Author's Note
.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ
Love youuu 💗
𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ️
BELLEVUE HOSPITAL, 1897
Dr. Fuller paced in his superior's office, waiting for Dr. Sayers to finish reading his notes, along with the hand-written self-reports from the Ward 11 boys. When Sayers finally set down the last document, he rubbed his eyes tiredly and exhaled a long, disappointed sigh.
"Warden Snyder is a well-respected member of the community. Highly regarded in many circles, and he was appointed directly by Mayor William Grace," Dr. Sayers began, watching Fuller continue to pace. "If Snyder says those boys are born liars..." he trailed off at the sharp look tossed his way by Fuller. "And where did they learn it from? Their fathers. And where did their fathers learn it from? Their fathers."
"Those boys are afraid," Fuller interrupted, staring blankly at the wall. "That's why they lie. I didn't even get a chance to interview the younger inmates. I only hope they're in better shape."
Sayers lowered his voice. "Do you think Snyder, a well-read, well-trained, honorable servant of the law... That he could be wrong?" He gestured to the large telephone box on the wall. "Would you like to ask Warden Snyder himself?"
Fuller sputtered.
"Because we risk a lot more than your job if you stir up trouble there," Sayers went on.
"Then we take it to court," Fuller suggested, almost out of breath as he paced. "The plumbing and drainage emit offensive odors. Some of the boys are suffering from contagious eyes diseases and are not properly isolated. There are no proper nor sufficient nurses to secure them due and proper care as to personal health and cleanliness."
"We go to a court that isn't taking his graft?" Sayers held up his hands. "Save your breath."
"Then we get the Legislature to authorize improvements in plumbing. We get a bill in front of them," Fuller rambled. "I'm almost certain that's a significant cause for the communicable illnesses, especially of the eyes. For one thing, the trachoma patients must be separated."
"Separating them is a near impossibility," Sayers wiped his brow. He scanned Fuller's notes. "As for cleanliness, the Refuge reported they had competent matrons superintending bathing, as well as two trained nurses in their infirmary."
"I saw no such practices."
Sayers shrugged again, his eyes weary. "The warden claims he complied with our requirements. Every year he sends a report—"
"And every year, he lies," Fuller interrupted. "I don't care about his statistics. I don't care to hear what the previous warden said. There are boys I examined yesterday that will die if they are not brought here immediately."
"If you do this," Sayers warned, holding up a hand. "If you do this, Snyder will make an indignant denial. He will insist you resign your position. And the courts will see no such foundation for your charges."
Fuller rolled his eyes, slamming his hand on the door in frustration. "There is nothing but cruel treatment from the time those kids are sent until the time they go out. The food they eat might as well be poisonous. I've seen boys beaten with clubs and anything else the guards can get their hands on. They're knocked down like animals."
"Fuller—"
"I've seen untreated infections and broken bones," Fuller went on, ignoring Sayer's protests. "Read their words! It's all right there! They've written it for you!" He pointed to the stack of self-reports.
"It all seems so circumstantial," Sayers sighed, flipping through the papers. "This boy says his feet were struck with a 2 by 4 containing nails. Another boy reports being burned with a steel hook. And yet a third claims the warden himself beat him with an axe handle. We're you able to confirm any of this?"
Fuller was quiet.
Sayers shrugged. "I'm just as upset as you are, should all of this turn out to be true. I understand. You're not the first to come to me about this, but there's nothing we can do. This is out of our hands. And anyway, those boys are in there for a reason. They're troublesome, mischievous. They should be thankful they weren't sent to the Penitentiary-"
"The Refuge is only making them worse," Fuller grumbled. "I looked at them all. Sore eyes, malnutrition, tooth decay, poor health. Terrible suffering. And those boys are nothing but savage influences on one another. I sensed that in the first five minutes."
"There are alternative programs," Sayers offered up, stacking the documents neatly. "The Children's Aid Society and the Sisters of Charity send troubled youth out west to live on farms. They're worked hard and strictly held, and I don't entirely understand it, but it's probably a better place than the Refuge."
Fuller considered this. "Well, perhaps you could suggest that to the warden-"
"The warden doesn't have full power in the matter," Sayers replied. "That would necessitate a vote from the Board. But Fuller, like most institutions that take children away, it is impossible to get any one out. Letters might help. See if you can get the rector of St. Peter's Episcopal Church and Robert Wilkin of the S.P.C.C. to do so. I have frequently written recommending discharges, but my letters receive no attention. I would say, as the best method of securing the boys' release, have a letter written to Snyder from the Board of Health. It will probably receive more general attention than otherwise."
"There's no time to write letters," Fuller whispered matter-of-factly.
"Listen to me-"
"They will be dead by the end of the year—"
"Listen to me," Sayers nodded. "Snyder will say you are abusing your freedom by unwarranted interference with the discipline of the institution. He can report you to our board, and believe me, he will. And that will reflect upon this hospital, and the press will have a field day. They'll print that you're trying to vent your spite on Snyder because he called you to account on your actions-"
"What actions?" Fuller murmured back, crinkling his eyebrows in confusion and frustration.
Sayers gave him a hard look. "They'll find some. Doesn't matter if it's false."
And therein lies the truth, as Dr. Fuller came to such a realization. They needed to go higher. They needed the Commissioner. They needed Roosevelt to go back to see what Fuller saw, not just a quick tour.