Norwich State Hospital

If you are looking for excitement in the southeastern part of Connecticut, most people conjure images of the slot machine and gaming tables of the two casinos in the area.  If you were to look just into the shadows of one of those casinos, you would find excitement in a another form.  It is a building that takes you back in time and reminds you of the cruel treatment once bestowed upon the mentally ill.  In the shadows of the Mohegan Sun Casino lies a labyrinth of buildings that was used to house the insane:  the Norwich State Hospital.

The History

The Norwich State Mental Hospital was built in 1904 and began housing the mentally insane immediately after its opening.  The first day of opening the hospital, it was inundated with one hundred and fifty-one patients.  Within the next twenty-five years, the average census of the institution was 1,115 patients.  The hospital began to expand and, by the 1960s, the average census was 2,698 patients with a lifetime high of 3,186.  The hospital was used for the housing and treatment of the mentally insane, as well as geriatric patients and those chemically dependent.  Researching the treatment methods may help one understand from where the stories of the lost souls that roam the buildings have derived.  Treatments ranged from heavy medication to such things as "hydrotherapy".  The hospital was, as best as I could find, closed in 1972.  The hospital grounds concourse an enormous nine hundred acres of the Connecticut woods with a large number of huge brick buildings that appear to be of gothic-style architecture, most being connected by underground tunnels that also house rooms along their paths.

The Trip

Four of us packed up on a brisk April afternoon and began our trek to the hospital.  We found a place to park and were amazed to see the tall silver structure of the Mohegan Sun in the foreground of the hospital buildings as the sun was setting.  As we donned our cold weather gear and took up flashlights, the buildings were unsettling, dark, and towering, as if daring us to enter.  We made our way onto the grounds and passed what was believed to be the admissions building.  We were able to find and open the door and entered.  With our imaginations running wild with tales of the patient "treatments" and their imagined torture, just entering the first building became a feat of heroism.  We began checking around and found the building to be very barren and overrun due to neglect and suspected trinket hunters.  As we entered the basement of the first building, I walked into a room and, as I shined my light to the right in the area of an open door, a dark shadow quickly exited the beam of my light and fluttered out of my peripheral vision, forcing me to jump back and announce my surprise of what I had observed.  Asking anyone if they had seen what I had, I got only negative responses . . . as wel as a lot of "we can leave now" pleas.  We all decided that my flashlight had cast a shadow upon which my imagination had expounded.  This allowed us to calm our uneasy feelings.  What my flashlight crossed in order to create this shadow is still a mystery to me, as there was nothing in the area, but it eased us enough to allow more time in the building.

This first building's visit (the shadow incident not withstanding) was uneventful and, seeing that it was very empty, we decided to examine another.  We had to drive to the main campus buildings and were fortunate enough to find a secluded parking space.  We walked around and entered the first open door we found.

This building was different.  It was enormous and not trying hard to remain silent.  We entered approximately thirty feet into the building and began hearing rustling sounds.  Almost in unison, we extinguished our lights, keeping close to one another; waiting and listening to hear it again.  After several minutes, we felt comfortable enough to conclude that it was something outside the building and we continued on.  We checked around and located a fireplace with a large "V" hanging on it.  We appeared to be in the cafeteria that had a lounge off one corner.

Moving on, we came across several doorways, one of which led to a staircase going down.

Okay . . . so which way would you go?

Exactly!  We went down.  Now, heading into the basement, we entered a tunnel system.  Thankfully, one of the paths was blocked, allowing us the luxury of not having to make a decision on which way to go and precluding liability of the team member who was unfortunate enough to choose the wrong way.

The tunnels were approximately eight feet high with one to one-and-a-half feet of the ceiling reserved for pipes and wire conduits.  The floors were covered with cement except for access points needed for the underground piping; these were covered with wood planks, which I'm sure were sturdy in their day, but after numerous years of decay, formed a slalom for the running scared or walking brave.  We marked our turns carefully with recognizable objects left behind, as we had no other means of identifying our path.  As we were marking these turns, a refrain was repeated by the group, "ladder points out" or "chair faces exit" in a feeble attempt to lay an indelible impression on our subconscious in the event we needed a rapid escape from . . .

We continued along the tunnels, locating many rooms, most of which were filled with lockers, storage shelves, or mechanical and electrical panels.  Some even had refrigeration units.  The purpose of these rooms was not apparent, but speculation made us ask what had rested upon these narrow shelves that would require refrigeration . . . in the basement?

After thirty minutes or so of walking, we found another set of stairs leading up.

Okay, now which way would you go?

Exactly!  We went up to get some fresh air and see what the next building would hold for us.  We were lucky enough to locate the building with the auditorium.  Located on the top floor, it appeared much like any institutional auditorium, only this one still had the original film equipment in it, as well as pianos and lighting units.  Impressive, to say the least.

We now began retracing our steps and located yet another building.  This one was the medical facility.  Located inside was a bowling alley, hospital ward, and coolers . . . near elevators!!??

As we exited the auditorium and began our descent to the tunnels once again, we abruptly stopped as one of the guys began laughing.  Someone had placed a wig on a chair and left it in the stairwell.  If its intention was to startle or scare . . . bull's eye!

By this time, we had been exploring for over three hours and walked several miles through the tunnels and buildings.  We located our entrance point and finished up the visit.

What's Next?

The hospital is in the process of being purchased by Utopia and rumors have it that the grounds will house a theme park, film studio and others.  What it won't house are the impressive buildings and history packed into them.  Yet it may retain the sadness one can perceive for the patients who once called this place "home" and for those who were "treated" or assisted in having a better quality of life by the dedicated staff of one of the largest mental institutions in the state.

Conclusion

The unexplained "shadow" caused quite a stir among the group, but was the only thing that was unexplained during the visit and could possibly have been a shadow from my flashlight (still aren't sure of what, but . . .).  The buildings are interesting and, although we visited at night, we did not feel out of place, unwanted or oppressed, especially after looking at the photos (the "orbs" in the pictures are undoubtedly dust particles, as the entire place is covered in dust and debris).  There is still a strange feeling and mood when walking around these awesome structures, not exactly sure if the word "therapy" meant the same thing to the medical staff then, as it does to you and me today.

GOOSEBUMP FACTOR:  25