‘SYMBOL OF SEPARATENESS’
EAST VINCENT » Crews took just two days to demolish one of the last remaining symbols of an era of segregation in the region.
Not racial segregation. This was segregation of those with developmental disabilities.
The iconic water tower was dismantled nearly 30 years after the last remaining residents at the Pennhurst State School and Hospital left the facility for good Dec. 9, 1987.
The East Vincent campus, which opened in 1908, was originally built to house and sterilize residents who, at the time, were referred to as having a mental deficiency. The practice of sterilization eventually ended but the practice of segregating patients lasted much longer.
The term “mental deficiency” was changed to “mentally retarded” before it was changed again to “developmentally disabled,” said Dr. James Conroy, former director of research of the developmental disabilities center at Temple University, who was part of the Pennhurst Longitudinal Study, a team that followed and studied former Pennhurst residents for 14 years after they were released from the institution to track their quality of life.
The 750,000-gallon water tower, he said, was built because the campus was designed to be a self-sufficient agrarian community.
“In the United States there were 200 places like
Pennhurst,” he said. “It was a symbol of separateness.”
Before it was taken down, officials in Harrisburg agreed it was time for the rusted and dangerous tower to come down.
Now that the water tower is finally gone, Conroy said he has mixed feelings.
On the one hand, it could be seen for a 30-mile radius and became a beautiful, familiar landmark.
“It was symbolic,” he said. “It was a thing of beauty and a landmark for many miles around for 100 years. It was still there from 1908. At Christmas there was a 10-foot star on the top. At Easter there was a 10-foot cross on top. It really was a landmark. Everyone knew it. Not everyone knew the place but they knew that landmark.”
On the other hand, it was a standing symbol for an era many wish to forget. A news report in 1968 exposed the suffering the patients at Pennhurst were experiencing after being neglected by the community.
“The 2,800 children young and old alike residing within the confines of Pennhurst are for the most part protected from society,” said NBC10 WCAUTV reporter Bill Baldini in his 1968 report “Suffer the Little Children.” “And the granite wall of ignorance and social blindness protects society from them.”
In 1974, a class action lawsuit was filed in the U. S. District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania on behalf of former and current residents of Pennhurst against the institution, its superintendents, and state officials responsible for Pennhurst’s operation, according to DisabilityJustice.org. The plaintiffs argued that their constitutional rights were being violated by being institutionalized, as well as their federal civil rights and rights under the Pennsylvania Mental Health and Mental Retardation Act of 1966.
“U.S. District Court Judge Raymond J. Broderick found that Pennhurst was overcrowded, understaffed and lacked the programs needed for adequate habilitation,” the site states. Unwarranted restraints, such as seclusion rooms, physical restraints and psychotropic drugs, were used to control due to inadequate staffing. The physical environment was hazardous to residents physically and psychologically. Residents were losing skills they’d already learned rather than gaining new ones as was the hope. Residents also suffered abuse by other residents and staff.
Broderick’s decision had an enormous impact.
“It established the right for (residents) to live among the rest of us,” Conroy said.
Nearly 10 years after the ruling the hospital was closed. Residents were moved to group homes and foster families to support them. Conroy admitted when the decision was initially rendered he objected, arguing that residents’ quality of life would suffer. The assumption was that they would be released and would not be supported. Many feared residents would end up homeless, in jail or worse as a result.
Conroy and his team followed 1,100 former Pennhurst residents for 14 years and performed a battery of surveys and measurements to see if their quality of life had improved. The fears of many turned out not to be true. Residents were placed into safe, supported facilities with 24-hour staffing. Residents were nurtured and they began to thrive.
Since the closure of the hospital, the buildings on the grounds were left to rot. Many of the roofs of the empty buildings had caved in. For the last few years, the main campus has been turned into a haunted house attraction around Halloween.
Now with the demolition of the water tower, an ugly chapter in history is finally over.
“To me its real significance was the signal of the end of an era of segregation,” said Conroy. “I’m glad the era is over.”
As of 2015, the Pennhurst Memorial and Preservation Alliance, of which Conroy is co-president, has entered into an agreement with the Pennsylvania Department of Military and Veterans Affairs and the Pennsylvania State Historic Preservation Office for the future ownership of the superintendent’s residence on the upper campus of the Pennhurst State School and Hospital, according to its website. The three organizations have drafted a six year plan to convert the long vacant residence into an Interpretive Center and museum for disabilities.
“The museum,” Conroy said, “is a story with a happy ending.”
Long since the end of his research project, Conroy said he and many former members of his team still keep in touch with the former Pennhurst residents, many of whom are now in the twilight years.
“Most of the people in the group don’t use verbal language,” he said. “They smile and give us hugs.
They’re wonderful in their own way.”