Rockhaven Sanitarium Historic District was listed in the National Register of Historic Places in 2016 as one of the best extant examples of an early twentieth century woman-owned, women-serving private sanitarium in the State. It was one of the first of its type in the nation. It reflects the vision of Agnes Richards, R.N., and represents a small but significant movement that sought to improve the conditions of mentally ill women in the early twentieth century. Rather than housing women in large public institutions under deplorable conditions, smaller, privately run homelike facilities were created by women exclusively for women. In California, Rockhaven Sanitarium Historic District is one of three remaining women's mental health facilities from the period. The period of significance is 1923, reflecting the date Rockhaven was first established by Agnes Richards, through 1967, when Richards, who was the visionary and driving force behind Rockhaven's philosophy and development, died. Rockhaven Sanitarium Historic District remained associated with founder Agnes Richards until her death in 1967. The District reflects exceptional importance due to the rarity of extant resources associated with early twentieth century mental healthcare, its significance as a woman-owned facility established to care for mentally ill women, its continued association with women's healthcare throughout the life of the institution, and its long association with Richards, who continued to be actively involved at Rockhaven until shortly before her death in 1967.
The CUNNINGHAM SANITARIUM was located at 18485 Lakeshore Blvd. at 185th St. The sanitarium was a 5-story-high spherical steel structure designed to maintain a pressurized atmosphere to aid in the treatment of various diseases, especially diabetes. Although oxygen therapy had been in use for over 8 years, this sphere, allegedly the only one of its kind in the world, was the first to conduct such therapy on a large scale. The treatment, developed by Orval J. Cunningham of the Univ. of Kansas, was founded on the belief that the higher air pressure introduced oxygen in abundance into the body system and aided in the therapy of various diseases. The Cunningham Sanitarium was built by H. H. Timken, owner of the Timken Roller Bearing Co. of Canton, OH, after a friend of his underwent successful treatment by Dr. Cunningham. The site was chosen because of its location on the lake and the quiet and beauty of the surroundings. The structure, a 900-ton ball 64' high, with 38 rooms and 350 portholes, was built in 1928 by the Melbourne Construction Co. at a cost of $1 million. The ball was attached to a 3-story sanitarium hotel by a series of steel tanks resembling gas storage tanks. Patients taking the air cure could eat, sleep, read, and play games in the pressurized tanks.
Sanitarium is a point-and-click adventure game, best described as a psychological thriller. The game is divided into nine chapters, each taking place in a different location and having its own distinct atmosphere. It is not always clear if something is happening on the grounds of the sanitarium or in the delusional mind of the protagonist. In most chapters the player controls Max himself, though in the more surreal areas drawn from his memories the role of the protagonist is given to other characters, real or fictional.
Through several renovations extending into the 1950s, the sanitarium was replaced by Boulder Memorial Hospital which has since evolved into the Avista Adventist Hospital in Louisville. The sanitarium site, however, is now owned by Boulder Community Hospital. West of the current building, at the entrance to Sunshine Canyon, is the trailhead to Mount Sanitas.
Greetings Neitha! Thank you for visiting Orlando Memory and the post on the old Florida Sanitarium. It is amazing that this sanitarium created by Dr. John Harvey Kellogg has grown into the huge AdventHealth hospital on Rollins Street between Orange Avenue and Princeton. How exciting that you were born in the original Florida Sanitarium and your aunt worked there. We hope you will continue to share your memories of Orlando with everyone on Orlando Memory.
By the time the stock market crashed in 1929 and the Great Depression hit, the sanitarium was in no condition to endure the strain, and it systematically crumbled. By 1938 it was headed toward bankruptcy, even though Kellogg had tried to avail himself of every conceivable option to save the institution. Debts were only settled after August 1942, when the United States government purchased the main buildings of the sanitarium. During World War II, wounded soldiers were treated in what became known as the Percy Jones Hospital until its conversion into a federal office building in 1954.36
My mother was diagnosed with tuberculosis at the age of 13, first manifesting in her right ankle. She was put in a cast until the itching became so unbearable that the doctor was forced to remove it, uncovering her exposed bone. The disease had eaten away all the flesh, and now to save the limb it required extensive grafting. Though it was known as the "white plague," TB killed Black Americans at alarming rates. Where my mother lived, in Indianapolis, there was initially no hospital available to treat her. Sunnyside, a TB sanitarium, was eventually expanded to include a wing of the house specifically used for treating critical cases of tuberculosis in the Black population. My mother was one of these cases. She was admitted to Sunnyside in 1938 and would remain there for six years (from age 14-20).
The Mountain Sanatorium, advertised in William Gleitsmann's pamphlet Mountain Sanitarium for Pulmonary Diseases, Asheville, N.C., published in the 1870s, argues that Asheville "has for a long time been visited by such patients, and its climate is well known to exert a beneficial influence on Consumptives" (p. 1). "The pure, clean mountain air," combined with the "southerly situation," make Asheville pleasant in both winter and summer (p. 1). The sanitarium opened under the charge of the author, Dr. William Gleitsmann of Baltimore. Stressing the importance of adequate nutrition to successful convalescence, the institution offered patients a "rich, nutritious diet, suitable to their condition, along with "board, including light, fire and nurse" for "$10 to $12, according to rooms, payable weekly in advance" (p. 1).
Yet the Pickford Sanitarium was not focused solely on the potential fatality of tuberculosis. Scruggs notes that "[n]o unnecessary idleness will be encouraged at this institution" (p. 13) Instead, patients will be able to work as gardeners, carpenters, printers, and other related "homelike employment" in order to "help in expanding the lung cells to a moderate degree" while also "securing . . . necessary muscular development" (p. 13). Scruggs asks readers to make donations of goods or money so that the sanitarium can continue its work. Appealing to the readers' sympathy, Scruggs notes that "[i]n one city here in the South, the number of deaths from consumption in ten years was 3,119, of which 611 were white people and 2,508 were colored people," despite the fact that "negroes in this country constitute less than . . . one tenth of the population, and at the same time nearly 40 per cent. of the mortality from consumption alone" (pp. 14-15).
This Lovecraftian horror themed map takes place at a late, rainy night in a derelict sanitarium located at the seaside of an unknown place. Multiple occult signs and statues are what the players witness first, but as they proceed deeper and deeper into the facility, it becomes clear that its most recent inhabitants were to worship no one but Cthulhu itself - an ancient divine entity.
Quite a lot of environmental traps scattered around the map to assist players, two of them are this map's signature - Suction Trap which is the giant Kraken-like creature (or its part, at least) located at the shore, in the garden. The other trap is one of the creature's tentacles can be spotted not far from the left sanitarium entrance.
The Madison County Tuberculosis Sanitarium was located on Troy road in Edwardsville and operated from May 1926 to January 1969. Plagued with financial troubles, this building encountered issues with subsidence soon after opening, and by the 1960s the county could not continue to justify its funding due to the dwindling number of patients. Facing a shortage of spaces for the elderly, in 1969 Madison County refurbished the sanitarium to become the Madison County Nursing Home.
By 1915, tuberculosis was one of the leading causes of death in the United States.1 To address this issue, the state of Illinois enabled legislation that allowed individual local governments to raise money for sanitariums to care for the afflicted. Led by the local advocacy group the Antituberculosis Association in 1920, Madison County authorized a property tax to be deposited into a fund which would accumulate value. As a result, no bonds would be needed to build the sanitarium.2 A fifty-acre lot was purchased for $40,000 from William R. Grace in October of 1921, and the first cornerstone was laid on August 7, 1925. Made entirely of brick, the structure was three stories high and could accommodate ninety to a hundred patients.3 Under the care of its first superintendent, Dr. D. D. Monroe, the Madison County Tuberculosis Sanitarium opened its doors to its first patients in April 1926.4
Peace and Harvest, the larger-than-life Depression-era limestone sculptures, stood at the sanitarium entrance. While they are typically referred to as survivors of the Works Progress Administration arts program, their heritage lies in a deadly disease and remarkable medical advances.
By the time its last 10 patients moved to a new pulmonary disease unit at what was then Saint Francis Hospital, almost 6,000 people had been treated at the sanitarium. Some stayed for two years or longer.
Now and then, little notes offer glimpses of a darker, sadder side of life in the sanitarium. Brief lines mention a patient longing for family or friends who died or were discharged. Other sources suggest life at the sanitarium was tougher than the updates in the pages of the Fluoroscope. 041b061a72