The letter did little to change their minds, as the two still voted against the ordinance. But an overwhelming majority ruled in favor, and the money was approved. Meanwhile, the doctors at the insane ward at Blockley, headed by Chief Physician W.W. Hawke, slowly began pushing back against the Gang-controlled prison board that had dumped hundreds of violent inmates from the House of Correction and Holmesburg Prison into Blockley’s wards. It seemed that the new DPHC and the old, Gang-controlled Department of Corrections were doing political battle over old gripes. Hawke advocated for more space at Byberry for Blockley’s patients, insisting that sending them out to the farms was the best way to relieve the bursting, eighty-year-old hospital.
In 1905, the Weaver administration tried unsuccessfully to oust Johnson from his position. Weaver was a sidekick of Durham’s and had watched Johnson come from nothing. Weaver knew all about Johnson’s “contract.” By exposing to the courts some of the illegal methods the Gang used, Weaver painted a vivid picture. For instance, he called attention to the fact that Johnson acted as inspector at his own job sites. Although adding a few new stipulations, the courts held up the Johnson contract as unbreakable, and he emerged with his title of city architect intact. One new rule of the contract was that a non-partisan, third-party inspector was to be hired to supervise the job sites. He was to be chosen by a committee of architects and was to submit his reports to them. Easily quashing this obstacle, Johnson had his friend and fellow Gang-man James Finlay appointed to the position, assuring cooperation.
Backed by his friend and DPHC director Wilmer Krusen, Johnson became somewhat of a bully to most architectural and construction firms in the region, and he was dreaded by most who were involved in Philadelphia politics. Construction firms and local architects learned that they basically had to pay Johnson to un-involve himself from their projects, and rarely did anyone cross the Gang. Johnson became a wealthy man in a short time. He joined the Philadelphia Yacht Club and purchased a $20,000 yacht. His status as a yachtsman grew, and Johnson became the club’s commodore. He appointed his brother Orlando “Orrie” Johnson as vice-commodore. As his career flourished, his political connections grew.
Architect Philip H. Johnson, 1931. The Athenaeum of Philadelphia.
Weaver succeeded in getting the land purchased. Had he remained for a second term, the first years of Byberry might have turned out differently. Under his administration, the purchase of the Keigler, Mulligan, Kessler, Jenks, Grub, Tomlinson, Osmund, Carver, Alburger, Updyke, Comly and Carter tracts made up the 870-acre site for the new hospital. By 1913, the additional purchases of the Stevens, Dyer, Bening and Worthington farms would bring the total acreage to 1,100. The farmhouses and barns that came with the land purchases, some centuries old, were all utilized for housing patients. Aside from a few minor additions and repairs, these houses were mostly original and did not provide much security. Soon after the purchases, one hundred patients from Blockley were sent to work at the farms and live in the houses. Escapes were almost immediate, but lost in the open farmlands of northeast Philadelphia, most patients did not get far.
Patient labor accounted for much of the work done to the old farmhouses. The Kessler House was painted throughout and received a large addition containing offices and a private dining area for the chief farmer and the resident physician. It became the administration building for the farms, though only for a few years. The Jenks House was repaired, painted and insulated. It was used as a winter home for patients. The Jenks Tenant House was largely renovated, and heating was installed. Two wings were added onto the sides of the house, making room for 60 tubercular patients. The Kesslers’ wagon house was converted into a large dining room for 150 patients. A range was installed, and the building’s porch was enclosed in glass. The second floor accommodated 40 patients as a sleeping quarters. The Osmund House was re-shingled, painted and converted into a dormitory for 40 “mildly insane” patients. More than half of this work was done by the patients. They built roads and fences, planted trees and did much to beautify their environment. They are probably also responsible for constructing the additions to the Hoseington House, which sat on the north side of Burling Avenue, near Townsend Road. The eighteenth-century farmhouse was flanked by two wood-frame wings containing another 150 beds.
The Gang regained control of city hall when they were able to elect John Reyburn as mayor in 1908. Reyburn discontinued many of Weaver’s reform policies, and the fate of the patients at Byberry Farms was once again in the hands of corruption. Accompanying Reyburn’s mayoral term was the appointment of Dr. Joseph S. Neff as director of the DPHC. Neff took a keen interest in the idea of using the Byberry Farms as a spill-off for Blockley. Under his direction, the first fifty insane patients from Blockley were sent out to the farms. Aside from a few escapes, the majority of the patients showed an “improved condition,” and the solution to Blockley’s overcrowding was now clear. Dr. Neff advised the removal of more types of cases out to Byberry. It was located twenty miles from the city proper and was the most rural area within its boundaries. The term “funny farm” originated from the fact that almost all mental hospitals or asylums had been constructed in the middle of endless farmland, far away from the cities they served.
Hoseington House. Temple University Urban Archives.
Interior of Kessler’s wagon house, circa 1938. PhillyHistory.org.
In 1908, the city erected its first official building at the farms, the Tubercular Pavilion. Designed by Johnson, the pavilion was a frame building that sat about three feet off the ground on concrete slabs and had a capacity for eighty patients. The new pavilion was located just north of Southampton Road, near the Carver house. Meant only as a temporary structure, it was a true nineteenth-century epitome. Made of wood, it featured a stone chimney above a coal-burning iron furnace, and even by 1908 standards, it was a firetrap.
The reformists found a new ally in Rudolph Blankenburg and managed to get him elected mayor in 1912. Under the Blankenburg administration, Dr. Alexander Wilson was named assistant director of the Department of Public Charities. Working closely with Dr. Neff, Dr. Wilson developed what became known as the “Colony Plan.” It was an experiment to see if milder patients could “cure” themselves through farm work and fresh air, but to the city, it was a way to save money on labor costs by having patients work on the farms, as well as making more room for chronically insane patients at Blockley, and the experiment yielded excellent results. The colony plan was fairly simple. Each of the old houses was a colony, and there were approximately twenty-five patients living at each colony. Placed in charge of each house was a man and his wife, the latter acting as a matron who looked after the basic needs of the patients. However, it is not clear if these couples were employed by the City or the DPHC, or employed at all. It is also not known whether they had any medical training, let alone training in the field of care for the insane.
Each of the properties and the houses and barns they contained were put to use for a different purpose. The Jason Tomlinson tract, near the present-day intersection of Thornton and Townsend Roads, was used as the Farm Group. Its existing cow barn and chicken shacks were utilized, and new grain silos were erected. The farm group contained all of the institution’s farm implements, as well as quarters for the chief farmer and his assistant. The properties of Richard Cripps and Wilmer Tomlinson, just north of the Jason Tomlinson tract, were used as the maintenance group, which housed the power plant employees and the repairmen on staff. The new colonies at the farms did not receive much attention from the public, which was most likely the desired effect. As the population grew, the patients themselves continued fixing up the old houses. By 1910, there were 282 patients working on the farms, and they had produced a net profit of $30,309.26 for the city. Some city officials predicted failure as the flow of patients got heavier each year. In 1912, the DPHC formed a subcommittee to inspect the facilities under its care. Two representatives of the committee, commissioners Ralph Blum and George W. Ryon, visited B
yberry on May 23, 1913. Upon their arrival, they were met by assistant resident physician Dr. Edward A. McClain and chief attendant of the tubercular unit Dr. W.J. Deeny. Dr. McClain stated that there were twenty-eight attendants on staff for 281 patients and pleaded to the members for additional funding. During their tour of the property, Ryon and Blum came to understand McClain’s distress. The 17 tubercular patients on the farms were not receiving fresh air at all. Huddled into the Jenks Tenant House most of the day due to lack of attendants, they wallowed away in the midst of the open fields that were supposed to heal them. As the inspectors wandered the grounds, they found more and more unhealthy conditions. It became apparent that there was no real faculty or person in charge at all. McClain only tended medically to the sick, he stated, and did not know of any administrator.
Tubercular Pavilion (building J), 1909. PhillyHistory.org.
Interior of Tubercular Pavilion. Historical Society of Pennsylvania.
The inspectors found that three of the cottage houses were lit by gas lamps, an obvious fire hazard. In the Grubb House, they saw windows with a few slabs of wood hammered in place over them as a way to prevent escape. The Mulligan House predated plumbing and had no toilet facilities. Its twenty-seven resident patients used metal buckets. The Tomlinson House had a flooded basement that was unusable. It was discovered that laundry was done by patients in creek water. The storehouse was full of holes, resulting in losses of the food supply to rats. The milk was infested with flies and usually not safe for consumption.
Ryon and Blum, when inquiring to McClain about the day-to-day activities of the patients, were referred to a Mr. Freemont Bowman, the chief farmer. Mr. Bowman was apparently in charge of all of the purchasing and distribution of funds for the farms. “All I can do is ask Mr. Bowman for supplies,” stated McClain, “and if there are none to be had, then the patients have to do without them.” McClain’s odd response led the inspectors to inquire as to Mr. Bowman’s whereabouts. McClain referred them to a large tract of land just south of the Byberry Farms property. When the inspectors arrived at his home, they were startled to see a large and lavish house, a stark contrast from the farmhouses occupied by the patients. Bowman, not surprisingly, was unavailable for comment.
The Ryon/Blum report recommended that a full-time, well-paid superintendent should be hired, as well as more attendants. The tubercular pavilion, they said, did not meet any of the requirements of a TB facility. They recommended several of the houses be torn down and new buildings erected. It seemed from Byberry’s first inspection that nobody cared about it. Sadly, this would become the status quo. Right from the first, inspections became routine. But no matter how many bad reports came in, the Gang always managed to shift the focus off their garden of graft. They had affiliates in almost every department of city and state government, and often through impressive political manipulation, the Gang always managed to avoid taking a hit. Byberry had had its share of sincere reformers from the beginning, but it was next to impossible to create waves in the system that were not quickly smoothed out internally. Inspectors never seemed to get anywhere in their attempts to expose the corruption. Those who tried were usually led on a wild goose chase through the proper channels by the Gang until, out of frustration, they gave up.
Outhouse at the farms, 1912. PhillyHistory.org.
Out of the first inspections, several standards were established. The Ryon/Blum report concluded by stating, “We recommend the immediate appointment of a General Superintendent, with a decent salary. This position, we think, calls for a man of ability, and men of this type are not easily secured without proper compensation for their services.”
Dr. Jeffrey Allen Jackson, head of the insane department at Blockley, was called on to assume responsibility for the farms. A native of Georgia, Jackson had been a key figure in Philadelphia in the field of treatment for the insane. He graduated from Jefferson Medical College in 1906 and was a member of the editorial board of Modern Hospital magazine. Jackson had been an advocate for the colonies at Byberry from the start and seemed not to have an opinion either way of the Gang. Hoping for an administrative position at the Hospital for the Insane at Danville, Jackson accepted the offer of chief resident physician at Byberry in 1912, though it is doubtful that he actually lived at the colonies. The superintendent’s home, the Stevens House, was not yet occupied and needed much work.
Jackson visited the colonies on a regular basis, but for all his wonderful abilities and contributions to the field, he was probably more of a figurehead put in place to satisfy the council’s recommendation. While still the acting chief physician for the insane department at Blockley, Jackson’s abilities were stretched thin. He did, however, put in place a system at Byberry that got it working more like an institution and less like a hobo camp. A temporary power plant was erected and began providing heat and electricity to most of the colony houses. Work began on the sewage treatment plant, and lines connecting it to the colony houses were laid. Jackson established new departments within the colonies and regrouped patients accordingly. He also was able to get a number of paid attendants hired. Jackson can certainly be credited with putting forth his best efforts to transform the colonies into a real institution.
Dr. Jackson enforced a suggestion made by the Ryon/Blum report for a records system, as none existed. For a short time thereafter, a sloppy but in-place system of keeping patient records was practiced. Jackson’s efforts were beginning to meet with resistance from the Gang, whose own system of skimming Byberry’s budget was also finding its place. The more records Jackson kept, the harder it was to manipulate the hospital. As the records system began to grow, however, the Gang simply stopped providing funds to support the position of record keeper. This just put more of a burden on Jackson and the chief physician, who ended up managing the records themselves. As Byberry’s first superintendent, Jackson did not have much hands-on experience there. His “expertise” was displayed in a 1915 Evening Public Ledger article in which he declared that insanity was caused by alcohol use and blamed alcohol for half of Byberry’s cases, perhaps as an excuse to push for transfers. Although he was a devoted doctor, his primary concern regarding the patients at the farms was the supervision of food, clothing and shelter, and he felt his talents were being wasted. Jackson was beginning to loathe the position.
Dr. Jeffrey Allen Jackson, first superintendent, 1913. Pennsylvania State Archives, RG-23.
The first two decades of the twentieth century was a time of transition in Philadelphia. The Gang’s hold on city hall had lasted almost forty years, and cracks were beginning to show. The Gang’s loyalty to its constituents was not subtle, and the working-class citizens of the city were tired of it. Its rival Republican faction, the Vare/McNichol/Penrose combo, had been pushing for power since Isreal Durham’s banishment from the city. The more gangster-like trio knew how to appeal to the people. They understood the general attitude toward the Gang’s aged methods of operation. They also knew how to keep the utility companies happy, without which the money flowing so freely in Philadelphia would disappear. The quickly rising Pennsylvania Railroad Company’s executives would see to it that whoever ran city hall would appease their need for contracts. This faction would become known as “the Machine.”
The three leading parties of the Machine were the vivacious Vare brothers of South Philadelphia, the polite and conservative yet notoriously crooked Senator Boise Penrose and Gang contractor turned ward boss James P. McNichol. William Vare, sometimes called “Baby Bill” but commonly known as “Boss Vare,” was once a contractor of the Gang and had risen in status in the city. The Vares were renowned for swindling city hall out of millions, and their muscle-bound attitude toward their opponents was vicious. Coming from a long line of Philadelphia shipbuilders, Boise Penrose was already wealthy and did not necessarily use graft to line his own pockets. He was, however, extremely loyal to the utility and transportation companies that, as most knew, were the real government in Philadelphia. Penrose was the unchal
lenged boss of the city after Durham’s death and was the de facto Machine leader, despite the Vares’ attempts to unseat him.
The Gang was more representative of Victorian-era politics—ward bosses and rival neighborhoods, vote-buying and gift giving—and was much less subtle than the Machine. Over the next decade and a half, the Gang and the Machine went round and round on issues, in and out of the reformer role, with both carefully avoiding exposing their own corrupt agendas. Neither faction was necessarily honest, and they both had wealthy constituents to appease. The difference was merely policy. The Gang’s old-school way of gathering votes and doing favors was also practiced by the Vare Machine, though in a gentler manner. Eventually, the Machine would force the Gang out of city hall.
Meanwhile, City Architect Philip H. Johnson had not received much flak from Gang-controlled city hall. He had held onto the connections he acquired as a member of the Gang. But as powers shifted, so did allegiances. Johnson stayed “in the money” by merging with the Machine. His position—along with his salary—rose into the official architect of the Department of Public Health. As DPH architect, Johnson received contracts for nearly every municipal hospital in southeastern Pennsylvania. During his illustrious career, he is credited with designing additions to Blockley and later the Philadelphia General Hospital (PGH), the Hospital for Contagious Diseases at Second and Luzerne, the City Hall Annex (now Courtyard hotel), the City Morgue, the Philadelphia Convention Center (now demolished), the Eastern Pennsylvania Institution for Feeble Minded and Epileptic (Pennhurst State School), the Pennsylvania Homeopathic Hospital (Allentown State Hospital) and many others.
The Philadelphia State Hospital at Byberry: A History of Misery and Medicine (Landmarks) (PA) Page 3
