S

tories about the lives of young people

in Tasmania's last mental institution

1950-2000

Edited: Margaret Reynolds Research: Monica Hols National Disability Services December 2011

Dedicated to all the children and families whose lives were so affected by standards of institutional care. December 2011

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Is Lachlan Park a place for Children? "It has been brought to my notice that there is a strong possibility of a pupil at Talire Child Centre, being admitted to Lachlan Park Hospital, probably as a Voluntary Boarder. This will be done because there is no other institution which can take a child of low grade intelligence under the age of fourteen - sixteen years. Over the last year particularly there have been an increasing number of children of this kind admitted to Lachlan Park usually as Voluntary Boarders, because they were unable to be cared for adequately at home, or because without understanding parental authority they were becoming socially undesirable. Three children, although receiving adequate care and some degree of training in routine and habits, are not receiving any schooling whatever. There was at one time provision made for a special school to be provided by the Education Department within Lachlan Park Hospital to cater for this type of patient."

Where is the School? "I am not certain whether or not this is a school provided by the Education Department, or whether it is a courtesy extended by them previously, but I do feel most strongly that some effort should be made to have a school or class of some kind re-established within the Hospital. I realise that the ultimate intention of turning the present Lachlan Park Hospital into an institution for defectives, will when it is effected provide for schooling, but it seems to me that the realisation of this project is likely to be long deferred, and I feel that we are failing in our duty in doing nothing in the meantime. Schooling for these children can very often make a difference between permanent institutionalisation, which is a definite charge upon the community, and the possibility of placement outside, perhaps with a pension, but certainly without the extra charge that institutionalisation means. Apart from this the children themselves are very much happier, and better behaved if they have some stimulation occupation and training, and can feel that they are able to achieve something. Even to be of more help in the institution and require less time and effort from those in charge if they have been given as much training as possible early in their lives".

From Senior Psychologist, to Director of Mental Hygiene, Department of Public Health Hobart - 13 September 1954

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1960s A School within an Institution I approached my new job at the Lachlan Park Special School with some trepidation. I discovered that the school itself was fully enclosed within the grounds of that notorious nineteenth-century institution, commonly known in the local community as ‘that mad house’. As the new teacher-in-charge I was issued with a large master key which opened the security gates throughout the institutional complex. I was instructed to wear it constantly on a chain – like a gaoler. Apparently it was essential to protect this key as it was supposed to be impossible to move around between buildings without opening locked doors and gates. However, an enterprising young pupil, Tom, soon became my personal gate monitor, unlocking the formidable gates with a ‘key’ he had made from a wire coat hanger. He was very proud of his ability to help me, so I could not dampen his enthusiasm. Like so many institutionalised children he craved recognition and his ‘key’ was his way of demonstrating how he had adjusted to his closed environment. The school itself was a former hospital ward – cold and dark. The furniture was basic and the equipment minimal. My assistants had attempted to brighten their surroundings with pictures and children’s paintings, yet on my first visit to the school I could see only a drab room with limited natural light. The playground was empty and had high steel bars separating it from the exercise yards of male alcoholic patients on one side and young offenders on the other. In that cold and dank schoolroom, which smelt of hospital disinfectant and stale boiled cabbage, I seriously doubted my ability to create a learning environment. If I found the location of the school depressing, then my first visit to the large Children’s Ward would reinforce my shock at the conditions in which so many handicapped children were living. It was a separate building close to the entrance of the institution. In the Children’s Ward nursing staff did their best to care for up to forty girls and boys from birth to ten years of age, but they were inadequately trained to cater for the physical, mental and emotional needs of young children. Some children were reluctantly institutionalised and their parents visited and took them for outings. However, many families were encouraged to leave their children in the care of the state and to forget about them. I discovered that there were a number of factors affecting whether or not children could attend school. Firstly, it was left up to the nursing staff to decide if youngsters were ‘bright enough to learn anything’. As so many children had spent years without any stimulation it seemed to me scarcely surprising that they appeared to lack ability. However, at this time it was still believed to be a waste of time and money trying to ‘educate’ retarded children. Secondly, many children were physically disabled and some were incontinent, so it was assumed that their specialised needs could not be met in a school environment. Thirdly, the Education Department was actually intent on relegating its responsibility to the Health Department. A small school unit within a major health facility was seen as highly inefficient so it was not the Education Department’s goal to increase enrolment. Finally, most doctors within the institution had labelled the children of Lachlan Park ‘uneducable’. Some of the files I read dismissed individuals by simply labelling children with one word − ‘imbecile’. Nursing staff corroborated this by describing the children’s behaviour as either ‘withdrawn’ or ‘hyperactive’. 4

Children's Ward The Children’s Ward was a very dispiriting place. It contained rows of cots and narrow iron beds, but there was no colour or life in the room. The floors were regularly mopped with standard hospital-issue disinfectant so the air was thick with an overpowering smell. Several young children suffering varying degrees of paralysis or mental retardation were confined to their beds. I was appalled to discover that many of them were actually tied down with bandages, their bodies lifeless and their expressions vacant.It seemed very few people bothered to ask about these children because no one expected their condition to change. I could not accept that these children should be left in bed day after day with no stimulation or experience outside the Children’s Ward. I wondered about other children and teenagers in this large institution and began to visit other wards where older children lived. Most girls over ten were in adult wards in a more modern section of the hospital. However, many of the boys over ten lived in a separate secure ward in the care of male nurses. Some staff members were genuinely fond of ‘their boys’, but the sound of beatings was not uncommon. The school was located adjacent to the Boys’ Ward, so too often I heard boys crying out as a result of violent punishment. Many of the young males within the Boys’ Ward were juvenile offenders, detained with disabled youngsters because Lachlan Park was then Tasmania’s only secure location apart from Risdon Prison. Forty boys of all abilities and ages lived together in an environment with few opportunities to be involved in any meaningful activity. I got to know many of them as they wandered aimlessly in their enclosed yard, peering forlornly through the bars and asking when they could come to school.

New Opportunities The local branch of the Retarded Children’s Welfare Association supported the Lachlan Park Special School, so we launched a community appeal that resulted in the donation of an array of colourful soft toys for younger children. Nurses brought children to school in wheelchairs and on mobile beds. I began to experiment with music and massage therapy without really understanding these methods. There was little information and no equipment available for me at the time, so my teaching assistants and I learned to be inventive in trying anything to gain some response from small children who had become accustomed to lying or sitting patiently awaiting the next meal or toilet routine. We sang and danced and turned ourselves into clowns to encourage that first glimmer of understanding. I asked nursing staff to try some of our ideas and we sent pictures and toys back to the Children’s Ward to provide a little more interesting environment. Gradually we were able to show that all children could learn something, given time and encouragement. No one was more excited by this than the children themselves, who started smiling and attempting language. Nurses and medical staff reviewed their earlier diagnoses – we had convinced them there was no such word as ‘in educable’. The school was offered the use of an old wooden hall not far from the main schoolrooms, so it became a base for my class of teenage boys. We acquired tables and chairs from the hospital store and had woodwork benches installed by the local committee. The boys’ chronological age ranged from eleven to twenty-one, but their mental functioning age was considerably lower. Many had never learned to read and my initial effort with conventional curriculum materials was largely unsuccessful. 5

However when one boy, Geoff, brought a copy of the Melbourne Truth to school there was suddenly a greatly increased interest in reading. Newspapers were supposed to be banned from Boys’ Ward, but Geoff had managed to get a copy from one of the other wards. He wanted me to read an article about his uncle, who had been gaoled for car theft, and after I had read the detail he carefully copied the words to make up his own story, which he read back to me. Each morning I bought copies of newspapers and they became much-valued teaching aids for these young men who wanted to know what was going on ‘outside’. It was surprising just how quickly they learned to read from the sporting pages and court reports. Each day individuals worked on their selected news story and these ‘illiterate’ youngsters began reading and writing about events that interested them. The boys responded well to a range of new opportunities and freedoms provided at school. They learned to cook and take on responsibility for working with younger children. We introduced woodwork, art and sport.

Jenny Sometimes Jenny was not allowed to come to school because nursing staff used this as a punishment. On occasions her violent temper led to conflict with older patients, but it was her placement in this totally inappropriate setting that created most of the problems. When Jenny was kept in the ward I would take her schoolwork to try to provide some activity for her during the day. Whenever I visited she was always pleased to see me, but I was even more relieved to see her so we could retreat from the main ward to a small, enclosed veranda where some attempt had been made to isolate this child from other patients in the day room. I worked hard to have her transferred from J Ward to a more suitable environment but she had a bad reputation, having attacked several nurses in her fear and frustration. Senior nursing staff could not believe that Jenny was a well-behaved child when she was allowed to come to school. She had her own routine and responsibilities, successfully completing a range of school and craft work. Finally, after weeks of conflict culminating in Jenny being beaten up by other patients, I took her case to the Medical Superintendent, Dr John Weatherly. He was equally disturbed by the precedent of allowing this young girl to live in such an extreme environment and directed that she be immediately transferred to a more open ward, where she blossomed in her new, relaxed environment. I was amazed that the resident medical superintendent had been unaware of Jenny’s plight and for the first time realised how remote senior authorities can be from the reality of life for people in their care. Excerpt from Living Politics,(University of Queensland Press, Brisbane 2007) by Margaret Reynolds, former Teacher in Charge, Lachlan Park Special School - 1963

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Forced Treatment "My three months of absolute terror began when I was woken from my grandmother’s bed with a police woman standing over me telling me to get up and get dressed. I was sixteen years old and I was absolutely petrified. I scrambled to my feet, put my clothes on and ran for my life. My Nan was crying leave her alone she is only a child... The police had a taxi in the driveway between my Mum’s and Gran’s houses…I had always lived with my Nan because Mum went away and then remarried. I tried to run again but a policeman grabbed me and then a policewoman took a straightjacket out of the car boot. She said "if you don’t do as you are told we will put this on you…" By this time I was hysterical….I did not know what I had done and why the police were taking me away. I sobbed and sobbed petrified and not knowing where I was going. The destination seemed to take hours ….the taunting in my mind was What have I done? Where are they taking me? Why are the police involved? After several hours we came to Lachlan Pak Gates and I went in to this horrible derelict building with a big ugly desk. The policewoman said "I have brought this child" but the matron said "No, she must go over the road to Milbrook Rise". I was shaking with fear and when I went to Milbrook Rise they locked the door behind me. I was mentally disoriented and in shock. That night they put me in a room with just a mattress on the floor and I cried myself to sleep. The treatment I received in that place I will never forget as long as I live. I was a guinea pig as were a lot of people there with me I was given shock treatment, taken into a room where over the bed there were two old fashioned phone pieces hanging on a cord. They wiped either side of your temple and then jammed those phone pieces on your temple. The shock was really painful. Once a nurse had to hold me down because you rise off the bed. She said she knew I was not asleep. I was also given insulin treatment and went into a comatose state. Another day they held me down trying to put a tube down my throat. I was slapped and kicked by two nurses who shouted and abused all the other patients. These experiences traumatised me and I still have nightmares. All these years later I still don’t know why the police could just take me from Nan’s and why a hospital could treat me as if I was not alive." A Woman Still Remembers

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1970s Memo to Attorney General "To the Minister of Health, in April 1976, the Attorney-General B.K. Miller asked if the situation of some of the child residents at the Royal Derwent Mental Hospital could be examined. The request came after he was informed by a "very reliable person that, as far as one of the groups of children is concerned, there is very little or no after school time activity for them, so it was described to me, toys are put away (no doubt for fear of breakages) and the children are left unoccupied for a long time each day."

In Response... In a draft letter, the Minister for Health, H.D. Farquhar, responded 'From the information I have received, there appears to be a reasonable programme of after school activities for children at the Hospital. The Hospital, however, admits there are certain deficiencies in the programme consequent upon poor staff - patient ratios at certain crucial periods during the day. This aspect of the children's care is further complicated by the necessity to make staff changes as a result of sickness and other rostering problems. Moreover, the availability of highly skilled specialist staff trained in the management of the retarded is a universal problem from which Tasmania, together with other States of the Commonwealth, is suffering. In these circumstances, untrained and junior staff have to be assigned to the tasks of supervision of the children. The maximum use of the existing recreational facilities and the need for trained staff and appropriate toys are matters under discussion by the Hospital's Mental Retardation Advisory Committee and are considered important problems in the overall care of the retarded at the Hospital." Tasmanian Archives

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PERSONAL STORIES: O

" ur son had convulsions when he was 12 months old and was diagnosed with acute gastroenteritis. When he was around two he was diagnosed as having slight epilepsy. A side effect caused by the drugs given to control the epilepsy, was that he was very hyperactive. After a fall he was advised by staff of the Royal Hobart Hospital to buy a helmet. We brought a horse riding helmet. He didn't seem to like it and would take it off if you didn't watch him. He was about six years of age when we brought him another helmet; the sort that a pedal cyclist wears, made of sponge rubber. He seemed to prefer this one. He never fell again in the years that we had him at home. When he was about 10, as a result of the advice we received regarding his deteriorating condition, we sought to have him admitted to the Royal Derwent Hospital. My husband's health had also deteriorated which influenced our decision. The first 3 or 4 months he was very well looked after and cared for. Then there was a slight deterioration in the treatment and care. When we brought him home we began to notice that he was not as personally clean as he perhaps should have been. The head master said he couldn't understand why we put him there because he was far too intelligent in his opinion to be there. At school he showed no signs at all of drowsiness or falling. We provided all his clothes taking six of everything. We never saw him with his own clothes on. The clothes he wore were either too big or too small. One time he came home with a stitched cut on his leg. It was not reported. Shortly after he came home again, and he had four big finger marks under the upper part of his right arm. And a thump mark on the other side. Our son told us that a lady had smacked him with a stick - across his legs were two big purple weals. We reported this. A doctor examined him, but could not swear to them being thrash marks, because they were too old for him to give a definite opinion. That was the first time we were concerned about his physical treatment in the sense of him being hurt. The second time was around two weeks later. Our child had been in a fight with another patient and was covered in bruises and teeth marks. The bites and bruises were located from his neck all over his chest. As if a savage dog had bitten him. It concerned me much that patients can cause such injury to one another without anyone being there to prevent it happening. We phoned two or three times a week to ask how he was. I was never told to whom I was speaking. Most times when we brought him home he had bumps and lumps on his head which always seemed to be in the same place. He was so sore that he couldn't stand it being touched. A few days later we picked him up - we learned he'd had another fall. It wasn't serious, no stitches were necessary. My husband dragged him in the car. He was very hot and his breathing seemed to be very heavy. The attendant said he had been asleep in the sun. At home we could see there was something drastically wrong with him so I took him to our own doctor. From there we took him to the Royal Hobart Hospital where he had a three hour surgery. In between time, a scan done in Melbourne discovered a tumour on the brain. The tumour was unrelated to the injury prior, as this was on the other side” A Mother's Account.

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When our daughter was little, she appeared to experience difficulties of speech and behaviour so we decided to take up some medical advice. It was believed that our child had autism and the doctor suggested that she be placed at the Royal Derwent Hospital for the purpose of tests to assess whether or not she was in tact autistic. The time spent in the hospital would also allow the experts to gather information on what kind of future training our daughter would need. She was only there for about 12 days, but when she came back we experienced a change in attitude. Where as we speak firmly when she is not to play or touch with the phone, she would now bow her head and cover it with her hands as though she expected to be hit for doing something naughty. This was entirely foreign to her normal pattern of behaviour. Our child was seven years of age when to stay at Royal Derwent with the provision that the hospital had sufficient facilities to provide a training programme akin to that at Quindalup. We were assured that we would be able to visit at any time but found that our visits were merely tolerated, as were our enquiries. I gained the impression that our child's active behaviour pattern was considered abnormal and created behaviour problems which they found difficult to accommodate. When we came in a few days later to drop off clothing as requested, we found her in a room virtually alone. Two or three other children were present in the same room; they seemed motionless. There was little furniture and few toys in the room. Our daughter looked dispirited, bored and at a loss to know what to do with herself. She required tranquilisers to 'keep her happy'. This was completely contrary to what we had been led to expect. After seeing our child in a state so different to what we expected, we decided to take her home. We enrolled her in a day centre where she is very happy." A Father's Account.

Part of the course in Child Care I was attending, required field training.

I was sent to the Children's Ward at the Royal Derwent Hospital in 1978 where children in the age group of 0 to 15 years were staying. I had to assist with bathing the children, feeding them and assist in involving them in toilet training. I remember a 3-year old boy who was crying when placed on the toilet seat. I encouraged him to stay there but the boy kept on screaming. A female sister came in and without a word to me, she picked him up by one arm and smacked him very violently on the buttocks more than six times. I took the child from the toilet to his evening meal, this was around 4pm. I sat him at the table but he was so distressed that he would not take the food I attempted to feed him. Another nurse came along and took the food away from him and told him he was not going to have anything to eat. She put the boy on the floor. The meal was cleared away a little later and I believe he did not get anything at all to eat that day. A few days after this event at the dinner table, I saw another child accidently spill his milk on the table. A nurse came along and slapped him very hard several times on the hand and swore at him and told him he wouldn't get any tea because he was being naughty. She picked him up, under the armpits, and literally threw him onto the floor, and just let him lie there. I noticed that most of the children would be placed in the one room, the door to which would be locked. The staff would be sitting in another room with their backs to the children. Although there was a glass wall, they could not see as they were watching television whilst smoking and discussing their social lives. The children were climbing up the window sills, sitting upon each other and sometimes urinating upon each other. They were very dirty.

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There is a play room which has several toys and books and I wanted to take some children in there. I was told that they had lost the key and it took them until the next day to find it. The impressions I got from the condition of the room - it smelled musty, there was water on the floor with a stained ring around it - was that it had not been used for a very long time." Student from a Child Care Course

In addition on the occasions I have been there to pick him up, he has been unwashed and untidy. His clothing has not been his own except for odd garments such as jumpers and the clothing has been ill fitting. When I arrived I was told he had an accident! I saw him lying on a couch sort of thing and saw that above his right eye there was a cut of some 2 inches in length which appeared to have been clamped together with an Elastoplasts’ type clamp. There was dried blood around his injury and at first sight I thought the boy was unconscious. They told me he had been seen by the doctor and that no stitches were necessary. I was told he had an accident on the trampoline. I was unable to gain any other information as to his treatment or his future care whilst he was recovering from his injury. He was brought to me dressed in pyjamas, the jacket of it was undone and he was bare foot; he did not look as if he had a shower, bath or good wash that day' 'They were unable to produce his case or his clothing. After searching through a considerable amount of clothing, I found his own coat. Later this year there was a considerable improvement on the position I had found existing earlier. There had been a big staff changeover and they had not been alerted to my impending arrival. Family Member

A reoccurring topic of concern is clothing for the patients. We spent hundreds of dollars on this but we could afford it and we dressed her well and carefully. Within a week or so every item was missing. I asked where it went to and I received a reply 'oh, it was lost in the dry cleaners' or 'it was lost in the laundry'. What they do, they have a fairly big store room which is a clothing store and the clothes are apparently locked in there all together. I went in there once with her while they dressed her and they picked out articles of underwear which didn't matter very much anyhow and a nice little dress that fitted and they would try something on until it fit and finally they finished with a raincoat because it was a cold day. She was nicely dressed but I think the dignity of her own clothing is important instead of having this method of dressing the patients!" Family Member

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1980s The Battle for Life "I met my foster son when he was about three years old. He had severe cerebral palsy and his mother had given him up for adoption when he was born. The boy came to a Mother Craft Home; I was following a course there. I noticed the boy was very intelligent and took an interest in him. In those days, children with severe disabilities were sent to the Royal Derwent Hospital when they were 3 years of age. I remember how he was just put in a taxi and off he went. From that day I felt it was wrong. There was another girl with similar disabilities placed somewhere else and I couldn't understand why. I went to work at the M-Ward and that's where I saw a lot of stuff that was very disturbing. The kids were drugged, sometimes not fed and abused. I gained some insight of what was happening and it was awful. There was an overall lack of compassion for the clients; staff were often all sitting in the staff room smoking whilst the children were left in I call it a 'dog kennel'. Children were tied to their beds, couldn't go to the toilet for hours. It was scary to see that not only the clients were institutionalised, but the staff as well. In some ways the staff were victims too, I can see that now. I reported my viewings to the supervisor, the Head Nurse, and to my course supervisor; really to everyone who wanted to hear. This didn't go down too well at all; I was pulled into the office of the head psychiatrist. He told me that I had no idea what I was talking about; I should stop the talks. But it only made me more determined. In the meantime, I was forming a relationship with parents with disabled children. We started lobbying for a respite centre for the children because apart from the Royal Derwent Hospital they had nowhere to go. We have come a long way socially and politically in ways how we treat vulnerable people. This state has a very violent past and often the way to respond to situations has been and sometimes still is violent. What gets me about human nature is that we so easily sit and watch things go bad. Who do we think we are! We have to have the courage to say to anyone vulnerable society: 'Okay, we have allowed you to live; we then have to make sure we look after you well.'"

Rehabilitation of School Leavers "Difficulty experienced at case conference to find a placement for school leavers although we comply with the routine outlined by Dr Parton. At a recent meeting of Intellectual Handicap Inter Disciplinary Staff meeting, the problem of placement of school leavers was discussed because of none or limited availability of placement. It was decided to investigate numbers and placement over last five years and the finding were so alarming that I felt it was imperative to present the statistics to this meeting. 36 children left in the five years, of these 18 left Royal Derwent Hospital as placed in other school, sheltered workshop, etc. 18 left school and remained in R.D.H. and to my knowledge only one is able to be placed part time on O.T. The remainder have no continuity in training of skills which were taught at school. The school would have cost taxpayers during the last five years, but 50% of this would have been wasted because of non-availability of work/training positions. At a meeting it was reported. 247 of Hospitals 337 residents who are Intellectually Handicapped are not getting service from I.T. or O.T. This is relevant because it would appear that there is no reason for children to attend school if they are to remain in R.D.H. I

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am sure that if these facts were known to the public in the International Year of Disabled People that it would cause some embarrassment I would suggest that this matter be given high priority to be rectified." (Notes presented to Rehabilitation Committee Meeting of the Royal Derwent Hospital, written by the principal of the Special School, 30 November, 1981. "I know that you will be concerned and trust that you approve my action to highlight what must be considered a serious lack of handicapped persons rights in the I.Y.D.P. year", the principal wrote in a letter to the Education Department.)

Response from Medical Officer On 8 March 1982, a letter from the Medical Officer of the Royal Derwent Hospital went out to the Medical Commissioner of the Mental Health Services Commission. "This letter is not simply to justify or defend rather 'qualitatively and quantitatively' poor observations made by the Principal of the Special School regarding school leavers and their regression. His letter mentions that the 'skills acquired at school would be lost' unless a continuity is maintained by practice. Specialised skills acquired in a 'special' school setting are hard to continue in a ward setting where we do not have 'special' teachers. The Special School is reasonably well staffed with trained teachers and governed by the Education Department, whereas wards are understaffed, with a heterogeneous population of patients to deal with. There has been little communication (though this has improved in the last year) and liaison between the two Departments. Above all, these children grow up, their abnormal physical states tend to worsen, and new behaviours creep into their personality make up. There is no follow-up from the Special School of these children, nor does the ward possess any document of skills acquired or progress made. Therefore it is my opinion that special school education does not have all the answers, and as mentioned elsewhere in some cases their approaches are by no means always successful, either because trainers do not apply the methods correctly or because the problem posed by the clients are not amendable to environmental manipulation of any kind. Sometimes it is witnessed that the improvement noticed is false and temporary, hence discharge from school adds further insult to injury. In some cases, it is my opinion that there is a tendency to continue with irrelevant educational processes (as with drugs), however useless, just because some feel that something is being done, and this I feel should be strongly resisted." In my opinion various therapies departments working with the intellectually handicapped patients should be responsible to the Medical Officer of the Mental Retardation Services, so that Liaison work with the Special School and various departments could be established. In the present state of moratorium, it is necessary that a doctor remains ultimately responsible and co-ordinates the delivery of the various services, for when things go wrong the doctor can 'carry the can'. Committee style management at the clinical level should go; as said elsewhere, it is a 'departure from established medical management and opens the door for administrative control of patient.' Above all, it dilutes responsibility and the patients and staff get confused by conflicts and anomalies in their treatment. For a better service, ineffectual and non-productive meetings should be stopped as this creates an "artificial staff shortage" as the wards and departments are abandoned during working hours. Fundamentally, in today's climate of economic stringency, one wonders about the cost of benefits of these meetings. It would be useful to have a weekly time table of all professionals involved in the delivery of services. Close liaison with the school and ward staff and establishment of better communication is mandatory. Increase in staff numbers at ward levels and the therapy departments as discussed above is essential.

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A department on the lines of activity therapy centre should be established independent from the Occupational Therapy Department. In hope the above material is helpful in furthering your information in the placements of school leavers and working of the therapies department."

Remembering the Past "I haven't really told anyone about it so it sits kind of a long way away in my memory. But it must have been in the early '80s, as I remember having finished high school still being a teenager. I used to attract a lot of attention, from the police in particular, because on several occasions I was calling out that I was going to kill myself. I realise now that it wasn't very nice, it must have worried my parents very much. I was threatening to end my life quite a few times. I don't know why and I really don't believe the threats were going anywhere serious. I guess I was just crying out for attention. However, on one occasion I remember jumping behind some rocks on the beach. I didn't realise that there was water and I got swept away. I almost drowned, luckily I got rescued. The police were involved and it was after this event that they basically said 'enough is enough'. They arranged a court order that allowed them to take me to the Royal Derwent Hospital for three days. My parents must have thought this would teach me a lesson as they didn't do anything to prevent me from going there. I am pretty sure that the police took me there. I kind of knew the place; as a little girl we used to drive past there and the comments made about the place were never very positive. This was the place where all the crazy people stayed! I was petrified with the thought they were going to put me in there! At the time, it was all over the news that they arrested a woman who was caught stealing a car and diagnosed with mental issues. The thought of spending time with people that could do all sorts of things to me, was almost unbearable. I was crying for hours not knowing how to cope. I can't actually remember much about the settings of the hospital, apart from it being a lot more pleasant than I expected it to be. The staff was all very nice, and to my surprise, also most patents were fine. There was this man; I believe he was someone with a drug addiction, who noticed I was really scared. He kind of looked after me, made sure I was safe. And the woman I was so afraid of before I came in, turned out to be alright. I remember we would all spend time in a kind of lounge room, and some of the people would be locked up at night. Event the police were good; there was one young policeman who came to check if I was ok. I don't think he was on duty doing that and he may have gotten in trouble for that, but it made me feel safe. I was only there for a few days, and I must say that it did help me stop crying out for attention in such a negative way. Although it wasn't that horrific at all, the thought of having to go back there made we want to behave. What amazes me about this whole experience though is that the police so easily could get a court order to put me in there. I still wonder about this."

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Changing Conditions of Institutional Life "I have found the staff most co-operative and courteous and helpful. They never seem to make a fuss and they must bless me ringing them up, they have to go and find the charge nurse to speak to me and that sort of thing." "There are some very good staff members and the ward depends very much upon the efficiency and competence of the Ward Sister." "Until the middle of the last year they had a special facility in operation at the hospital which would enable children to come out of their ward. When it was cold weather there would be an open fire place, sandwiches for lunch and engagement in all sorts of therapy occupations such as completing puzzles and matters relating to space and colour perception and things like that. Two nurses would take about ten children. Because of the reduced Federal Grant the program was terminated. My granddaughter was always happy to go although of course one didn't understand just what she comprehended from it." "I have never witnessed any physical mistreatment or neglect from patients, the matter I complain of are the neglect of hygiene, dental hygiene, the unavailability of a doctor to attend when illness or injury is suffered to a patient." Some comments from families in later years of the Institution

Willow Court During the 1980s responsibility for services to the intellectually disabled were transferred from the Department of Health and added to the range of services to the physically disabled provided by the Department of Community Service. The program was called Willow Court because the services continued to be provided from the Royal Derwent Hospital site. Over the course of the decade a series of cluster houses were established at locations around the site with permanent nursing and welfare staff and the 160 residents of Willow Court were gradually transferred to the newer, less institutional facilities.

Willow Court closed on 30th November 2000

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This publication is part of a major research program "Forgotten Stories" which is ongoing in documenting the history of Tasmania's last mental institution.

Further Information: [email protected] [email protected]