(A Memorial to the Asylum)

VERSE 1: THE BEGINNING:

The vast Grand Traverse region of the late Victorians

was built on the arrival of Bohemian pioneer men.

The State of Michigan soon built a refuge west of town,

and under Dr. Munson it became the best around.

The brick and stone and timbers, the iron, glass and more,

soon built a house a thousand feet long, fully three whole floors.

A score of cottages and additions they’d soon built,

by nineteen-ten a thousand inmates all these buildings filled.

And central heat, electric light, plumbing, phones, and more,

from day one these were in place just as were elevators.

Those mule-drawn carts on wooden tracks brought brick from Cedar Lake,

to build those very first buildings and that was no mistake.

When the wood floors creaked and the Pavs did speak to the turkeys on the hill,

and the way of life they established soon many a need would fill.

In eighteen-eighty-five, oh yes that's when the doors opened,

and NORTHERN MICHIGAN ASYLUM seemed to have no end.

While the inmates and the attendants worked on the farms and shops and wards,

from the Elmwood gate to the hillside, under that old trustees’ board.

When future generations turn the history pages back,

we hope they will remember us and build within our tracks!

VERSE 2: THE BEGINNING CONTINUES, THE FARM:

Now from the start attendants used to live right on the wards,

and sadly that ceased long ago, and I’m not mincing words.

Now Dr. Munson was a homeopath, yes, that is true,

and yes the builders installed all the finest fittings, too.

In the early years the farm began with livestock, orchards, fields,

and for the kitchens on those halls a great bounty did yield.

That herd of Holsteins soon was internationally known,

and then produced the worlds’ champion cow second to none.

Traverse Colontha Walker, that was her name, it’s true.

She lived from nineteen-sixteen until nineteen-thirty-two.

They put up a stone marker to her memory on the grounds,

and granite monuments to cows are seldom to be found.

The milkhouses, the greenhouses, the slaughterhouses too,

the icehouses, the granaries, these just to name a few.

They gave the patients and employees so much work to do,

with all that work a-goin’ on it was one happy crew.

VERSES 1-2: SHEET 3 OF 9

VERSES 2-4: SHEET 4 OF 9

CHORUS: VERSE 2:

And the wagons, horses and tractors went to the farming grounds and back,

taking patients out there to work, oh yes, then bringing the harvest back.

When future generations turn the history pages back,

we hope they will remember us and plow along our tracks.

Now under Dr. Munson the grounds were made so keen.

Exotic trees were planted, many can still be seen,

and TRAVERSE CITY STATE HOSPITAL soon became the name,

but under changing management the game remained the same.

At the very start the wagons brought admissions and supplies.

The new inmates, the wood, the coal runs came in numbers high.

But rail connections had to be made down in Traverse town,

that awkward situation soon was no more to be found.

‘Cause working ‘neath the wooded hill and towers west of town,

the horse-drawn ships made lots of trips to town and all around,

when nineteen-fourteen brought that smoking monster on two rails.

It screamed across the eastern flank on a gleaming steel trail.

From across the land supplies and coal, they came from near and far,

and once or twice new patients even came in special cars,

and grew an institution on the whisps of engine steam,

back in the days when people rushed to ride the railroad dream!

And the whistles wooed and the bells clang-clanged and the wheels went clakety-clack,

from across the land to the hillside, on the hospital side-track!

When future generations turn the history pages back,

we hope they will remember us and chug along our tracks!

Back in the teens, a hospital, old Grand Traverse did need,

for sick and injured cases, Dr. Munson filled the need,

and by the nineteen-twenties Munson Hospital was born,

it still exists right to this day but not in that same form.

As the years went by the Asylum grew to a Hospital and more,

from its quaint Victorian origins to a more modern décor,

more patients, new equipment, that place was soon to be,

the envy of all the institutions in this country.

New buildings soon were added by the W.P.A.,

The T.B. san’s, were built, you would’ve thought they’d always stay.

That "grand old institution", soon was world-wide number one.

The "Golden Flower of the North" had reached its’ fullest bloom!

New shops, new barns, new dining halls all fueled and fanned the fires.

Infirmaries, dorms, receiving halls rose ‘neath those ancient spires.

Before too long that hospital into a city grew!

Its’ pride was deep, its prospects bright its’ progress swift and true!

And the antique cars came from near and far bringing many home to stay,

from across the state through the Elmwood gate in that fine glorious day!

When future generations turn the history pages back,

we hope they will remember us and grow within our tracks!

Dr. Munson led for the longest time, a full thirty-nine years,

and ‘til he retired in twenty-four that "seasoned old ship" he steered!

And steered by Inch, and Sheets, and Somerness, and more,

it spawned men like DeKruif and Ferguson, the best, for sure.

Back in the early twenties, the Board of Trustees ceased,

State Hospital Commission, took over then, you see.

By forty-five the D.M.H., that commission replaced,

and from that day on forward, their leadership was faced.

Attendants, nurses, doctors, that hospital did train.

The schools and residency programs were the work of brains,

and social work,and nursing, outpatient clinic, too,

the satillite clinics and much more they all were there for you.

Amusements, chapel, work, for many patients, day or night,

Rewards and privileges were high for those who did what's right.

housekeeping, shops, and kitchens, and tilling of the soil,

special events, and concerts, parties, lots of fun and toil.

The "Observers", "Grapevines", and "Through the Years", from the print shop they did come,

and "the college up there on Elmwood street" felt like it was never done.

When future generations turn the history pages back,

we hope they will remember us and work within our tracks.

The maintenance crews, their work, oh yes, went on around the clock,

repairing, building, replacing, and, yes, maintaining stock,

from safe water to doors, windows, and heat, and all repairs,

to building thousands of great things used everywhere up there.

From wood, soft brick, and stone, oh yes, and old cast iron, too,

to much more modern methods, concrete and steel for you.

Terrazzo, tile, aluminum, and stainless found a place,

and gave that fine old hospital an even finer face.

The place was well equipped too, they had all they did need,

libraries, classrooms, auditoriums, potted plants from seed.

The barber shops and sewing machines, pianos on the wards,

with all of this and so much more, no reason to be bored.

New powerplant, laundry, and much more, the fifties, they did build,

that decade a new administration building they filled.

The census rose from five-hundred ‘bout eighteen-eighty-six,

to thirty-three-hundred or so by nineteen-fifty-six.

By the late fifties all the employees numbered one thousand and more,

and they welcomed so many outcasts through that old receiving door!

When future generations turn the history pages back,

we hope they will remember us and admit in our tracks.

VERSE 7: HUMANITARIAN, FIRE, SAFETY, HEALTH, MEDICAL:

From the very start that institution was known as humane,

and all of those who worked there were taught not to be vain.

That place it was not perfect, but this much I can boast,

you were in very good hands if that place became your host.

Now from the first, oh yes, "the patients, they were number one",

and therefore fire and safety had priority one,

lives and property to shield that job was never done,

so every male employee to the fire team signed on.

The fire halls, the hose carts, extinguishers, alarms,

the drills and civil defense programs kept you safe from harm.

Those ancient bells and whistles, Monday mornings they would sound,

and let you know that institution, it was safe and sound.

They looked after their charges with fine medical teams,

life-saving surgeries and clinics, stuff of doctors’ dreams,

the labs and yes the X-rays, the pharmacies and more,

for employees and all the patients on all of the wards.

And that glorious place used to keep their charges healthy and safe and clean,

and yes that was the finest institution this world has ever seen!

When future generations turn the history pages back,

we hope they will remember and stay safe within our tracks.

The grandstands, bandshell, picnic grounds, to keep a happy crew,

that creek-side institution seemed to always have been true.

In the early sixties still more new construction did take hold.

The new chapel rose at the crossroads near staff houses old

The canteen and the lounges on the landscape they did rise,

and soon the childrens’ unit was built there to no surprise.

The Arnell Engstrom School, for youngsters, I was not impressed,

along with three old cottages, this new side was now dressed.

But by now it was evident, already too much changed,

that things were headed downhill, and this was worse than strange.

From the fifties and the sixties the census did decline.

By the late eighties less than two-hundred in ward you would find.

Yes long ago most barns and two cottages did come down.

The oldest industrial buildings were torn to the ground.

The other oldest buildings, altered, empty, and decayed,

sat useless while that institutions’ life wasted away.

‘Cause the farm did close back in fifty-seven, and there's more it's true.

Dr. Munson's "Old Center" building, in sixty-three that fell too.

If future generations turn the history pages back,

We hope they will remember and stay well clear of our tracks!

The railroad line, the surgeries, were cut out years ago.

The power generators, ceased about that time, or so.

So many other programs and features they were lost,

to forces sworn to wreck that place at any and all costs

Back in the early eighties people did begin the fight,

to save those halls and cottages from demolitions’ plight.

In eighty-five we’d celebrate a full one hundred years,

but there wasn’t much to celebrate, she had just four more years.

That hospital, by now was called the T.C.R.P.H.,

Those new ways and philosophies, enough to make me ache,

meant that by eighty-eight its’ days were numbered though we fight.

By August nineteen-eighty-nine its’ doors were locked up tight.

The Engstrom unit followed, in nineteen-ninety one.

To tell the story of that place, one big thing had been done.

Back in the fifties a museum started on the grounds.

In spite of all our work, ninety-one saw that, too, shut down.

It was obvious that someone cared less, where the poor creatures could go,

Whether on their own, on the streets, alone, or even six feet below.

If future generations turn the history pages back,

we hope they will remember us and not walk in our tracks!

Now I could tell how many things were lost in later years,

to wreckers, thieves, remodeling, neglect, and auctioneers.

How other institutions just came and helped themselves,

But nineteen-ninety-five and six dropped one great big bombshell.

‘Cause that was when the wrecking crew came on the grounds once more,

down came six major modern buildings, level, they were torn.

Administration and receiving, infirmaries, too,

a dining hall finished the list, it's sicker than the flu.

It’s now been fully twenty years since I first saw that place.

And ten years since they closed it up, oh, what a grand disgrace!

The buildings, grounds, and artifacts, with which I spent much time,

that institution’s been destroyed, It’s a capital crime!

And in the eighties they formed groups and started to conspire,

claiming to care about history, but, I say they are liars.

Like rats after a piece of cheese, some locals took that land.

May those who closed and wrecked that place feel Gods’ great angry hand!

And the cottages and the towered halls, and some other buildings, too,

Sit there west of town, and they’re breaking down, and the future, it looks so blue.

If future generations turn the history pages back,

we hope they will remember us and not walk in our tracks!

Now, they would build this modern world they’ve been at it for years,

philosophies, agendas, technocracy to fear.

"Community", "conformity", they say that’s where it’s at,

I’ve no use for one bit of it, a globalist, I’m not!

Now Y2K, and martial law, all this and so much more,

Appear to be a’looming at our once great nations’ door.

I’ve long longed for the simple days of our great distant past.

I think of those asylum halls and fear the die is cast.

Now I’m in Reading, Pennsy, for it’s big two-fifty,

and Traverse City scared me off, they wrecked my place, you see.

The "River to the Mountain" song was love at my first hear,

It served as inspiration, for the song that you now hear.

Yet west of Traverse City, certain echoes still resound,

the voices of one-hundred-and-four years, asylum town.

They call out to remind us that God gives us time and land,

That we may take salvation from his ever-loving hand!

If future generations turn the history pages back,

we hope they will remember us and not walk in our tracks!

But, if future generations turn the history pages back,

may they look to the fathers, yes and follow in their tracks!