Ghosts of St. Jude: A White Feather Mystery

Albert continued, “Her name would have been Elizabeth Austin then.”

The tiny woman with enormous presence pursed her lips and scanned the roster. When she stopped, she chose her words carefully, deliberately. “Elizabeth Austin. Oh, yes, I remember Lizzie.”

Joyce Rommel handed the binder to White Feather standing next to her and wiped her hand across her skirt as if pressing out wrinkles. White Feather noted her name tag, M Joyce O’Quin Rommel, and then scanned the notebook. Joyce looked up to continue, “The girls resented Lizzie. Lizzie was so pretty but rough and unrefined. As I remember, she grew up in one of the coal mining camps. The families there lived in tents and conditions were crude.”

Joyce raised an eyebrow. “The miners were also very crude, dirty, and raucous. It was a terrible place for a little girl.”

The refined lady took a deep breath and put on a pitiful face. “Her clothes were old and ragged. Thank goodness the clinic provided uniforms ... and a shower.”

Joyce snickered. “Her language reflected the language of the miners.”

She threw out her arms. “So, there was that. But those were things that made some pity Elizabeth. The reason some girls resented her was her relationship with the doctors. They appeared to dote over her and some even suspected that young Dr. Weisman fancied her ... as a girlfriend.”

 Albert picked up on something. “But, you did not resent Elizabeth?”

Joyce smirked and sat down in the desk chair. “I knew the truth.”

“The truth?”

“He didn’t care anything about that little tramp.”

Almost immediately, Joyce appeared regretful and put her hand over her mouth.

Albert prompted her, “What was the truth.”

She shifted in the chair and her eyes darted about. “Where to begin ...”

She began as if sharing a secret. “You see, I overheard a conversation between the doctors.”

She rolled her head slightly. “I’ve never shared this with anyone.”

Her eyes looked off into the distance. “They were in the doctors’ lounge and I was digging in a file cabinet for something and could hear them. They were having an argument over eugenics. Dr. Howard, the administrator of the hospital at that time, was a big proponent of eugenics, and many of the older doctors still thought it had merit. But Stephen, Dr. Weisman, found it distasteful. In fact, Dr. Weisman argued that it was baseless. He argued that people were all born with essentially the same mental potential but developed differently because of their environment.”

She smiled at the thought before continuing, “Anyway, they argued back and forth with each offering examples to prove his argument.”

She looked at Albert. “Elizabeth was Dr. Howard’s example of ‘feeble-minded.’”

 She waved her hand and then continued, “Finally, Dr. Weisman bet him that he could take Elizabeth and, by working with her, he could demonstrate that she was as smart as anyone and that given the chance, she could be as refined and sophisticated as a wealthy debutante.”

Joyce Rommel smiled and nodded with a raised eyebrow as if to say, “What do you think of that?”

Ralph broke the spell. “Well, that clearly didn’t work.”

His friends laughed at him turning to note that he had made himself comfortable in the examining chair. Albert apologized for him. “Rudolph is referring to the fact that Elizabeth is rather ...”

Mrs. Rommel finished his sentence for him, “Crazy?”

Everyone cracked up again. Mrs. Rommel quickly regained her composure and shook her head. “You are quite right, Rudolph, the experiment went terribly wrong.”

Rommel’s eyes closed momentarily as she continued, “For the next several months, everyone noticed the attention that Lizzie was getting from Dr. Weisman: the hours in his office behind closed doors; the special assignments working directly with him.

“Most everyone else started to believe that Weisman was attracted to her and that maybe they were carrying on an affair.”

Mrs. Rommel crossed her legs and arched her back, “Of course, I knew what was really going on and was anxious to see if Dr. Weisman could pull it off.”

She tilted her head and smiled. “And at first, I did see remarkable results. Lizzie’s vernacular improved; she began  to carry herself with more pride and confidence; she stopped cussing ...”

She sat back and shook her head. “The girls all supposed that she was putting on airs and flirting with Dr. Weisman. They began to shun her. But then, she began to change. She started to get quiet and moody. Her eyes were blank or distant, sort of dreamy. Most thought that she was just love-sick, but I was concerned. It was more than love-sickness.”

Joyce’s wet eyes began to glisten. “So I did some snooping around and befriended Lizzie so I could talk to her. All I learned at that point was that Stephen, uh, Dr. Weisman might be giving her some sort of medication and that Lizzie was afraid of its effects.

“She kept getting worse and worse until everyone was worried about her. Rumors were spreading that Dr. Weisman was giving her drugs.”

With a low sad voice, she continued, “I worked closely with Dr. Weisman as an assistant. I noticed a letter on top of a stack of papers in his office. It attracted my attention because I recognized his handwriting and a reference to Elizabeth Austin. It was addressed to Dr. Albert Hoffman. I will never forget his name because I went to the library to research him and found some of his articles.”

Rommel looked at her audience to see if they recognized the name. Albert muttered, “LSD?”

Rommel nodded and then whispered, “Yes. He’s the scientist that discovered LSD. Dr. Weisman was reporting to the doctor very detailed analysis of sessions with Elizabeth after administering the drug. I don’t remember the medical  term they used, but I would learn that it was LSD. I wasn’t able to finish reading the letter before Stephen came in, but the jest of it was that he and Hoffman were trying to determine the proper dosage for Elizabeth. Dr. Weisman detailed the effects after each dosage and expressed concern that a higher dosage had had a very adverse effect on Lizzie. He was concerned that the drug was reducing her cognitive abilities instead of enhancing them as, I suppose, they were expecting.”

Ralph summed it up. “They blew her mind.”

Mrs. Rommel raised her eyebrows and sadly agreed. “Yes, exactly. One day Lizzie climbed onto the roof of this building and declared that she could fly. Fortunately, we were able to at least break her fall. She was taken to the Institution for Mental Health out on 13th Street. She never returned to the clinic.”