Dear editor,
After reading the sad state of Osawatomie State Hospital in your paper, I am glad I received the help I needed in the mid-1950s.
It was more the effect of a crushing blow from the top of the pickup cab as it crashed over than from mental illness, but I needed help to recover nonetheless.
I’d just gotten a flat-top haircut that summer. There was no cushion, as pickups only had a thin layer of cardboard in the ceiling, and no seat belts.
The hospital then paid a lot of its own way. With a large herd of dairy cows, orchard, gardens and even a “broom factory” that sold brooms.
A lot of the janitor work was done by patients.
The hospital had movies, dances, bingo in the big auditorium in the main building, Adair. I think there was a woman’s ward for those needing time to heal.
The “Receiving Building” was where I stayed. There were two floors. The top was for patients almost ready to go home, who had freedom to come and go.
I never saw much violence until they began bringing in older, disturbed teenagers. One tried to kill me by ramming my head into a brick wall. The nurse called on Jake, a big former wrestler, and a hospital aide, who pulled the thug off me, or I wouldn’t be writing this letter today!
Bob Johnson is right when he says we don’t always get what we want in life!
Jim Brownrigg,
Iola, Kan.
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