Ep. 40: The History and People of J Ward

Episode 40 discusses the history and people of J Ward, a special unit of Ararat/Aradale Mental Hospital devoted to the treatment of the criminally insane. Learn about the early beginnings when it was built as a goldfields jail and how it became a part of the Lunacy Department. Learn about why two inmates from J Ward remain in the Guinness Book of World Records. Finally, learn about how you can visit J Ward today.

All sources will be listed in the episode transcript.

Check out my Beacons page for ways to contact me and support the show: https://beacons.ai/behindthewallspodcast

If you like the show, please rate, review, and subscribe wherever you listen (but super extra bonus points for ratings/reviews on Apple Podcasts!)

Hometown Ghost Stories
Hometown Ghost Stories dives into the history of haunted locations and investigates why...

Listen on: Apple Podcasts   Spotify

Transcript

Hello, hello, hello, and welcome back to another episode of Behind the Walls of the World’s Psychiatric Hospitals! I’m your host, Dr. Sarah Gallup, and I wanted to say a quick hello and welcome to all the new listeners who found this show from Wine & Crime! I’m so happy to have you here – clearly, you have terrific taste in podcasts, and you look good, too! That goes for all of you, actually – you picked the right shirt today.

Anyway, switching gears: today we’re going to talk about part of Ararat Mental Hospital that I have only alluded to thus far…the infamous J Ward, which remained a part of Ararat/Aradale until its closure.

Trigger warnings for this episode include mention of crimes that involve murder, child sexual abuse, and death by suicide. I will give a warning before the latter two.

Sources are all listed in the episode transcript. In particular, I want to highlight the book Aradale: The Making of a Haunted Asylum by David Waldron, Sharn Waldron, and Nathaniel Buchanan; as well as the J Ward website, which features a virtual tour of the site.

So, for now, come on in and get comfortable as we go behind the walls of Ararat Mental Hospital’s J Ward…

In Episode 36, which was our first episode on Ararat Lunatic Asylum, we discussed how the Victorian gold rush ushered in waves of immigrants to the area in an unprecedented population boom. While the gold rush brought a good amount of prosperity to the region, there was only so much gold and a growing amount of residents. In their book Aradale: The Making of a Haunted Asylum, David Waldron, Sharl Waldron, and Nathaniel Buchanan say this:

For all the wealth, glamour, and prospects of the Victorian goldfields, most did not make it. For many the expectations of a new El Dorado did not materialize, and they were left with poverty and loss, no new world in which to create a bright and prosperous future. And there is another dark side to this history. The prosperity of the gold-rush was built on the land of the Indigenous peoples of Australia who were displaced, marginalized, and almost destroyed under the weight of colonial occupation and environmental devastation. Likewise, despite the prominence of stories celebrating those who became wealthy and powerful on the goldfields of central Victoria, many who came to Ballarat during the Victorian era found themselves displaced and impoverished, facing disease, hunger, economic vulnerability, drawn into crime, prostitution, and perilous working conditions. As much as the newspapers of the colony were filled with stories of miners who struck it rich, they were also filled with stories of violent crime, sexual assault, brothels, and children dying in scores from diphtheria, pox, typhus, and murder, all the ills and suffering that come from poverty and chaos. (66)

It was this intersection of poverty and chaos that led to increased crime, as the authors mention. And where there is increased crime, there is need for…well, punishment. According to journalist Mary Rhyllis Clark, until a jail could be built, “convicts [were] kept in appalling hulks in Port Phillip Bay until Pentridge and a smattering of regional jails were built.” Three regional jails were built in the area near the Victorian goldfields during this time – one of which was in Ararat. 

The construction of the Ararat County Jail (spelled G-A-O-L, interestingly) began in 1859. You may remember from Episode 36 that the height of the Victorian gold rush occurred between 1851 and 1860, so construction of the jail began at the tail end of that time.

The jail was built from bluestone – or what we call basalt in the U.S. – and constructed in a popular style of the day, based upon the Pentonville Prison in London. Pentonville was built in 1842 with the explicit purpose of trying to keep prisoners isolated. There was a central administration area where guards could keep watch, four wings extended from the central hub where inmates resided, and a hexagonal perimeter fence around the entire campus. Inmates were forbidden to speak to one another at Pentonville. In church, they sat in cubicles – or what they called “coffins” – so that they could not see each other; only the warder could see them. This became a preferred structure for prisons around the British Empire, hence the influence on the jail at Ararat (“HM Prison Pentonville”).

Interestingly, the jail had a very modern kitchen for the time and was one of the few places in the area that had access to both hot and cold water. Even some of the wealthy farmers in the area were jealous of that particular jail feature (Schwartz).

After two years of construction, the Ararat jail opened for inmates on October 10, 1861, with a total of 21 prisoners. At that time, both men and women were housed at the jail, although women inmates were certainly the minority. 

On the J Ward tour website, there is an article written by Jacqui Sanders about women inmates at the old Ararat Gaol. In it, she tells several stories, beginning with the story of Mary Murphy-Hall. And I thought it would be fitting to interrupt the history of the jail with a quick story about one woman’s experience there. Jacqui Sanders explains that Mary Murphy-Hall was born in Bristol, England, in 1825. At 16 years old, so around 1841, Mary was convicted of stealing a roll of cotton twill and banished to Australia. And let me just emphasize that: she was convicted of stealing a roll of cotton twill (not a violent crime, I might add) and her punishment was being sent away from her family as a teenager to the other side of the world. She arrived in Hobart, Tasmania, on February 21, 1843 (Sanders “The Women”).

Even though she was technically serving a seven year sentence for her crime in England, Mary was granted permission to marry in 1844. Their first and second child were both born in Tasmania before they moved to Victoria, where they had six more children. They finally ended up moving to Ararat during the late 1850s, at the height of the gold rush (Sanders “The Women”).

Here I’ll pick up with Jacqui Sanders’ original words: 

On 7 November 1860, at the age of 38, James tragically died of an ulcerated hand. It is believed he was buried in the old cemetery, as the existing cemetery was not built until January 1863. He also left a grieving Mary with eight children under the age of 13, including one infant. In March and April 1861, newspapers reported that the family were charged with shop-lifting. Mary was eventually sent to the then Ararat Gaol Camp for stealing clothing and children’s shoes. As the Gaol was not complete until 10 October 1861, it is fair to surmise that her ‘hard labour’ involved her blood, sweat, and tears in the building of this site.

According to the Ararat and Pleasant Creek Advertiser, Mary appeared before the Police Court in April 1861. Mary Hall, together with John Chute and John Thomas, was charged with stealing from the Manchester Warehouses owned by a Mr. Cuthbertson, who claimed that Thomas made several purchases and stole two pieces of silk handkerchief and other goods. The three were watched throughout the day but were later arrested on the Port Fairy Road where the goods were seized. Mary Hall was sentenced to 12 months hard labour, while Chute and Thomas received 18 months.

The Crown Prosecutor entered a Nolle Prosequi regarding Hall’s previous charges and Superintendent Langley applied for instructions regarding the five children, who were in the charge of the police. Left without a parent or support, they were frequently nabbed for vagrancy. One boy (aged about 11) was detained when he wandered into Camp crying that he didn’t have a home. The Bench advised that the children stay as charges until the issue was discussed with the Chief Secretary. When Hall finally served 12 months at the Melbourne Gaol, all of her children went with her [to the jail] as there was no other means of caring for them.

Eventually, the family moved back to the Ararat area. The six boys gained employment and the two girls married. Sadly though, five of Mary’s sons and one daughter perished from tuberculosis before the age of 40. All are believed to be buried in the Ararat Cemetery. While Mary was a prisoner, it is not hard to imagine that her crimes were linked to preservation and protection for both herself and her children. There are no records of the family being law-breakers while father and husband James Hall was alive. The archival material begs the question, was Mary really a criminal? (Sanders)

This question is entirely fair, and unfortunately, it sounds like history doesn’t offer much more information. Today, we know that poverty and desperation often lead people to commit crimes of survival that they otherwise wouldn’t need to do. It’s one of the reasons why folks from lower socioeconomic groups tend to make up the majority of our jails and prisons.

Jacqui Sanders briefly discusses another woman inmate, Helen Jane Vaughan, who was actually imprisoned twice at the Ararat Gaol – once in December 1863 for obscene language. I was curious about this, and apparently a witness, Sergeant Dillon, reported that he had heard “her utter one of the most disgusting tirades of obscenity it was ever his lot to listen to.” I wonder if he meant that he had ever ever listened to or that he had ever heard from a woman. Turns out, Mrs. Vaughan likely had an addiction to alcohol because she would be arrested again the following year for public intoxication and obscene language (Sanders).

In 1863, a gallows was added to the jail (Dax 168). Now, morbidly, the gallows was in plain sight for most inmates to see every day. The original jail was two stories, with cells on both the first and second floor. The gallows was added to one end of the second floor, with a large beam that ran across the width of the corridor and had a platform with a trapdoor in the center. Inmates who lived on the second floor would have seen the gallows every time they left their cells. That in and of itself is a special type of psychological torture. In many hospitals today, we have restraints ready to go in the event of an emergency, but we discreetly hide or cover them up so patients don’t have to see them all the time. It’s a way to minimize patients’ distress and also have items ready if and when we need them. But I cannot imagine what it would be like to see gallows every day in plain sight. I’ll include pictures on the Facebook group and Instagram page so you can get a sense of what it looked like.

It’s hard to believe today, but there several cases of inmates who had to bring their families with them to jail, like Mary Hall had to do. In 1863, Richard Belser was incarcerated along with his wife and three children in his 13-foot long, 7-foot wide, 9-foot high cell (“HM Prison Pentonville”) because “the unfortunate woman is paralyzed, and unable to do anything for the support of herself and family.” And what was Richard Belser’s crime? Stealing from a store, which resulted in a two year sentence of hard labor. Records are unclear, but I wonder if he had stolen food out of desperation to feed his family? (Clark)

By 1864, the jail had increased to 40 prisoners. It’s believed that the exercise yard at this time was divided into two sections by a wall that is no longer there. There was literally nothing for inmates to do during this time. So many of them began the arduous task of marking their territory, so to speak. Out in the courtyard, along several of the walls, are a series of rubbings and etchings. Elizabeth M. Dax, daughter of Dr. Eric Cunningham Dax, the former Director of the Mental Health Authority in Victoria, wrote a brief but fascinating article about these etchings. She points out that there are at least 11 faces etched in the bluestone walls, as well as hands and one perfect cluster of grapes. Remember that the land around Ararat has been producing Shiraz for over 150 years, so perhaps there was an inmate who had been involved in vineyard work at some point. Dax even mentions that one of the drawings appears to be the outline of a letter box. Perhaps someone drew it with hopes of receiving mail from loved ones. Dax surmises that these etchings, which accumulated throughout the operation of the jail, were probably a means to define a person’s territory. Or, perhaps, it was simply out of boredom. Bluestone or basalt is a very hard stone, so creating a lasting image would have taken a lot of time and repetition. 

Just to situate you in the context of our previous episodes, it was a couple years later, in 1867, that Ararat Lunatic Asylum opened and began accepting patients.

That same year, in 1867, John Gray became the second governor or warder of the Ararat Gaol. Interestingly, his wife, Christina Gray, became the warder for women inmates for the next ten years (Sanders “The Women”). (For listeners in the US, yes, I am saying warder, not warden – that’s the terminology that was used throughout my reading) According to Jacqui Sanders, Christina Gray managed the women’s day-to-day needs and oversaw the hard labor they had been sentenced to (Sanders “The Women”).

John and Christina Gray would have been present for the first execution to take place at their jail in 1870. The story goes that the previous year, on January 12, 1869, around 2 pm, a gunshot was heard by a mining manager named John Smith in St. Arnaud. When he reached the spot from where he had heard the shooting, he found a man, Amos Cheale, lying on the ground. He had been shot twice. Cheale was barely able to name his shooter: Andrew Vair. Smith helped him to a nearby miner’s house, but Cheale died a half an hour later. Meanwhile, the alleged killer Andrew Vair, had escaped to Dairy Flats, 50 miles south of Adelaide in South Australia. A coach driver named William Slaughter (unfortunate name) met Andrew Vair in the bush just two days after the murder and received letters from him. In the letters, Vair confessed to killing Cheale in response to (IDK) real or perceived injuries he had received from Cheale. The letters said that Vair had warned Cheale that he would kill him and even asked what he (Cheale) would do if someone had stolen all his property. Okay, I’m confused…did Cheale steal from Vair or physically harm him? It seems unclear. In any case, Andrew Vair was arrested and confessed to Inspector Bee that he had committed the crime. He was convicted and sentenced to death on July 20, 1870, and then hanged at Ararat Gaol on August 15, 1870, at 10 AM (“Australian Executions, 1870-1967”).

Andrew Vair was denied a proper burial because of his execution. Instead, he was encased in quicklime (not a coffin) and buried upright within the walls of the jail itself, to ensure he could never rest (Schwartz).

Quick trigger warning here for a graphic death by suicide. Fast forward about 30 seconds if you’d like to skip this part.

Ten years later, in 1880, an unnamed Chinese man was sentenced to death in Ararat. Before he could make it to the gallows, he slipped his tie over the bell pull in the door, a little over a meter from the ground. The Ararat Advertiser later wrote that the man had to “pull his feet up to effect his purpose and even then his knees were almost touching the floor” (Clark). It’s so tragic how these folks spent their final days, but it’s also terrible how these incidents were published in the newspaper for anyone, including that man’s family, to read.    

The second execution at Ararat Gaol took place 3 years later, in 1883. This time the accused was someone we would likely call a serial killer today. Back in July 1880, so three years earlier, the body of an unidentified man was found in the bush near Wickliffe; the top of his skull had been smashed in as if by a blow from a hammer. The remains were buried without being identified, and the clothes and an empty purse found nearby were in the possession of Constable McCracken. 

When Robert Francis Burns was arrested for a different murder, Constable McCracken was reminded of a separate detail and was able to identify the dead man as Michael Quinlivan, who had been robbed of 80 pounds. Burns and Quinlivan had been working at Reedy Creek, near Wickliffe. Burns had forced Quinlivan to withdraw the money at Dunkeld, and several days later, Quinlivan was nowhere to be found. Burns was charged with the murder of Michael Quinlivan. His first trial ended in a hung jury, but at his second trial he was convicted and sentenced to death on July 23, 1883. Shortly before his execution, Burns confessed that he had committed eight different murders: five in Victoria and three in New South Wales. He was hanged at Ararat Gaol at 9 AM on September 25, 1883 (“Robert Francis Burns”).

The third and final execution to ever take place at Ararat Gaol occurred the following year, in 1884. And this crime is a doozy that involves a child. Fast forward about 30 seconds if you’d rather not hear this part. I’ll keep it brief, but it’s disturbing. 

On November 17, 1883, a very drunk Henry Morgan passed 10-year-old Margaret Nolan, who had gone into town to sell butter, and asked her to hold his horse. Records conflict about what happened next: some say he attempted to sexually assault her and others say he did rape her, but the end result was that he ended up violently killing the young girl. He was convicted and sentenced to death on May 10, 1884, and was executed at Ararat Gaol on June 6, 1884 (“The Panmure Murder”).

Like Andrew Vair, Robert Francis Burns and Henry Morgan were encased in quicklime and buried upright within the jail walls. Today, there are arrows etched into the walls where the men are buried. People say that on cold days where the temperature dips below freezing, there are three distinct areas in the wall that never freeze (Schwartz). Some people claim that a supernatural force constantly reminds visitors of the evils these inmates committed. More likely, it’s the quicklime that just doesn’t allow that area to freeze, but that doesn’t make for as good of a story.

A couple years later, in 1886, the Zox Report was released. I purposefully withheld that information during the previous episodes on Ararat Mental Hospital, knowing that it would be more significant here. The most significant finding from the Zox Report was that the criminally insane should be separated from others who had been declared insane but had not committed a crime.

And this occurred at a fortuitous moment in time. The goldfields had essentially dried up, so there was no longer a need for a jail to accommodate diggers who were guilty of crimes. The jail had essentially served its purpose and was closed. But following the Zox Report of 1886, the jail was subsequently turned over to the Lunacy Department. Renovations were made in 1886, preparing for its new beginning as an asylum for the criminally insane (Dax). The plan was for male inmates remained at the Ararat Gaol, while women inmates were relocated to Sunbury Asylum, which had been built only a few years earlier, in 1879.

And so, in December 1886, the old Ararat Gaol became known as J Ward, a special ward of Ararat Lunatic Asylum. The original plan was for J Ward to be a temporary housing option for the criminally insane. But it would end up being far from temporary. For 102 years, J Ward was the only institution in Victoria entirely devoted to the care of the criminally insane (Sanders, “J Ward Museum”). 

J Ward became the place where men who were deemed too dangerous for other jails or reformatory or industrial schools would be sent. As with most asylums at that time, potential patients had to be certified by two medical practitioners; then, the Chief Secretary had to direct the removal of the patient with a warrant (Dax).

Inmates were locked in separate cells (similar to the Pentonville model), separated at the bath house, meeting only at mealtimes (and then, in silence) and while heavily supervised in the exercise yard. As with the old jail, they were not allowed any books other than the Bible, nor were they given other means to occupy their time (Dax). And so, inmates returned to rubbing and scratching at the walls, carving images into the bluestone perimeter. In addition to the faces and other images drawn in, there were also three separate paintings of ships on the walls, but any etchings drawn on the walls of the indoor cells are long forgotten to time and history (Dax).

After the jail became J Ward, many of the original structures from the jail remained: there were still three primary residences that surrounded the facility. In one corner was the Governor’s Quarters, where the warder and his family lived; directly across from them were two buildings – one for single guards and nurses, and the other for married warders (Clark). I don’t know that I’d like to live on the premises of my job, but I’m also curious if they had staff assigned to overnight shifts at that time. If it were similar to Denbigh Asylum in Wales around that time, you may remember that they did not have staff on site overnight for several years. But I didn’t find information one way or another about how J Ward operated in that regard, so maybe they were staffed – maybe not.

In 1903, a 21-year-old Frenchman named Charles Foussard was admitted to J Ward after he had murdered an elderly man and stolen his boots. During questioning by police, Foussard also confessed that he had murdered another man, but later withdrew parts of his confession. But, when taken to the scene of the crime, Foussard seemed to know the location well, including aspects that had changed since the murder. He was not officially convicted of the second murder but was determined to be delusional and of unsound mind, and therefore, unfit to stand trial (“Charles Foussard”). Foussard would end up spending the rest of his life at J Ward, passing away in 1974 at the age of 92 years old. He would end up being not only the longest serving patient at J Ward but the longest serving inmate in the world, incarcerated for almost 71 years (“J Ward”). 

In 1905, 19 years into J Ward’s “temporary” functioning, then-Inspector-General of the Insane Dr. Ernest Jones wrote, “(There is) an urgent need of doing away with this very undesirable adjunct to the lunacy department.” So already the person with the power and authority to effect change related to J Ward noticed the problem but was unable or unwilling (I’m not sure which) to do anything about it. He must have been very frustrated because three years later, Dr. Jones was quoted as saying that J Ward’s “continuance as an adjunct to a mental hospital, in this the 20th century, is more barbaric than barbarism” (qtd. in Sanders “J Ward Museum”). Could it have something to do with the unheated cells – that only had a cutout high on the wall? Not a window with glass but just an opening to the elements, whatever they may be? Or perhaps it was because of the lack of the bathrooms – just chamber pots that patients used in their cells – or the toilets out in the open exercise yard? Or, perhaps most likely, it was because of what wasn’t recorded that happened at J Ward. Historians have tried to piece together what conditions patients lived in, but all that remains are a few scattered excerpts from the Ararat Advertiser – ones that talk about overcrowding at J Ward and whippings (Clark), certainly not ideal conditions for patients who hoped to be treated and returned to the community.

Dr. Ernest Jones would remain the Inspector-General of the Insane until 1937 (“Jones, William Ernest”). I wish there were more information about what he observed and how he tried to make improvements. All I was able to find was another attempt, this time in 1925, when he was planning to visit J Ward to make recommendations for improvement (“Ararat”). It was unclear what recommendations, if any, were actually implemented.

In 1926, a 45-year-old man named William “Bill” Wallace was eating at the Waterloo Café on King Street in Melbourne, when an American man named William Williams (okay, first of all: what’s with all the Williamses? William Wallace. And William Williams?)…anyway, William Williams enters the Waterloo Café. At some point, he lights a cigarette. Wallace dislikes this and asks Williams to stop smoking, but Williams refuses. An argument ensues, and Wallace leaves the Waterloo Café. However, as soon as William Williams, the smoker, left the café, Wallace grabbed his gun and shot Williams to death (“Bill Wallace”).

Allegedly, Bill Wallace had a wife and children. But as soon as he was taken into custody, he never spoke of them again. In fact, Wallace refused to cooperate with law enforcement and didn’t answer any questions other than his name and place of birth. He was declared insane and unfit to stand trial, and transferred to J Ward (“Bill Wallace”).

But life at J Ward seemed to suit Wallace just fine. He bought a new suit every year from a tailor in Ararat and spent his time playing chess and, ironically, smoking. Occasionally, he would get violent and injure other inmates, but for the most part, Wallace seemed to be happy living in Ararat. He always declined to speak to anyone about himself or about his alleged crime (“Bill Wallace”). 

Fifty-five years went by like this, and Bill Wallace then turned 100 years old. The media got wind of his centennial and petitioned for his release. After all, what was a 100 year old murderer going to do? The petition for his release was eventually granted, but Bill Wallace refused to leave, allegedly saying, “Don’t be fucking silly; I live here.” (“Bill Wallace”).

Wallace was eventually transferred from J Ward to a geriatric ward at Aradale Mental Hospital, where he died on July 17, 1989, just a few weeks short of his 108th birthday (“Bill Wallace”). He was the oldest inmate in the facility and, according to the Guinness Book of World Records, the oldest prisoner in known history (“J Ward”).

As we’ve discussed in previous episodes, the 1950s brought about a turning point for psychiatric treatment with the introduction of psychotropic medications. Many of the patients at J Ward were able to be stabilized and returned to the community. This was also the time that Inspector-General of Mental Hygiene Dr. Eric Cunningham Dax made reforms throughout the state of Victoria.

Some of the patients stabilized and worked in the large vegetable garden at J Ward. At some point, although the exact timing is unclear, new facilities were included on the compound, including a therapy unit (whatever that means), a swimming pool, a recreation room, and some larger bedrooms (Clark).

Of course, these improvements don’t discount the other forms of, ahem, “treatment” that had been used at J Ward: “machines for electric shock treatment, heavy canvas sheets stitched so they could not be torn, hessian [or burlap] mattresses, straitjackets, leather mittens, and single beds taking almost all the room in the cells” (Clark). To be fair, we still use heavy blankets that are tear-resistant but usually only when someone is being watched for suicide or self-harm or if they have a recent history of tearing clothing or bedding. 

I noticed that there wasn’t a lot of information about J Ward and the patients after about 1970, and part of this is because some of the patients who lived at J Ward are still around. So out of respect and privacy for those folks, many more recent stories remain known only to those connected to them.

There were two particularly notorious patients at J Ward after 1970. The first was Mark “Chopper” Read. Now this guy has enough history and crimes to make a podcast in and of himself, so I can’t get into too many details. Suffice it to say that Chopper Read was a career criminal and gang leader whose vices included robbing, kidnapping, and torturing other criminals. In the late 1970s, Chopper Read avoided a prison ambush by other inmates by having someone cut off both of his ears. This resulted in his being transferred to J Ward for mental health treatment for several months until he was returned to prison (“Mark ‘Chopper’ Read”). This guy’s story is almost too unbelievable to be true, and it was made into a 2000 film simply entitled Chopper. He also apparently wrote children’s stories, but, even without having read them, I’m not sure how much I would endorse those. If you’ve read Chopper Read’s children’s books, uhhhh, please let me know how they are.

The other notorious criminal housed at J Ward was Garry David, whom we discussed in Episode 38. You may remember that Garry David had been serving a 14-year prison sentence when he got closer to the time of his earliest possible release date and was evaluated for mental health issues. It was determined that he met criteria for Antisocial Personality Disorder and was declared mentally ill. While this went back and forth in the courts about whether or not a personality disorder was considered a qualifying mental health disorder, Garry David remained incarcerated at J Ward. Once it was determined that his personality disorder was not a qualifying mental health diagnosis, he was transferred back to Pentridge Prison, where he later died from self-inflicted injuries.

Around the time that Garry David was housed at J Ward, Victoria was in the midst of deinstitutionalization. This came on the heels of the Burdekin hearings and the poor report about patient conditions at Ararat Mental Hospital. Still, it probably came as a bit of a shock when, in 1991, J Ward closed. It wouldn’t be a permanent closure, however, as it was quickly reopened as the Ararat Forensic Psychiatry Centre, a medium-security facility with 20 beds (“Ararat Asylum”). When the site transitioned to the new forensic psychiatry centre, there were larger bedrooms added, as well as unbreakable windows.

In a blog about her trip to J Ward, Rhonda Albom shares images of the site, as well as stories she heard while on the tour. It was interesting to look through these images as a psychologist who works in a similar type of facility 30 years after these rooms were used as pictured.

There’s a picture she has labeled as a “typical patient room in the newer wing.” Now, to most people looking at the image, it would look very bare bones: drab blue carpeting, a bed attached to the wall, a blue and white blanket, and a chamber pot. There’s not too much going on. But me noticing the things I’ve been trained to notice sees several problems. First, carpet. Why? I cannot imagine having carpet in patient rooms, if only from a hygiene perspective. Any nurses listening will absolutely understand. But carpet could also be altered or ripped up and misused in all sorts of ways, as could the linens. I assume that someone housed in this type of room wouldn’t be under watch for suicide or self-harm, but it’s always something we have to consider. And, of course, the chamber pot appears to be ceramic, so that could be used as a weapon itself – or the contents within could be used for gassing staff. If you’re unfamiliar with the crime of gassing, that was something new to me before I began working in state hospitals. That’s when a person throws basically any type of bodily fluid at another person. It’s really gross and can potentially be very hazardous, as well. One of the aspects I look for in violence risk is a history of gassing. If someone has been known to spit at staff or throw fluids at them, I make sure that staff are aware so that, in the event that staff need to intervene with the patient, they’ve taken necessary precautions.

Rhonda has a second image on her page entitled “for patients on suicide watch.” It’s an even more stark room, with a mattress that looks like it was stuffed with down (but I assume it was something far less expensive) and a pillow. The mattress looks like it could be shredded by a patient – today, we make sure that patients on watch for suicide or self-harm use a blanket that is tear-resistant to keep them safe. But the room overall seems scarce enough, except for the floors. Now, I would love to have these floors in my house (they’re beautiful) but maybe not in a room for someone being watched for suicide or self-harm prevention. They’re made of wood and placed in a herringbone pattern. The problem with this is that if someone is desperate enough to harm themselves and all they have is time, they could easily whittle away at the floor until they got a splinter or something that could be used to harm themselves. Even with someone watching them, this wouldn’t be terribly difficult to do. So I’ll keep our solid slab floors, thank you very much. 

Sometimes I stop and think about how weird my job is – that I have to think of the many possible ways that someone could harm themselves with an ordinary object that probably no one else would see as dangerous. Many seemingly-innocuous objects that we all use every day are considered contraband for patients because we’ve seen them be misused. I won’t give examples because I don’t think it would be appropriate, but darn near anything can be used for self-harm if someone is desperate enough.

Anyway, back to J Ward – well, now the Ararat Forensic Psychiatry Centre…

In 1993, Ararat Mental Hospital closed, leaving the new forensic psychiatry centre the only wing of the hospital still open. In the following years, more psychiatric hospitals around Victoria closed, as patients were relocated to care facilities in the community. And, inevitably, by 1997, the Ararat Forensic Psychiatry Centre also closed for good, and its remaining patients were transferred to a facility in Melbourne.

Almost immediately, the debate began about what to do with the site. Should it be torn down? Repurposed into something else? Eventually, the idea began to turn it into a museum with tours offered to show visitors what life was like for the people who lived at J Ward from the time of the jail’s construction in 1859 until its closure in 1997. How did the place remain open for 138 years – especially when it was originally considered to be “temporary” after it was taken over by the Lunacy Commission?

The idea of the original mental hospital and J Ward being turned into a tourist attraction of sorts didn’t appeal to many locals. Some had worked at one or both of the facilities; others knew people who had been patients there. In Aradale: The Making of a Haunted Asylum, David Waldron, Sharn Waldron, and Nathaniel Buchanan discuss this point. They say: 

…Local reaction to the opening of the Aradale Ghost Tours was less than favourable. The then Mayor of Ararat was quoted in the local newspaper exclaiming that she was personally disgusted and would hold a public forum to listen to the community concerns. Many locals refused to be involved and simply concluded that this was a case of an individual exploiting personal tragedy to make a profit. (143)

I can certainly appreciate these concerns, especially for people who had personal connections to the hospital. 

Today you can experience two different tours at J Ward: the Day Tour, which covers the history of the jail and J Ward, patient stories, and mental health treatment was provided; there’s also the Night Tour, which tells a different set of stories, more macabre and ghostly in nature. Waldron et al talk about the differences in the two types of tours:

The Day Tours were being conducted by local volunteers, also eager to keep memory of the asylum alive and these also took a similar negative stance towards the Ghost Tours. Many of the volunteers had historical connections with Aradale, some being former staff or relatives of former staff, others eagers to distance previous generations from controversial histories which they feared might find their way into a ghost tour. Operating within the not-for-profit organization Friends of J Ward, they had maintained the J Ward facility of the asylum for the criminally insane since its closure, and more recently included a museum, funded by the tours they had been conducting. These tours presented a sanitized version of the asylum’s history, omitting the difficult and tragic aspects and focusing on anecdotes and fond memories deemed suitable for families. Amongst these volunteers there was a feeling that any commercial enterprise, and particularly a Ghost Tour focusing on the horrors of the asylum, must be purely exploitative. There was also a strong concern to present a positive representation of the site to offset the impact of the severely critical 1991 inquiry into abuse at Aradale, which led to the asylum’s closure. These differences over representations of the asylum’s history clashed and resulted in a rift that still exists between day and night tour organizations. (143)

I think this is an important point to bring up – the divide of how much of the truth should a tour actually present? What happened at hospitals like Aradale and J Ward – and others around the world, of course – was horrific. There’s no sanitizing the treatments that many people received. And it was not all terrible. There were staff who genuinely cared and did their best with the knowledge they had. And there were staff who abused their authority and power and exploited patients. There were likely patients whose lives were improved by staying at the hospital, and there were patients who should have never been there in the first place. 

History is full of these complex nuances. So if that means there needs to be two different tours at J Ward and Aradale to cover both ends of the spectrum, so be it.

And that’s where I’ll end the story of J Ward. I encourage you to go to the website, jward.org.au, and check out the virtual tour. You can see the site, listen to tour guides, and learn more about the history of the people who resided there. If you can go, please go!

There is, of course, so much more to say about both Ararat Mental Hospital and J Ward that I wasn’t able to discuss in these episodes. Next week I’ll be back with patient stories from Aradale and after that I’ll have some ghostly tales from none other than the tour guides themselves! So be sure to stay tuned for those episodes!

Thank you, as always, for listening! If you liked this episode and haven’t done so already, please rate, review, and subscribe wherever you are listening, but super extra bonus points for rating and reviewing on Apple Podcasts. Feel free to share the show with a friend.

Most importantly, 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…

Albom, Rhonda. “J-Ward: Inside a Lunatic Asylum for the Criminally Insane.” Albom Adventures. 23 July 2023. https://www.albomadventures.com/j-ward/

“Ararat.” The Age, 17 September 1925: 16. 

“Ararat Asylum, 1867-1905; Hospital for the Insane 1905-34; Mental Hospital 1934-97; Training Centre 1966-93.” Department of Health and Human Services, State of Victoria.https://www.findingrecords.dhhs.vic.gov.au/CollectionResultsPage/Ararat-Asylum

“Australian Executions 1870-1967.” Editor Christian Schrepper. Capital Punishment UK.http://www.capitalpunishmentuk.org/aus1900.html

“Bill Wallace (Australian prisoner).” Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Wallace_(Australian_prisoner)

“Charles Foussard.” Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Foussard

Clark, Mary Rhyllis. “Ararat’s Alcatraz.” The Age, 22 May 1993: 14.

Dax, Elizabeth M. “Ararat’s J Ward: A History Cast in Stone.” World Cultural Psychiatry Research Review2015, 10 (3/4): 168-174. https://www.worldculturalpsychiatry.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/6-Ararats-V10N3-4.pdf

“HM Prison Pentonville.” Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HM_Prison_Pentonville

“Jones, William Ernest (1867-1957).” Encyclopedia of Australian Science and Innovation. https://www.eoas.info/biogs/P001086b.htm

“J Ward.” Wikipedia.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J_Ward#:~:text=J%20Ward%20originally%20the%20Ararat,in%20Ararat%2C%20Victoria%2C%20Australia.&text=January%201991%20as%20a%20prison%2C%20Reopened%20as%20a%20museum%20in%201993.&text=Construction%20of%20the%20gaol%20commenced,was%20opened%20in%20October%201861.

“J Ward, Asylum for the Criminally Insane.” Goldfields Guide. https://www.goldfieldsguide.com.au/explore-location/212/j-ward-asylum-for-the-criminally-insane/

“J Ward: Asylum for the Criminally Insane Virtual Tour.” J Ward. https://www.jward.org.au/virtual-tour/

“Mark ‘Chopper’ Read.” Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_%22Chopper%22_Read

“Robert Francis Burns.” Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Francis_Burns

Sanders, Jacqui. “J Ward Museum.” Mainly Museums. https://mainlymuseums.com/post/297/j-ward-museum/

Sanders, Jacqui. “The Women of Old Ararat Gaol and J Ward Asylum.” J Ward. https://www.jward.org.au/stories/women-old-ararat-gaol-and-j-ward-asylum/

Schwarz, Kirrily. “Inside the Chilling Corridors of J-Ward, a Prison for the Criminally Insane.” Escape, 31 May 2022. https://www.escape.com.au/destinations/australia/victoria/step-inside-jward-victorias-prison-for-the-criminally-insane/news-story/f2b339787de2dc8f09908c75eebe2566

“The Panmure Murder.” The Age, 7 June 1884: 10.

“The Story of Mr. Bill Wallace – J Ward’s Oldest Inmate.” Living Life in Full Spectrum, 6 June 2018. https://www.llifs.com.au/blog/the-story-of-mr-bill-wallace-j-wards-oldest-inmate/

Waldron, David, Sharn Waldron, and Nathaniel Buchanan. Aradale: The Making of a Haunted Asylum. Melbourne: Arcadia, 2020.