Monday, February 23, 2015

LAKE ALICE NIGHTMARE PARENTS DEMAND EXTRADITION

RAPED AND TORTURED : A NEW ZEALAND CHILDHOOD

The Manawatu Standard
March 6 2004
by Lee Matthews

The demons of Lake Alice still haunt the people who lost their childhoods there. 
Lee Matthews talks to a survivor. 
"We were doomed people in Lake Alice because nobody helped us. We soon learned not to complain. We knew nobody would listen." 
Stephen McMahon * is a survivor. From age 13 to 16, he says he was raped and tortured. He was also injected with gut-wrenchingly painful paraldehyde and put through unmodified electroconvulsive treatment--shock treatment with no anaesthetic. 
Routinely. To punish him. To modify his behaviour, because he seemed to live in a world of his own. 
This happened not because Mr McMahon * needed psychiatric treatment but because he was a boy with no place to go when he was 13, back in 1973. For family reasons, he needed a place in a boys' home, but there was no place. He ended up a ward of the state at Lake Alice Hospital's open child and adolescent unit, villa 11. 
He's spent the past 30 years thinking about what happened to him and brothers-in-suffering at Lake Alice. He was part of the group that in 2001, after 15 years of trying to make people believe what happened, received a public apology and a share of $6.5 million in government compensation. 
Mr McMahon *, now 45, is tall and quietly spoken. Horror seeps into his eyes when he talks of Lake Alice. He has health problems: muscle cramps, migraines, night terrors, other damage to his body. Right now he's in acute pain, a side effect of withdrawing from the morphine prescribed by Australian doctors. He also has depression problems. 
"I know I need to do serious work to overcome what has happened to me. Coming back to Palmerston North is the first step," he said. "This is fresh-start time." 
The first time he went to Lake Alice was in March 1973. His affidavit for the class action court case records what happened. 
On his first day, he was taken to villa 11 and into a day room where there were about 15 boys, all his age or younger. They were crying. 
"I asked one of them why and he said, `You'll find out.' There was screaming coming from upstairs and I was confused. I didn't know what was going on." 
What was going on was unmodified electroconvulsive treatment. Mr McMahon * was called upstairs, told to lie on a bed and electrodes were slid onto his temples. 
A rubber gag was wedged into his mouth, then unit head psychiatrist Selwyn Leeks "played with the dial" on the ECT machine. 
"They told me I wouldn't feel anything. All of a sudden I got hit with a sensation like a sledge hammer. I can't put the pain into words. Absolutely nothing compares with its intensity. Dr Leeks turned the dial down low and then up high. 
"It was like having little sledge hammers and then big sledge hammers hitting my head." 
Mr McMahon * woke up in a warm bath. One of the other residents was playing with his genitals. 
A diary was kept at the unit. Anyone caught smoking, answering staff back or committing any other trivial transgression had their names put in the "blue book". Then, on Fridays, those transgressors got unmodified ECT. 
Sometimes the youngsters had to help set up the ECT equipment. When this happened, Mr McMahon * tried to convince himself he was just a helper and that he would not be shocked--but generally the helpers got ECT. 
"Normally the smoke doors were kept closed (between the day room and the shutter cell room in villa 11, where ECT took place), but when Dr Leeks performed his ECT sessions, the doors were left open. 
"This was so the boys downstairs could hear the screaming and muffled cries of pain from the boy being tortured upstairs. 
"We were all terrified for each other. We were controlled by this fear. We just sat in the day room and waited," Mr McMahon * says. 
The staff used that fear. 
"The words they used for it were to `ride the thunderbolt', `the national grid' and `the zappidy zap'." 
He was also given unmodified ECT in the left shoulder by Dr Leeks, who said it would help Mr McMahon’s * asthma. This made Mr McMahon * too frightened to get his inhaler and medication from the office. 
Shock treatment was also administered during the week by other staff to the boys' knees, buttocks and testicles. One boy was shocked as he lay in bathwater. These staff also gave paraldehyde injections as a punishment. 
Paraldehyde is a psychiatric drug used to subdue out-of-control patients. It hurts as it is administered, leaving a feeling like hot, burning acid. It has a foul smell and leaves a sickening taste in the mouth for several days. 
Sometimes staff would "harpoon" the boys, throwing paraldehyde syringes at the their naked buttocks from across the room. 
Sexual abuse was also common, not only from staff but from some of the residents themselves. Some staff threatened that raped residents would get the thunderbolt if they complained. 
After residents complained about one resident, Dr Leeks set up a punishment session where the complainants were told to administer unmodified ECT to the abuser. 
Mr McMahon * was also beaten and kept in solitary confinement while at Lake Alice. On one occasion it was for refusing to scrub a floor with a toothbrush. 
Mr McMahon * left Lake Alice in 1975 and says his release and "rehabilitation" were typical. He was given his medication as usual that morning, then taken to Wellington, where a staff member booked him into a YMCA hostel and jacked up a labouring job at the old cigarette factory. Mr McMahon * was then given $100. 
End of rehabilitation. 
The job didn't last long. Co-workers taunted him about coming from the nuthouse. He was also cold-turkey withdrawing from medication and had no idea how to be responsible for himself. 
"One minute I was at Lake Alice, woken up in the morning with an air raid siren, being told what to do every minute of the day and being governed by fear, and now I found myself suddenly expected to fit into the workforce." 
He ended up jobless and homeless, sleeping in a Courtney Place bus shelter. A homosexual transvestite picked him up. Eventually, Mr McMahon * fled to Australia and to England. 
"To this day, I wake up crying, with nightmares about Dr Leeks and Lake Alice," he says. "The situation has not improved over time. It irritates me immensely that I just can't seem to get Lake Alice out of my life."n 
-------------------- 
Fear at first sight 
-------------------- 
The first sight of the old water tower rearing out of trees makes Stephen McMahon * shiver. 
"I hate the sight of that thing," he says. "It's so ugly. It used to be the first thing you'd see coming back after a weekend's leave. It meant you were going back there." 
Mr McMahon * was a ward of the state at Lake Alice Hospital's open child and adolescent unit from 1973 to 1975. He was 13 when he arrived. 
He went back last Friday for the first time in 30 years, to the place where he was tortured and raped while staff either participated or turned a blind eye. 
Driving there, he talked quietly of what has happened to him since Lake Alice, how the experiences there had shattered any chance of joy or a happy life. 
"I've got to go back there. I'm having a lot of difficulty dealing with this. I tell you, if it wasn't for my family, I would have taken my life over this," he says.
"I know the place is all closed down now. I know that, but I don't believe it. 
"I've got to go back there and make sure that those people aren't still torturing children in those rooms. 
"I've got to be able to walk through those rooms without feeling scared." 
The remains of Lake Alice Hospital sit a bare kilometre off the main road between Bulls and Wanganui. The hospital closed in 1986 and the national secure unit closed in 1999. Services shifted to Auckland. 
What's left now lurks behind locked gates and warning signs about guard dogs. Trees are overgrown and long grass invades the drive. Cows graze peacefully. 
Mr McMahon * goes to the caretaker's cottage. He quietly explains that he nearly died at Lake Alice as a child and he must see villa 11. His voice carries 30 years of conviction. 
The caretaker--who wouldn't let in the Manawatu Standard because it's more than his job's worth--warns that the place is wrecked. Vandals have got in. There's nothing left. 
This is what Mr McMahon * needs to hear. He also needs to see it. He goes with the caretaker. 
Half an hour later, Mr McMahon * comes walking back. He's carrying a cracked old wooden plaque-style sports trophy, recording the efforts of the Lake Alice bowling teams. 
"Look," he points out one of the little silver shields on the trophy. "S. McMahon *. 1974. That was me." 
There's a pause. He lights a cigarette, sits down. 
"I must have done something right while I was out here." 
His hands are shaking as he describes how good it felt to stand in villa 11, the place ruined and empty around him. Gutted. Reduced to a building nobody wants. 
"It's all covered in graffiti inside. Everything's broken. Even the toilets are broken. 
"It's a bit of a shock to the system, but I had to come here and see this, to be sure." 
The caretaker told him other survivors of his era have come back. It's not a pleasure trip for anyone. 
Mr McMahon * takes another look at the neglected grounds. 
"I've carried this place around the world with me, wherever I've been." 
He nods slowly. 
"That's all blown apart." 
But he says it has made him stronger to go back, to face the Goliath. 
"I will never understand why they did this to us." 

* Name changed on request

FORGOTTEN HOSPITAL ABUSED ASK FOR APOLOGY

Mar 13th, 2013 | By  | Category: DiversityEditor's PicksFront Page LayoutLatest NewsNews

FORGOTTEN HISTORY: The old Porirua Lunatic Asylym, where former patients allege abuse took place.
MANY of New Zealand’s old psychiatric institutions now stand derelict, surrounded by weeds, unnoticed by passers-by.
However, hundreds of former patients say the walls of these old buildings once hid physical violence, sexual abuse and cruel punishments.
More than two decades since the last of the old “bins” closed, a group of Wellingtonians is fighting for those patients whose stories of trauma are a forgotten chapter of New Zealand’s history.
Mental health advocacy team the Phoenix Group has launched a petition to have the Government formally acknowledge Te Ä€iotanga: The Report of the Confidential Forum for Former Inpatients of Psychiatric Institutions, which contains the accounts of almost 500 patients and their families.
The Forum was convened in 22 locations throughout New Zealand between 2005 and 2007, and heard testimonies from 493 people affected by their time in the “bins”.
Its report was presented to former Labour health minister Pete Hodgson, who declined to offer an apology or an acknowledgement of the suffering.
The current petition was initiated by Phoenix Group member Anne Helm, who sat on the panel of the Confidential Forum for two years, listening to the patients’ personal stories.
“[The institutions are] a period in our history that needs to be acknowledged,” says Ms Helm.
“The report said that a public apology would make [the patients] feel valued and respected, and bring them closure.

WARRIOR WOMEN: Anne Helm (left) and Eileen McAtee
“The Government can apologise for the Poll Tax [on Chinese migrants in the early 20th century], and the Ministry of Social Development can run a process for people abused as wards of the state. But, for the people in the institutions, there’s been no response.
“Everyone knows about the Ballantynes fire, but hardly anyone talks about the fire at the Seacliff asylum, which killed 39 people. We need to tell them this should never have happened. It will make that closure concrete.”
With regard to formal acknowledgement of Te Ä€iotanga, Dr John Crawshaw, Director of Mental Health at the Ministry of Health says the report has been shared with the appropriate government agencies.
Dr Crawshaw says a number of historical complaints about abuse in psychiatric facilities before 1992 have been referred to the ministry by the Confidential Listening and Assistance Service.
“These complaints can include a request for compensation or an apology. There is an established process in place for addressing and, where appropriate settling, these claims.”
Ms Helm is not convinced of the effectiveness of the Confidential Listening and Assistance Service to help resolve complaints.
“The Confidential Listening and Assistance service … is mandated to listen to stories in much the same way as the Confidential Forum was, with the exception that this process has no formal reporting abilities.
“In other words, what they hear will never reach the light of day.”
The Phoenix Group’s petition, posted on international social justice website Avaaz.org has generated 54 signatures and interest from overseas.
Another Phoenix Group member, Eileen McAtee, is hopeful that, as well as gaining official recognition, the petition will raise awareness of mental illness in New Zealand.
She says the petition was partly inspired by the United Nations Committee Against Torture.
“Many people don’t know about this time in our past. When people find out about it, they will be shocked and know it’s not okay,” says Ms McAtee.
“The things described in Te Ä€iotanga that those people went through were torture.  Also, some of the things described in the report are being brushed off as historical practices.
“People in the mental health system are still being put in seclusion. ECT is still being used without patients’ consent. These things are too neatly being put into the past.”
Ms Helm and Ms McAtee have both experienced mental illness, and Ms Helm spent time in psychiatric institutions between the ages of 19 and 28.
She underwent deep sleep therapy – in which a patient is rendered unconscious by psychiatric drugs for a period of weeks – at Cherry Farm in Dunedin, and recalls traumatic experiences at Lake Alice in the Manawatu.
Because of her past, she says her time on the Confidential Forum panel was “exceptionally difficult”.
Testimonies heard by the Confidential Forum included reports of physical abuse by staff, sexual assaults, solitary confinement, heavy doses of medication given as punishment, taunts against transgendered people and women with eating disorders, and ECT given to young children.
“I had to work on all my own Pandora’s boxes at the time,” says Ms Helm.
“I had to learn not to be distressed. I had a beautiful embossed bag with me in the room – and I’d touch it to remind myself there were still beautiful things in the world.”
The final report, Te Ä€iotanga, was presented to former Labour ministers Michael Cullen, Pete Hodgson and Rick Barker.
At the time Te Ä€iotanga came out, according to Ms Helm, then health minister Pete Hodgson’s response was: “We have to be very careful of what we’re apologising for.”
She says: “I think there was a fear of financial accountability, and of opening a can of worms.”
Further interest was sparked in Te Ä€iotangawas sparked last year.  Kiwi filmmaker Jim Marbrook (right) made Mental Notes, a documentary about former patients’ and staff members’ experience in the “bins”.
“We thought we’d use the publicity from the film to generate interest in the petition,” says Ms McAtee. “Consciousness was already being raised. People following the Mental Notes Facebook page have expressed their support.”
Mental Notes tells the story of five New Zealanders – including Ms Helm — who were incarcerated in these institutions, including Lake Alice. The latter was the centre of a police inquiry resulting from claims of child abuse at Tokanui Psychiatric Hospital, Porirua Lunatic Asylum and Lake Alice.
“I was horrified to hear some of those stories,” says producer and director Mr Marbrook.
“We’d be terrified of the bins, even as children. The legend in the Waikato was that you turned right to Tokanui if you were mad, and left to Waikeria [prison] if you were bad.
“It’s important to record and preserve this history that’s not in our official archives. The buildings themselves are falling down. Lake Alice is getting knocked down in 10 years’ time, and there’ll be just a pasture left. And then who’s going to know what happened?”
Human Rights Commission Disability Commissioner Paul Gibson is supportive of the petition’s goals.
He says the commission wants to “slow cook” a national conversation about the old psych  institutions by making people in the disability sector and beyond aware of the human rights abuses that took place.
“I am using the notion of saying sorry at public speaking events [for the commission], and comparing it with processes such as the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission [restorative justice following apartheid], the ‘Stolen Generations’ [process] in Australia, and Treaty [of Waitangi] reconciliation in New Zealand,” he says.
“The physical, emotional and sexual abuses against disabled people needs national acknowledgement. Everyone in our communities needs to know what happened, acknowledge it and learn from it.”
Even though she is aware the process will be slow, Ms Helm says she will continue to speak out against the mistreatment she and many others received.
“I believe I have the responsibility to the people I was in Lake Alice with. They are my people.
“I will stand for the recognition of Te Aiotanga until they put me in my grave.”

HORRIFYING STORIES: A still from Jim Marbrook’s “Mental Notes”.
Photos:

FILMS ON MENTAL ILLNESS

Hello Madness, My Old Friend
The films Mental Notes, A Dangerous Method and Spider tackle mental illness in very different ways
by Philip Matthews

S
ometimes it can seem that madness is the shared New Zealand story – shared but also secret. You only have to scratch the surface of family histories. I did some genealogy once and a copy of a death certificate came in the mail: “Died December 27, 1903, Porirua Asylum.” That was both a surprise and not one. Last year, when the writer Damien Wilkins revived his musical career with a band called the Close Readers, he wrote a song called “Lake Alice” and told the Dominion Post that “mental illness seems to be – I don’t know if it’s the Janet Frame effect – but there’s a sense in which our whole cultural life is kind of haunted by going crazy, going mad”.
In the context of the song and the history, “callous” seems to be a natural rhyme for “Alice”. And he opens up the metaphysical issue: was there ever even a lake there? As for the personal background, at the Close Readers blog Wilkins explained that “one of my older cousins and her husband were nurses there in the 1970s. Then later on, another cousin, Peter Finlay, was committed to Lake Alice.”
Again, the shared stories: it turns out that Peter Finlay, Wilkins’ cousin, is one of those interviewed about their experiences of New Zealand’s asylums in Jim Marbrook’s documentary Mental Notes. There is a very good but problematic story to be told – one day – about this part of New Zealand history, and the way that asylums with what often seemed like deceptively cheerful names (Sunnyside, Lake Alice, Cherry Farm) existed both inside and outside New Zealand society.
There were 13 mental hospitals in New Zealand in 1960; in the mid-1960s, a decade before the long, slow process of de-institutionalisation began, more than 10,000 patients were hospitalised, or slightly less than 400 people per 100,000 of the population. In some cases – Lake Alice being a famous exception – they were landmarks within city limits, occupying a conceptual space that had aspects of a hospital and aspects of a prison but was not quite either. All sorts of emotions were attached to them if you were outside: shame, grief, disgust, fear of contagion. Even without direct experience, you assumed that they were places you did not want to find yourself in – places that people sometimes did not come back from.
Mental Notes has been greeted by some critics as the film that finally pulls back the curtain on all of this history, on the “bad old days of mental health care”, as the promotional material has it. It’s not quite as full a picture as that suggests, but as a sequel and/or counterpart of sorts to the 2007 Aiotanga report, it could do some good. If it can get beyond the festival circuit – right now, it is touring in the World Cinema Showcase – and into a decent television slot, it will do even more.
The Aiotanga report appeared in 2007 after the creation of the Confidential Forum for Former In-Patients of Psychiatric Hospitals, a truth commission that heard approximately 500 stories, mainly from the 1960s, 70s and 80s. Former patients made up the vast majority of those taking part, along with families of former patients and ex-staff. The stories were then boiled down into a kind of meta-narrative which you could dub the New Zealand Psychiatric Experience.
It’s easy to scan the report for alarming quotes. This, for example:
“Participants spoke of having to sleep in large dormitories with beds very close together and of a highly regimented life with days spent locked in dirty, noisy, smoke-filled dayrooms with few activities available for them and with access to dormitories locked off during the day. Others talked of poor sanitation and the presence of cockroaches and rats. Many gave an account of a lack of privacy and routines being carried out in ways that they found degrading and humiliating. The latter included the absence of doors on toilets and having to use toilets in front of staff; communal showering with patients being lined up naked and hosed down before showering; or baths with cold water already used by others. Participants also spoke of not being allowed to use their own possessions, often being required to wear communal hospital clothing, and of their property disappearing while they were in hospital. Some spoke of being required to undertake housekeeping duties such as making beds, polishing floors, or washing soiled laundry, sometimes equating such duties with punishment.”
But the surprising thing about the report is the occasional glimmer of positive experiences and memories. These are especially unexpected if you imagine that the Forum would have been self-selecting to a degree – those with grievances were more likely to apply to be heard. However, the report says, “on the positive side, many participants told the Forum of their recognition and lasting appreciation of instances of caring they received from staff members or other patients”. And, “again, the positive experiences recounted at the Forum often involved instances of good communication between staff and the patient and family, and where the patient was treated with respect”.

N
one of that can, or should, belittle the negative experiences of so many over such a long time. But in almost completely leaving out any positive memories or benefits of the bigger “bins” in those years – asylums such as Sunnyside, Lake Alice, Carrington and Cherry Farm were mostly phased out in the 1990s – Mental Notes risks giving us an incomplete picture and might even leave some with the idea that the system at its worst (the adolescent unit at Lake Alice) was the norm. What happens is that, over time, the memories of entire systems and institutions become tainted by the publicity that surrounds the worst examples – as has happened over the past decade with Catholic institutions.
In a way, Marbrook’s film acts as a truth forum of its own, occasionally illustrated by memory-jogging trips back to the places where it all happened. The first participant is Roy Brown, who we see driving around Tokanui Hospital in the Waikato, which closed in the late 1990s. He wants to find the exact spot – his dayroom, his courtyard – and his struggle to locate the place becomes emblematic of the difficulty of remembering completely, or remembering accurately.Frances Ruwhiu’s story stretches back further, to the 1950s. At the age of nine, she was in Ngawhatu Hospital, near Nelson. In her late teens, she was in Porirua. She is one of those who have been compensated. The film shows her meeting a psychiatrist who believed in her – a rare depiction of a positive connection. Peter Finlay – Damien Wilkins’ cousin – is introduced launching a book based on his experiences, Blue Messiah, before a crowd at St Kevin’s Arcade in Auckland.
The book launch emphasises a mood of supportiveness that runs through the film, as former patients are often filmed with supportive people (partners, the psychiatrist in Ruwhiu’s case, the film-maker himself in Brown’s case). John Tovey, a former patient turned mental health worker, talks of finding himself in “seclusion” – solitary confinement, basically – in Porirua after a manic episode. Anne Helm, now a patients’ advocate and a member of the Confidential Forum, recounts experiences that include Lake Alice and the notorious deep sleep therapy at Cherry Farm.
All five speak with insight and surprising little bitterness. Experts from the other side of the fence round it out – psychiatrist David Codyre, who remembers a 1970s visit to Lake Alice as similar to waking up in David Lynch’s Eraserhead (“the same sense of unreality”), medical historian Warwick Brunton and former nurses and medical staff. In visual terms, Marbook is helped by the poignant decay of so many of these sites. Sunnyside is gone and Carrington has been renovated and re-purposed, but in many cases, the old “bins” are slowly falling apart, still fenced in but housing no one. Weeds grow through paths, pigeons roost in ceilings, furniture and children’s drawings are scattered across abandoned wards and dayrooms. The paint is peeling on institutional doors but Marbook, Brown and Finlay are free to wander through the remains of buildings and the residue of the past, catching some of the strange and spectral essence that attracts those who document abandoned institutional buildings more thoroughly (one of the best online examples is the urban exploration site Opacity). It reinforces a view that we’re taking a trip into history, into the way things were.
All this is covered in 70 minutes, which is simply not enough time to do the full story justice. But that isn’t the flaw in Mental Notes. Nor is it that it is easy to make the bad old days look bad – note how the camera lingers on now unacceptable language like “mentally subnormal person” and “mentally simple” in old reports – or that we should try not to judge the past by the standards of the present; the flaw is that the bad old days are not necessarily over. The architecture of institutions such as Hillmorton in Christchurch – the replacement for Sunnyside – still resembles that of prisons more than hospitals. Patients are still medicated against their will. Seclusion is still practiced. ECT is still practiced. Near the end of Mental Notes, John Tovey says that “for the most difficult people, a lot of the same practices of seclusion still have to be used ­– I don’t think anyone’s happy about that”, but for the most part, Mental Notes is concerned with the past tense. In short: things were really bad, now they’re pretty good. A more complete story would be more complex.
In closing, Anne Helm reiterates the message of Te Aiotanga, which has gone unheard – “Many expressed a hope for a public acknowledgment by the Government that their experiences in psychiatric institutions had been humiliating and demeaning and had often taken a lifelong toll,” the report said. As a more visible and accessible version of the truth commission itself, Mental Notes at least puts that hope before a wider public.

I
n related news, David Cronenberg’s A Dangerous Method opens with a vision more terrifying or unsettling – but also borderline comic ­– than anything seen in Mental Notes: Kiera Knightley as Sabina Spielrein, a “hysteric” (diagnostic term) who is being brought by carriage in 1904 to a Swiss asylum, where her treatment will be supervised by Carl Jung. For Knightley, the acting is all in the chin, which juts out alarmingly as she grimaces in pain and screams. The effect is lycanthropic.
A Dangerous Method has had a long history. A non-fiction book became a screenplay written by Chris Hampton in the late 90s for Julia Roberts before Hampton switched it into a play (The Talking Cure) and then back into a screenplay. In the fact-based plot, Spielrein is treated by Jung (Michael Fassbender), only to fall in love with him. She also trains as a psychoanalyst. In the meantime, Jung is breaking away from his mentor, Sigmund Freud (Viggo Mortensen).
Surprisingly, for a film about the then experimental art of psychoanalysis and Jung’s growing, pre-breakdown interest in the occult, the visual style and dramatic approach is almost entirely buttoned-down and prosaic: a filmed play on a series of sound stages. As Sight and Sound critic Kim Newman noted, the Knightley chin joins the long list of rogue body parts with psychotic agendas in Cronenberg films over 20 years from Shivers to Crash, but otherwise, the film is nowhere near psychotic enough and devoid of the irrational eruptions Cronenberg’s work normally contains. It’s all strangely impersonal.
You might sense that this project was a stop-gap for Cronenberg, whose next film has already been trailered – an adaptation of Don DeLillo’s novel Cosmopolis, starring Robert Pattinson as a young New York “multi-billionaire” within a scenario that drew on the anti-globalisation protests but somehow anticipated Occupy Wall Street (the long history of DeLillo prescience is a whole other story). One side effect of A Dangerous Method is that it means we’re surely unlikely to ever get a film of D. M. Thomas’ Freud novel The White Hotel, which has long been considered a cursed or just simply unfilmable project – a Vanity Fair story from 2009 said that the names loosely attached or at least interested over the years include Barbra Streisand, David Lynch, Bernardo Bertolucci, Emir Kusturica, Pedro Almodovar and, yes, Cronenberg.
Actually, that list makes me think I’d rather see a version of A Dangerous Method directed by Lynch or Almodovar – or especially, Guy Maddin. But the film also sent me back a decade, to Cronenberg’s masterpiece Spider. This one derived from the gothic age of mental asylums, with writer Patrick McGrath presumably drawing some of it from moments he witnessed when his father was medical superintendent at Broadmoor Hospital. Ralph Fiennes as Dennis “Spider” Cleg is a patient released back into the community after years locked up. The Fiennes performance is astonishing in its minimalism: there is no life in his eyes, he barely smiles, there is almost no clear speech. So much of him has been switched off.
Unlike, say, A Beautiful Mind or The Insatiable Moon – the latter a risible and largely unseen New Zealand entry – Spider does not treat the schizophrenic as gifted, prophetic or a holy fool. There is a constant sense of the tragic, of deep aloneness. Cleg’s halfway house is across the canal from the gasworks, which loom like a threat or a blockage in his memory. Time slips, and the present and the past become indistinguishable. The story is a tragedy driven by delusional thinking.

On the commentary track of the Spider DVD, Cronenberg acknowledges the “many Freudian resonances” in the McGrath story, but stresses that his is not a clinical approach – it’s a philosophical study rather than a medical one. If the current thinking is that schizophrenia and other mental disorders are biological in origin, then Spider is a flashback to earlier thinking, which is more romantic and less medical – as Cronenberg says, schizophrenia is never mentioned, but instead we see “the human condition when it is pushed to an extreme”.
The astonishing lead performance aside, the most impressive thing about Spider is the way that Cronenberg approaches its discrete world, a working-class East End of the post-war years, largely sourced from films and photos. It is hard to know whether the film really does have a heightened, almost dreamlike sense of Englishness or whether you are – to use the correct term – projecting it. But elements like gasworks and allotments were previously unknown to Cronenberg, and he has the perspective of an anthropologist. Among the new things he encountered was English “pub hostility” – an anger that seemed to be out of all proportion. Maybe the point is that Cronenberg found a way into the manners and mores of that East End pub world, but turn of the century Vienna kept shutting him out.

TERRIBLE LEGACY OF LAKE ALICE

BY SIMON COLLINS
New Zealand Herald

In Niuean, the message said: "I have been given electric shock by the people, Mum. The pain is very bad."

The writer: Hakeaga (Hake) Halo, then aged 13, writing to his grandmother in Auckland from Lake Alice Psychiatric Hospital near Wanganui in 1975. The medium: a speech bubble written in Niuean next to a smiling face at the end of a letter. In the letter itself the boy assured his family, in English, that the nurses and psychiatrists at Lake Alice were treating him well.

"You are not allowed to seal the letters, so they can read them and make sure nothing had been written bad about the staff and the hospital," he says. "If anything happens bad, they just rip it up and throw it in the rubbish. That happened to everyone that writes some letters. "You have to write a letter saying, 'No problem.' But all the time, deep down, you are still thinking and wondering, 'What can I do to get my message out to my parents?'

"I just praise the Lord for the guy that explained to me to draw a happy face at the end of the letter and write a message in Niuean in the speech bubble. They thought, 'He's just saying, Hi Mum'." Hake Halo's messages, with help from a courageous teacher at Lake Alice, Anna Natusch, eventually reached the Auckland Committee on Racism and Discrimination (Acord) and, through it, the Herald, which published a front-page story in December 1976.

The next month, the Government appointed a judicial inquiry. Although the judge, W. J. Mitchell, found that electric shocks were not used as a punishment, he confirmed that Halo was given shocks eight times, six of them without anaesthetic. A quarter of a century later, another Government finally apologised this month to Halo and 94 other "children of Lake Alice" who fought a four-year battle for compensation. The state has paid them $6.5 million, of which just over $2.5 million has gone to their lawyers.

The case is not just of historical interest. Electric shock treatment is still practised in 18 New Zealand public hospitals, although these days with anaesthetic. And it is doubtful whether we yet have the ideal answer for difficult children of the kind sent to Lake Alice.

Hake Halo was born in Niue in 1962 and adopted by his grandparents. The family moved to Auckland when he was 5 and he started school knowing no English. He suffered from epilepsy. He told the Weekend Herald this week: "They put me into a special class ... I couldn't speak English, so they said I'm a handicapped." Judge Mitchell's report said the boy was referred to the School Psychological Service because of "behavioural difficulties" in his first year of school. Two years later, he was admitted to the children's hospital for "hyperactivity."

After cutting his hand on a window when he was shut out of class, he was sent to a psychopaedic hospital. He changed schools, but began appearing on police files when he was just 11. "I was getting into trouble with the law all the time and stealing - mixing around with the wrong friends," he says. Judge Mitchell's report said that, at 13, Hake Halo threatened his mother with scissors and tied string around the neck of a baby cousin. He was sent to Owairaka Boys' Home, and soon afterwards to Lake Alice.

His psychiatrist there, Dr Selwyn Leeks, in a passage which outraged Acord, reported:

"He was to be a living memorial to the inadequacies of the immigration system in New Zealand. He behaved very much like an uncontrollable animal and immediately stole a considerable amount of staff money and stuffed it into his rectum. He was faecal smearing, attacking and biting all who came near him."

The medical records confirm that he had a course of electro-convulsive therapy (ECT). The way he describes it now, he actually got electric shocks of two kinds. When the shocks were for "treatment", the shock was so intense that he became unconscious instantly. In his report, Judge Mitchell accepted the psychiatrists' word that ECT always had this effect.

But Halo says there were other times when he did not lose consciousness, and felt "the worst pain that you can ever feel". "It just feels like someone is whacking your head with a sledgehammer, like someone whacking at full speed," he says. "There are purple lines going through your eyes, ringing in your ears at the same time.

"But the worst part is the pain. You are lying down, then your whole body is jumping up on the bed. Once they turn it off, you fall back down on the bed."

On these occasions, Halo believes that he did not have ECT at all, but what psychiatrists call "aversion therapy" - what you or I would call "punishment". He was alleged to have held a child's hand on a hot radiator, and to have bitten other children - claims he denies.

"I was named as an 'uncontrollable animal' in there. I swear to God I was never that."

He believes he was also given the drug paraldehyde as a punishment. This was injected just above the buttocks and was so painful that it was impossible to sit down for several hours. "Dr Leeks or the staff nurses will do it - Dempsey Corkran and Brian Stabb are the only two that I can remember," he says.

Before going to Lake Alice, he says, the epilepsy he had suffered in early childhood had gone. But after the electric shocks it returned, and he still suffers from both epilepsy and "these old attacks". He still suffers memory loss which began with the electric shocks. "You go to jobs, they tell you what to do, then you forget about it."

Halo is married with four children aged 8 to 19. He is now a lay preacher in the Church of God and works as a volunteer with the elderly. But throughout his life the memory loss and recurring epileptic fits have made it impossible for him to keep a job, apart from one seven-year stint at PDL Plastics "because the foreman understood my problems".

WHAT Lake Alice did to Halo and other children in the 1970s is in some ways unique. It became a psychiatric hospital only in 1966, and closed in 1999. The Child and Adolescent Unit was created in 1972, and closed in 1978 after the public horror aroused initially by the Halo case. Apart from the 95 former patients who have just won their case against the Crown, there may be around 50 others who were in the unit up to 1977, when Dr Leeks left. The Government is offering compensation to them, too, if they contact the Ministry of Health.

Shane Balderston, who was in the adolescent unit for a weight problem, says hearing people get electric shocks was "terrible". "I know one boy out there, he was a newcomer, he pinched money off the office table and stuck it up his bottom. He went for a shower one night and they found it, and he was sent to a room nude and got a needle in his testicles."

Warren Garlick, now an information technology consultant in Chicago, counts himself lucky for getting ECT without anaesthetic only once when he was in the unit between 1974 and 1977. He remembers being "thrown against the wall and given a chokehold" when he misbehaved.

Carl Perkins, later a member of the Maori reggae band Herbs, says several staff members once got him angry by tipping over a jigsaw and making him put it back together while he was in the unit in 1973. When one of them hit him on the head, he pushed the jigsaw off the table. One of the male nurses then jumped on him and gave him an injection of paraldehyde. Then he was wheeled into a bedroom and given an electric shock - the first of what he now believes was a series over the next two weeks. During that fortnight his grandfather visited, and was devastated to see a "zombie".

Perkins now plans to complain to the Law Society over the $2.5 million in fees and costs which the lawyers took out of this month's payment, and to lodge a claim with the Waitangi Tribunal to compensate for his "unlawful incarceration".

Sir Rodney Gallen, a former High Court judge who was hired to share out the $6.5 million among the claimants, concluded in his report that the children at Lake Alice "lived in a state of terror". "The administration of unmodified [without anaesthetic] ECT was not only common, but routine," he found. "What is more, it was administered not as a therapy in the ordinary sense of that word, but as a punishment ...

"Statement after statement claims that children were subjected to ECT administered to the legs. This seems to have occurred when children had run away from the hospital ... "Several claim, and there is corroboration from other unrelated statements, that ECT was administered to the genitals. This seems to have been imposed when the recipient was accused of unacceptable sexual behaviour."

Sir Rodney found that other punishments included injecting paraldehyde, solitary confinement without clothing, and in one horrifying case a 15-year-old boy was alleged to have been locked in a cage with an insane man. "He crouched in the corner being pawed by the particular inmate, screaming to be released." How could such things possibly have happened in God's own country?

Dr Leeks, now practising in Melbourne, is under legal advice not to talk because he faces possible disciplinary and legal actions now that the Government has admitted fault and apologised to his Lake Alice patients.

But he told the Weekend Herald: "The treatment itself is being grossly misrepresented, but aversion therapy - as it was given, not as it is said it was given - was fairly effective, and there was improvement, which didn't altogether last, for a large number of them. "For the ones who are complaining, it obviously didn't last, or didn't last as long as it might have. "The ones that had it are a relatively small number of the total youth that went through."

Dempsey Corkran, the charge nurse in the adolescent unit from 1974, says: "I worked for 34 years in that job [Lake Alice], and I felt really good about the things I did. Now I'm feeling like a criminal." Brian Stabb, who arrived from Britain as a long-haired 25-year-old nurse at about the same time Corkran took over, says Corkran made it clear there would be no more use of electric shocks as punishment. He says Corkran was "a superb model of nursing". "There was a family atmosphere, we became family figures," Stabb says. "Dempsey was the father figure, one of the female staff became the mother, I was a kind of big brother."

As in any family, there was discipline. Stabb remembers giving Hake Halo an injection after finding him in the corridor with a smaller boy. "He had his hand on the hot water pipe of the radiator and was burning the boy." Asked whether the injection was paraldehyde, he says: "It may have been ... When you have incidents of violence, especially ongoing, and you want to sedate the boy, paraldehyde was often the drug of choice."

Yet Stabb accepts that there was some cruelty. Once, he objected after he helped Leeks give an electric shock without anaesthetic to a youth who had run away. Leeks told him not to question his clinical judgment, and reminded Stabb that he lived in a hospital house. "I think that Dr Leeks put himself above being personally affected by administering such treatment, and in so doing, failed to recognise the development of his own sadism and that of some of the staff that worked for him."

STABB, who later blew the whistle publicly on "cultural safety" when he was a health tutor at Waikato Polytechnic in 1994, believes the main flaw in the system in the 1970s was that psychiatrists were "all-powerful". That has changed, he says. Nurses are now trained to question doctors rather than just carry out orders. ECT is now done with an anaesthetic. But it is still common. Margaret Tovey, who organised a recent national ECT seminar, says 18 public hospitals in New Zealand run ECT clinics.

"It is most commonly used for severe depressive disorders, and there are some cases in mania and schizophrenia where it may be an appropriate treatment as well," she says.

Dr Peter McColl, a psychiatrist at North Shore Hospital, says most clinics of any size would do two or three ECT sessions a week, with an 80-90 per cent success rate in jolting people out of depression. The Health and Disability Commissioner's office has received only four complaints about ECT since the office was set up in 1996. Three of those were too outdated to be considered, and the fourth is still being investigated.

With the old mental asylums gone, psychiatric patients have been moved into the community - a policy that Brian Stabb worries may have been pushed too far to save money. "If you look at the inpatient beds in New Zealand for 10 to 16-year-olds, in mental health units I doubt that you would have 12 to 14 beds," he says. He believes the best way to deal with difficult children is to work with the whole family.

In one community in Finland, he says, the incidence of schizophrenia was cut by 85 per cent over 10 years by sending in a team of mental health professionals to help families as soon as trouble started.

But Stabb also believes that there is still a place for asylums: "A place of rest and peace away from the community for a short period of time can be a healing experience."

The president of the Psychological Society, Dr Barry Parsonson, says "aversion therapy" is no longer an accepted procedure because people tend to revert to their old behaviour as soon as the punishment stops. Instead, he recommends finding ways to positively reinforce good behaviour.

None of these changes can restore peace of mind to the 150 teenagers, such as Hake Halo, whose lives were traumatised forever by what they experienced at Lake Alice. But perhaps the full realisation of what happened there may be a spur to finding better ways to help young people who get into trouble.


Lawyer goes after Lake Alice doctor

By SIMON COLLINS
New Zealand Herald

The lawyer who won a $6.5 million payout for 95 former patients of Lake Alice Psychiatric Hospital says he is now "highly likely" to seek a criminal prosecution of the psychiatrist who was in charge of the hospital's adolescent unit, Dr Selwyn Leeks. The move, if accepted by the police, would mean extraditing Dr Leeks from Melbourne, where he now practises.

It follows a formal Government apology this month to the former patients, who all claim to have been given electric shock treatment or injections of a painful sedative, paraldehyde, as punishment for misbehaviour in the clinic during Dr Leeks' tenure between 1972 and 1977. Their Christchurch lawyer, Grant Cameron, has written to all the patients seeking their consent to pass their files to the police. "I believe there is a prima facie case to show that he [Dr Leeks] committed either 'assault on a child' or 'cruelty to children', both of which are offences under the Crimes Act," he said. "There are other offences relating to 'assault' which may also apply.

He said the case did not come under any of the categories where time limits on prosecutions apply.

"In a lot of these cases, the direct evidence of individuals is compelling, and in many cases it is corroborated.

"I think it is highly likely we will be lodging a complaint with the police."

He said complaints may also be laid against half a dozen other staff "who assisted in the application of ECT [electro-convulsive therapy] or gave it directly without a doctor, or gave paraldehyde in cases where they shouldn't have, or physically assaulted claimants or locked them away in solitary confinement in circumstances where there was no justification"

COMMENTS FROM SURVIVORS AND FAMILY OF NZ INSTITUTIONS


Picture is of lake alice villas 

Just some of the comments from the Lake Alice website from 1970 to 1990 to give you an idea of what is was like for people in  New Zealand institutions 

I was at Lake Alice for the briefest time...2 weeks. But in that time I a was overdosed (and died) on Stellazine & Mellerill. These are psychotic drugs. I have never been diagnosed with a mental illness. Dr Pugmire was my Dr and he promised me I would never got shock treatment, but that never stopped me from being afraid that I might get it. In the time I was there I had my 15th birthday. While I don't remember the other patients, I saw the horror of shock treatment and what it did to people. I remember Fridays @ 3 pm, because of what happened then...

mandi May 20th, 2013 1:24 am :
I was a brutally tortured and raped in CHERRY FARM Hospital but this is what this place is a hospital so the New Zealand Government don’t stand for much if they allow this kind of crime in a hospital in NEW ZEALAND as my big problem id for me to try and get my head around the point of all this torture and deep sleep programme as i haven’t slept so much in a HOSPITAL (if you can it this ) but now its all shut down and made in a cheese factory and a rest home but according to the MINISTRY OF HEALTH this hospital should still be operating as it was never sold as it was never closed down as it should be still open for business and making more people die over E.C.T (shock treatment ) as this was abolished in 1992 and still they use it today which is a criminal issue to do such a thing to a human being as its so wrong in the eyes of society as this hospital doesn’t have a licence to kill people because they need treatment and end up deceased as a result  of this ETC as its so wrong as its a crime for all hospitals to do so in todays society

You were lucky you never received ECT. From what I heard from reading this website, reports from media, my sister Y who was in LA as a patient and other collections of information, it was a terrible experience (I was going to use another word for it but its censored). My sister lost two years of her life having ECT. Are you sure during these two weeks you were in there, apart from the psychotic drugs, nothing else happened?
Two weeks maybe only a short time but under the circumstances of what happened at LA to other patients, maybe there was a slight chance. Have you ever asked yourself why other people remember you, but you can';t remember them?
I am glad you came out of this alive, and a survivor. My sister Y came out it as survivor, but there were ones who did not and are still 'fighting' LA even after all these years of the hospital being closed and pulled down.

My father was sent to the lake when he was fourteen and didn't get out until he was 21. He was a victim of physical and mental abuse, and was also "treated" with paraldehyde(sorry if it's spelt wrong) and god knows what else, waking days later naked on a concrete floor. He was threatened to be put in the lake with the eels like the other one's who didn't listen. He is to this day severely institutionalised and has been in and out of wards his entire life. I want to see this and other places he was in, but I don't think I could stomach it. I visited one once, Cherry Farm, and got so wound up I couldn't breathe and had to leave. Those of you that are doing it for shits and giggles, shame on you!! This place and places like it have destroyed my family!!

I am very interested in your site and would love be kept up to date as to the progress of this historical site and buildings. My grandmother was a patient there and thank God she was transferred from there and moved a rest-home. The family managed to influence the staff to have her moved and plus knew a staff member that helped make that possible. All my grandmother remembers was screaming the entire time and now I know why she ended with a diagnoses of dementia. She was only depressed when initially was admitted and came out with complete loss of memory. Also I had a friend that was a nurse there since the early 70's and no-one knows what happened to her. I'm sure she would many stories to tell as each time I called back there, I often called on her then and she always remarked about how she enjoyed it and loathed it. I understand now what she meant by that. I don't if she is still alive but when I travel back to Wanganui I will track down the family as I went to school with her sister. Up until now I did not know why Lake Alice was closed down. Thanks Nathan for this most informative website. I hope the building stays, purely for historical reason and for the staff to be reminded for the horror they caused. I will keep an eye on your website. It's great, Love It!

i am 17 and i have been in and out of the psychiatric ward in new plymouth (te puna waiora) for the last 4 years (since i was 13), i have many many personal stories about what has happened to me and what i have witnessed at the psych ward and can quite believe what has happened at Lake Alice. My grandmother was a psych nurse at ward 17 which was the psych ward before Tepuna waiora; she doesn’t like talking about it though and have only ever managed to get her to talk about it once when i asked her if she had ever witnessed ECT. she said she had and said that it was sickening. while at the psych ward on one of my many admissions (i cant remember which one as i can barely remember the last two years due to the type and amount of meds they where giving me) i managed to talk to a middle aged patient whom had also been in and out since they were a teenager, i managed to get him to tell me a little about when he was in LA; he had mixed emotions about lake alice, he spoke of being beaten up, beating the nurses up, ECT and how volatile everything was, but he also felt the need of some of the positives of lake alice, how the nurses would sometimes take them to the pub and so on. i have also spoken to a nurse who worked there and she told me of only positive things and that she enjoyed working there. like the patient that spoke of lake alice i have both negative and positive stories about my experiences over the last 4 years. if anyone would like to talk some more then please comment back and i will do my best to reply :)

my father suffered in that place, thats something that stays with you for life. the people who hurt him are lucky i don’t know where they are...because if i did know, or ever found out, they would suffer for what they did to him.

I worked at Lake Alice in the early 1990s shortly before it closed. I'm grateful that someone has memorialised the place in some way. I had no pictures... I thought it perverse to take photos that might include residents and I regret that. I witnessed some awful nursing practice but also some great compassion at times. I did enjoy working with the residents and in some ways Lake Alice kick started an interest in mental health advocacy for me. It never had the warm and homely feeling that some other hospitals had... but I can't say that it was particularly spooky (even on night shift).


Hello again, I thought I could give you some insight into the day to day running of the block. On a side note, I have spoken to WDHB and requested my files, Renee said a few weeks so will see what happens.
My fist encounter with the NSU was when I was 15, straight from the outside. Greeted by Harold and a few others, was taken into the bath room, the one in your photos of the bath in the middle, made to strip off and wash with all these nurses watching. I was frightened and intimidated. Then given short back and sides and locked in a cell in the south corridor. Spent four days in the cell, let out only once each day for a shower. Then I was integrated to the Day room. Most were quite friendly but there were a few who saw a young 15 yr old as a sexual target. You had to grow up and harden up very quickly to survive.
Get up time was 7.30, the North corridor got up earlier at 6.45am. You had to fold up your bedding, leave your night gown in the cell and march down the corridors in the nick carrying your piss pot to the ablutions. 3 minute shower, had to shave, only 4 razors, all blunt, never cleaned and get dressed. Your clothes you would place in a plastic box outside your cell when you got locked in for the night would be in the ablution block next morning. Most humiliating walking those corridors in the nick!
From there to the dinning room for breakfast approx. 8.20am, then to dayroom at 8.45am. OT went at 9.15am for those who behaved, a few on cleaning gangs would clean the ablutions, the corridors, all the door knobs and locks were brass and had to be polished each day. That lasted an hour, then to the dayroom for the rest of the day. Play cards or read, thats it. The toilet was only opened on the half hour, no privacy in there and always homosexual activity. The hospital gave tobacco rations but only staff had lighters. Lunch was 12.15pm and then back to dayroom to do same but also TV to watch. If its fine at 12.30pm we all went out to the main yard. Tennis was played, most lay on the concrete to sleep or walked round and round the yard. OT went again at 1.30 till 4.45pm. Tea at 5pm then back to dayroom. Bed time was a choice of 3 times, 6pm, 8pm or 10.30pm. If you've been naughty it had to be 6. Only a book and plastic glass of water in the cells from South through to mid West corridor, those above had the bonus of a radio. South only had a mattress on floor, the rest was a steel platform bolted across the window, the North got the luxury with carpet, a real bed and cabinet. I got there a few times in my later stay at LA, but seemed to get into trouble and start back in the south all over again. that was hard to take.

Hi Sharon
I remember them! So when they were holding me down while Selwyn Leaks gave me ECT for running away you were possibly at school unawares. OMG. Think about that. Cause thats what they did. Sorry but you need to know 


Hey Dawn - appreciate your comments. Guess what - I tried to get my files 25 years ago and they have destroyed them!
Reply
Dawn
09/02/2011 3:47pm

Update to my last comment : sister got a letter from the DHB about her LA file, saying "they cannot at the moment find her file but they are looking" or something to those words because it was all technical hoo ha. Will keep you updated.


Hi guys,
My grandad was admitted to Lake Alice in the late 70's/early 80's after suffering chronic migraines. 
They performed ECT on him on numerous occasions without anaesthetic. He has told me a few sad stories but wont go in to too much detail. 
I am originally from Wanganui and have been to Lake Alice with my cousins to explore the grounds. It is extremely eerie and has a very sad feeling about it. I think the photos do it justice as there are still abandoned wheel chairs left in the yards and sitting outside the secure unit. As mentioned on this website there are people that live on site and closely monitor any approaching visitors. 
I am interested in hearing stories and really enjoyed looking through the photos on this website. 
If i am able to obtain any more information from my grandad i will post it on the forum. 

Picture of lake alice secure wing 

You know who else was involved? The police. Yep they drove me to lake alice! My school principal. Yep he suggested it to my parents and my family doctor! Too many people had their fingers in the pie. And 40 years later and I am still suffering

Does anyone remember a woman named Yvonne (she is my sister) and she was at Lake Alice for four years (don't know the dates but it was sometime in the 1970's? I think) and she also had ECT. She cannot remember anything being a patient there. But the good news is she is a survivor and she is now happily stronger and leading an excellent life without after effects. I am sorry for the ones that have, did or are not survive.


I hate to think what happened to my Mum there after she was mis diagnosed with a mental illness (in the 1980's ), which turned out to be a medical condition. She was locked up and given ECT . I remember going through locked doors to visit her when I was a small child( she was locked up after she tried to escape to get home to her children ). She now resides in an old folks home in Palmerston Nth , and her condition is such she is unable to speak. We will never know whether she was treated fairly there or not which is very very sad.Just thought that all you supposed ghost hunters should think about these people rather than just trying to get cheap thrills.

Hi Flo - omg! Your mums name is not Beverly is it? I have been looking for her for years. I was in there in the 70's and I went thru some tough timers there. 40 years later and I am still not over it

I have only just discovered your website and have been disturbed about the comments of EX LA NURSE. She writes that she has fond memories of working there and then she writes that some people who worked their were not so good and mis doings are the fault of the medical profession and justifies anything that may have happened there as nothing compared to other such places at the time. EX LA NURSE abuse of innocent children of the worst possible kind occurred there!! We who read about the abuse that happened there wonder how something like this could have happened. Well the answer is in the writings of EX LA NURSE. This is a nurse willing to deny any wrong doings of the place and justify herself as a good person by helping to raise funds for a swimming pool. Do you think the victims of LA abuse give a stuff about your pool? There was a doctor who was behind the abuse of these children and his name has been released, but what about all the nursings staff who either par took in the abuse or who did nothing, cleaning staff, kitchen staff etc. All these people need to be named, it is not ok to witness the abuse of children and do nothing about it. It is not ok to have worked in a place where abuse occurred and to make out there was nothing wrong with the place. Of course this place is going to have a bad vibe, a lot of bad things happened there, seriously damaged people lived there, tear down the buildings and the land will forever hold that energy. And lets not forget there would have been a lot of really good people who worked there too and gave their all for others. EX LA NURSE your comments disgust me.

If Ex-LA Nurse has fond memories of working at LA, how about giving my sister's two-years-she-lost-memories-being-a-patient back? She lost them thru ECT and beep-beep she beep-beep-beep cannot remember! Don’t know if that is a good or bad thing though?