The Dark History of America's Poor Farms

Welcome to the Strange History podcast, where we explore the weird and the wonderful history that has shaped the world into what it is today. Strange History is proudly part of the Darkcast podcast network hosted on Spreaker. Go check out all the amazing podcasts there. This episode is about a dark part of history that had good intentions poorhouses. Poorhouses were tax supported residential institutions in which people were required to go if they could not support themselves. They were started as a method of providing a less expensive alternative to what we would now call welfare.

They called it outdoor relief. People requested help from the community overseer of the poor, sometimes called a poor master. This person would be an elected town official. If the need was great or likely to be long term, they were sent to the poorhouse instead of being given relief while they continued to live independently. Sometimes they were sent there and if they had not requested help from the overseer of the poor, that was usually done when they were found guilty of begging in public. Prior to the establishment of poor houses, the problem of what to do with paupers in a community was dealt with in one of three ways.

The first way was called outdoor relief. Outdoor relief provided an overseer of the poor. When people fell upon hard times and members of their family, friends, or members of their church congregations could not provide enough assistance to tie them over, they applied to an elected local official called the overseer of the poor. Within a budget of tax money, he might provide them with food, fuel, clothing, or even permission to get medical treatment, to be paid out of tax funds. The second way, they would actually auction off the poor.

People who could not support themselves in their families were put up forbid in a public auction. In an unusual type of auction, the pauper was sold to the lowest bidder, the person who would agree to provide room and board for actually the lowest price. Usually this was for a specific period of time a year or so. The person who got the contract got the use of the labor of the pauper for free in return for feeding, clothing, housing, and providing healthcare for the pauper and his or her family.

This was actually a form of indentured servitude. Sounds a lot like slavery to me, except that it was technically not for the pauper's entire lifetime. Although it had many of the perils of slavery, the welfare of the paupers depended almost entirely upon the kindness and the fairness of the bidder. If he was motivated only by a desire to make the maximum profit of the use of the pauper, then concern for the bottom line might result in the pauper being denied adequate food, or safe and comfortable shelter, or even necessary medical treatment, and there was often very little recourse for protection against such abuse.

The third way was contracting with someone in the community to care for the In this situation, the care of a group of paupers was delegated to the person who would contract to provide care at again the lowest price. The system allowed the opportunity for somewhat better supervision as indicated in the term of the contract, which might specify what minimum standard of care must be provided and that the community officers would do inspections, etc. There were still often the same opportunities for abuse that were noted above.

Note in some cases, local communities had already discovered that a place to house paupers helped reduce the cost of poor relief. These small town poorhouses were the prototypes the later state required county poorhouses. Those earlier poorhouses often instituted the use of adjacent farms on which the paupers could work to raise their own food, thus making the houses self sufficient and relying less on local tax funds. That's how the term poor farm came into being.

During the second quarter of the nineteenth century, as the Industrial Revolution had its effect on the United States, the importation of the factory system from England was followed almost immediately by the full scale adoption of the poorhouse system. These poorhouses were built with great optimism. They promised to be much more efficient and a cheaper way to provide a relief to paupers, and there was a belief that housing such people and institutions would provide the opportunity to reform them and cure them of the bad habits and character defects that were assumed to be the cause of their poverty.

By mid century, people were beginning to question the success of the poorhouse movement. Investigations were launched to examine the conditions of poorhouses. They had proven to be much more expensive than had been anticipated, and they had not significantly reduced a number of poor nor eliminated the need for outdoor relief for those who only needed short term assistance. The Civil War was a major preoccupation of the American society during the third quarter of the century, major systematic changes on welfare policy how to await calmer times.

Ironically, the faltering poorhouse system was sheltered from the impact of the poverty produced by the war itself. The war created widows and orphans and elderly people with no one to care for them. While many looked forward to a time when their sons and husbands would come home, many soldiers limped home to be disabled for the rest of their lives. However, a relatively small portion of these casualties of war, ever, actually wound up living in poorhouses, which goes to show you they were likely taken care of by family, are, church members, etc. The veterans were spared this circumstance for two reasons.

Special laws were passed requiring that any needed assistance the veterans and their families had to be provided as outdoor relief, specifically prohibiting placement in the poorhouses, and the Civil War pension Plan provided for soldiers and their family members. In eighteen seventy five, after the regulation of poorhouses and most states became the responsibility of the state board of charities, laws were passed prohibiting children from residing in poorhouses and removing mentally ill patients and others with special needs to more appropriate facilities.

The poorhouse population was even more n hourly defined during the twentieth century, when social welfare legislation like workmen's compensation, unemployment benefits, and social security began to provide a safety net for people who would previously have been poperized by such circumstances. Eventually, the poorhouses evolved almost exclusively into nursing homes for dependent elderly people, but poorhouses left orphanages, general hospitals, and mental hospitals for which they had been providing the prototype as their heritage.

To delve into the poorhouse history a bit further, and to give you an idea of how these poorhouses were used to talk about the Springfield, Missouri poor Farm opened in eighteen seventy three. There were some newspaper articles that referenced this poorhouse. In eighteen eighty seven, it was written an old German woman at the almshouse which was another term for poorhouses, was inflicted with melancholy, a species of insanity, and refuses to eat. It is thought she will die of starvation. It's likely that this woman probably had Alzheimer's.

Another article written in eighteen ninety four says Dad Stevenson, the old circus clown, who has been in a potable condition for several weeks as a result of too much whiskey, was taken to the poorhouse yesterday. James C. O'Rourke, who was attacked with a fit of insanity Tuesday night and threatened to kill his wife and child, was also taken to the county farm. Another article in eighteen ninety four, a man of about nineteen years of age named John Kinney, who was raised by missus W. L. Chapman, has within the last eight or ten months lost his reason and is now a complete mental wreck.

He has for some time been wandering around the neighborhood in the west part of the city, claiming that the property formerly owned by the estate of W. L. Chapman was his by right of inheritance. No attention was paid to his wild assertions until Sunday, when he became so obnoxious that the police were notified to remove him to the poorhouse yesterday morning. It took the entire jail force to put him into chains. He fought like a tiger, but was finally overpowered and placed into a wagon and conveyed safely to the poor farm.

During the struggle, he tried hard to bite his assailants, but was prevented from doing so. In eighteen ninety five, Deputy Sheriff M. W. Hooper placed Henry Ray in the County poorhouse. Ray was a raving maniac and the deputies had considered trouble controlling him. Another article in eighteen ninety five, De Grow, a well known French rope performer, is in the Green County Poorhouse in critical condition. Sunday, the physicians took off his leg in order to save his life. To Grow goes around little towns where he gives exhibitions at county fairs and manages to pick up a few dollars.

Last week, he appeared in Cave's Spring and announced that he was going to make a leap for life. He stretched a wire across the street got on top of the church steeple. It was his intention to jump from the top of the steeple to the wire many feet below. He was going to catch the wire in his teeth. A big crowd assembled at Cave's sprang to see the feet, and promptly on time to Grow got on top of the steeple and he jumped. He caught the wire all right, but it snapped in two. He fell to the ground and was badly bruised and injured in such a manner that his leg could not be saved, and was taken off on Sunday.

De Grow is absolutely penniless and had to be taken to the poorhouse. He is doing well and will probably recover. When he does, he will still be in a hard luck as he can no longer continue his occupation. In eighteen ninety nine, Missus Hanorah Hughes died at the Almshouse Monday night. The deceased was declared insane about a year ago and had been in the insane ward of the Almshouse since that time. Another article in eighteen ninety nine states Arthur Miller, about fourteen years old, who lives with his stepfather George Hoach on the East Division Street Road, will be sent to the Almshouse on the recommendation of doctor J. E. Warden, who states that the boy is a subject of epileptic fits.

Many reasons prompted people to be sent there, ranging from lack of resources, to illegitimate pregnancies to physical illness. It was also a place where tuberculosis patients were sent. But as you research, you can see a good portion suffered from mental illness. When did mental illness begin being seen as a legitimate medical condition and not the full of an individual. Into the nineteen forties and fifties, there was much about mental illness that society did not understand. They knew it was a problem, but the treatments for the time were downright or a barrack.

They did insulin shock, ice baths. They would tie them to chairs, cut a hole in the bottom of the chair and just put a pot down there and leave them for days and days.

They did sensory deprivation, either in a dark dungeon like basements or put things over their heads so they could not see. People suffered from depression, which was not recognized as a legitimate mental health need, as well as schizophrenia, which is a mental disorder that causes people to interpret reality abnormally. They even thought people were demon possessed. In eighteen ninety, the Springfield Leader newspaper sent a reporter to tour and share what he'd seen at the farm. The poorhouse is a rather cozy and homelike refuge for the afflicted, and it has a charm about it which the average almstaker finds it difficult to withstand after the first experience, its comforts being far superior to those enjoyed by many families in moderate circumstances.

It is therefore always crowded with inmates, and it is seldom that a vacancy occurs which is not filled at once by a successor. A man in one of the mad cells is changed to the floor by one ankle. He punches the air with his fist vicious leap, but refrains from hitting the wall. He is in a nude condition, refusing to wear any clothing. In another cell, the inmate keeps his bedrolled up and packed away in a corner. He sleeps on the bare floor, without a pillow or covering.

A little girl of about three years of age as a head so abnormally developed that she is top heavy and already wears a number seven and a half hat. She is said to be phenomenally intelligent, and if she lives, she may develop a great talent in some avenue of thought. Fast forward thirty years to a newspaper article told of complaints against the poor farm from two husbands who claimed their wives were not well treated and may Another article noted that the past of Saint John's Episcopal Church, a parish and welfare worker of wide experience, was barred twice from being able to enter the facility and presumably see residents.

It's unclear if conditions have improved, but a decade later things were considered deplorable once again. An article in nineteen thirty seven told of the terrible conditions of the facility one bathtub for thirty men, bricks falling off the front of the building, two fire escapes for one hundred and thirty five residents, most of whom couldn't navigate the stairs anyway. The tumbledown, overcrowded, filthy fire trap, which serves Green County as an almshouse where one hundred and thirty five men and women daily risked their lives simply by living, may be replaced with a modern building next year.

There's no secret about conditions at the place where W. M. McDonald is superintendent. He's only too glad to show people through it because he's anxious as anyone to have the conditions corrected. More anxious, probably because he'd be the one to hear the screams of the inmates would be trapped in the rickety building should it catch fire. When you stand inside the front door, you find yourself looking down a corridor which runs the length of the building. The floor is concrete. At each side of the strip of concrete is a gutter about six inches deep and six inches wide.

On either side of the corridor are rows of cells, the bars painted a lifeless gray. You're reminded of a dairy barn. Two years later, an article announced that the work on the new facility was soon to start. This would be the final almshouse. It opened in August of nineteen forty one. The poor from continued operations until it officially became Sunshine Acres Nursing Home in the mid fifties. At that time, it went from being managed by the County Court to a board of citizen directors, and a number of remodeling projects were done.

In nineteen fifty seven, an article noted that the residents paid sixty dollars per month to live there, and other expenses were still subsidized by the county. But the transition to nursing home did not mean longtime residence of the Poor Farm left. They had patients who had been in the home since the nineteen thirties. A report from around that time talked to one man in particular named Lowell, who didn't even have a birth certificate on file, but had lived the farm since he was a child. He was believed to be eighty years old at that point.

There are theories and stories about where Lowell came from and how he ended up at the Sunshine Acres, which housed a variety of people who had nowhere else to go on when mothers, the mentally ill, and the disabled. Based on other residence accounts, it was believed that he came with his father, who suffered from a mental condition and eventually died. His sons simply stayed and for most of his life didn't speak and for many years was simply referred to as dummy. Lowell and others were moved from the former Poor Farm in nineteen seventy eight, and at that time it was closed by the Missouri Division of Health, which cited the facility for sanitation issues and building deficiencies.

Its closure was a milestone that many were glad of. By then, the condition had once again deteriorated to devastating. Things had changed over the years, and many nursing homes were receiving funding from Medicaid to help with indigent care. Sunshine Acres, however, was not qualified to receive that funding and fell further and further behind. A few days after its stores were closed, another editorial appeared in the Springfield newspaper. It ran just shy of fifty years after the previous editorial condemned the poorhouse's condition.

Its first line, locking the doors the Sunshine Acres rest Home ends a dismal chapter in Green County's history. Two years later, blocks from the old Almshouse were installed in the basement of the Green County Courthouse. They were used to repair walls of a storage area beneath the courthouse front stairs, and were also accompanied by plaques telling the Almshouse history. We were going to have to do this work anyway, and we felt we could do it just as easily with this stone. We felt we could preserve a memento of the Old Almshouse set associate Judge Ken Control.

The cemetery for this property held hundreds of the deceased who resided in this home. Nobody knows how many for sure. As record keeping was minimal, most graves had no markers, and the ones that did just had a number on it were just a piece of wood. It was not until the early two thousands that a memorial was created with existing markers. This concludes this episode of Strange History. You have an idea for an episode, please email Strange History pod at gmail dot com. This episode was produced by Dead to Me Productions, and of course, thank you Spreak Up from my Heart for being the best darn podcast host in the world.

Love you guys, peace out, Yay

The Story