Before I dived too deep in my investigation into the Friends of Dorothea Dix Park (aka Dix 306) and the so-called "world-class park" plans for Raleigh, I asked myself, "What would Dorothea think of this?"
To help answer this question, I read significant portions of a detailed biography called Voice for the Mad: The Life of Dorothea Dix (The Free Press, 1995). Author David Gollaher is an admitted fan of Dix’s nationwide activism in the mid-nineteenth century on behalf of those with a wide range of mental disorders. Gollaher thus details not only the historical details of her mission, but the emotional reflections in writings from her and others who were acquainted with her. It is clear throughout the book that Dix saw a blatant and inexcusable discrepancy between basic human rights and the mistreatment of those in the care of some mental institutions in the country.
The woman…
Dorothea Dix hailed from Massachusetts, was devoted to her Unitarian faith, and was a teacher and author of children’s books before an illness struck her in her 30s. During refuge and recovery across the Atlantic in the 1830s, she had her first exposure to new approaches to treating the mentally ill. This included modeling the mental institution after a familiar domestic environment "that would redeem the insane and, in turn, reunite them with the family of humankind." The promise alone of new cures was an inspiration that helped Dix herself find new hope and purpose. This set her in motion to lead institution reform across the U.S. Gollaher writes, "She had adopted a new criterion of humanitarianism and in the process discovered unanticipated reasons to be interested in government power."
At the time Dix was visiting facilities and formulating her message, many states and regions had implemented insane asylums to separate the mentally ill from society. In most cases, these asylums were a public safety measure more than treatment effort, and "treatment" too often consisted of torture if not also subhuman living conditions. In North Carolina in particular, Dix observed the harmful affects and inconsistencies in using common jails for those who committed violent crimes as a result of mental illness.
When Dix found her voice in her memorials and her presentations to state legislatures, many states followed her passionate pleas with much-needed action. It was 1848 when Dix toured North Carolina’s asylums and wrote her North Carolina Memorial. In it, she states, "I am the Hope of the poor crazed beings who pine in the cells, and stalls, and cages, and waste rooms of your poor-houses… I am the Revelation of hundreds of wailing, suffering creatures."
The NC state legislature…
In 1844, Governor John Motley Morehead had strongly recommended that NC build institutions for the mentally ill, blind, and deaf; but no legislation followed his recommendation. After her pleas to the state four years later, Dix adapted words from the Christian Gospels to admonish the state for not treating its mentally ill as it would want to be treated.
As in other states, Dix encouraged North Carolina to put the financial resources from its people into the treatment of the mentally ill. She suggested it would not be an onerous financial burden to the people of NC, and would cost "a few dollars and dimes, gathered from each citizen," like "a particular rent charge upon the great family of mankind." For libertarians, this suggestion sounds socialist; but consider also that her own words did not indicate explicity that taxes should be levied for such a purpose, though her legislative audience would naturally think in those terms.
Typically, an issue lobbied to members the legislature becomes a political target for one side or the other on the floor. Such was the case with Dix’s pleas for the mentally ill in NC as she was dismissed by the NC Whigs, but found support from John W. Ellis and the Democratic majority in what was then the North Carolina House of Commons. The result was a bill to build and commence operations of an asylum on a site of at least 100 acres, with water and a list of supplies that would fulfill the purpose of the institution as a comparable domestic environment to that of Dix’s vision.
Neither Whigs nor Democrats were inclined to raise NC taxes to cover the proposed cost of $100,000 for the asylum. Likewise, they questioned why a woman from Massachusetts was intent on lobbying for a cause in North Carolina. After the bill faced almost certain defeat on the floor, an impassioned speech by James C. Dobbin, who would later serve as speaker of the House of Commons, provided a personal testament that changed its course. Dobbins had just returned from his wife’s funeral in Fayetteville, and he recounted Dix’s generous company and care to his sick wife while they were both guests at the Mansion House Hotel in Raleigh. He stated that Mrs. Dobbins’ dying request was that her husband do whatever he could to pass the bill for Dix’s asylum. Dobbins’ eleventh hour effort was the emotional movement needed to pass the bill 101 to 10, though not without an additional proposal to reduce a land tax and poll tax that had been the original means to finance the effort.
The NC legislature only approved $7,000 for the next fiscal year to select land and start planning, and they attempted to move forward with a "pay-as-you-go" basis that relied solely on the earmarked revenues for the asylum. Though not the full extent of what she wanted in NC, Dix marked it as a success. It was Governor William A. Graham who convinced the legislature to name the site of the asylum after her, calling it Dix Hill. A century later, it would be renamed to Dorothea Dix Hospital, continuing to honor her advocacy for the mentally ill. The North Carolina State Medical Society formed in the following year (1849), and the asylum itself was finished and opened in 1856.
The land…
The focus of my "Dix 306" series is on the land that still currently houses the original hospital as the state continues its plans toward closing the facility and selling that land, most likely to an anxiously awaiting City of Raleigh. As a result, for brevity’s sake, I will skip the rich hospital history and simply state the following key aspects of land allocation and use throughout the history of Dix Hill:
* The original land that comprised Dix Hill was 182 acres on two tracts purchased from Maria Hunter Hall and Sylvester Smith for $1,944.63.
* Dix clearly indicated that by using large tracts of land for asylums, patients in recovery could work the land and employ its resources as part of their recovery effort. This was consistent with the research on mental illness and recovery that she learned about in Europe.
* When the state changed some of its laws in 1899, the name of the asylum became The State Hospital in Raleigh, and the first voluntary admissions lead to a call to increase capacity. This resulted in the creation of an adjoining epileptic colony on 1,155 acres of land, bringing the land total to 1337 acres.
* In 1974, after years of changing laws and provisions by the state, and changing its name to Dorothea Dix Hospital, the facility was its largest size to date: 2,354 acres of land, including three lakes and 1,300 acres for the farm. At that time, there were 282 buildings equipped to handle 2,756 patients.
* Over time, the state has sold off or reallocated the acreage for other purposes, such as creating the Farmer’s Market and generously expanding North Carolina State University.
* As of today, Dix Hill is 306 acres of state-owned land which is still allocated to the North Carolina Division of Mental Health.
Today, mental health professionals in North Carolina, and advocates for the mentally ill across the state, say that the North Carolina mental healthcare system is in a crisis, and that shrinking the system is not the answer.
So… what would Dorothea do?
I predict she would admonish the state for ignoring the problems in its mental healthcare system, and for not ensuring behavioral treatments were applied such that patients could eventually return to be productive and self-sufficient. Most of all, I think she would be glad that the hospital she pleaded for 160 years ago was still standing and operating, and she would personally fight in front of the General Assembly to keep it open and in service to the mentally ill of North Carolina.
I also think she would leverage the media to scold the City of Raleigh for its vulture-like hovering, waiting to devour the remains if the state leaves it behind. For all their assuring words that they intend to give the hospital the time it needs to remove themselves from the land, she would look past the promises and find the allies she needed to fight city development and keep the hospital open.
Sources:
Voice for the Mad: The Life of Dorothea Dix by David Gollaher, The Free Press, 1995.
"History of Dorothea Dix Hospital," NC MHDDSAS website (link)
