Ep. 37: The History of Ararat Mental Hospital, Part 2 (1905-1958)

Episode 37 discusses the history of Ararat Hospital for the Insane and how it later became Ararat Mental Hospital and, unofficially, Aradale Mental Hospital. Learn about daily life at the hospital, as well as the attempts to improve morale among staff.

All of my sources are cited at the end of the episode transcript.

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Transcript

Hello, hello, hello, and welcome back to Behind the Walls of the World’s Psychiatric Hospitals! I’m your host, Dr. Sarah Gallup. And oh my goodness…Australia, you showed up this week! Thank you for completely skewing my listener stats in the best way possible. Remember last week that I said folks from Australia made up about 5% of my total listeners? As of this recording, listeners in Australia now make up 12% of my total listeners and 70% from the last episode alone.

So just to take you behind the scenes a bit – I’ve mentioned this briefly before – but I like to advertise episodes of the show in Facebook groups in and around the cities where these hospitals are located. There happened to be a group specifically for Aradale Hospital and for the history of Victoria, so obviously I had to share on those pages. And overnight, the number of listeners went up about 400%. I am amazed. So, thank you to everyone in Australia who listened and gave me a chance, who joined the Facebook group, and who shared their stories with me. I am incredibly touched.

I also want to issue a correction and an apology to the people of Ararat. At the beginning of the last episode, I described Ararat as a “mostly-deserted town.” I had read a couple of sources that described Ararat the hospitalas a deserted or ghost town, and I misinterpreted that as Ararat the town itself, so that my mistake, and I’m so sorry. There were quite a few residents from the area were understandably offended by that description. It wasn’t intentional, but I can appreciate how people living there would be offended. I can’t guarantee I won’t make other errors moving forward, but I’ll do my best to be as accurate as possible. As I mentioned in the last episode, I’m bound to get some information wrong because I’ve never even been to Australia, so I rely on people more familiar with the area to help me out. 

That said, I want to correct the information about the current population of Ararat. Some of the sites I found had two different populations – one for Ararat proper and one for Ararat and the surrounding region. Wikipedia cited the 2021 population of Ararat proper as 8500 and the region as 11,880 (“Ararat, Victoria”). Folks from the area on the Facebook pages estimated anywhere from 6500-12,000, so that’s the approximate range of that area – certainly not a “mostly-deserted town.” A couple of people even mentioned that there’s a Kentucky Fried Chicken in Ararat, so clearly it’s no ghost town. I’ll admit that fact made me giggle. My town in California doesn’t even have a KFC anymore, so I guess that gives me an excuse to travel, right?

As I’ve mentioned before on the show, I started this podcast really for my own interest in these old hospitals. I’ve always wanted an excuse to learn more about them, and this podcast seemed like a great way to not only learn more but also share that information with others who are curious. It’s important that I emphasize that I am not an expert on these hospitals. Most of them I’m learning about for the first time. Even if I did a series on the hospital where I have worked for several years – and I won’t for many reasons – I would be bound to get information wrong. So please note that my expertise lies in the treatment of severe and persistent mental illness, like schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, not in the history of these hospitals themselves. I recognize that some of you listening will know more about these hospitals than I will ever know, so I defer to you to help me with corrections as needed.

Trigger warnings in this episode include brief mentions of death by suicide and attempted animal abuse. I actually won’t give a warning beforehand those because they are so brief, but I will give a trigger warning before I mention of types of patient abuse. If any Australian indigenous folks happen to be listening, I will be referring to the names of deceased people, so please be aware of that before you listen.

So, for now, come on in and get comfortable as we go behind the walls of Ararat Hospital for the Insane…

We left off last week in 1905. You may remember that the Lunacy Act of 1903 had just passed, consequently removing the term “lunatic” from legislation and, consequently, from the name of the hospital itself. So in 1905, Ararat Lunatic Asylum was renamed Ararat Hospital for the Insane.

Just a quick side note because I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before: the term “lunatic” is derived from the Latin word “luna,” which means “moon.” So lunatic refers to the belief that the phases of the mood caused intermittent madness in people. The term “moonstruck” has the same meaning. Even today this belief still holds some value. When I worked in Emergency Departments, we always braced ourselves on a full moon because some of the strangest things seemed to happen on those nights. So maybe there is something to be said about it.

For the sake of time in the last episode, I left out a pretty significant historical detail. In 1901, Australia saw the end of colonial rule and the birth of the Federation (Clarke 4). There was some concern initially about if and how this might affect the governance of mental health institutions; however, the transition appeared to be smooth and business carried on as usual.

In 1905, records indicate there were 381 men and 286 women (for a total of 667 patients) at Ararat Hospital for the Insane (“Ararat Hospital for the Insane (1905-1932)”). Remember that when the asylum was built in 1867, there was originally room for 250 patients. Already, they were exceeding the limits of the building.

Life at Ararat was highly structured and, dare I say, monotonous at this time. As we’ve discussed in previous episodes, work was the primary form of treatment, and this came as a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I agree that working is a very important and effective method of treatment for psychiatric patients, even today – it gives them something to do, something to look forward to, keeps them out of trouble – but the difference between then and now is that today patients are paid for their labor. In the early 20th century, patients were just expected to work, and the hospital profited from their work.

Work assignments were gendered: men often worked on the farm, as they were generally seen as unskilled laborers. Women’s work was often based on their socioeconomic class: lower-class women held jobs in laundry, whereas “more refined” women engaged in sewing (Piddock 46). And it probably helped their well-being to keep busy at work because even the very aesthetics of the hospital were apparently not therapeutic.

In a chapter about Victorian asylum administration, author Andrew Crowther discusses how several mental health officials in the late 19th century described the hospital itself. According to psychiatrist G. A. Tucker, who was responsible for inspecting asylums throughout Australia, he believed asylums in Victoria to be “vastly inferior” to those elsewhere (Crowther 93). Dr. Tucker described Ararat Asylum as “barrack-like, cold, and gloomy, and calculated to [produce] a depressing effect on patients. There was an air of neglect about the place on the occasion of my visit” (qtd. in Crowther 94). Ouch. Not exactly glowing review.

Similarly, in a fascinating chapter about the sounds of madness, writer Dolly MacKinnon discusses the ways that mental illness can be heard and seen, as well as how the sounds of the asylums themselves created madness. It was really a thought-provoking and beautifully-written chapter – I encourage you to check it out. This excerpt parallels the “cold, gloomy, and depressing” aesthetic that Dr. Tucker described above: 

Architecturally, asylums comprised hard surfaces, with plastered walls, stone and brickwork combined with stone or wooden floors, thereby creating acoustically resonant spaces which amplified the sounds generated by unsound minds. While some spaces were set aside for certain types of sound (for example, the recreation hall, female wards, male wards, work areas), other spaces were temporarily appropriated for official activities, such as Protestant and Catholic religious services, or staff training and lectures. Within the confines of the asylum, noise, sound, and silence determined the boundaries between sanity and insanity – the points of intersection were cultural confusion and clamour. (MacKinnon 75-76)

So here she’s saying that the makeup of the hospital building itself essentially emphasizes the sounds of mental illness. She goes on to say later that the barrage of sounds in an asylum during this time period would be enough to drive anyone mad, even if they arrived completely sane.

In contrast to these descriptions of the cold aesthetic of the hospital, a journalist named John Stanley James – known as the “Vagabond” – was traveling around Victoria inspecting asylums and detailing the horrors he discovered to the public. But somehow he missed Ararat in his visits; so instead of a scathing account as he had given to Beechworth, Kew, and Yarra Bend, the Vagabond wrote this…oddly non-specific and optimistic review: 

It appears to me that of those institutions which are the most creditable to this colony, the buildings erected for the treatment of the insane hold foremost place…it is a relief to get behind those thick walls from the heat, and walk along the cool corridors…a quiet thoughtful attendant is moving in obedience to such directions as a doctor has given...the other inmates of the beds are apparently enjoying the luxury of perfect passiveness. The manner of all is soothing and gentle. (qtd. in Crowther 94-95)

So if the Vagaband never went to Ararat but he ended up writing this in the Ararat Advertiser, what is this description based on? We may never know.

Speaking of those “quiet and thoughtful attendants,” the role of attendants at Ararat and other psychiatric facilities was to ensure the safety of the patients and to model appropriate behavior. According to LeeAnn Monk, “the system [of Asylum Management] was one of moral treatment which aimed to create an environment which encouraged and supported the will and self-control of the patient. It was hoped that this external moral discipline might eventually be replaced by an internal self-discipline; that the mad might restrain themselves. Attendants were thought crucial in the role of creating such moral regimes” (63-64). Regardless of these high hopes, people in the community heard many stories about mistreatment of patients by staff. Ararat Hospital for the Insane was known colloquially as one of the most cruel hospitals in Australia.

Trigger warning here for examples of patient abuse. Skip ahead about one minute if you’d rather not hear this part.

You may recall in the last episode we discussed the Seclusion Record, which documented instances of when and for how long a patient was placed into restraint or seclusion. Dr. Joan E. Clarke, a mental health advocate and writer of The Tyranny of the Leather Book: Postcolonialism, Mental Illness, and Prisons, adds that some important information was excluded from the records. She says, “Not noted in the Official Visitors’ letters or the Seclusion Book was the number of patients tied to chairs, in straightjackets, with hands strapped to leather belts or in thick gloves, who had their teeth removed for biting or kept immobile by boarding or using pieces of wood tied or screwed in a rectangle around the patient” (Clarke 11). This last part sounds like torture.

Part of the poor patient treatment could be because of the (for lack of better term) drama surrounding early administration at the asylum. In fact, Andrew Crowther quotes a man named Saunders, who was the warden at Ararat for almost 10 years, and Saunders claimed that two of the superintendents were insane themselves (94). I don’t know that I would necessarily agree with that, but here are the stories. 

The very first superintendent, appointed when the asylum opened in 1867, was Dr. Alex Robertson. He was somewhat reluctantly put into the position by Dr. Edward Paley, the Inspector of Asylums with the Lunacy Department. Basically the head honcho. Although Dr. Robertson was viewed as competent, though new, in his role, he was plagued by epileptic seizures and therefore eventually had to step down from his position as a result. Remember that epilepsy was seen as a psychiatric disorder back in this day. He medically retired in 1870, only three years after the asylum opened.

There were several more transfers of power between 1870 when Dr. Robertson stepped down and the installation of Dr. William Lovell Mullen as superintendent of Ararat Hospital for the Insane in late 1910 or early 1911. Some could say Dr. Mullen was cursed – or, just one of a string of tragic events that unfolded in a short period of time.

In approximately May of 1911, Dr. Mullen’s wife Louisa died at age 42, leaving him alone with one child. Dr. Mullen’s step-sister promptly arrived to help with the child while Dr. Mullen tended to work at the hospital. A little over a year later, in July 1912, Dr. Mullen remarried. A few weeks into their marriage, Dr. Mullen’s new wife went on a trip to Melbourne. They hired a young woman to help with the house during her absence (“Suicide of a Doctor”). 

On August 19, 1912, it was said that Dr. Mullen became irritated by the sound of a dog barking outside his residence. He asked another doctor from the hospital, Dr. Naylor, to get some prussic acid so he could poison the animal. This seems like an overreaction to me and, fortunately, Dr. Naylor didn’t agree to get the poison. So that afternoon Dr. Mullen went into the surgery room himself to get a bottle of poison and bring it home with him, ostensibly to quiet the barking dog. That evening, he was seen playing cards with the young woman who was helping watch the house while his wife was away, and then he went to bed around 12:30 AM (“Suicide of a Doctor”).

The following morning, on August 20, 1912, the housekeeper knocked on Dr. Mullen’s door with a cup of hot milk for him; she found him dead in his bed, with the bottle of prussic acid empty by his side. His death was quickly ruled a suicide. News of the doctor’s death spread quickly around the community (“Suicide of a Doctor”).

Obviously, I wasn’t there, and this is the only account I was able to find on his death, but this seems suspicious to me. Sure, he could have certainly died by suicide – perhaps the story of the obnoxious barking dog was only a ruse to get him what he wanted to end his life. Or maybe I listen to too many true crime podcasts, but I’m curious about the connection between Dr. Mullen and this young woman who was watching his house while his wife was gone. Doesn’t it seem somewhat possible that something more nefarious could have occurred – not necessarily by her but it’s possible. I generally say that the easiest explanation is usually the most likely, but if this same scenario occurred today, I would hope that detectives would do a bit more investigation to rule out other possibilities.

In any case, Dr. William Mullen died at age 51. He had earned his MD in 1888. He had previously been Acting Asylum Superintendent at Kew Asylum, Medical Superintendent at Yarra Bend Asylum starting around 1905, and then Superintendent at Ararat Hospital for the Insane around the end of 1910 (“Suicide of a Doctor”). Even though he died at his own residence, visitors today swear they sometimes sense his specter in the hospital itself.

To add to the family’s tragic tale, just a little over a month later, Dr. Mullen’s step-sister, who had taken care of his child after the death of his first wife, went missing in September 1912. Newspaper reports stated that some of her clothing was found near the banks of the South Yarra River near her home. Authorities attempted to search the river, but it was at high flood levels, and no sign of her was found. It was suspected that she drowned in the river (“Mysterious Disappearance”). Three tragic incidents for one family in the span of a little over a year.

Only a few years later, World War I began, and over 600 men from Ararat and the surrounding district volunteered for service (“History of Ararat”). It wasn’t clear from texts how many of those volunteers came from the hospital, but if we look at previous hospitals we’ve discussed in this show, we can reasonably assume that at least some hospital employees left for duty. After all, they would have had medical experience, be presumably able-bodied, and many would likely be the right age for military service.

In Episode 31 on the history of Denbigh Asylum in Wales, we discussed more in depth how World War I affected the many people who served and the mysterious illness known as “shell shock” that was present in many of the people who returned. So if you’d like more information about how service members were affected during and after the Great War, check out Episode 31. By 1915, former military personnel in Victoria who had symptoms of psychiatric illness were moved to Mont Park Hospital for the Insane (“Mental Health”), which is in a suburb of Melbourne northeast of the downtown area.

The late 1920s, as around the world, brought economic depression to Victoria. Wages for staff were reduced as a result (Clarke 9). You can imagine, I’m sure, that this didn’t go over well. The job was already difficult – taking care of hundreds of people, from children to elderly, with various states of psychiatric stability. Staff morale was at a low, and the unfortunate consequence to that – regardless of the hospital – is that patient care suffers as a result. Remember that this is before the advent of psychotropic medications, so patient abuse often went unchecked.

After all, people with mental illnesses were still considered property of the state. From the establishment of the hospital up until this period, according to Joan E. Clarke, “A patient at Aradale was classified as a ‘pauper’ if a family member could not pay or contribute to their expenses. This status…was duly noted on their file, usually alongside religion. Monthly invoices noted amounts payable as ‘expenses’ rather than ‘fees’ in accordance with directives from the State Lunacy Department. The Master-in-Lunacy had authority to sell a patient’s property and claim expenses relating to their incarceration” (11). Clarke said that this practice continued until after WWII.

Several years later, the Victoria Mental Hygiene Act of 1933 was passed. This effectively changed more of the nomenclature surrounding the stigma of mental illness. Under the provisions of this Act, the Inspector General of the Insane became the Director of Mental Hygiene. The Lunacy Department was changed to the Department of Mental Hygiene. And Ararat Hospital for the Insane became known as Ararat Mental Hospital, starting in 1934. According to the Public Record Office of Victoria, “These changes reflected changed community attitudes to mental illness and the development of new approaches to the treatment of those suffering from mental illness” (“Health, mental”).

By the late 1930s, the unthinkable was starting to happen. Once again, the entire world was heading to war. By 1939, at least 1500 men and women from Ararat left to serve in WWII. And, once again, some of them staff from Ararat Mental Hospital. And yet, the number of patients continued to grow, despite staff shortages and rations. By 1945, there were 762 men and women committed to Ararat Mental Hospital (“Ararat Mental Hospital (1933 - )”).

The period after WWII also saw a population boom in Ararat itself. In the years following the war, 700 new homes were built in the area, and the population of Ararat increased to 7,420 residents (“History of Ararat”). By 1945, the patient population at Ararat had risen to 762 (“Ararat Mental Hospital (1933 - )”). 

Treatment at the hospital was evolving, as well. The 1940s saw the addition of electroshock therapy and leucotomies. If you’d like to know more about what we now call electroconvulsive therapy or about leucotomies and the way they slightly differ from lobotomies, I discuss both of these procedures in more depth in Episode 31 about Denbigh Asylum. 

But treatment for mental illness was changing rapidly in the first few decades of the 20th century. Practitioners moved rather quickly from using work as a primary form of treatment to psychoanalysis to invasive forms of treatment like ECT and leucotomies. Add in post-war grief and exhaustion, and I can imagine life at the hospital felt very bleak.

In an historical overview of Ararat Mental Hospital, Brandon Alford explains how the attitudes around mental health treatment began to change around this time. He says the following:

The changing value of mental health during the mid-twentieth century brought forth several progressive minds; Charles R.D. Brother, Eric R. B. Webs, and Reginald Ellery were all contributing to the revolution of Victoria’s Mental Health care. However, none [was] quite as influential as Dr. Eric Cunningham Dax. In 1952, Dax was appointed as [chairman] of Victoria’s Mental Hygiene Authority after previously being the superintendent of Netherne Hospital, a psychiatric hospital located in Surrey, England. Dax entered the Victorian mental health system when ‘morale was just as low as it could be.’ The medical treatments used throughout Victoria’s mental hospitals were seen by Dax as being far too radical…When called upon [by] the Victorian cabinet, Dax was asked what he was to do about Victoria’s mental health. His response [was], ‘I am going to make provision for every person, in every place, with every sort of illness.’

Unimpressed by the conditions of the various facilities, Dax implemented a four point plan in order to revive Victoria’s mental health services in August of 1952. These were to establish early treatment centres in order to prevent institutionalization, recruit more staff with improved wages, give patients a new and better standard of living throughout the state, and rejuvenate old mental hospitals, such as Ararat. This rejuvenation was not only of the physical structures themselves but also the purpose of the institution; converting the Ararat Mental Hospital from a place to house the mentally ill to focus on rehabilitation of residents and patients.

I should also point out here that this excerpt makes it sound like Dr. Dax was against the use of psychosurgery when, in fact, he was one of the people who used leucotomies in Victoria. But by the end of the 1950s and early 1960s, he was also one who helped phase out the procedure (“Eric Cunningham Dax”).

It was around this time that Ararat saw its highest patient population. In 1953, records indicate the number of patients was 847. In the following years, it would soar to 1000 patients with approximately 500 staff members.

The mid- to late-1950s saw the introduction of psychotropic medications, which helped patients stabilize psychiatrically. For the first time, many were able to discharge from the hospital and return to the community. Whereas hospitalization was once practically a death sentence, now there was hope for restoration. This was the very beginning of what would later be known as the deinstitutionalization movement.

By the late 1950s, the hospital superintendent wanted to involve the community more in everyday hospital life. Brandon Alford says, “The superintendent of Ararat Mental Hospital in 1958, Dr. A. S. Ellis,...sought further change in introducing further public involvement within the institution; residents and patients within the hospital would participate in table tennis competitions and other activities within the community.” Dr. Ellis also wanted to involve the community in renaming the hospital itself to destigmatize mental illness. In a competition held by The Ararat Advertiser, community members submitted their suggestions for names. A woman in Ararat suggested the name Aradale, and her submission won the competition. Although the name was never formally changed to Aradale, it has since been known as Aradale Mental Hospital, hence why you’ll see both names mentioned in sources today.

And, you know what? I think that’s where I’ll pause on the history of the hospital for this week. I’ll keep it short and sweet this week because next week there is going to be a lot of information about deinstitutionalization, mental health advocacy, and an entirely new law written just to keep one guy locked up. If you know, you know. But if you don’t know, you’re gonna want to hear that incredible story.

Now, if you’re familiar with Aradale, you may have noticed that I’ve omitted a pretty large detail of its history – in fact, a completely different building. So if you’re wondering where J Ward is in all of this, don’t worry – I haven’t forgotten about it. Stay tuned.

So thank you for coming back! Thank you for listening! Thank you to all of you who have shared the show with others – I really appreciate that! If you liked the episode, feel free to head over to my Beacons page: beacons.ai/behindthewallspodcast. You can offer a one-time donation as a thank you or sign up for monthly contributions starting at $3. That helps keep the show going.

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And, as always, remember the words of Maya Angelou: “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.” Until next time…

Alford, Brandon. “Aradale: A Historical Overview, 1867-1994.” Making History. 10 Oct. 2018. https://makinghistoryoz.wordpress.com/2018/10/18/aradale-a-historical-overview-1867-1994/

“Ararat Hospital for the Insane (1905-1932).” Australian Psychiatric Care. https://www.ahpi.esrc.unimelb.edu.au/biogs/E000450b.htm

“Ararat Mental Hospital (1933 - ).” Australian Psychiatric Care. https://www.ahpi.esrc.unimelb.edu.au/biogs/E000451b.htm#related

“Ararat, Victoria.” Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ararat,_Victoria

Clarke, Joan E. “The Tyranny of the Leather Book: Postcolonialism, Mental Illness, and Prisons.” The Institute of Postcolonial Studies. Aug. 2013. https://ipcs.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/Clarke-Postcolonialism-mental-illness-and-prisons.pdf

Coleborne, Catharine. “Mental Health.” eMelbourne: The City Past and Present. https://www.emelbourne.net.au/biogs/EM00960b.htm

Crowther, Andrew. “Administration and the Asylum in Victoria, 1860s-1880s.” “Madness” in Australia: Histories, Heritage, and the Asylum. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press, 2003. 85-95. https://www.google.com/books/edition/Madness_in_Australia/ao0y00MyNHgC?hl=en&gbpv=1&bsq=ararat

“Eric Cunningham Dax.” Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eric_Cunningham_Dax

“Health, Mental.” Public Records Office Victoria. https://prov.vic.gov.au/archive/VF128#:~:text=Under%20the%20provisions%20of%20the%20Mental%20Hygiene%20Act%201933%20(No,Mental%20Hygiene%20(VA%202865).

“History of Ararat.” Ararat Rural City Council. https://www.ararat.vic.gov.au/community/about-ararat/history-ararat

MacKinnon, Dolly. “’Hearing Madness’: The Soundscape of the Asylum.” “Madness” in Australia: Histories, Heritage, and the Asylum. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press, 2003. 73-82. https://www.google.com/books/edition/Madness_in_Australia/ao0y00MyNHgC?hl=en&gbpv=1&bsq=ararat

Monk, LeeAnn. “Gender, Space, and Work: The Asylum as Gendered Workplace in Victoria.” “Madness” in Australia: Histories, Heritage, and the Asylum. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press, 2003. 61-71. https://www.google.com/books/edition/Madness_in_Australia/ao0y00MyNHgC?hl=en&gbpv=1&bsq=ararat

“Mysterious Disappearance: Toorak Lady Missing.” The Sun, 19 Sept. 1912.

Piddock, Susan. “The ‘Ideal Asylum’ and Nineteenth-Century Lunatic Asylums in South Australia.” “Madness” in Australia: Histories, Heritage, and the Asylum. St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press, 2003. 37-48. https://www.google.com/books/edition/Madness_in_Australia/ao0y00MyNHgC?hl=en&gbpv=1&bsq=ararat

“Suicide of a Doctor.” Border Morning Mail, 21 Aug. 1912.