by Ian Wheeler
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS, SOURCES AND REFERENCES
I am deeply grateful to the many people who have provided material for this book. I have done what was possible to crosscheck information supplied in good faith but, inevitably, there will be mistakes and omissions for which I can only apologise. Any corrections reaching my attention will be incorporated into the continuing research on this fascinating establishment.
It has proven quite impossible to mention everyone whose name has come my way in the course of research. Every single Fair Mile patient and employee is important to this account and I regret that space has not allowed everyone’s story to be told.
For many forms of involvement, thanks are due to:
The National Archives via the Internet; Lionel Baldwin; David Beasley; Hilda Behan; Charles Bosher of Boshers (Cholsey) Ltd; Renee Brewerton; Kitty Brown; Peter and Maureen Caton; Chris Chapman; Valerie Collett; Gladys Curtis; Fran De Condé; Fred Derrick; the late Stuart Dewey; Judy Dewey; Sheila Drinkall; Mary Dyson; Sylvia Farney; Gladys Fox; Pat Green; the late Jeannine Grigoriwicz; Lena Haynes; Bill Holliday; Paul Holmes; Epsom & Ewell History Explorer www.epsomandewellhistoryexplorer.org.uk; Joan Hudson; Bill Lane; John Lias; Peter Lines; Wilf, Rosie and Ron Marshall; John and Jeanne Money; Caro Muir; Bill Nicholls; Rose Noorduijn; Isobel Perry; Nigel Peterson; Revd Andrew Petit; Frank and Tina Plazas; Ken and Conchita Polley; the late Gwilym Pryce; Miriam Pryce; Tony Rayner; Roland Raynor; Michael Reynolds; Annie Rickard; Charles and Lynn Rigby; Angela Rowlands; Linda Saunders; Pam Seymour; June Smith; Peter Smithers; Tony Spackman; Mark Stevens of the Berkshire Record Office; the late John Talbot; the late Lilian Talbot; David Talbot; Mildred Taylor; Dr John Beckerson and John Horne of the National Gas Museum, Leicester; Sue Clarke of the Winterbourne Therapeutic Community, Reading; Vera Wheeler; Lesley Whittaker, Rod and June Wilkins; Audrey Woodage; Mary Woollard; Momena and Robert Wright; Brian Wyatt; Carolyn Wyatt; the late Gerald ‘Jed’ Wyatt; Renato and Angela Zito.
I would also like to thank Cholsey 1000 Plus for facilitating two showings of Fair Mile’s Forgotten Faces, the exhibition that led to this book, and for their enduring support of local historical research.
Many thanks to Chris Brotherton of Thomas Homes, for tours of the redevelopment site, information and drawings adapted for use in this book.
Special thanks to Diana M. DeLuca PhD for her contribution relating to her mother, the late Mary Fairbairn Macintyre. Further information has been drawn from Mary’s fascinating book, Nursing at The Fairmile Mental Hospital, Cholsey 1935–1939, which chronicles her training period at the Berkshire Mental Hospital and was published by the Berkshire Medical Heritage Centre, Royal Berkshire Hospital, Reading, in 2013.
Great credit must also go to Judy and the late Stuart Dewey, authors of Change at Cholsey – Again! (Pie Powder Press, 2001), not only for facts about Fair Mile but also for their work in encouraging research into Cholsey’s past.
Cholsey historian Barrie Charles examines a number of events associated with the asylum’s early years in Crime and Calamity in Cholsey (Lulu.com, 2013).
Extensive amounts of information, distributed throughout this work, have also been drawn from the Berkshire Record Office, Reading, principally:
• Visitors’ minutes D/H 10/A1/1
• General Statement book D/H 10/A4/1
• Hine’s 1898 specifications for extensions D/H 10/B1/3
• Superintendent’s journals D/H 10/A4/1 to -8
• Chaplain’s Journal D/H 10/E/1/1 to -15
• Annual reports of the Commissioners D/H 10/A2/1; D/H 10/A2/2;
• Annual Reports of the Medical Superintendent and principal officers Q/AL 12
Although not used as a source, Mark Stevens’ Life in the Victorian Asylum (Pen & Sword, 2014) contains much supplementary information based on the Fair Mile archives.
Many evocative photographs of the dereliction and redevelopment periods can be found on these and other websites:
forgottenfairmile.blogspot.co.uk
http://www.derelictplaces.co.uk/main/showthread.php?t=24331#.U7PPjEDpf6I
www.whateversleft.co.uk/asylums/fairmile-hospital-berkshire
CONTENTS
Title
Acknowledgements, Sources and References
Introduction
1 Origins and Foundation
2 Governance and Management
3 Infrastructure
4 Expansion
5 The Patients
6 Care and Treatment
7 Two World Wars
8 Occupational Therapy and Work Therapy
9 Social Activities and Recreation
10 Work and Training
11 Tragedy, Death and Spiritual Care
12 Fading into Memory
13 Dereliction and Redevelopment
Copyright
INTRODUCTION
There they stand, isolated, majestic, imperious, brooded over by the gigantic water-tower and chimney combined, rising unmistakable and daunting out of the countryside – the asylums which our forefathers built with such immense solidity to express the notions of their day.
Enoch Powell, ‘The Water Tower Speech’, 1961
Despite its many achievements, Victorian society was as imperfect as most and nowadays we tend to call to mind aspects that were unjust and unthinkable by today’s ‘enlightened’ standards. Contrasting with great affluence in some quarters, we learn of devastating poverty, deprivation, the dreaded workhouse, disease and rigid social demarcation: images of Bethlem Hospital (‘Bedlam’) are seldom far from the mind when the subject of mental illness is mentioned.
Yet by the time Queen Victoria was on the throne, there was a fashion for social responsibility and philanthropy and those in authority were quite capable of recognising that mental illness was a condition that deserved sympathetic attention. Society still preferred not to let insanity walk the streets and, in the absence of what we nowadays recognise as psychiatric therapy, it was thought better to confine the sufferers for the greater good. Although care of the mentally unwell represented a drain on the public purse, there was clearly a strong desire to protect the vulnerable and to find the means of returning them to a normal life. The very word ‘asylum’, for so long associated with confinement and inner torment, still means a place of safety.
The 1930s water tower dwarfs Fair Mile in this 2010 view. (Bill Nicholls)
The institution that came to be known as Fair Mile Hospital was the product of responsible legislation, improving awareness of the plight of the mentally ill, dedication and hard-won experience. As such it mirrors the achievements of many similar establishments across the counties of the United Kingdom, which opened their doors at about the same time and in similar circumstances. Although smaller than most, it also resembled many of these in physical form, methods of operation, conditions of work and care, and the inevitable challenges of progress and national crisis. Its impact on patients, staff and the unassuming village of Cholsey was profound and, although closed in 2003, it has left a huge legacy in terms of skills, community relations and fond memories. By the mid-twentieth century, scarcely a family in Cholsey was without some sort of connection with Fair Mile. It served as a social hub (notably in the dark days of the Second World War), entered floats in local carnivals and welcomed visitors to its regular garden fêtes. Although standing apart, Fair Mile was embraced by its host village.
The hospital suffered tragedy at times, but also laughter and gaiety. Many amusing and revealing anecdotes still burn brightly in the memories of former staff and their families. Although these are not all suitable for publication, since they might appear to mock the psychologically disadvantaged, I feel it would be foolish not to confront the issues that they raise by relating some of t
hem impartially. Similarly, some indecorous subjects were bound to arise from such a setting and, since we seeking to understand the hospital, they have been faced head-on.
A view of the Berkshire Lunatic Asylum from about 1900. The ornate top to the water tower is fictional and a crude attempt at retouching. (Spackman collection)
In Fair Mile Hospital: A Victorian Asylum I hope to present a fair portrait of an establishment which, in serving principally the counties of Berkshire and Oxfordshire, exercised a huge influence on Cholsey and its surrounding area, not to mention the thousands of staff and patients who passed through its gates. Whilst accuracy has been my constant aim, some information has required interpretation and even some official records appear to contradict each other. I ask forgiveness for any factual errors.
My qualification for compiling this work is largely one of deep interest and family connections. I represent the fourth and last generation of my family to have worked at Fair Mile – fleeting though my association was. The hospital was also my first home for a few months in 1950; I take a small, perverse pleasure in this fact and I hope that content drawn from my family’s links with Fair Mile will be suitably entertaining.
The front Lodge in 2014. From 1927 Leslie Talbot, recently appointed as Hall Porter, lived here with his new wife Lilian and raised two children. The author – the Talbots’ newly arrived first grandchild – joined his parents in sharing the cottage for a few months in 1950. Incredibly, the turret houses a bedroom. (Author’s collection)
Readers will notice that much of the information offered refers to the period prior to the advent of the National Health Service. This is because records from later than 1948 are relatively sparse. All the records that survived to the hospital’s closure were acquired and catalogued by the Berkshire Record Office (BRO) and some classes of information are currently closed to public examination out of consideration for former patients’ privacy. If this leads to uncomfortable gaps in this account, I share your disappointment.
It is important to acknowledge the key role of Mr Tony Spackman, Mental Health Service Manager at Fair Mile in its final years, who made available to me a collection of archive photographs, many appearing herein, that inspired the research for this project.
The words asylum and hospital, as well as Fair Mile and other official appellations, are used interchangeably to reflect the changes of name imposed on the establishment over the years, and every effort has been made to use the most appropriate term for the period under discussion. The same caveat applies to the whereabouts of the asylum, variously recorded as Moulsford, Wallingford and Cholsey. Be in no doubt, however, that the true location has always been Cholsey.
This project was made possible by the foresight and generosity of people who cared for Fair Mile and its patients, and who have kindly added their memories to those of my family. It is to all of these that I dedicate this book.
Ian Wheeler, 2015
1
ORIGINS AND FOUNDATION
Madness, lunacy, insanity, derangement, mental imbalance, psychosis. Whatever term chosen, the problem is essentially the same: a person has in some way lost the ability to think as a normal member of a society, family, social group or perhaps workforce, may be at personal risk and could represent a danger to others. The cause may be rooted in personal tragedy, physical illness, loss, conflict, deprivation or discrimination. Whilst this book cannot begin to explain mental illness or the invaluable work over many decades of researchers, sociologists, carers and chemists to bring relief, it is at least clear that, during the 1800s, mentally ill people were considered deserving of assistance.
The story of Fair Mile Hospital begins with the passing of the Lunacy Act of 1845 and the foundation of the Lunacy Commission under the noted social reformer, Lord Shaftesbury. The Act strengthened hitherto inadequate provisions for the so-called ‘pauper lunatics’ who, under the County Asylums Act of 1808, at least enjoyed the official status of ‘patients’. Somewhat paradoxically, the 1845 Act removed patients’ legal right to challenge their detention through the courts but, alongside the County Asylums Act of 1845, it did make them the responsibility of the counties instead of relying on their families, the parishes – possibly through recourse to the workhouse – or the prisons. All the same, given the cost of caring for and treating the mentally unwell, admission to an asylum was to be far from a foregone conclusion.
In 1845, Wallingford, Cholsey, Moulsford and other communities in what was to be Fair Mile’s catchment area stood firmly in the county of Berkshire1, which had no mental care facilities of its own. Instead, under an 1847 agreement or ‘union’ with the Berkshire Court of Quarter Sessions, Littlemore Asylum, near Oxford – itself founded only in 1846 – shouldered this burden. The boroughs of Abingdon and Windsor are recorded as separate parties to this union, with Reading joining a little later; all eventually withdrew from the Littlemore agreement and subscribed to Berkshire’s arrangements as they developed. Meanwhile, the provision of asylum facilities became compulsory in 1853.
Unfortunately – at least partly due to the primitive therapies available to medical science at the time – Littlemore’s patient population burgeoned until, in 1867, it was abundantly clear that the Royal County would have to create its own facility. This precipitated a fresh union between the Berkshire Court of Quarter Sessions and the boroughs of Reading and Newbury, under which a new asylum would be built. Situated more or less equidistant from the villages of Moulsford and Cholsey – though very much in the ancient parish of Cholsey – it was to be known as the Moulsford Asylum. If the reader should become confused over the asylum’s name and whereabouts, some clarification is offered in Chapter 2.
In 1867, a Committee of Visitors, assembled under the auspices of the Berkshire Court of Quarter Sessions, appointed Charles Henry Howell, FRIBA, of Lancaster Place, London, as the asylum’s architect. At the age of 43 he was already holding the august position of Consulting Architect to the Commissioners in Lunacy. Howell was responsible for a number of comparable asylums including Brookwood (opening in 1868), Beverley (1871), Cane Hill (1883) and Middlesbrough (1898). The appointed building contractors were Mansfield, Price & Co. of London.
The asylum’s site, purchased from the locally prominent Hedges family (at the time, owners of Wallingford Castle), occupied 67 acres in a roughly rectangular plot between the Reading turnpike (now the A329) and the River Thames.2 Its south-western boundary was the lane3 linking Cholsey to the Little Stoke ferry and, to the east, the long river frontage incorporated water meadows to the north and south. Its position and orientation were considered very favourable – not least for the wellbeing of the patients – enjoying good air and pleasant views.
This engraving appeared in The Builder in 1869. (Spackman collection)
With the turnpike road passing its front gate, the asylum had good communications with Wallingford, 2 miles distant. However, given the troubles that still affected road travel in poor weather, the proximity of Moulsford railway station was highly advantageous as it afforded easy travel to London and Bristol and a branch line service to Wallingford.
Conceived – like other asylums of the day – as an almost self-sufficient community, Howell’s creation would initially accommodate 133 male and 152 female patients – a total of 285, with plans for growth to 500. With associated staff they would dwell in an imposing, three-storeyed red-and-blue-brick pile with a front range boasting stone mullions, ‘crow step’ gables and a slate-covered roofline, which spoke broadly of Victorian ambition and pride.4 Away from public view, the architecture was rather more prosaic, although still on a grand scale. Much care was put into the layout being fit for purpose, one important feature being that newly arrived and ‘acute’ cases were accommodated away from busy areas and thoroughfares.
The plan here shows the three major phases of the asylum’s development up to 1904 and identifies Male and Female wards, kitchen with attendant scullery and pantry, a dining hall, committee room, offices, an extensi
ve laundry, workshops for boot makers, tailors, mattress stuffing and hair picking – not forgetting a substantial residence for the Superintendent who, from his front windows, was able to survey the Oval, the turning circle for carriages that served the asylum’s dignified front entrance. The wards were numbered Male 1, 2, 3 and Female 1, 2, 3, etc., not taking names until 1959. Staff spoke of ‘Male twos’, ‘Female eights’ and so forth for years afterwards.
The internal arrangements altered with the growth of the asylum and Male and Female wards were originally situated to both north (left) and south (right) of the main entrance. Those to the north were more secure, having smaller windows and being equipped with padded rooms, while those to the south housed new admissions and convalescents and had better access to the grounds. But, by 1904, each sex was firmly confined to its own half of the premises as shown, and this remained the accepted pattern.
Howell’s scheme was comprehensive. A mixed farm, orchard and kitchen gardens were to be created to both help feed the asylum’s occupants and provide gainful activity for the patients. A gas works and ‘gasometer’ (properly known as a gas holder) were installed on the northern boundary to serve the lighting arrangements and ‘dry furnaces’ heated the wards via hot air ducts (central heating arrived later, as explained in Chapter 3). There were to be extensive pleasure grounds with wooded margins, laid out by notable landscape designer Robert Marnock and planted with a veritable arboretum of species5 by a Mr Joseph Harding, nurseryman, of nearby Winterbrook. There would also be a spring to provide sweet drinking water and a chapel to cater for the spiritual needs of all.
Construction began in March 1868 and a number of outlying cottages went up at an early stage, housing workmen before passing to the key employees as ‘emoluments’ befitting their positions. Still occupied, these were two pairs of cottages on the Reading Road boundary and a terrace just to the south-west of the site.
