McLean Hospital has long been a place for the elite. Since its founding and original location near Charlestown and eventual move to Watertown on the outskirts of Boston, McLean has had a certain panache that other institutions just don't have—and we are talking here of mental institutions, or perhaps a more polite term, places where people can get some rest from life, take a breather, get the help that they need and set themselves back on track.
Unlike twelve-step programs and the like, McLean is by contrast almost a country club. Yes, certain wards are locked wards, and true enough, when the famous Olmstead designed it, he created myriad underground tunnels so that residents did not travel above ground from building to building, thereby lessening the odds of escape. The tunnels connect almost every building, save for a few, which had remained largely independent.
To have been at McLean is almost a badge of honor, and Alex Beam's new book Gracefully Insane could not have a better title for a book about such a prestigious and almost sought-after place. There are people who would do almost anything to get into McLean just to say they have been there or passed through; and while the experience for many was far from fun, it gave them fodder and grist for the mill for years to come.
Famously, Sylvia Plath indelibly etched McLean into our consciousness with her thinly veiled descriptions of it and her electroshock therapy in her book The Bell Jar. Published in Britain three months after her death in 1963, Plath had called it her "pot boiler." It became one of the most well-read and influential books for women of the twentieth century, an ode to depression and to a certain otherness that so many young girls and even women could relate to.
The same was true for poet Anne Sexton, who had originally taught poetry at McLean, apparently pestering the administration until she was granted her wish to teach a class and evaluate the work of the residents. Sexton loved the work, and many were skeptical of her motives (was this part of a book deal she was hoping for, some prestige perhaps?); she would have her own breakdown and eventually be placed in the very same ward where she had taught. How the mighty fell, and by most accounts, the stunningly beautiful Sexton (who could have, it is said, easily passed for a model), roamed the hallways of her ward in a trance-like state, barely speaking to anybody. True enough, she would go on to write about her experiences at McLean, but there is little doubt that her breakdown and break from reality was real. Like Plath, Sexton needed to be there.
Article comments
1 - DrPat
Sadi, does this book have an ISBN number on it? I'm not able to find it even in a Google search on McClean and the title...
2 - sadi
my huge and major bad. I got so into the book that i lost sight of the main thing, the bloody title:
it is:
Gracefully Insane by Alex Beam
profound apologies. will post amazon link.
sadi
3 - Pat Cummings
It's okay, Sadi, I took care of it! Thanks for a super review, self-revealing as always.
4 - sadi
you're an angel, and i'm a freaking ding dong for doing that. i wrote that whole review, spent a great deal of time thinking about it, enjoying the book and then messed up the title, though again, it was about 4. a. m. and i was a little tired (oh, that's a title of a Tom Verlaine song... coincidence? "at 4.am" )
Anyway, clearly i am fatigued and need rest, though more writing yet to do.
thanks for fixing. am greatly appreciative.
cheers,
sadi
5 - Eric Olsen
super Sadi, great to have you back - take care of yourself, sister
6 - sadi
yeah, even if i did get the title of the book wrong (lol)... ah, okay... well, onward. I shall, in the future, be more careful. honestly though, just fatigue.
glad to be back!
rock on,
sister sade
7 - LBJacobs
Oh what a flashback this book is. I worked at McClean's in the early '70s, while an art student at Massachusettes College of Art. I actually was a staff member at the notorous Upham Hall. The privileged and easy hall to work, even with the young kids. I knew most of whom you mentioned - Joan W., Frank, Mr. Shaw, etc. Mr. Shaw and I used to talk about art. I would bring him my Art News. He used to park himself in the front hall, by the front door. He was very proper and polite. Hardly spoke to anybody. You described him well. I used to take him to the Copley Plaza for tea. My friends thought I was nuts. He's a murderer they'd say. Yes it freaked me out, Art and murder!? I did take Joan W. once and played tennis with her. She was a pro tennis player. I was not, that was the last time I did that. She made me nervous. Ted Kennedy used to send his limo to pick her up, when she needed to be escorted. And then there was Frank. Frank was all the staff's favorite. When he wasn't in his paranoid state, he would come out of his room and could be hysterically funny. There were other big time heavyweights there. Heir to McDonald's? Forgot his name. I don't know if I should mention them. Historians, art gallery owners, and others. I don't think I want to breach their privacy. It involved suicide and a lot of anguish.
The young folks you mention, despite the extra drama and trauma, did add spice to the place. And the staff thrived. Finally there was some "therapy" going on. Or attempts at. I used to do portraiture sketches of those who wanted to sit. It was therapeutic for both and a great ice breaker. And it brought patients together to talk about something other than their issues. Other staff members used to jam with some of the patients who were musicians. That was fun. Most of the time it wasn't about fun.
The highlight for me was once about 6 young patients and I were just sitting around talking, near the kitchen. They had served jello for dessert and there it was. Sitting in a big dish. Well, we kinda got silly and started a jello fight. Whoops. Lost my professionalism. What a blast. I knew I should've stopped it, but it was just good ole kid stuff. After it was over and we cleaned up, one of the kids came over to me and whispered in my ear that this was the first time she had felt normal in a year. Then she hugged me and thanked me for giving her the best therapy so far.
Sorry to hear Upham closed. The end of an era.
Linda
8 - sadi ranson-polizzotti
Dear Linda:
It sounds like you have some amazing memories, not all of them sweet, no doubt, but perhaps bittersweet. Mcclean has such a long and interesting history that i could not help but pick up this book, and I would be lying if I did not add that I also had a friend who was a patient there for about one year and whom I used to visit every week (he was at Codman), so I got to witness a lot of things first-hand.
It was interesting to see the dynamic between the orderlies and the patients as well as how the patients viewed me as a sort of outsider, even though I came very frequently, I was still very suspect. It didn't help that it was (at the time) my boyfriend who was there (and that is a very, very long story) and for sad reasons, but that he was a handsome young man and many of the younger girls - who already had 'issues' to say the least - sort of attached and were attracted to him in a sort of perverse way that I was always regarded as "the enemy".
I suspect a lot was going on there at the time and it is virtually impossible to keep two people apart if they want to be together (for some reason, Codman was a mixed ward - not just men). In retrospect, I am sure that he was 'involved' in myriad ways with at least one of these vulnerable young women and that added fuel to the fire, and more, was a great betrayal of me, who was in university at the time and working hard toward A grades and yet spending my time shuttling the long ride back and forth on the bus to Mcclean at least once per week, winter, spring, summer, or fall - whatever the season, i was there. I remember this was just about the time they began using the term "bipolar' instead of 'manic depressive' (myself, I don't really see the difference... why one is preferred over the other i am not sure. Maybe someone will enlighten me.)
The grounds there are beautiful. One day i was walking about them - and you have to remember, i was very young, i started university very early so i was only about sixteen, had dyed my naturally ashy blondish hair a jet blue-black and had it bobbed and was not "Goth" etc, but certainly stood out. So there i was roaming the grounds and admiring the trees etc. when two orderlies took me too admitting, certain that i was a patient. It took all of the convincing and checking on their part to make certain that i wasn't! I suppose one does not "just take a stroll" about the grounds at Mcclean.
These days, i joke although only half - that if i lose my mind over the book I am currently working on (or anything for that matter), i want the James Taylor Suite at Mcclean...
Be well, and so much thanks for sharing your story with us. No doubt you and I could chat for hours exchanging stories - I'd love to hear more... If you like, contact me through my own site using the Contact link ... There is a Contact link in the left navigation. Cheers...
Sadi