus terminal. I got up and made my way to the door in the front of the bus, stepped down, looked around and saw Peter Wagner along with his sponsor who was his distant niece coming towards me. He was as astonished as I at this remarkable coincidence, as he had no idea that I was coming. The whole thing was just so unbelievably incredible!
  To make a long story short, this is how I ended up in Danbury, Connecticut -and I never went back to Arlington, Virginia.
And this too is how I eventually went to Fairfield State Hospital with Peter (Pete) to work there for about 23 years.

I'm on the left and Pete is on the right.
This picture was taken on the day I arrived and ran into
Pete at the Danbury, North-Street shopping center in late May,1963.

Pete's niece wasn't too happy about my arrival and told me, in so many words, that I could stay the night, but had to look for another place to stay after that. Of course, independent minded as I am, I didn't even want to spend the night there and walked down West Street with Pete to look for a place, like a motel. There was a large Motel just off West and Main Streets and I asked there how much it would be to stay there. The price, I don't remember the exact amount, seemed exorbitant and I decided to look around some more. After walking around for a while and coming back to West Street, we saw a sign in front of a splendid looking typical New England style house which almost looked like a small mansion to me. The sign said: "Mrs. Grace Morrell's Guest House". It was located on 74 West Street, next to a place called "Texas Hot Wieners" and to a quite large store called: "Bargain World".
 We went inside and a bell rang as we opened the front door. An elderly lady, who looked like the spitting image of Mary Baker Eddy, sat in an antique easy chair. She got up and walked towards us asking if she could help us. I told her that I had just come from Germany and that I needed a room for a while. She responded kindly, asking me all kinds of questions about my intentions and why I was in Danbury. I told her, more or less, what my situation was and after some reflection, she said that she had one room for three dollars a week and another for five and proceeded to show us the way going up the gorgeous staircase leading into a smallish hallway. Various doors were located there and she opened one to show me the room which was the five dollar one, with a huge bed, heavy carpet, easy chair and even a sink. She explained that food was not allowed in the rooms and that the bathroom was shared with the other residents. I couldn't believe my luck and immediately told her that I wanted to rent the room for at least a month. She seemed quite pleased that I handed her a twenty dollar bill to pay in advance and gave me the key. Having brought two-hundred dollars from Germany and getting super good tips at the "Hot-shoppe", I wasn't exactly strapped for money. The reason for making such excellent tips at the "Hot-Shoppe" was that many of the Pentagon officers used to come there for lunch and who after noticing my German accent recalled good times in Germany and thus wanting to help me, leaving me sometimes tips of up to $20. That was truly generous as in those days things were so cheap and incomes so low, that twenty dollars was equal to about 200 dollars today! Many busy days at the "Hot-Shoppe" I made more than thirty dollars in tips, the average being between 10 and 20 dollars.
  My comparing of Mrs. Morrell to Mary Baker Eddy, the founder of Christian Science, is intentional as I found out later, after talking to her about a week later, that she had been a Christian Scientist, but had switched to "Unity" a few years before. She told me this after I had walked in with Mary Baker Eddy's "Science and Health" in English and German in my hands. I had noticed that there was a Christian Science reading-room only a few houses away and gone inside to purchase a German-English edition of the book, if available. They did have it and thus I walked into Mrs. Morrell's Guest house with the book, prompting her curiosity. I told her that I had know Christian Science from Germany where I had read the German edition of Science and Health. My desire for the English-German edition, where the left page is in English and the right page in German, wasn't only to study more about Christian Science, but because I thought that it would be helpful for my mastery of the English language. And it was indeed a great help and guide for me over the years. After this, Mrs. Morrell became much more open and friendly towards me and I enjoyed her special consideration when she allowed me to bring snacks into my room as long as no other resident would see it. I genuinely liked and respected this New England "grand old dame" and enjoyed talking with her on numerous occasions. The only other place where I met old ladies from a similar mold was in the Christian Science reading room and thus my calling her a "Grand old dame" wasn't in mockery but in genuine admiration.

This historic picture shows Danbury before my time there in 1963
but is, nevertheless, exactly as I remember it, without the traffic control thing on the left.

  I had made up my mind to stay in the Danbury area and thus called my sponsor in Arlington, VA that I wouldn't return. Pastor Schumann wasn't too happy about my independence and worried about my future. Nevertheless, knowing that he couldn't force me to stay with him in Arlington "gave me his blessing", along with the advice to never sign any petitions because they could be sponsored by Communists and get me into trouble. Thanking him and his congregation who had sponsored me so kindly, I said "good bye" and have never seen him again.
 
 Now I was free and went with "Pete" to the unemployment office to look for a job. The unemployment office was also conveniently located on West Street and we had thus no trouble finding it. Talking to a very friendly and helpful lady there, we were told that there weren't many jobs available, but that there was an opening at the Danbury Hospital housekeeping department. She suggested that we both go and that even though there was only one opening, that they might find another for us while there. So we walked from West Street to Main Street, down Main Street to White Street, passing the Danbury train station when an old lady in a huge car stopped and asked us if we needed help or a ride. Well, we were somewhat lost searching for Danbury Hospital and asked her how to get there. She told us to "hop in" and drove us to the front entrance. We thanked her profusely and there we were at Danbury Hospital. Can you imagine this happening today? And this wasn't an isolated incident, but happened regularly, that people of all ages would stop and ask if we needed a ride. What a wonderful country this America once was!

Danbury Hospital

We went into the lobby and asked for the employment office. The lady behind the desk told us to have a seat in the lobby area where Mrs. Love, the employment officer, would contact us shortly. Sitting there and observing an American hospital for the first time, we couldn't believe how much it looked like a mixture between department store and hotel lobby. There was a dining area and a small gift shop and people were walking in and out of the lobby as if it was a hotel. Compared to the German hospitals we had seen in Berlin and who had seemed like antiseptic smelling morgues, this American hospital was a joy to behold. The whole place was so strikingly different to what we had expected, that we both started laughing uncontrollably to the point where we had to walk outside in order not to bring attention to us and perhaps ruin our chances of finding a job there.     
 Thank God, Mrs. Love, the employment officer was delayed in a meeting so she didn't "walk in" on our indescribable and perhaps in-explainable laughing fit. After waiting for about thirty minutes, a middle-aged lady with heavy make up and open arms approached us vivaciously, exclaiming loud enough for everyone to hear, how pleased and excited she was by our presence as immigrants from Berlin. Taking us each by the hand, she walked with us to her office at the end of a small corridor close to the elevator. Then, again, she told us how exciting it was for her to be able to help us as new immigrants. Then she told us that she only had one opening in housekeeping at this time, but would find another opening as soon as possible. She asked which one of us wanted to go to the housekeeping department and I told Pete to take the job because he needed the income more than I did. After that decision, Mrs. Love sent Pete to the housekeeping department and looking at me thoughtfully, she said: "Let me call Mrs. Palmer, our head pharmacist and ask her if she needs somebody". After having talked to Mrs. Palmer on the telephone for a few seconds, she told me to take the elevator to the third floor (if my memory serves me correctly) and I would find the pharmacy right across from the elevator. On the way out of her office, thanking her for her kindness, she arose from her chair and hugged me like a mother, wishing me all the luck in the world in my new country. Her affection was definitely genuine and I was moved to tears in my eyes. Never had I experienced such concern and kindness coming from a complete stranger. She was the epitome of the American people to me as I had later experienced similar kindness at Fairfield State Hospital.
  Coming off the elevator on the third floor I saw the pharmacy widow into the hallway immediately. Telling the lady behind the window that Mrs. Love had sent me, she smiled and opened the pharmacy door for me to come in, leading me behind a big shelf unit where Mrs. Palmer sat facing something like a diner counter, having coffee and smoking a cigarette. She was a grandmotherly looking older women with strikingly silver hair, who told me to have a seat next to her on one of the bar-stools there. After introducing herself and the other two women, she asked me if I would like to have a cup of coffee and told me to help myself. The percolator was right in front of me and I poured myself a cup adding sugar and milk. She asked me if I smoked and I said "yes" and she offered me a cigarette. I felt as if I had always worked there. She made me feel so comfortable that the interview which she obviously gave me, seemed, to me, like a friendly chat. She asked me about Berlin and what had brought me to the US and I responded with honesty and trust. Soon she told me that she would be pleased to have me work with her in the pharmacy and that was that. I was hired at $ 1.35 an hour and would start the next day.
  Returning to the hospital lobby I found Pete waiting for me. He had also been hired in the housekeeping department on the afternoon shift and was to start the next day also. Our jobs were waiting for us and we were elated.

Working at the Danbury Hospital
with Mrs. Palmer, Mildred and June Hart 

  My work at the pharmacy was easy and pleasant. Mrs. Palmer turned out to be a kind and considerate boss and the other two ladies who were "pharmacy aides" like me, were good-natured and helpful. My job consisted mostly of taking the wooden baskets from the different wings which were delivered to the pharmacy by nurses and filling the prescription bottles by counting the pills from big pharmacy bottles into the bottles brought in the baskets. Also I learned to dilute disinfectant soaps which came in large metal drums into large glass bottles delivered to the various hospital wings. Taking many coffee-breaks behind the ominous shelf's back counter, smoking and talking, this job was probably the most relaxed and enjoyable I have ever had.

"Finding out" about Fairfield State Hospital

 Pete was not as fortunate. Working in housekeeping was hard and dirty labor. He had to strip floors, wax and buff them with a never ending work load. His boss, an older black man, was friendly enough, but very demanding and Pete was very unhappy there. Working the afternoon shift, from 3 pm to 11:30 pm, we hardly ever saw each other and his nightly walk home from the hospital was a considerable hike through almost deserted streets. Working this shift he met many orderly's who worked other jobs in the day time and part time nights at Danbury hospital. One of them was Jimmy Greene, a young black guy who worked at Fairfield State Hospital in Newtown, about 10 - 15 miles from Danbury. He had told Pete about the place and suggested that we should go there and apply for jobs because we could live in dormitories right on the hospital grounds, eat three meals in the cafeteria, have our laundry done all for three dollars bi-weekly. The idea of working at a "nut house" didn't sit too well with me, especially since I had a job at Danbury hospital which I really enjoyed. Nevertheless, a new adventure was beckoning and I agreed to go there with Pete on our next day off together.
 We were told that a bus to Newtown and Bridgeport left regularly from the corner of West and Main Street. So about 9 am on our next day off together, we went there and saw a bus sitting there. The driver wasn't there, so we waited and saw him coming out of a small diner. We asked him if he was going to Newtown and he told us "yes". Asking further if he would tell us how to get to Fairfield State Hospital, he agreed to let us know when to get off. Paying the cheap fare we went aboard and soon the bus took off with only a few passengers.
 
Riding through picturesque Bethel, and through route 8, we came soon to Newtown where the bus stopped at the center of the town, at the flag pole. Picking up a few more riders, the bus continued down route 25 in the direction of Bridgeport. After a few minutes the bus stopped by a red barn just off route 25 and driver told us that Fairfield State was just down a road going off 25. Thanking him, we got off the bus and looked around. There was this road the driver had pointed to and we had to cross route 25 to get to it. What made us very nervous and concerned was that there was no hospital visible, nothing, just a wide road leading what seemed to nowhere. Where was this "hospital"? Had the bus driver mislead us? Despite our doubts, we kept on walking. The road led down-hill first, then up-hill and soon we came to a railroad bridge. When we reached the bridge, we saw what seemed like a large park. On the left was a brick building only one story high, like an apartment building. Could that be the hospital? We kept on walking and soon saw a grouping of buildings placed scenically around a grassy square with flowers and two flag-poles. The flags of the United States and the State of Connecticut were moving slightly in the summer breeze. Looking around and seeing the administration building, we decided not to go in right away, but to walk around the grounds some more. We passed Shelton House and Plymouth Hall and continued to a huge cafeteria building called Bridgeport Hall. Patients were milling around in front of a building called Canaan House. Some of the women there, lounging in wooden "Adirondack" chairs, looked frightening and comical to us as they wore so much make-up and lipstick on their faces. Some of them were obviously hallucinating, talking to no one in particular and some of them even screaming at someone only visible to them. Observing this tragic comedy show we decided that we could never work at this place and preceded to walk back to the Newtown center to hopefully catch a bus back to Danbury.
 Pete was heartbroken because he hated his job in housekeeping so much and had hoped to find a better future at Fairfield State Hospital.

Applying for a job at Fairfield State Hospital

 Jimmy Greene told Pete that we should go back and try again, because our first impression was wrong and that working there wasn't as bad as we thought. When Pete told me that he wanted to give Fairfield State another shot, I agreed and about two weeks after our first excursion there, we boarded another bus to go there again. This time the bus went right onto the hospital grounds, stopping right in front of Shelton House. Deciding to go in and ask for directions to the employment office, we ran into an old man buffing the floor into an incredible shine. He didn't speak English very well, worse then we did even, but he nevertheless asked us where we were from. When we told him that we were from Germany, his face lit up and he told us in broken German that he was Estonian and had fought with the German army during World War II. His name was "Stasionaitis" or something like that and he had come to the US in 1948 as a DP (Displaced Person). We told him that we had just come to the US and were looking for a job at Fairfield State Hospital. He told us to wait and disappeared. After about five minutes he returned with a woman in a nurses uniform. Her name was Mrs. Schwaller and she welcomed us and told us to follow her as we took an ancient elevator up to the third floor. There, we went into Mrs. Schwaller's office and she asked us to have a seat. She was about 45 years old and looked in her demeanor like a strict army nurse. She asked us how we had come to Fairfield State and we told her that somebody had told us to apply for a job there. Then she preceded to ask us questions about Germany, Berlin and our present jobs as well as about our "immigration status", explaining that in order to get a job with the State of Connecticut we had to go to Hartford, the State Capital, and swear at the immigration office a "declaration of intent". We didn't have any idea what that was and so she explained that it was a sworn affidavit to the effect that we were in the United States to become citizens and not just to work. After a few phone calls she told us to be in Hartford at the address she gave us at 1pm the next day and all would be taken care of there. Then, she told us, to come back and she would personally find a job for us at Fairfield State Hospital.

 When we got back to Danbury, we walked to the Hospital and I went to see Mrs. Palmer to ask for the next day off because I needed to go to the immigration office in Hartford for a "declaration of intent". Mrs. Palmer was very gracious, as always, and gave me the next couple days off for "personal reasons". Pete also got two days off from housekeeping and thus we were all set to travel to Hartford by bus the next day. Mrs. Palmer told me that I could catch a bus to Hartford at North Street Shopping Center, the same place where I had first arrived in Danbury and run into Pete.

 Early the next morning we met at my Guest House and walked to North Street shopping center, which is quite a hike. Catching a bus there to Hartford, we were on our way to the Capitol of Connecticut. The bus went along Interstate 84 which was only finished then up to Southington and continued through construction areas and back roads onto another highway which led into Hartford. The suburbs surrounding Hartford were strikingly beautiful with many large Catholic churches and seminaries, but the downtown area where we got off at the Greyhound bus terminal was seedy and run down. Asking for directions to the address Mrs. Schwaller had given us, we soon found the building and the Immigration office. There we were "sworn in" and given the necessary "declaration of intent", a certificate on a nice looking paper.
Arriving back in Danbury around 5 pm, we ate something at the Danbury Diner across from the train station and decided to catch an early bus to Newtown the next morning.

Hired at FSH

 Catching the 8 am bus for Newtown the next day, we were at Shelton House by nine, nervous and excited. Taking the elevator to the third floor, we arrived a Mrs. Schwaller's office. She seemed happy to see us and told us to hold on to our "declaration of intent". Then she led us into another room which looked like a class-room with many tables chairs and ash-trays. Telling us that we needed to take a small test, she brought us the necessary questionnaire and told us that we had twenty minutes to finish it. Pete and I were speechless and worried. Our English was marginal at best and a test wasn't exactly what we had anticipated. Trying to read the questions and find the right answers on the multiple choice questionnaire would have been rather easy if we could read English well enough to understand the question. But much of what we read was difficult for us to comprehend and even more difficult to answer correctly. We did our best though and hoped that, with some luck, we marked the right answer even though we didn't understand most of the questions. We finished in time and when Mrs. Schwaller came in to collect the test-papers, gave us an encouraging smile. When she came back after about ten minutes, she told us that the director of nursing, Mrs. Adams, would like to meet us in her office. We followed Mrs. Schwaller to Mrs. Adams' office and there, for the first time, met this formidable lady, who looked, in her old-fashioned, starched nurse's uniform and cap very much like Mrs. Schwaller only somewhat heavier and a little shorter in size. A truly intimidating figure, she nevertheless radiated a kind of charisma and natural leadership. She smiled at us benevolently and asked us to sit down. Then she explained to us that our tests showed that our English skills weren't good enough to be considered for the next Psychiatric Aide's class, but that she would find us a temporary job at the central linen-room for about three month, when we could take the test over again and, hopefully, join a class then. We were quite happy with that decision and she proceeded to ask us about Germany and our lives there and about what had motivated us to come to the United States. After about fifteen minutes, she called Mrs. Schwaller and told us that Mrs. Schwaller would bring us over to "Personnel" where we would be officially hired. Thanking her, we left with Mrs. Schwaller to walk from Shelton House to the office building at Newtown Hall. There we filled out lots of papers and were asked if we wanted to live in the dormitories. Of course we wanted that more than anything else and signed up for it. We were told to start working at Fairfield State Hospital the coming Wednesday because that was the day the payroll started.
 

 Arriving back in Danbury we went to the Danbury Diner again to talk over how we were going to manage our new situation. Since Wednesday was only five days away, we had a lot to do. First and foremost we had to quit our jobs at Danbury Hospital and that was no easy task since Mrs. Love there had been so kind and Mrs. Palmer such a wonderful boss to me. But it had to be done and that immediately. So we walked from the diner to Danbury hospital, the place I had come to love, to bring the awkward news to our respective bosses. Pete was happy because he hated his job and his boss, but I felt like I had betrayed a dear friend. Mrs. Palmer was visibly devastated but relented that living and working at Fairfield State Hospital would be good for me and my future and thus was quite supportive and accepting to my resignation.
 I worked at the pharmacy until Tuesday, my final day and Mrs. Palmer, Mildred and June Hart gave me a little going away party for which June had baked a cake. I was quite touched by their love and appreciation of me, considering that I had only worked there for such a short time. After saying our final "good-bye's" I looked forward with mixed feelings to my new job at the "Linen room" of Fairfield State Hospital, and my living in a dormitory there.

Working at Fairfield State Hospital

 Having told Mrs. Morrell at the Guest House of my impending move and receiving her best wishes, Wednesday arrived soon. Pete and I took the eight o'clock bus to Newtown again and were there promptly by nine reporting as instructed to "Personnel" at Newtown Hall. We had brought our belongings in small suitcases and were ready to move in. The lady in personnel gave us a slip of paper to bring to a building called "Norwalk Hall" where we both would live. Norwalk Hall was a beautiful large building with huge columns in front of the main entrance. The floors were sparkling and the whole building smelled of cleaning material and wax. The "house mother" in a starched white dress was expecting us and welcomed us to the dormitory by handing us keys to our rooms and leading us to the first floor. There she gave us adjacent rooms with Pete's being at the end of the hall to the right and mine right next to his.
 

  
View from my dorm window in Norwalk Hall. The houses seen are Doctor's residences.
My own pictures taken in 1963.

 
 The rooms were about eight by ten feet and contained a made up bed, rocking chair, desk, lockable built-in closet, a dresser with mirror and a sink. The shiny tile floor was covered with throw rugs which, as the "House mother" told us proudly, were hand made by patients. She also told us that our rooms would be cleaned every week-day, in the mornings, by patients and that we should keep our valuables locked up in our closets. The doors to our rooms had transoms for air flow and there was a "Do not disturb" sign hanging on our inside door knobs which, our house-mother told us, should be hung outside the room if we wanted to "sleep-in", in order to not have the patients who cleaned the rooms wake us up. A radiator was located under the huge window and the view over the rolling hills of Newtown was striking. We were also told that women were not allowed to visit and that mail would be slid under our doors.

My room at Norwalk Hall second floor in October 1963.
The open book is "Science and Health". The big record player
is from Sears in Danbury where a kind salesman co-signed a loan for me.
Those were the days! Can you imagine a salesperson doing that today?

After having received our rooms and instructions for dormitory living at Fairfield State Hospital we were told to return to Newtown Hall. Back at the "personnel office", the lady there told us that somebody from the "linen room" would soon come to bring us over there. Sure enough, waiting only a few minutes, a jolly, short and very heavy set, middle aged man in a white uniform appeared, greeting us and telling us that we should come with him, in his car, to the "linen room". He drove a huge, new looking Cadillac and we were driven to Greenwich House where he led us down some stairs into the basement. The man who had come to pick us up was the assistant manager of the linen room and his name was Jimmy Stewart. The linen room was located right below Greenwich House where a down-sloping drive way led to a ramp for linen pick up by trucks from the hospital's laundry.
 Greenwich House was right across from Bridgeport Hall, the main kitchen and cafeteria for patients and employees. The linen room was fairly large and filled with stocked shelves, laundry wagons (baskets), a large table and a desk behind which Joe Tinto, the linen room manager sat when we walked in. Jimmy introduced us to Joe Tinto and to about five or six other, older, men who were standing by the shelves full of linens and counting sheets and towels, wash cloths, johnny-coats, t-shirts, sox and pants into the laundry wagons. Everybody there seemed quite jolly and jovial. Joe Tinto showed us around and explained what everybody was doing, telling us that somebody would work with us for a few days. I worked with an older guy named "Howard" who handed me a sheet of paper, a linen request from a ward explaining to me how the linen were ordered by count and that every stack in the shelves contained 50 items. When trucks came to the ramp, we had to unload the laundry which came in the linen-carts into the shelves to the count of fifty. So there was a constant flow of laundry coming in and being delivered to the various buildings through the tunnels. Patients whom I had noticed sitting on the metal folding chairs outside the linen room would push the baskets when ready to the various buildings. We had to walk with them, unlocking the many doors throughout the tunnels and to gain entrance to the buildings and wards, pick up empty linen-carts there and bring them back to the linen room.

 
 On my first delivery I went with Howard to make a delivery to Canaan House the female patient's building. Joe Tinto had handed me a huge key-ring with probably about 15 keys for which I had to sign a receipt. The tunnels smelled wet and dank and groundwater was seeping through various areas of the white walls. Sometimes we would even pass a pile of feces. There were tunnels and tunnels crossing with signs on the wall pointing to the various buildings. One could easily get lost. Various locked doors made sure that patients couldn't gain entrance and get lost down there. We had a column of about ten laundry-carts being pushed by patients. Sometimes the tunnels were level and sometimes they inclined and declined. The baskets, filled with laundry, were heavy and sometimes we had to help weaker patients to push the baskets up the various inclines. Sometimes a patient would abruptly stop, hallucinating wildly and cursing an unseen enemy, and our column had to wait for him to either finish his outburst or be coaxed by us to continue. Howard took the whole trip in stride, being used to it. I, on the other hand, was overwhelmed and worried by the whole experience. How would I ever be able to get the laundry through these tunnels with those unpredictable patients? I asked myself. What if one of them attacked me down there with no help in sight? Howard, noticing my apprehension or remembering his own from when he had started working there, told me not to worry as I would get used to it. I wasn't so sure about that, but resigned myself to my duties. Arriving finally at the Canaan House basement, we put four baskets onto the building elevator and rode upstairs. Leaving the other patients with their baskets behind. Howard showed me the large key for Canaan House and other female buildings and explained that I could tell the difference between the female building key and the male building key by the shape of the "bid". The female had two prongs and the male had three. One looked like a upside-down "U" and the other and the other like an upside-down "W". Some buildings had male and female patients, like Greenwich House, Shelton House and Cochran House and thus had their own keys. Arriving at our destination on the second floor, I saw a huge lobby area from which three large double doors went off. Each door was an entrance to a Ward. Howard unlocked the door to "2 A" and we pushed our basket into a huge "day hall" filled with heavy wooden rocking-chairs and super-solid looking heavy benches. Women were milling about, either watching TV or just rocking away with empty looking eyes. Some were holding dolls like babies while rocking and others were laying on the floor sleeping. Some patients came running up to us, trying desperately to hug or kiss us. A female aide arrived and shooed them away unlocking a second door leading from the day-hall to a hall-way. After locking this door behind us, we delivered the cart to the ward linen-room and picked up an empty basket there. When we were done delivering the various linen-carts in Canaan House the patients with us pushed the empty carts back through the tunnels to the central linen-room, with us leading the way and unlocking the various tunnel doors.

  
Basement of Canaan House on left and a typical tunnel on the right.

 When we got back to Greenwich House we ran into a black man who came up to me and telling me that he was Jimmy Fowler the CSEA union rep. He was very friendly and promised that he would come later, after work, to Norwalk Hall -my dorm to talk with me and my friend about Germany and the union. So word had already gotten around about us two Germans. When we went for lunch to the huge cafeteria in Bridgeport Hall many eyes followed our entrance. The cafeteria, as I would later find out, was the "nerve" and gossip center of the hospital. It was a huge hall with lots of tables covered with white table-cloths and seating four people each. In the center of each table was a dolly like green cloth on which a glass ashtray, sugar, vinegar and crystal looking salt and pepper shakers as well as a vase with "live" flowers was placed, fresh from the hospital's own green-house. Female patients in green dresses and a small white apron were sitting in chairs under the huge windows, while others were cleaning the tables as employees had finished their meals. At the end of the huge dining room was a stainless steel counter filling almost the whole widths of the dining room. Behind it were steam tables with the various and plentiful foods and at the end, as one had passed through the line, were two huge stainless steel urns. One for coffee and one for tea, as well as a stainless steel milk dispenser. Behind the counter were about six to eight women, some employees dressed in white wearing hair-nets, and some in green dresses, marking them as patients. I couldn't believe how clean and shiny everything looked in this cafeteria!

Part of Bridgeport Hall with main entrance.

 The line to the food counter was long and thus I had time to notice everything there in much detail, including the eyes of many seated employees looking at Pete and myself. It was almost eerie. As if everybody had heard already of our arrival at Fairfield State Hospital. It seemed as if we were the talk of the hospital. How could that be?
 When we finally came up to the food-counter, we did what everybody in front of us had done, picking up a light green plastic tray, silver-ware, a milk glass and a white linen napkin. A younger woman employee behind the counter introduced herself to us. Her name was Nancy. We told her our names and she preceded to serve us steaks, potatoes with gravy and a vegetable while admonishing us to help ourselves to apple pie already on plates and rolls. Handing us our generous servings of meat and potatoes she told us that we could have seconds on everything except the meat. Helping ourselves to brewed tea and milk from the dispenser, we ran into a stern, manly looking woman who introduced herself as "Gert". She was the head of the cafeteria and despite her graven demeanor managed to give as a welcoming smile. Thanking her and Nancy, we followed the rest of the linen-room crew to a table. The food and ambiance of this cafeteria was just incredible to us. Being able to eat to our heart's content after almost starving in Danbury to save money, was downright great and beyond our most cherished hopes and dreams. We had to eat quickly in order to be able to finish all the plentiful food and smoke a cigarette with our strong tea. Soon we had to get up and leave to walk across to Greenwich House and back to the linen-room.

 Many of those men working in the central linen-room as well as as Psychiatric Aides, were characters from a different era. They were a dying breed of people who had lived through the "Great Depression" in the 1930's and learned to become unique, if not "eccentric" individualists who loved to talk about those days and about the world's ills. One, I can't remember his name, spent his free time in Danbury walking through Main Street with a sign which read something like "Minister of God", stopping people there to talk to them about a self-concocted ministry he felt himself to be called for, which was quite a mixture between Ernst Holmes' "Science of Mind" and "Jehovah's Witnesses". Always carrying a bible and some pamphlets with him, even at work, he tried to "convert" everybody, including Pete and myself to his faith. Yet I could never quite understand what his faith really was as he didn't belong to any church and didn't even have his own little cult. Everybody in the linen-room made good natured fun of him which he didn't seem to mind at all.      Jimmy, our second boss, loved opera and lived with his mother in Danbury. Howard still lived in the depression years and would talk about it endlessly. Marvin, a black guy with his hair parted as if done with a knife, didn't talk at all and would only gesture when he needed to communicate. Joe Tinto, a short, stocky guy, built like a wrestler, loved to tease everybody and seemed to enjoy his motley crew immensely.
Pete and I, talking about our new job, decided that we had made a good move working there.

 At 4:30 pm we had finished our first day at Fairfield State. Walking back to our dorm, Norwalk Hall, we felt much better and much more self-confident then we had when we got there in the morning.
 In the lobby of the dorm were some old-timers sitting in the massive leather easy chairs, talking and smoking, who called us into the small lobby located just off the main entrance. We were introduced to each other and asked many questions. They were John Kilpatrick, Harold Huntington, Gerold Brown and John Curran. Gerold Brown and John Curran were smoking heavy, chewed up, cigars. We were the "new kids on the block" and they wanted to check us out. That we had just recently come from Germany was an added bonus and they were curious about how we had ended up in Newtown.
 John Kilpatrick, who would later become one of my best and dearest friends, seemed to take a special liking to me. He was about 40 years old with dark-blond graying hair and quite tall and lanky. In conversation he told me that he was an ex Army-Air-corps sergeant who had served during the Korean war and after. He also told me that he had served as a teen-ager in various CCC camps during the Roosevelt administration and I was all ears, because those CCC camps of which I had read in Germany interested me very much. I had always felt a special affinity to president Roosevelt and his administration. Why this was so, I don't know but somehow I came to believe that I had lived in a former life during that time in America and Germany. Of course I know that this might sound crazy, but I can't help my feeling a deep connection to F.D.R and his America of the 1930's. John enjoyed talking about all this and he soon asked me if I would like to go to the movies at the Newtown town-hall at 8 o'clock that night. I told him that I surely would like to go, but that I had to first take a look at my room, put things away, take a shower and go to eat supper at Bridgeport Hall. John told me that he would drive me over to eat with him and that Pete was also welcome. I had a new friend. He said that he would knock on my door at about 6:15 and I went upstairs after giving him my room number.

Picture of me taken in 1963 in Pete's room.
Notice the keys hanging on a dog-chain
from my belt. I was 21 years old.

 My room looked so nice and inviting and I preceded to get undressed, put a towel around my waist, grab a bar of soup from the sink-soap-tray and walked down the hall where the toilet and shower room was a few doors down from my room. There were, if I remember correctly, four separate shower stalls which also contained a bath-tub and a toilet. Everything looked shiny and clean. Each shower-stall and toilet had a locking door and I took a wonderful hot shower. Finished and dried up, I put the towel around my waist again and walked back to the room. Pete came out of his room to take a shower also. I told him about John and his invitation and he promised to be ready too.
 Promptly at 6:15 John knocked on my door. I was ready and Pete, hearing John knocking on my door, came out of his room ready to go with us. John had a big old Buick parked in back of Norwalk Hall and we all got in and he drove us to the cafeteria.
This time the place wasn't as busy as it had been at lunch time. Nancy was still working and seemed happy to see us. We got our meals which weren't as elaborate as the lunch meal, but, nevertheless, more than I could have ever hoped for. Finished eating, we had some coffee and smoked some cigarettes and John told us more about his life story and about Fairfield State Hospital. Having worked there for about six years, he knew a lot and could give us some good advice. He told us that his parents had a house in Newtown, just off route 25 and that he owned a piece of land with an unfinished cabin on Transylvania Road in Southbury, about 10 minutes away from Newtown.

John Kilpatrick on the right and I in 1969
rolling hand-made cigarettes at his house,
where I rented an apartment from him, on Wall Road in Newtown.

Leaving the cafeteria at around seven o'clock we went to a diner on route 25 to get some fries and more coffee. The drive-in diner was located where there is an