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History of Summit County Infirmary buried deep in past, but close to home
By Mark J. Price
Beacon Journal staff writer
Published on Monday, May 18, 2009
Some secrets are buried forever in Akron's past, but others lie just beneath the surface.
The 15-acre park off Mull Avenue is one of the last vestiges of a 230-acre farm where the Summit County Infirmary operated for 70 years.
Today, the quiet neighborhood has tree-lined streets, upscale homes and well-kept lawns. In the 19th century, it was a shelter of last resort for the homeless, helpless and hopeless.
Originally known as the county poorhouse, the infirmary was a grim institution for destitute, elderly or disabled people who had no place else to live. Its residents, who were called inmates, were required to work on the farm if they were physically able. Mentally ill individuals were locked away in squalid quarters.
Hundreds died there.
''Are you talking about the Graveyard Path?'' asked Ralph Witt, 84, of Akron, who grew up on Delia Avenue. ''That's the Graveyard Path. It cut through from Sunset View, across
Schneider Park and came out on Crestview there.''
When Witt was a boy, the park didn't exist. The land was a wild, muddy swamp, and some neighborhood children were afraid to go near it.
''That's where they buried the people,'' he said. ''I used to see some bones every once in a while. They were sticking out of the ground.''
His childhood chum James Giffels, 84, of Fairlawn, who grew up on Avalon Avenue, remembers taking the shortcut to St. Sebastian in the late 1930s.
''We used to walk through there and we'd see all this stuff,'' he said. ''Somebody — I suppose kids — had dug up some of those graves. Everything was thrown all around.''
In 1849, Summit County commissioners paid $3,953 for Joseph McCune's 150-acre farm at the southwest corner of West Market Street and Portage Path.
The farmhouse and barns were remodeled to accommodate about 50 paupers. Over the decades, the county added buildings while buying more land.
Central building
In 1865, construction began on a $20,000 infirmary on the farm. Built from bricks made by pauper labor, the two-story edifice stood south of West Exchange Street near the present site of Westminster Presbyterian Church between Rose Boulevard and Mull Avenue.
The Gothic-style infirmary faced north and had wings to the east and west. Interior features included a front parlor, sitting rooms, bedrooms, dining areas, kitchens, pantries, closets and washrooms. Behind the building was an ''insane department'' with grated doors and cells.
At the opening ceremony in 1866, commissioners praised the building ''as an ornament and an honor to the county and a mark on the exalted humanity and liberality of her people.''
Two years later, inspector A.G. Byers begged to differ. In an 1868 report to the Ohio Board of State Charities, he described a hellish tour of the facility.
''There were quite a number of filthy insane, idiotic and epileptic inmates,'' he wrote.
A terrible stench permeated the entire building, he noted, and some inmates were kept outside in ''rude board pens.''
''In one, there was an insane man whose hip and knee joints were entirely anchylosed,'' Byers wrote. ''He was entirely naked and performed locomotion by sliding about on his posterior with the aid of his hands. . . .
''In the other pen were four females, one a miserable driveling idiot, eating its own filth, and the other three insane. They were also all of them entirely naked, and their condition was indescribably pitiable.''
A director pledged to clothe the inmates after Byers left.
Conditions improved gradually at the infirmary. The county built additions to the main building in 1875, 1880 and 1887. Laborers built livestock barns, stables, butcher shop, blacksmith shop, greenhouse, icehouse, dairy and laundry. The farm was self-sufficient with grain from the field, fruit from the orchard and meat from the slaughterhouse.
Following a visit in 1890, the Akron Daily Beacon reported that everything was in order: ''The grounds about the buildings are kept clean and neat and free from rubbish of every kind and the buildings are kept in excellent condition.''
The infirmary's population fluctuated from a low of around 40 to a high near 215. Residents included widows, widowers, immigrants, alcoholics, amputees, social outcasts, disease sufferers, lonely hearts and lost souls.
When inmates died at the infirmary, they were buried in a potter's field. The size of the graveyard is unknown, but it must have held hundreds. At some point, the county expanded the burials to paupers who didn't live at the infirmary.
Akron's rapid growth led to the infirmary's demise. The city needed more land for housing. In 1915, voters agreed to sell the farm and build the Summit County Home in Munroe Falls.
Philip H. Schneider, director of the Central Associated Realty Co., submitted the winning bid of $301,879 to develop the ''Sunset View subdivision.''
The Akron Evening Times interviewed infirmary residents in May 1919 as they prepared to move to the new facility.
Johnnie Pepples, 63, had lived at the infirmary since age 20 when he maimed a foot in an industrial accident.
''When I first came here, the days seemed like months and the months like years, and it seemed ages between springs, but now the time goes so fast that I can't keep track of it,'' he said.
John W. Leonard, 86, gave a wistful reaction: ''I'll kind of hate to leave this old place? Must seem kind of funny, I know, but this has been the only home I've had for the last six years and I've grown sort of attached to it.''
The $69,655 Summit County Home opened that month on 440 acres in Munroe Falls.
A new neighborhood
Schneider tore down the old infirmary, mapped out roads and built fancy homes. Nearly every block was developed except for a swampy area where the infirmary had buried its destitute.
Some remains were to be exhumed and reburied in Munroe Falls. However, the later discovery of bones proved that the effort was far from exhaustive.
When Schneider died in 1935, he deeded the land to the city, which built a park in his honor.
Akron resident Charles Billow, 81, who grew up on Delia Avenue, remembers how he used to ride his sled down Mineola Avenue. ''My dad always said: 'Be careful. Don't go down that hill too far,' '' he said.
His great-grandfather, George Billow, founded the family business, Billow Funeral Home, which handled some of the burials at the infirmary.
Michael Elliott, reference assistant at Akron-Summit County Public Library, has pored over Billow's records, sorted probate documents and scanned death certificates in an ambitious effort to unearth infirmary history.
Over the years, several genealogists have contacted Elliott while trying to trace relatives who lived at the poorhouse.
''That got me going and interested in the history of the infirmary,'' he said.
Elliott decided to reconstruct the infirmary cemetery. So far, he has documented 300 infirmary burials from 1908 to 1916, plus 156 deaths from 1867 to 1908.
''I think it will be a great resource for library patrons searching their family history,'' he said. ''Although, to be accurate, it will never be 'done' due to the lack of complete records.''
The Graveyard Path is reluctant to reveal its secrets.
''Who knows how many deaths never got recorded,'' Elliott said.
Mark J. Price is a Beacon Journal copy editor. He can be reached at 330-996-3850 or send e-mail to mjprice@thebeaconjournal.com.
Get the full article here.
This is a great story. This answers the question of, what happened to the institution for the mentally ill. We must learn from history so that we never repeat it.
Very interesting. Hope the dead didn't mind as we lay in the park having teen sex in the summers.
If you look at the park on Google Earth, You can see what appears to be a grid of green spots between a soccer field and Crestview ave. I wonder if that is part of the old Potters field. It seems kinda sad that those souls may not be remembered.
beavus... thanks for that. I had an ancestor who died there and we've not been able to locate the grave. That looks very much like a cemetery from that image.
beavus, I saw that - looks weird.
I went to st sebs and we used to play over there all the time.
I too looked @ the Google Earth image & I have to agree w/ you beavus.
It is a great story and I too looked at the google earth pic...wow! Amazing what they would put people away for back then.
Richard, if your ancestor was alive and made the move to the other home when they went to Munroe Falls he could be burried there. There is a small, very poorly maintained cemetery behind the current nursing home in Munroe Falls. It it a mess and I called the ABJ 3 times last year trying to get a news story on it-no answer of course. Not sure if it is in part MF or Tallmadge but maybe Mayor Grimm could look into this instead of the historical housing list.
She actually died in 1868. Sad to see that seemed to be the low point of its history.
I think they need to excavate the bones and give them proper burial. This is a very grim thing to thik about. That someone was just thrown in a hole and covered over on the account of they were mentally ill, had no family to even miss them or perhaps too poor to have a funeral. This doesnt seem right to me. The forefathers of the city were anxious to just bury what happened there on that property. Out of sight out of mind? *cringes*
Awe geez, I just followed beavus' advice and looked at Google earth... no doubt about it, those are graves in the park. The question is, are the bodies still there or were they removed during the re-internment process? I have to imagine they missed a few. That was almost a hundred years ago and I doubt they were that thorough.
I can't count how many times I've run/played right over that spot. Creepy.
The least they can do is put up a plaque in honor of those who died and were buried at the site. Sounds creepy, but still.
I know a guy, Scott Vollmer, who used to go to that park and pee on the grave sites. I think now I can tell him that he really was peeing on dead people. What a jerk! I think he did it because he's racist.
