Urban exploration and “ruin porn” are definitely in vogue. Amateur historians, would-be archaeologists, and adventurous photographers have all found inspiration in the crumbling remains of the world’s forgotten structures. Here in Massachusetts, the Belchertown State School for the Care and Custody of Feeble Minded Persons is an irresistible target for those looking to peer into the darker corners of our state’s history. What can the rotting boards and peeling paint of this structure teach us about our past?

SUBSTREET (Dan Turner) The Belchertown State School was built in 1922 to serve the “mentally defective”. At the time, the state distinguished between mental hospitals, where adults with mental illness were housed, and state schools, which were primarily repositories for children and other “undesirables” considered to have mental or behavioral insufficiencies.

SUBSTREET (Dan Turner) Conditions at Belchertown State were dreadful. The school was understaffed and overpopulated. Though it was built to house around 400 patients (“inmates” may be more appropriate), by the early 1970’s the school was packed with over 1,500 occupants.

SUBSTREET (Dan Turner) Judge Joseph L. Tauro, whom would later be instrumental in closing Belchertown State School, described the facility as “a warehouse for humans”. He also commented that the colonial facade and well-maintained grounds “made it look like a prep school, but inside I saw a little girl drinking from a feces-filled commode.” The buildings were infested with vermin that would bite patients tied down to their beds. Patients were sometimes left strapped to their beds for days at a time and staff were known to remove patients’ healthy teeth to make it easier to feed them.

SUBSTREET (Dan Turner)

SUBSTREET (Dan Turner) Mistreated and ignored, some patients would frequently roam the halls, smearing the contents of their diapers on the furniture and repeatedly banging their heads against the walls. Lacking the time or perhaps the inclination to properly bathe the patients, staff would allow them to wander around in the nude and covered with their own filth.

SUBSTREET (Dan Turner) In the end, the Springfield Union newspaper ran an article that finally exposed the true horror of Belchertown State School. Published in 1971, “The Tragedy of Belchertown” detailed the inhumane care and medieval living conditions that had plagued the school almost from the start. The exposé sparked a national discussion surrounding the need for ethical treatment of the mentally handicapped.

SUBSTREET (Dan Turner) Why did it take so long for such a house of horrors to finally be shuttered? For one, the school was one of the town’s top employers. Belchertown depended on the jobs generated by the sprawling complex. In addition, the 800 acre estate was also almost completely self-sufficient: 200 acres of the property was farmed by the school and livestock were kept on the premises, including cattle and large flocks of poultry. Finally, perhaps the people of Belchertown and the state of Massachusetts simply did not want to acknowledge the monstrosity they tacitly condoned through inaction.

Today, Belchertown State School looks tranquil enough from the street. The once clipped and rolling lawns have relaxed into fields of flowering weeds and tangled underbrush. Nature is patiently but insistently reclaiming the shells of buildings so recently full of human suffering. The site is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It is located at 6 Berkshire Ave, Belchertown.

SUBSTREET (Dan Turner)

The Belchertown State School was built in 1922 to serve the “mentally defective”. At the time, the state distinguished between mental hospitals, where adults with mental illness were housed, and state schools, which were primarily repositories for children and other “undesirables” considered to have mental or behavioral insufficiencies.

Conditions at Belchertown State were dreadful. The school was understaffed and overpopulated. Though it was built to house around 400 patients (“inmates” may be more appropriate), by the early 1970’s the school was packed with over 1,500 occupants.

Judge Joseph L. Tauro, whom would later be instrumental in closing Belchertown State School, described the facility as “a warehouse for humans”. He also commented that the colonial facade and well-maintained grounds “made it look like a prep school, but inside I saw a little girl drinking from a feces-filled commode.” The buildings were infested with vermin that would bite patients tied down to their beds. Patients were sometimes left strapped to their beds for days at a time and staff were known to remove patients’ healthy teeth to make it easier to feed them.

Mistreated and ignored, some patients would frequently roam the halls, smearing the contents of their diapers on the furniture and repeatedly banging their heads against the walls. Lacking the time or perhaps the inclination to properly bathe the patients, staff would allow them to wander around in the nude and covered with their own filth.

In the end, the Springfield Union newspaper ran an article that finally exposed the true horror of Belchertown State School. Published in 1971, “The Tragedy of Belchertown” detailed the inhumane care and medieval living conditions that had plagued the school almost from the start. The exposé sparked a national discussion surrounding the need for ethical treatment of the mentally handicapped.

Why did it take so long for such a house of horrors to finally be shuttered? For one, the school was one of the town’s top employers. Belchertown depended on the jobs generated by the sprawling complex. In addition, the 800 acre estate was also almost completely self-sufficient: 200 acres of the property was farmed by the school and livestock were kept on the premises, including cattle and large flocks of poultry. Finally, perhaps the people of Belchertown and the state of Massachusetts simply did not want to acknowledge the monstrosity they tacitly condoned through inaction.

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