The Three Christs of Ypsilanti

by Milton Rokeach

  May 17. Leon elaborates on his invisibility. He became completely invisible in 1932, and speaks of three stages of invisibility: (1) invisible to others, visible to self; (2) invisible to others and invisible to self, but can feel self; (3) invisible to others and to self, and cannot feel self.

  May 19. Leon elaborates further on being invisible. “The purpose of this will be for dissociating that person”—he looks at Miss Anderson—“due to metaphysical phenomena, dissociating where the person will be independent.”

  May 24. “I still want to live according to the Ten Commandments. If they don’t want it, I’ll live alone, period! They can all go to hell. I know I’m missing out on pleasure—eating, drinking, merrymaking, and all that stuff—but it doesn’t please my heart. I have met the world. I got disgusted with the negative ideals I found there.”

  June 7. “I feel that everyone sees me now. I mean I feel I’m being seen, the first time since I was ten or ten and a half years of age. I feel there’s light of truth inside as well as light of truth outside.”

  After the group meeting is adjourned, Miss Anderson asks Leon if he would like to see her. He replies: “There isn’t very much to talk about unless you want to ask some questions.”

  She asks what it means for him to be “completely seen.”

  “If it isn’t so,” he says, “I stand corrected. It so happens when there’s light on the inside, it’s a comfortable feeling concerning my case. There was an optic chiasma of trees in which I was squeezing out darkness and putting in light.” He goes on to say that he would not be seen if he had intercourse with a G. M., adding: “My wife protected me from their intentions. I’m thoroughly satisfied with my wife. As far as I’m concerned, I’m facing my problems.”

  June 22. “You seem so angry,” Miss Anderson remarks.

  “I’m always angry. You cannot have sanity without hatred of the evil ideal. I have love of hatred towards negativism. I have to have sound hatred—an outlet—if you haven’t got that, you explode. Sound psychiatry tells me that.”

  “Isn’t is uncomfortable to be angry all the time?”

  “No, it isn’t, on the grounds that it’s an incentive to go on.”

  “You’re so hard on yourself.”

  “No, I’m not! I know what I want, why I want it, what I’m getting out of it, which way I’m going, and I want to keep it that way. If a person can say that as far as he’s concerned the Ten Commandments is civilization, everything, that man can go and live alone anywhere and be satisfied, in the sense of inner peaceful conscience—that’s a man!”

  She asks him whether he is so hard on himself because his conscience is perhaps not so peaceful.

  “I’m not hard on myself, G. M. Anderson. I hate the negative ideal because I want to be sane. You have to have a goal in view at all times. My goal is to live with truth, and I stated if the society doesn’t want truth, I can tell them all to go to hell. I can live alone to prove that sound civilization is the Ten Commandments.”

  The Final Break

  Despite the tremendous amount of time Miss Anderson spent with Leon, it was to be of no avail. His tentative moves toward improvement were finally abandoned. Actually we had an inkling of this very early in his relationship with her—even before the blindfold episode, when we observed that Mondays were typically black Mondays, and Fridays, blue Fridays for Leon. Miss Anderson was away from the hospital on weekends and he apparently interpreted this as an abandonment—proof that she did not really care about him and that he could not really count on her. Regularly, every Monday, when her daily visits resumed, Leon sulked, refused to talk, was curt or withdrawn, walked out or was openly hostile. But, as the week progressed, his feelings would gradually thaw out—until Friday, when the meeting was permeated with his anticipations of an empty weekend.

  At about the same time it became evident that he was also especially difficult on the two days a week when I was present; then, because I had conferences with Miss Anderson after the meetings, his eager anticipation of the post-meeting tête-à-tête with her was doomed to disappointment. As soon as I realized what was happening, I abandoned these conferences with her. This led immediately to an improvement in relations all the way around and eliminated an important source of frustration for Leon. Now he could at least count on seeing her alone every day except on weekends.

  And so it went, for weeks and months. The meetings, however, were complicated by other incidents, which, inevitably, interrupted their normal, even stereotyped pattern. Because Miss Anderson had other research commitments and duties at the hospital—which Leon knew about—her sessions with him were sometimes interrupted by a message, or terminated earlier than usual. Occasionally, something came up—her other projects, illness, a snowstorm—that made it necessary for her to cancel a meeting altogether, or to be absent for a day or longer. When this happened, she informed Leon, Joseph, and Clyde in advance or—if this was not possible—relayed a message to them through ward personnel. Clyde and Joseph, who also looked forward to the daily group meetings, accepted these messages with reasonably good grace. But not Leon. He always managed to convey the impression, mainly by protesting too loudly how much he couldn’t care less, that once again he had been abandoned or betrayed.

  At the end of June, Miss Anderson left for a vacation. “Take care of yourselves,” she said to the three Christs the day of her departure.

  “Truth will take care of me,” Leon replied.

  A week later she returned and found him extremely tense and upset. Announcing that he would not commit adultery, he refused to see her alone after the group meeting. “Truth is my friend,” he asserted. “I have no other friends.”

  And so it was that Leon, who had “to see the relationship to infinity,” ended his relationship with a woman who was not God.

  [1] Leon’s use of the double (and sometimes the triple) negative is worth noting in this instance and in others.

  CHAPTER XVI

  DAD MAKES A FEW SUGGESTIONS

  JOSEPH HAD many times referred to Dr. O. R. Yoder, the superintendent of Ypsilanti State Hospital, as his Dad. We did not know why he did this—he himself refused, or was not able, to enlighten us—but it had been going on for as long as we had known him. Moreover, it was to Dr. Yoder that he turned when he felt the need for any kind of assistance from above. On July 14, 1960, when he was agitating to be transferred to another ward, or “deported back to England,” he had even gone to see the superintendent to petition his intervention. During the interview he had also discussed his sexual difficulties with Dr. Yoder—something he had never talked about with us, although he did tell us about the interview afterwards. “I want to talk to you, man to man,” he said to Dr. Yoder. “I can’t get a hard-on. My sex was all right before. I was wondering if you could arrange the mind so that you wouldn’t have to think about getting a woman. A man must have a hard-on. He feels better all around. The libido doesn’t forget. Just the thought that you can’t hurts you.” This was virtually the only bit of information we were ever able to get about Joseph’s sex life, since he was very secretive in general and often gave us the impression of deliberately deciding to “keep his mouth shut,” as he said. But, with Dr. Yoder, Joseph would open up.

  Between July 1960 and August 1961, Joseph received many letters from Dr. Yoder—I was the author of these letters, with Dr. Yoder’s full knowledge and permission. Joseph almost always replied promptly and lengthily, often within a few hours of receiving the letters. At first he delivered his letters personally to Dr. Yoder’s secretary, but this proved to be such a nuisance that it was arranged to have all his letters sent and received through Miss Anderson. During the daily group meetings, he would receive, open, read aloud, and comment upon the letters, in this way making it possible for us to “become familiar” with their contents and to note Joseph’s reactions to them firsthand.

  The purpose of these letters was the same as in Leon’s case—to explore the nature and meaning of Joseph’s authority sys
tem and to determine to what extent changes in behavior and delusion might be brought about through messages emanating from a figure he accepted as a positive authority. They had therefore a twofold purpose; to make Joseph feel more secure and contented, and to persuade him to do certain things which he had been unable or unwilling to do, when the suggestions had emanated from us. His responses to Dr. Yoder’s letters were manifold and complicated, and although we were sometimes able to anticipate them, at other times we were not. Moreover, in his reactions to the communications, he often revealed himself in ways he never did with us, thus affording us new insights into his character and into the nature and magnitude of the problem of identity which he faced in daily life.

  The exchange began when, in the middle of July 1960, Joseph wrote to Dr. Yoder asking if he could be transferred back to England, his “native” country, the country he loved so much. The reply sent in Dr. Yoder’s name noted that, according to the hospital records, Joseph had been born in Canada, had never been to England, and was a naturalized citizen of the United States. It was therefore unlikely that the English would be willing to have him back or that the American authorities would be able to initiate action for deportation. To this letter, Joseph replied, in part:

  Dear Dr. Yoder:

  I must say that I have not felt any too well over it, but since you state so, I am unable to do anything about going back to England. I am God, however, and I must wait for my power, so I may be back in England one beautiful day. As God, I am a citizen of the world, there is no doubt.

  I have consulted Dr. Rokeage and Mr. Spivak as you write in the letter and they were at one as to what you state.

  For the next three months there were no further communications between Joseph and Dr. Yoder. Yet the result of the initial exchange was dramatic. While previously Joseph’s delusions about England had made up a large portion of his conversation, he now dropped all references to it and no longer spoke of having been born in England or wanting to be deported there.

  On September 19, 1960, I interviewed Joseph to find out to what extent he still held to his delusions about England, and to his other grandiose delusions about himself. When I asked him where he was born, he said Canada; of what country he was a citizen, he said the United States; whether he had ever been to England: “No, I never have! I was born in Quebec.” If he left the hospital, what sort of a job would he take? He would be a janitor, he replied, or work for the railroad, or be clerk in a bank or a department store, or work on the assembly line at Ford. He did not, as had been his usual practice, lapse into dreams of more grandiose jobs, such as bank president or owner of a department store.

  I pursued the idea of his working in a bank, to see whether he would end up owning it. He said instead that if he brushed up on his mathematics he might eventually become a teller.

  Joseph also said he now realized it was useless for him to try to go back to England. It was clear, however, that he had not really given up his grandiose delusions, but had decided simply not to talk about them. “If Dr. Yoder says I am God, then I can’t get out of the hospital. I have the right thing in mind. Nobody bothers you if you say you’re a laborer. I’m trying to be myself, Joseph Cassel.” He went on to talk about being deported to Canada, saying that maybe he could take over Prime Minister Diefenbaker’s job. Then suddenly he pulled back. “That’s a nice dream. One does dream about things too high.”

  All in all, an impressive, insightful performance. I had never seen Joseph more realistic. The communication from his authority referent had indeed produced marked changes in his behavior. By inhibiting his delusional speech, it gave him a more realistic posture vis-à-vis other people in his daily environment. But at the group meeting he “backslid” a bit. “The last time I was born it was in Quebec. But I am originally English—no doubt about it.”

  A few days later I asked Joseph once again if he had been born in England. He hesitated, then grinned: “I’m supposed to be born in Quebec.” When I asked why he was smiling, he evaded my question. I then asked him who John Michael Ernahue was. “Myself,” he answered. “But I can’t use that name anymore.”

  It was fully three months after the receipt of Dr. Yoder’s letter that Joseph showed signs of a relapse. He began to talk more openly about his English delusions. At the group meeting he mentioned that he was God, but also that he knew enough not to talk about it. This was at the time that Leon was openly calling Miss Anderson “God,” and I suspect it upset Joseph, compelling him to reassert his God identity.

  The correspondence between Joseph and Dr. Yoder was resumed on October 24, 1960, and from that time until August of the following year a great many letters passed between them. Joseph’s were frequently very long—one ran to thirty-seven pages—and often extremely and obsessively repetitive. Those reproduced here are excerpted to eliminate needless repetition, but they preserve the flavor, tone, and pace of the communications and convey faithfully the nature of the relationship which developed between Joseph and Dr. Yoder.

  October 24. As Joseph opens the letter at the group meeting, he says: “I bet it’s from Dr. Yoder.” He reads it aloud.

  My dear Joseph:

  The other day I had a conference with Dr. Milton Rokeach about you and I was pleased to learn from Dr. Rokeach that you have been getting along very nicely lately. I am especially pleased to learn that you are once again reading good books, which shows me that you have excellent literary taste, and I am also especially glad to learn that you no longer talk about being deported back to England, since you are not an English citizen. This means that you are getting better.

  Dr. Rokeach has also reported to me that you are now able to discuss in realistic terms what sort of jobs you are qualified to take if you were to be discharged from the hospital, and if you were to go back to Detroit. The fact that you are able to do this realistically is very encouraging and also means that you are getting better mentally.

  Keep up the good work! The more realistic you get, the better you are. The better you are, the sooner I will be able to consider sending you home to Detroit. You have been here for a long time and I would like nothing better than to send you back home to Detroit as soon as possible; that is, as soon as you are well.

  Have you been to church lately? If you haven’t, why not go next Sunday? It might do you good, you know. Remember how good you felt the last time you went to church?

  Write me if you get a chance. I’m always glad to hear from you.

  Sincerely yours,

  O. R. Yoder, M. D.

  Medical Superintendent

  Joseph is agitated as he finishes reading. “He doesn’t want me to go to England. He has nothing to do with the discharge. Social Service takes care of these things. He’s just a figurehead, that’s all he is. I’ve always been better mentally. I entered the hospital voluntarily. Just a letter of insult, that’s all. Just a comic affair, that’s all.

  “That’s my business if I go to to church. The next thing will be a letter saying, ‘Joseph Cassel, you didn’t answer my letter so I didn’t send you home.’ Just a letter of diatribe! of insults!”

  Angrily, he tears the letter up. “I’m not insane, crazy. By thinking I’m sick, then he isn’t sick. He could write, ‘You came here voluntarily. You’ve been here a long time. Go home!’ That would be reality! I want to see Yoder personally. He said I was able to get out of the hospital very shortly. Why did he change? Because Dung went over there and told him that I was sick, or something of the sort.”

  Leon, of course, immediately denies that he did any such thing, Joseph ignores him and continues. “I don’t waste my time on those letters. I tore it up. No letter came to me. I can write letters better than he can. I can make speeches. My mind was quiet before I received this letter. Now I am agitated. It’s utterly despicable. I don’t want Dr. Yoder to tell me what I am like, what I feel like, whether I’m sick or no. That’s my business!”

  October 26

  My dear Joseph:

  I know
that you have a need for money so I am enclosing 50¢ for you. I hope you will be able to use it for your enjoyment.

  As I said to you in my last letter I am especially pleased to learn that you are reading good books which shows you have exceptional literary taste and I am especially glad to learn that you no longer talk about being deported back to England since you are not an English citizen. This means that you are getting better.

  Dr. Rokeach tells me that you got very angry with my letter and my feelings are hurt about this. I really mean it when I say that you should write me if you get a chance and as I said in my last letter it might do you good if you go to church.

  Sincerely yours,

  O. R. Yoder, M. D.

  After reading the letter aloud, Joseph comments on the suggestion that he attend church. “He won’t leave that alone, will he? All admonishments!” He says he is not going to answer, but will send a message through me, saying: “Thank you very much for the 50¢. I am getting better every day.” He concludes: “What else can you do against the authorities?”

  Joseph does answer Dr. Yoder, however.

  October 26

  Dear Dr. Yoder:

  I do so want to thank you for the nice letter, which you have forwarded to me. I do so wish to thank you, withal, for the .50 which you have also sent to me! Thank you for your praising me on my choicy perusal of literature.

  I do go or attend the church service every Sunday. I also make an answer on your writing to me anent my mental health:—I am making progresses, daily in regard to my mental health! … Thus, I am getting better every day, using such psychology. . . . ‘Every day, in every way, I am getting better and better!!’

  Excuse me for my not having written to you, before.

  I am yours truly,

  Joseph Cassel

  October 30. Today Joseph begins an ambitious program to write letters to all his relatives, most particularly to his wife, but also to his father, people with whom he had long ago virtually abandoned contact.