by Argyle, Ray
Dr. Lavine’s mention of sexual memories jolted Leonard. There was no doubt Kathleen remembered the abuse by her stepfather.
“And when one has clear memory of past abuse?” Leonard asked.
“Childhood experience shapes the adult in ways we do not entirely understand. One may seek escape through transferance, which leads to treating others in like manner. Or we may rebel and disregard the moral code of society. Defy what society has set up as a barrier against behaviour offensive to the majority.”
“And can that behaviour lead to confinement in an asylum?”
“Promiscuous behaviour of females from the lower classes may indeed lead to a diagnosis of mental deficiency,” Dr. Lavine said. “Such is often equated with moral degeneracy.”
“So you’re saying there may be women who are perfectly sane in the asylums?”
“That is possible.”
It was time to tell Dr. Lavine everything. Leonard revealed how he had met Kathleen Fitzgerald, and the fact that he intended to marry her if he could obtain her freedom. He had a promise from Dr. Clark to allow an independent assessment of Kathleen as well as of Molly Leppard. He explained that Molly might be able to lead him to the killer of her daughter Rosannah, and that the man who was hanged for her murder was assuredly innocent. About Molly’s sanity, he was not so sure. Was Dr. Lavine willing to examine both?
“You must understand I am not recognized as an alienist,” Dr. Lavine said.
“But you would be willing?”
“It’s a field of great interest to me. Some of my patients exhibit characteristics commonly associated with the mentally unsound. Who is not a little crazy at some time or other? Does that mean we should be confined? I have no doubt there are many in the Asylum who should not be there. I’ll see these ladies, if you can arrange it. We can discuss the matter of my fee.”
The October sun shone brightly and the day was beautiful for Leonard when he left Dr. Lavine’s office. He hurried to The Telegram to tell Owen Staples the good news.
Owen bent to his sketch board where he was drawing a cartoon hailing the departure of volunteers for the South African War. He’d just gotten back from festive ceremonies at Union Station. At last, Canada would be at the side of the Old Country in putting down the Boers, despite the foot-dragging of Prime Minister Laurier.
Leonard shared the news that Dr. Lavine had agreed to see Kathleen. “Huh, don’t be sure it will do you much good,” Owen said. “Even if he does give her a clean bill of health, what makes you think Dr. Clark will let her go?”
Leonard was far ahead of that challenge. His mind had turned already to the time when Kathleen would be free and he’d be able to marry her.
“There’s one thing you must promise, Owen,” Leonard said.
“No one but you knows about me and Kathleen. When I marry her, I won’t want anyone to know she’s been in the Asylum. Promise me you’ll never speak of it.”
“Of course I promise,” Owen said. Leonard wasn’t sure why he had felt the need to ask for such a commitment. He told himself he had to get everything exactly right.
Leonard drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair as he waited to see Dr. Clark. Wainwright had brought him in and had said the Superintendent would return shortly from his morning rounds. After all the trouble Wainwright had caused, Leonard was surprised he acted so unperturbed. I might as well be a toad on a log, he thought. He wondered whether Dr. Clark had told Wainwright the reason for Leonard’s visit. He stood when the doctor came into the room.
“As you were,” Dr. Clark said. “I’ve just looked in on Kathleen. She’s cheerful this morning. We believe our moral therapy is producing beneficial results. Dr. Stafford is trying to determine her psychiatric classification. Of course, it’s a relatively new science and there are few standards.”
“You’re still agreeable to her being looked at by someone from outside?” Leonard asked.
“I’ve said I would be willing to consider any qualified medical assessment. Who do you have in mind?”
Leonard told Dr. Clark about Dr. Lavine. He mentioned the doctor’s interest in problems of the mind. Leonard had interviewed him and he was willing to do the assessments.
Dr. Clark listened without interruption. “Have Dr. Lavine contact me,” he said. He showed Leonard to his door, shook his hand, and went back to his office. At his desk, he pressed a buzzer to summon Wainwright. “Make a note,” he told him. “There’ll be a Dr. Lavine to examine Molly Leppard and Kathleen Fitzgerald. Some Jewish meddler butting in. Have him see Dr. Stafford. And make sure I get the report.”
Two weeks after Leonard’s meeting with Dr. Clark, the phone on Leonard’s desk rang just as the six o’clock edition was going to press. It was Dr. Lavine, calling to invite him to his office the next day.
Leonard arrived a little after four o’clock and was met by Devorah. She brought him a cup of tea and a cookie, and said Dr. Lavine would be with him as soon as he finished reviewing his report. Leonard glanced over that afternoon’s Star and twenty minutes later was sitting across the desk from the doctor.
“I can’t tell you exactly what I say in my report,” Dr. Lavine began. “That would be a violation of medical confidence. I’ve written my report for the Asylum, you understand. But in view of the circumstances, I have no hesitation in summing up my general impressions. Just between the two of us, of course.”
Dr. Lavine said that on the whole, Kathleen had impressed him favourably. Molly was another matter. He recounted how he had arrived at the Asylum early for the consultation, and had been taken by Dr. Stafford to a small room on the fourth floor.
“I think he was a little annoyed with my being there,” Dr. Lavine said.
When Molly was brought in, Dr. Lavine began by asking if she knew why he was there. “She just stared straight ahead at first. I told her I wanted to know how she was getting on. She was confused and uncertain.”
Dr. Lavine told Leonard he’d read in her case history that she prayed for hours at a time and talked incessantly, but not to other people. Instead, to objects like a chair or the inkwell on the matron’s desk.
“Unusual behaviour,” Dr. Lavine said, “but not necessarily evidence of deviance. Deviance, that’s the thing to look for. Alcoholism, drug addition, mental illness, each lead to deviant behavior, each rob their victim of the ability to act rationally and responsibly. That’s what psychiatry is about, finding the cause of one’s deviance, and understanding it, prescribing methods of treatment – opiates to alleviate distress, prolonged baths to calm the patient and when feasible, occupational activities such as laundering or kitchen work.”
Dr. Lavine said it was when Molly began to talk of the buried gold she had at home that he concluded she was in no condition to be released.
“‘Home, I’ve got to get home for my gold,’ she kept telling me,” Dr. Lavine said. “Then she stood and began to shake violently. The matron rushed over. They had to take her away.”
Dr. Lavine paused, as if to give Leonard time to absorb what he’d told him.
“Now, let me tell you about Kathleen,” Dr. Lavine began. “I was a little worried when she was first brought in to me. Her hair was rather unkempt and there were circles under her eyes. I asked her if you had told her I would be in to see her.
“Kathleen said you had, but she had forgotten. She said you could only see her for fifteen minutes a week. She apologized for my having to observe her, in that condition. She said she’d been having a difficult time and that sometimes her mind was on fire with all sorts of ideas. She said she just wanted to get out and be with you.”
Dr. Lavine thumbed through the copy of Kathleen’s case history that he had on his desk. “This file is full of references to melancholia and immoral behavior. It speaks of a preoccupation with sexual thoughts. It hardly seems to me to give a true picture of this young woman’s character and condition.”
Leonard brightened when Dr. Lavine told him this. It was the first good thing he’d he
ard that morning.
Dr. Lavine said he recognized the symptoms – shared by so many women, he thought – of people who drift aimlessly through life. Kathleen had tried to put aside memories of her stepfather’s mistreatment and other unpleasantness that had caused her life to spiral out of control.
“Her demeanor changed as we talked,” Dr. Lavine said. “She said she tried not to think of what brought her there. She said it was all so unfair. She couldn’t stay at home, and she had no place to go. She admitted she liked men, except for her stepfather, that is. I asked her if she thought she could manage on the outside.”
The most important question, Leonard thought.
“She told me she didn’t think she should ever have been inside. Said she thought she was just as sane as anybody. I told her she was probably right. Mind you, who among us isn’t a bit crazy in some corner of our mind?” Dr. Lavine chuckled at the thought.
“But don’t think it will be easy,” he said he told Kathleen. “She has to know the stigma of what’s happened to her will never go away. It’s a cross she’ll always have to bear. And you too, if you marry her.”
Three men sat in the office of the Superintendent of the Toronto Insane Asylum. Dr. Clark told Leonard he had reviewed the report from Dr. Lavine and had gone over it with Dr. Stafford, who was at his side. He didn’t tell Leonard of the disparaging comments he’d made about some of what Dr. Lavine had written or that he had concurred, reluctantly it was true, with certain of his observations. Leonard waited for them to deliver their verdicts on Molly and Kathleen.
“You understand, Mr. Babington, that we are bound by nothing that Dr. Lavine has said in his report.”
Dr. Clark flourished the blue sheets of lined paper he held in his hand.
“I told you we would consider any qualified medical assessment that might be put before us. This we have done.”
Leonard wished Dr. Clark would stop reminding him of his authority, and just get on with it.
“Let’s deal first with Mrs. Leppard.” Dr. Clark said. “That should take but a few minutes.”
He folded over the first page of the papers on his desk.
“Dr. Lavine’s diagnosis is in accord with our findings,” he said. “Dementia praecox. A debilitating illness. Mrs. Leppard’s cognitive faculties are seriously impaired. The deterioration of her mind will continue until her death. There is no hope. Dr. Lavine recommends she remain here at the Asylum.”
Leonard listened with alarm as Dr. Clark enumerated the main causes of insanity among women. First came grief, followed by religious excitement, and finally poverty. Molly suffered from all three, so her present status should be no surprise. Nevertheless, Leonard resented the Superintendent’s facile explanation. He would have had no idea of the turbulence that his words, spoken in such an assured voice, held for him. But why should he? He doesn’t care whether Molly will ever be able to help him find Rosannah’s killer.
“So are we all agreed on Mrs. Leppard?” Dr. Clark took the silence that followed as assent.
“Now, the situation as to Miss Fitzgerald is somewhat more complex,” he said. He reached again for Dr. Lavine’s report. “Dr. Stafford and I agree that we face a rather large conundrum. We are going to have to talk this out.”
A conundrum? Some excuse to keep Kathleen in this awful place, Leonard feared. His nerves tightened as he realized the next few moments could determine the direction of his life. He told himself to think quickly, and get it right, no matter what Dr. Clark might say.
“I’m sorry I have but one copy of the report,” Dr. Clark began. “Let me summarize what Dr. Lavine has told us. I’ll ask Dr. Stafford to help explain anything you don’t understand.
“Kathleen experiences frequent changes in her mood, ranging from feelings of despair to optimism and cheerfulness,” Dr. Clark read. “It is this change in mood that is at the root of Kathleen’s condition.” Looking up from the report, he added, “Dr Lavine has diagnosed Kathleen as being in a partial state of melancholia.”
“We’ve known that all along, of course,” Dr. Stafford interjected.
“That is correct,” Dr. Clark said. “But Dr. Lavine brings an interesting perspective to his assessment. He says that Kathleen’s deviance, her sexual misbehaviour and her disregard of rules, both before and during her time here at the Asylum, should not be seen as a sin or a crime. Rather, he argues it is an outgrowth of her depression. He also theorizes that she has used her sexuality to compensate for her unsatisfactory state of life since falling out with her stepfather.”
“Falling out?” Leonard gasped. “What happened to her was no falling out. She was brutally abused.”
“That may be your opinion, Mr. Babington, but here we can only deal with objective fact.” Dr. Clark straightened in his chair, as if to stiffen his back against further protest. He picked up the report and counted off its three recommendations.
“First, Dr. Lavine sees no reason for Kathleen’s continued confinement. He claims her condition may have worsened here. We can hardly agree with that observation, Mr. Babington. But let me go through what else our friend has to say.
“Dr. Lavine recommends that Kathleen be released into the protective custody of family members or others who would assume responsibility for her, such as a husband. I can tell you, Mr. Babington, we are not sure we can accept that recommendation.
“And his third recommendation is that Kathleen should continue to undergo medical observation. That of course could be most easily provided if she were to stay where she is, right here at the Asylum. Quite candidly, that is the course Dr. Stafford and I would prefer.”
Leonard felt he had been on a high swing that caused his spirits to rise and fall. The Superintendent must be twisting Dr. Lavine’s report. He raised Leonard’s hopes with its findings only to dash them by disagreeing with its recommendations. Was Dr. Clark just playing a game?
It’s not worth arguing about, Leonard thought, as to whether Kathleen has gotten better or worse at the Asylum. All that’s in the past. As to Kathleen being under care of a doctor after she got out, that too was not to be debated. He’d agree to anything to have her released. He’d been waiting to put forth an idea that had come to him weeks ago and that he’d worked on ever since. It was an idea, he thought, that should win Kathleen her freedom if anything ever would. He took a breath and looked squarely at Dr. Clark.
“Sir, I know that in all that you’ve done for Kathleen, you’ve acted in what you saw as her best interest. You’ve provided protective custody. I’m not yet Kathleen’s husband and so it’s not right to ask that she be released to my care. But what about an eminent and respectable family that could assure Kathleen of a calm life? See that she receives medical attention. Until such time as we could be married, of course. I have a letter from Mr. and Mrs. Owen Staples. They are willing to take her into their home.”
Leonard thought he saw a look of relief pass over the face of Dr. Clark.
“What do you think, Dr. Staffrord?”
“I am not sure it would be the right thing,” he answered.
“Now, now,” Dr. Clark replied, “let’s not set up too many obstacles to Kathleen’s future. Let’s just talk this out a bit.”
Talk they did, and as Leonard suspected would be the case, agreement followed. Kathleen could be released come Monday, on one condition.
“You will understand, Mr. Babington, that the way in which we have arrived at this decision must remain confidential. Do you know what I mean?”
“I’m not sure I do.”
“Let me spell it out for you. We have permitted Dr. Lavine to do his assessment. It must never be revealed that we have accepted his advice. There are reasons. Among them, the fact the medical society would not approve. Do I have your word on this?”
“Of course, Dr. Clark. I’ll never let it be known.”
Leonard felt his spirit soaring. He could not wait to get to the Telegram to share the news with Owen Staples.
After Leonard
left the sylum, Dr. Clark turned to Dr. Stafford. “Well, what do you think?” the superintendant asked his colleague.
“I think you had already decided to release Kathleen.”
“That I had, Dr. Stafford. With the knowledge we possess today, correct classification of our patients is impossible. Some we classify as insane could be sane. In Kathleen Fitzgerald’s case, we lack justification for her continued confinement. However, I want you to keep Dr. Lavine’s report in your active file. If any difficulty should arise following her release we’ll know where to fix responsibility.”
On a crisp fall morning, with the breeze scudding leaves across the sidewalks, Owen and Lillian Staples, accompanied by Leonard Babington, arrived at the Toronto Insane Asylum. They entered through the basement doorway and were escorted into the room normally used to receive new patients. Owen and Lillian “signed out” Kathleen at twenty-eight minutes past nine o’clock on November 18, 1899. She had been brought to the room by Mrs. Wilson, the attendant who had been present for Dr. Lavine’s assessment. Kathleen smiled nervously as she added her signature to the sign out register. When she put down the pen Leonard took her hand and squeezed it.
“At last you’re free, and we’re together,” he whispered.
The guilt about Rosannah Leppard that had been buried deep in Leonard’s heart was less painful this morning. For once, he had achieved something worthwhile.
Chapter 35
A WEDDING AT ST. ANDREW’S
June 16, 1900
Kathleen chuckled as she watched a Northern Flicker bob and bow through the garden, its tail stiffly spread, bent on outdoing a rival for the attentions of an intended mate. Oblivious to the display, a robin was building a nest in the overhang of a back roof. Hummingbirds fluttered over a wild Canada Lily, a splash of orange against green grass and red roses. She was in the garden of Owen and Lilian Staples on Maitland Place. Leonard relaxed in a wooden rocking chair, allowing himself a smoke from his pipe – a habit he’d recently acquired. Throughout the winter following Kathleen’s release, she and Leonard had filled their hours together in front of the hearth, or in walks on Cabbagetown streets. They became familiar with every block of this Irish immigrant district. On Christmas Day they’d tobogganed down the slope of Riverdale Park above the Don River. Some evenings, they’d gone to concerts of the Mendelssohn Choir, where Owen was the lead tenor.