CVH Architecture CT River History: Barn And Blacksmith, Train That Was

River bluff, knoll.

Still standing.

Sweeping scenic views and the scent of wild roses.

Blacksmith, mason, dairy, root cellar. Barn, stables, grounds garage. Cottages. Police station.

Memories of a team of volunteers on an expedition to recover narrow-gauge train tracks (with permission) for a planned farm museum. Knowledge gained of a long-ago railroad that chugged up a steep hill from a dock on the Connecticut River. The small train then hauled supplies and coal used on site. A campus with built-of-brick architecture, context of placement that contains stories.

No longer there, but the recovery of these tracks made for a story.

Passing by now to recall the story that resulted, seeing the parking lot. Also an interview granted and going inside one of the main buildings to listen to the historian of this place in Middletown, Connecticut. He spoke of artifacts, manacles found in the topmost floor. Some day will transcribe the full interview; scan the print version with images to make all digital.

Story and photos, on site.

Foundation of the barn. CB photo.


Pain contained. The goal to help, heal. Buttress. Go forward. The human mind is a marvel; but it can break, cease to function in response to outside forces, inside chemicals. A combination of both or due to stress, grief. Addictions in many forms used to blunt horror or just for unknown reasons. Emotions contribute and so do words and deeds. Mysteries that can result in harm to others, violence in a community. Harm to self. No one is immune; takes strength to seek help and support. From surrounding towns and cities they came or were brought here. Connecticut Valley Hospital (CVH). The name itself is tempered from the past when it was Connecticut General Hospital For The Insane. Or, more callously called “the nuthouse.” Mental illness is not new. The grounds are off limits to the public (although you may respectfully drive through, stay in your vehicle or obtain permission from the on-site security force.) The state plans to level some of the standing unoccupied buildings.

As the serenity and physical beauty of the site leads to calm, hope leads back to this site. But reality is that some of the peace is deceiving for there is maximum security placement here for individuals deemed a danger to all. And no answers to containment. Addiction can be many monsters; CT DMHAS is active on Twitter. Indigenous people almost certainly visited this bluff and the shores of the Connecticut River below, shaded and inviting but steep.

Handsome architecture on site.

Now. Let's go to the carefully typed up description for the United States Department of the Interior National Park Service National Register of Historic Places Inventory Nomination Form (1985); Middletown Historic Resources Survey. Greater Middletown Preservation Trust.

Describe the present and original (if known) physical appearance.

The Connecticut General Hospital for the Insane is located in Middletown, a town approximately 20 miles south of Hartford, the state capital. The hospital is located southeast of the downtown center of the City of Middletown on the heights above a loop in the Connecticut River. Today the hospital complex is divided from the suburban residential areas of the city by Route 9, a four-lane highway which connects Hartford with Saybrook, a town on the coast.

The hospital complex consists of 52 principal and secondary buildings of which 27 contribute to the significance of the site. The oldest building in the complex is Shew Hall, which was built in the French Second Empire style in 1866-1874. In 1939 the roof line of the central pavilion was altered to its present appearance. Contemporary with the main building is a section of Stanley Hall, another French Second Empire style structure.

Built as the complex's carpenter shop, Stanley Hall was enlarged in the late 1870s to house the criminally insane. Both Shew and Stanley Halls are built of Portland Freestone laid in ashlar blocks. The interior of Shew Hall followed the Kirkbride plan of independent wards, each with its own facilities, but this plan was altered in the late nineteenth century to reflect centralized services. The next major structure to be constructed on the site which still survives is the South Hospital (Woodward Hall), built in 1885 in the Queen Anne style of red brick.

Like Shew Hall, Woodward Hall is massive. It is three-and-a-half stories tall and 34 bays wide.

Projecting pavilions punctuate the facade; two of these are rounded with conical roofs. The remainder of the building has hipped or gabled roofs. Weeks Hall, located on the north side of the main building, built in 1896, is very similar in its detail and massing.

Several other smaller nineteenth-century structures are integral to the complex. These include: the carpenter shop (Photograph #5), a one-and-a-half-story brick cottage, an Italianate frame house, a brick Queen Anne cottage (Photograph #7), and a frame Queen Anne house.

After the turn of the century more classically inspired styles held sway until the 1950s and 1960s. However, there are some exceptions to this rule. The Picturesque-style brick and stone police station with its tile roof and rusticated stone blocks is one example of the diversity of early twentieth century styles within the complex (Photograph #9). The two-story frame Colonial Revival house with its projecting pedimented pavilion is another (Photograph #10). The Dutch Colonial cottage with its gambrel roof is yet another.

The Beaux-Arts influence is evident in the three-story brick and limestone Page Hall while Noble Hall, which houses the complex's theatre, is a monumental brick Colonial Revival structure. Also executed in the Colonial Revival style is the Smith Home, Russell Hall, and the Shephard Home. Other minor buildings of interest on the site include the early 20-century frame barns and sheds associated with the farm on the east side of the complex. Most of the non-contributing buildings are small in scale and don't have an adverse visual impact.

From the NPS documentation, note the architects mentioned.


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In 2022, places here serve for multiple purposes. It is peaceful and busy, the buildings are monitored, activities and gathering within. CVH police. Engineering. Counseling. Physical therapy. Addiction services. Employee fitness center. Traumatic brain and psychiatric support. Credit union. Maintenance. Gardens, a chapel. Offices. Utilities, energy. The Whiting Forensic Services. Parking, signage. An arboretum of sorts since trees near roads are labeled. (Appreciated the lindens, a lovely tree for bees.)

The landscape is simply spectacular. At one time, this was a self-contained and almost self-supporting community growing crops and gardens to feed itself, make brooms to then sell and such. Keep busy, be productive it was thought. Listening to the stores told by a retired state agricultural employee tasked with visiting state facilities to check on all decades ago in a nearby town. Growing broom corn, food stuffs. The dairy.

That stopped he said, when it was then thought that that work was taking advantage of the people housed on site. He personally believed it did much good for those who could to get outside, work, be tired. Yet all was halted he said.

A drive to see hours for the greenhouse on the grounds led to a re-visit in 2022 and all these strands like clouds going by. The dairy barn or hay barn still there and the cluster of shops, evocative. A standing history lesson in supporting services required. Architecture. Industries that could teach now. Well made, the craftsmanship is outstanding.

Now let's go to the original purpose (also from the nomination form in 1978).

“At the Connecticut Hospital, as in any contemporary asylum, the emphasis was placed on the construction and maintenance of an environment as a means of achieving a cure. Thus much emphasis was placed on the design of the structure. When the hospital was originally designed the intention was that a single large building would serve to house all the patients and staff, and all the functions of the hospital. The building was to be 768 feet long and accommodate 450 patients. The central pavilion was to be 60 feet wide and 120 feet deep, and 4 stories high. Six retreating wings, three on each side, of three stories each, with four return wings, two on each side with two stories each, were designed to allow the greatest amount of light and air to circulate. The building was to be constructed of Portland free stone in broken range work with hammer dressed stone for the corners, water tables, window sills and caps. Nearby Butler's Creek was dammed to provide a water supply. A wharf was built along the river in order to receive building materials and supplies for the hospital once it was in operation. By May 1, 1868, the south wing was complete.”

My older sister recently reminded me of a neighbor who was placed here; growing up with him was recalled and what happened to land him at CVH. His life continued awhile, then ended at his own hands.

Seeking possibilities with current events thundering in the news, much pressure to find solutions to violence done to innocent lives and the causes. (Knowing a machine made for combat is lethal to have in the hands of someone seething with anger and lack of self-control or ongoing addiction issues.)

So many walks with dogs, let's take a cruise he'd say. Afterwards, a road that slopes down and leads to a cross way and the CVH graveyard, a lesson there too. Remembered, cared for and more peaceful. The word evocative floats up when viewing.
The stated vision here is: To promote recovery through collaborative, compassionate, and culturally competent treatment in a safe and caring environment. Mission: At Connecticut Valley Hospital, individuals receive services that assist them to better manage their illnesses, achieve personal goals, and develop skills and supports that lead to living the most constructive and satisfying lives possible.

Time to climb the hill and leave the grounds; thoughts of being a young passenger in a family station wagon, slowing down to view porches screened in completely. Not understanding, but vivid in the mind's eye the erratic movements of people contained within, the shouts. Thoughts of the on-site greenhouse led to a drive, full circle since growing things helps some humans, an offshoot of healing work. Prior to the pandemic, seasonal sales happened here; will be back.

Perhaps humanity has changed, but maybe not. Colloquialisms include people jump the track, hit a wall, break down. Snap. Go crazy. Nuts. The stigma has lessened with those who have courage to admit to seeking help. Strength, not weakness. Worth repeating.

Horses can be therapeutic too.


Balance in all things, life.

After one of these walks, taken in the early spring, she rushed up to my informant and, with childlike simplicity, told him of the thrill of delight she had experienced in discovering the first flower of the year in full bloom—a dandelion, which, with characteristic audacity, had risked its life by braving the elements of an uncertain season.

“Did you pick it?” asked the doctor.

Gardens are healing.

“I stooped to do so,” said the patient; “then I thought of the pleasure the sight of it had given me—so I left it, hoping that someone else would discover it and enjoy its beauty as I did.”

From Project Gutenberg EBook of A Mind That Found Itself
by Clifford Whittingham Beers

Barn beauty.


Treatment now may differ from times past. Across the road from a newspaper office decades ago, the history of former Swathel Inn (demolished, a gas station plaza now) included the tale of a woman chained in the attic purportedly because of her “violent fits” but who knows the true cause. The stables were located where the bank (and the old office above once was) stands, that was also of interest. But never did the story.

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