West Virginia Part 2: Serenity’s Atrophy

The screams carried into the street, and people felt the kind of chill that seems to pull your skin apart so the cold can seep in. They pulled their coats tightly around them and walked down the street as fast as they could. The call had gone out. Another poor soul had died in Weston and the patients in the asylum cried out in despair. Eventually, the wails would die down and the drugged, zombie-like, inmates would shuffle back to their rooms to await the next horror. Of course, that was when the asylum was open. When those cursed with insanity and mental decay writhed in agony behind the walls. It is said, by some, that the old Weston State Hospital has been even scarier since its closing in 1994. You can tour it, for a fee, and that was really all D and I needed to hear.

If one wished to play Metallica’s “Welcome Home (Sanitarium)” after viewing this picture, I would find it fitting. Note: There are many photos of this asylum on the internet and though some look similar, the photos you see on this blog are, in fact, original to it.

All over the internet you can read tales of supposed hauntings in the old hospital down in Weston, West Virginia. There are noises and apparitions. Strange shapes skulk in the shadows. They have quite a few places to hide. The Weston State Hospital, (also known as the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum) is spread out over 26.5 acres of land (down from the ominous 666 acres it once occupied) and the main administration building appeared to take up a standard city block just by itself. It was a slightly chilly day in April of 2012, when we approached the imposing structure to see what lay within. The complex has been privately owned since 2007 and it operates tours, with much of the proceeds going to restoration. It may go without saying that such efforts remain ongoing.  We were there for one of the day time history tours as we were just passing through the area. The staff will tell you about the night time flashlight tours, which are self-guided and much scarier. Bring extra underwear and a coat. The buildings have no heat.

Although one may have ideas about what they can expect to see in such places, there is also the sense of the unknown. Every asylum has its own series of stories and Weston is no slouch in this department. It began construction in 1858 in the style of the Kirkbride Plan, formulated by Dr. Thomas Story Kirkbride, which called for lots of large buildings with numerous windows. The buildings would be staggered in a way that would make the complex appear like a bat if viewed from the air. The main idea behind the Kirkbride Plan was that the way the buildings were set up, and the amount of light streaming in through the windows, would create an atmosphere more conducive to healing. If you have read about any old mental asylum, chances are that Kirkbride’s name came up. Open for patients in 1864, Weston State Hospital was originally constructed to hold 250 patients in isolation, but that number had more than doubled by 1880. By the time the 1950’s came around, there were over 2,500 patients within the walls. Naturally, this lead to some problems. The conditions were less than sanitary, with insufficient light and furniture to boot. All of this before we get around to mentioning the lobotomies.

Some of the old hallways have been restored and look as new, while others look more like the decaying atmosphere one might see in a horror movie. As we walked through the building I was struck by how empty it was in some places, but that it didn’t feel empty. As if atmosphere alone could fill the space. The ravages of time were apparent on nearly every wall and door. At one point we passed a room that wasn’t open because it was too dangerous to step inside. The floor would’ve given out on us and then our ghosts would be added to those said to haunt the asylum. Another room held a coffin, although how much of its placement there was for show, I couldn’t say. Through barred windows I spied the Tuberculosis Ward, which saw quite a bit of death during its operation. It saw so much disease that at one point you could get Tuberculosis simply by entering the building.

Here is how the Tuberculosis Ward would’ve looked to a patient back in the asylum’s heyday. The tour doesn’t include a visit there. I think that was a wise decision.

We were lead outside into a courtyard to see where patients would occasionally be allowed out to get some fresh air. The fencing around this area helped to emphasize the level of control needed in that environment. I looked up and saw some odd looking stone heads near a bricked up window. The creepy factor started to rise a bit. Even more so when we walked back inside and the door made the kind of creak noise that almost made people jump. The tour guide remarked “if that’s the weirdest thing that happens today, we’re lucky.” After exiting the main administration building, we approached the Medical Center in order to see where the lobotomies happened. The story we were told was that a Dr. Walter Freeman was proficient in his use of the “Icepick Lobotomy”, which is just as pleasant as it sounds. We were also told that he won a Nobel Prize for the technique but actually, it was his mentor that won. Further research reveals that Freeman had used real ice picks when he started but they would often break off inside the patient’s head and have to be retrieved. His downfall began when a lobotomy performed on Rosemary Kennedy, JFK’s sister, left her with severe mental and physical disabilities. His methods were widely criticized and many bizarre and horrifying stories emerge the more one looks into his history. Eventually Dr. Freeman was banned from performing surgery after a number of his patients died from cerebral hemorrhages.

The Medical Center bore witness to many horrific lobotomy procedures. Today they are not highly regarded in medical circles.

I found all this information to be fascinating, even without the ghosts, and was listening intently when we came to a rather large, empty room on the 2nd floor. As the tour guide was talking, I thought I heard a scream coming from the hallway. It was loud enough for me to hear but not deafening. I immediately looked around and saw nothing. Perhaps my mind was playing tricks and I had just imagined it. I was keen to accept this as the answer when I noticed a woman and her son in the tour group staring at me. Their eyes were wide and I knew in an instant that they had heard it too. I looked at D to see if he had heard the same sound from the hall, but he was fully invested in the tour and seemed to take no notice of it (he would later admit to me that he hadn’t heard a thing). What this was I can’t say, but to this day I remain unsure of it’s true nature.

Society is just as good at abandoning people as it is buildings, and the large room was a reminder of that. The parts of its history that I did hear before the scream, suggested that it had been used to hold a “Christmas in July” fundraiser for the patients. Each patient would get a gift and the simple act of receiving one had been a blessing to many of them. Their families had left them behind, never to return. There was a stigma attached with having a mentally ill person in the family and for many, the association was too much to bear. So they would live out the remainder of their days behind the walls, waiting for people who would never come back to get them, to tell them it would be alright. As is bound to happen, some patients would die and the staff tried to be as secretive as possible with removing the body. But if a patient noticed, they would moan and wail, and it started a chain reaction that carried to the street. I thought about that as we left the asylum, the clouds having parted to reveal the blue beneath, and I realized that we are lucky to live in the times we do now. When technology, and bedside manner, has greatly improved. When the Weston State Hospital closed in 1994 it may have been just a shell of what it had once been, but it was far from empty. The souls of the abandoned left their mark, and on certain days or nights, if you happen to be lucky (or unlucky) you may just encounter something you never expected – a ghost of the past. — J

Did you really think there wouldn’t be the obligatory hallway shot? I know its been done before, but I rather like my attempt at it.