Rose Gardiner

Rose Gardiner was a young, white, working-class woman who lived in Toronto with her parents during the interwar years. She had a family history of mental illness and was unmarried yet had children. Social agencies, together with the medical profession and the court system, endeavoured repeatedly to institutionalize her, and they eventually succeeded.

"Rose Gardiner" was institutionalized in an asylum less than 100 years ago and her psychiatric files are not open to the public; therefore, the name Rose Gardiner and those of her relatives are all pseudonyms, and personally identifying information has been changed or is deliberately vague to protect the privacy of all individuals.

Since the beginning of the twentieth century, the government of Ontario (not unlike other western governments) was interested in rooting out and segregating the feeble-minded from the rest of civilized society due to beliefs that mental defect was linked to immorality and venereal disease. Of utmost concern to the government was the female who was a high-grade feeble-minded person (there was no legal definition for this) who appeared “normal” without any physical disfigurements and could converse on a variety of topics. Also causing social anxiety was the female of average mentality who was attractive, a good worker, but morally deficient. Therefore, social agencies such as the Children’s Aid Society and the Big Sisters Association were on the alert for women who were white, working-class individuals who were sexually active yet unmarried, had illegitimate children, and a family history of mental health issues, poverty, immorality, and/or criminal behaviour. For women who fit this description, social agencies worked in concert with the medical profession and the court system to stream those individuals into a correctional, psychiatric, or charitable/religious institution, citing as justification the broad categories of vagrancy and prostitution. In addition, laws were enacted/revised (in particular, the Female Refuges Act) to both simplify the movement and lengthen the sentence of women and girls into correctional and detention facilities, and from there, into mental health institutions (asylums). Once institutionalized in an asylum, the medical superintendent had the legal power and discretion to keep women committed until such time as the superintendent saw fit, which could be for an indeterminate period. This was to ensure women who, by society’s standards were “unfit” to reproduce, were kept physically segregated from the community during their prime child-bearing years.

Rose Gardiner was one of those fairly common cases during the inter-war period in Toronto. Her case file contained a family tree of sorts. Doctors and nurses noted her parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and siblings, and specified each of their “so-called” mental deficiencies, immoralities, and criminal behaviours, relying on heredity and environment to justify why Rose was institutionalized. Presenting a fuller picture and to provide context, we’ll delve into Rose’s parents and how she came into this world.

Rose’s father, Bud Gardiner, was a rather tall man, his fair complexion set off dark-brown eyes and a matching thick mop of hair, which struggled to be tamed with Macassar oil and prayer; his square jaw was a strong foundation for a prodigious walrus-style moustache. Born in the 1870s in a working class area of Toronto, Bud was the eldest child of an English brush maker who immigrated to Canada and a woman born and bred in Upper Canada (now known as the province of Ontario). When just a toddler, Bud, along with his parents and sister, traversed the Atlantic to reside with his father’s family in Middlesex, now East London. Bud returned to Canada as a teenager with his parents and two more brothers and an extra sister in tow. Back in Toronto, three additional brothers and yet another sister were born, bringing the number of offspring to nine, all living in a crowded two-room house. Feeling the tug of his ancestral land and extended family, along with a desire to spread his wings away from his immediate family, Bud transplanted himself back to Middlesex to begin his adult life as a plumber’s apprentice.

Bud soon met and married his first wife, who promptly after their nuptials became pregnant with twins. Tragically, his wife died during childbirth, the twins failed to thrive, and also passed away in short order. 25 year old Bud, now a widower, met Blossom Trainer the following year. Blossom was an attractive, curvaceous 18 year old brunette with striking sea-blue eyes, working as a general domestic servant in London. Like Bud, Blossom was the oldest child in her family, with eight siblings. They married in 1902 and three daughters were born in quick succession. Bud, now feeling the tug of his country of birth along with his desire to settle close to his immediate family, was determined to return to Canada. What probably was not contemplated during the planning phase of their emigration was that upon embarkation Blossom would be three months pregnant with Rose. Nevertheless, in the winter of 1908, Bud, Blossom, and their three small girls all under five years of age boarded a train to Liverpool, England, to set sail for Canada. Upon arrival in Liverpool the family was met by representatives of the Allan Line Steamship Company, directing them to the shipping company’s boarding house because passengers were customarily not allowed to board the ship until the day of sailing. While these lodging houses were not necessarily grand, they provided meals and shelter (at a cost) for individuals and families until their ship was ready to take on passengers for the voyage.

Given it was wintertime, there was less demand for trans-Atlantic travel and the ship sailed at one-third its capacity. In the queue with $8 and their personal belongings, the Gardiner family inched their way up the gangplank onto the ship, across the expansive deck, and down multiple stairways below deck to their home in steerage for the next two weeks. They occupied a four berth stateroom set aside for families; the washing up rooms and toilets down the corridor were communal, although separated by gender. Dining facilities in steerage were rudimentary, with shared picnic-style tables set up in the common area just outside of the staterooms. Odours in steerage were not able to properly ventilate, causing heavy stale air, and passengers were forced to retreat to their designated open deck above; however, they were unable to remain topside for any appreciable time due to the raw, numbing winter weather and rough seas.

At eight o’clock each evening, steerage passengers assembled for supper to dine on cabin biscuits and cheese, gruel (a thin, watery oatmeal), and coffee, with milk provided for the children. Second-class cabin passengers, on the other hand, were in their designated saloon feasting upon ox-tail soup, boiled cod, oyster sauce, fried scallops of veal with macaroni, roast turkey, mashed potatoes, salad, sago pudding (akin to tapioca), stewed pears, fruit, tea, and coffee.   

Upon arrival in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada, the family disembarked in the frigid air, terribly unwell and exhausted from their trans-Atlantic voyage. They still had to clamber aboard the Canadian Pacific Railway train on which they continued their multi-day journey to Toronto. At the terminus of their trip, they were received warmly by Bud’s parents and assorted siblings, and temporarily moved into the crowded family home cheek by jowl with at least eight other adults and four children. Excitement of reconnecting with the family was dampened because Bud and Blossom’s infant daughter was unable to rally from the strain of travel and within days succumbed to pneumonia.

Responsible for his pregnant wife and two surviving girls, Bud soon secured a job as a labourer, and purchased a home near his parents, hardly having time to settle in before Rose was born that summer. Blossom kept up her pace of giving birth approximately every two years over the next decade, bearing five children in Canada, of whom only three survived. By 1919, Bud and Blossom Gardiner had six surviving children, four girls and two boys, all under the age of sixteen.

Rose was a carbon copy of her father with her porcelain skin and dark hair, but her sea-blue eyes were her mother’s contribution. She began school at the age of eight and continued her education for the next five years, albeit irregularly. When her youngest sister was born, 13 year old Rose was withdrawn from school to help with the burgeoning household. Without peers to engage with at school, Rose met Simon Stapleton, a 21 year old man, at church. He took an intimate interest in the young teen. After staying out all night with Simon, Rose returned home and recounted to her mother where she had been and what had happened. Blossom, outraged, admonished Rose for her behaviour and gave her the spanking of her young life. Bud chose to rely on the justice system and laid a complaint with the Toronto police against the reprobate, Simon.

The Stapleton surname was well known to the Toronto police, because seven different Stapletons had been charged with ten offences in just that year. As a result of Bud’s complaint, Simon was charged with carnally knowing (having sexual relations with) a girl under 14 years old, and was convicted and sentenced to five days in the Toronto Municipal Farm for Men, located in what is now known as Thornhill, north of Toronto. For men who received short sentences, the Farm was an alternative to jail, and the city used the inmates to perform agricultural labour. In addition to the five days imprisonment, Simon received ten lashes across his bare back, whipped by the nine knotted cords of a cat-o’-nine-tails. He was released from the Farm upon expiration of his term.

Months later, Rose, just shy of fifteen, disappeared for four days. Upon her return, she tearfully divulged to her parents that she had been lured by Jonathan Duncan, an 18 year old acquaintance, who confined her with no food in an empty house in North Toronto, until she escaped. An incensed Bud immediately accompanied Rose to a doctor’s appointment. During this period it was not unusual for parents who suspected that their child had been sexually assaulted to first engage a doctor before contacting the police. Having conferred with the physician, Bud escorted Rose directly to the police station and charges were laid against Rose’s acquaintance. Duncan was brought to the Toronto Women’s Police Court courtesy of the Toronto constabulary. The Toronto Women’s Police Court was formed in January 1913 and was intended to be a site for redemption rather than the punishment of women. It was also responsible for charges of crimes against women; men were tried in Women’s Court so that the female victims were ensconced in a safe environment. The court was presided over by Magistrate Margaret Patterson, a medical doctor with no legal training. Rose appeared as a witness against Duncan and after hearing evidence, Patterson dismissed the case against the 18 year old due to Rose having admitted to previous immoral relations.

Upon dismissal of the case, social workers and Magistrate Patterson jointly advised Bud and Blossom to admit Rose to the Alexandra Industrial School, a Protestant correctional facility for the rehabilitation of incorrigible girls, built in 1891 and located in a rural section of east Toronto (now known as Scarborough). Although initially a benevolent institution, by 1923 the Alexandra Industrial School was overcrowded and its family-centred style of rehabilitation was shifting towards a more punitive focus. Refusing to send Rose to the industrial school, the Gardiners instead promised to escort Rose to and from her jobs as a domestic worker.

That summer, Rose, physically presenting as a young woman yet only 15 years old, again disappeared from home for five days, sleeping in a field and in the company of two men in a park. At the end of his rope, Bud had her arrested and Rose was ordered to meet with Dr. George William Anderson, the psychiatrist for Toronto’s Juvenile Court. Juvenile Court in Ontario was for children under the age of 18 who had run afoul of the law. Its mission was not punishment but rather adjustment of the child’s behaviour to better conform to society’s standards, thus the full-time psychiatrist. Adhering to the idiom “the apple does not fall far from the tree,” the psychiatrist was tasked to review the family’s heredity and behaviours in addition to assessing the child to determine mental fitness. Dr. Anderson described Rose as a high grade mental defective (“feeble-minded”) who was attractive, suggestible with a lack of moral impulse, and needing closer supervision than her parents had been providing.

Prior to the Juvenile Court magistrate’s decision, the magistrate and a social worker attempted to persuade Rose’s parents to institutionalize Rose in Orillia’s Hospital for the Feeble-Minded, located well north of Toronto, but they again refused to cooperate. Ultimately, representatives for both the Big Sisters Association and the Juvenile Court had, in concert, arranged for Rose to be committed to St. Faith’s Lodge on a charge of incorrigibility and vagrancy. St. Faith’s Lodge was a girls’ detention centre located on Beverley Street in Toronto before moving to a larger location at 242 Cottingham Street in 1926. The Lodge employed a maternalistic approach and was operated through the Anglican church, although the courts still held jurisdiction over the girls. Any girl who had been committed to St. Faith’s through the court system was expected to stay a minimum of nine months. Rose was admitted in August, one of twelve girls housed in the converted three-story brick home featuring a multitude of windows to allow each room plenty of sunshine and fresh air to invigorate strong minds. Prayer services were held each evening while days were occupied with instruction in domestic duties, including housework, laundry, and sewing. Eleven months after admission to St. Faith’s Lodge, Rose’s parents had her discharged into their custody, contrary to the admonition of the Superintendent, Margaret Howe. Howe had concerns for Rose’s personal safety because Rose had repeatedly confided in her that she was afraid of her father, but Rose had been confined for over nine months. Howe had no authority to detain her any longer.

Two years later, a visibly pregnant, unmarried, eighteen year old Rose reached out to Howe for help, who assisted in Rose’s admission into Humewood House, a home for unwed mothers. Humewood House, located at 40 Humewood Drive in Toronto and originally the former residence of the Honourable William Hume Blake (Solicitor-General for Upper Canada in 1848 and eventually Vice-Chancellor of Upper Canada), was purchased in 1902 by the Anglican church for charitable purposes. The new Humewood House building was erected in 1924 next door to the original structure and featured large windows allowing plenty of sunlight to stream into the large dormitories, a modern, well-equipped nursery, and a well furnished chapel. It accommodated twenty young women, twice as many as the old structure. It was into this state-of-the-art building that Miss Emily Gertrude Hill, the superintendent of Humewood House since its inception, admitted a pregnant Rose.

When Rose’s delivery was imminent, she was transported to the Grace Hospital in Toronto and gave birth to her precious baby girl, whom she named Rosebud. Rose and Rosebud remained at Humewood House until autumn of 1927 when the administration arranged live-in domestic employment for Rose in the home of Mrs. Baker in Toronto. Against the advice of social workers, Rosebud went to reside with Blossom, Rose’s mother, in the Gardiner family home in North Toronto.

Over the next six months, Rose was placed into three different domestic employment situations. Employers of domestic servants had a convenient merry-go-round of girls through social agencies, and routinely complained about a worker’s attitude or skill level, which resulted in a rapid substitution. But rarely were the employers held under the same sort of scrutiny. Domestic workers’ complaints to the social agencies about their conditions of employment and menial wages were not paid much heed; sexual harassment and assaults were almost a cliché. Social agencies did not train or provide options other than domestic work, therefore many girls were trapped in untenable situations.

Once again, Rose, distraught and despondent with Rosebud swaddled in her arms, approached Superintendent Hill at Humewood House for aid as she was seven months pregnant and claimed the father was Bailey Livingstone, a married man. Hill, concerned yet wary, telephoned the Livingstone home to substantiate this allegation. Mrs. Livingstone, not denying the affair/abuse, surprisingly responded that if Rose would leave her husband alone, she would ensure he would monetarily support her and the child. Faced with this information, Hill denied Rose’s readmission to Humewood House because according to society’s values during this period, an unmarried woman becoming pregnant for a second time was judged as immoral, as opposed to simply misfortunate the first time around. Hill instead contacted the Toronto Morality Department for assistance, part of the Toronto Police Department that handled complaints mainly for and about working-class women, which resulted in a police woman arriving at Humewood House and transporting a terrified Rose and Rosebud to the Toronto Women’s Police Court.

Rose, vulnerable with shoulders slumped, her eyes red-rimmed from tears, pregnant with a baby in tow, and unmarried, was again standing in front of Magistrate Margaret Patterson. Instead of convicting and sentencing Rose as a vagrant under the federal Criminal Code, of which the maximum sentence was imprisonment for six months, Patterson convicted and sentenced Rose under Ontario’s Female Refuges Act to an Industrial Refuge, not to exceed two years. Sentencing unwed mothers under the Female Refuges Act successfully segregated women from society to ensure they would not become pregnant during that lengthier period of institutionalization, and provided an extended duration to learn skills and curtail undesirable behaviours to better themselves upon release. Rosebud, not permitted to accompany her mother into the Industrial Refuge, was eventually returned into Blossom’s care.

The Toronto Industrial Home, also known as the Belmont Industrial Home and the Belmont Industrial Refuge, was located at 43 Belmont Street in Toronto, and admitted dissolute or incorrigible women. Originally, in 1858, it was a Protestant institution for fallen women based on providing domestic, religious, and moral training, although by 1917 it had transformed into a house of correction under control of the city, even though it was still considered a facility where young women were sent in the hope of salvaging their lives.

Because Rose was pregnant and the Belmont Industrial Refuge did not have the resources to accommodate pregnancies, she was housed temporarily at the Haven, located at 320 Seaton Street, Toronto, a residential neighbourhood. Officially known as The Prison Gate Mission and the Haven, it was a Women’s Christian Association institution that primarily housed unwed mothers and women whose husbands had abandoned them. Soon after arriving at the Haven, Rose was transferred to the Toronto General Hospital where she gave birth to a son, who tragically died within days. Miss Effie Chestnut, the superintendent of the Haven, compassionately allowed Rose to convalesce at the Haven for a couple of months as Rose was grieving, was not well physically, and mentally was flattened. December arrived and Rose was transported and admitted back into the Belmont Industrial Refuge, one of almost 150 women lodged there that year, to serve out the rest of her term for her vagrancy conviction.

Mrs. Laura Lillian Kennedy, superintendent of the Belmont Industrial Refuge, was keenly aware of Rose’s two illegitimate births and her conviction for vagrancy, though she did concede that Rose was well-behaved yet frequently had bouts of hysterical crying. Five months before the expiry of Rose’s vagrancy charge, Kennedy filed an application with the Ontario government to have Rose transferred to an Ontario Hospital as a feeble minded person. Included in Kennedy’s lawful application were two Physician’s Certificates completed by legally qualified medical practitioners, Dr. Kathleen McBrien Bartley and Dr. Edmund Percy Lewis. According to the law, physicians who signed such certificates did not need to have any training or experience in the mental health field. Transferring an individual to an Ontario Hospital (hereinafter referred to as an “asylum”) allowed the province to detain that person for as long as that individual was deemed insane. In other words, that person could be institutionalized indefinitely, extending past the term of their sentence. This legal shell game was yet another opportunity to segregate particular individuals from the rest of society, for a longer period of time.

Dr. Bartley, a general practitioner, conversed with and observed Rose at the Belmont Industrial Refuge, noting in her Physician’s Certificate that Rose’s appearance was neat and clean and quite pleasing, and commented upon her politeness and ability to respond to questions fairly well. However, Bartley referenced a history provided by Kennedy that asserted Rose could not live on her own in the community without being immoral. Dr. Lewis, who practiced as a psychiatrist, declared on his Physician’s Certificate that Rose was an idiot, well developed, and dull looking. He had also received the same background information from Kennedy and expressed the view that Rose needed constant supervision and was a moral imbecile.

Morality, or the lack thereof, was a societal concern in Ontario and western Canada that promoted eugenics in the form of segregation and/or sterilization of certain individuals, broadly including the poor, criminals, insane, alcoholics, feeble-minded, immoral, non-white people, and any ethnicity that was not of a British extraction. Amongst the concerns were not just the prospect of the country overpopulated by those of “lesser classes,” but also the costs that would have drained society’s funds to feed, house, and care for those who were unable to support themselves and their illegitimate children. In addition, immoral behaviours increased incidents of venereal disease, a collective anxiety heightened post World War One.

Members of the medical profession, social agencies, and the legal system, placed great emphasis on a family’s medical history, their behaviours, and their environment including geographic location and income to explain “hereditary taint” and to legitimize reasons for segregation and sterilization. Rose’s family history was attached to Kennedy’s application. Of particular interest to all involved was the claim, made without any substantial supporting evidence, that three of Rose’s uncles were institutionalized in Ontario asylums. While the assertion was technically true, it did not reveal the context for their admissions, as explained below.

Rose’s uncle, Ash Gardiner, experienced auditory and visual hallucinations in his twenties causing disruptive behaviours. He was admitted to the Provincial Lunatic Asylum in Toronto where he was diagnosed with dementia praecox of the catatonic type, currently known as schizophrenia. Within three years of admission, Ash passed away of meningitis at age 33. Rose’s uncle Dagwood Gardiner, at the age of 24, was incarcerated in the Toronto Jail for the offence of insanity, where he remained for six weeks until he was discharged. A month later, Dagwood was again imprisoned in the Toronto Jail, this time for four months, after which, suffering from delusions, he was committed as a lunatic to the Mimico Asylum for the Insane. He was diagnosed with dementia praecox, triggered by overwork as a farm labourer. After three years of institutionalization, Dagwood was released on probation to his father and was officially discharged from the hospital’s books after six months. Rose’s uncle Reed Gardiner, in his late twenties, joined the war effort in 1916 and was stationed in France with the Canadian Expeditionary Forces. His records indicated he had suffered a nervous breakdown and was diagnosed with confusional insanity. He claimed he had been under fire, was slightly wounded in the legs, and was buried and blown up. Reed was discharged from the hospital so as to return to his unit, only to be sent back to the hospital for observation, then again sent back to his unit. This cycle continued till the end of the war when he was repatriated to Canada and ultimately admitted to the Military Hospital in Cobourg, Ontario, which was previously the Cobourg Asylum for the Insane but had been seconded by the military in 1916 until 1920. His doctors determined the confusional insanity, frontal headaches, and ringing noises in Reed’s ears were caused by active service and stress of the campaign in France. Reed was eventually discharged as recovered. As can be seen, there is little in the psychiatric background of Rose’s uncles that appears relevant to her circumstances years later.

Kennedy’s comprehensive application for Rose’s transfer was received by the Deputy Provincial Secretary, Harry M. Robbins, who in turn contacted Dr. William Choate Herriman, the superintendent at the Cobourg asylum. All parties agreed to the admittance. A directive was sent to Miss M. Nichol, a Provincial Bailiff, requiring her to attend the Belmont Industrial Refuge to take Rose into her custody and transport her to the Cobourg asylum. On the date of her transfer in the summer of 1930, Rose was still serving her sentence for the vagrancy conviction.

One hundred kilometres east of Toronto was a small town named Cobourg, sitting on the north shore of Lake Ontario and known primarily at the turn of the nineteenth century as a summer vacation exodus for wealthy Americans, ferried (literally) from Rochester, New York via the Rochester passenger ferry to Cobourg’s harbour. Summer residents resided in grand mansions, geographically situated to catch cool breezes off the lake. On the date of Rose’s transfer, the air had not yet warmed and the weather mirrored Rose’s mood, overcast and unsettled. Driving up the hill to the asylum with Bailiff Nichol, Rose had a clear view of the building, which had a storied history. Erected in the mid-1800s as an educational academy, it later became Victoria College University until it merged with the University of Toronto and closed its doors to academia in 1892, reopening a decade later as the Cobourg asylum, the province’s sole women-only psychiatric facility. It held an air of sophistication with light coloured brick, four neoclassical columns each three stories high, a prominent cupola gracing the centre roof, and symmetrical wings running back from the corners, perpendicular to the road. Showers began to sprinkle down as Rose and Bailiff Nichol exited the car. Nichol slid open her umbrella to shelter them both, and together they ascended the outdoor stairs to meet the administrative staff gathered to admit Rose into their freshly painted interior.

Within an hour of completing the requisite paperwork, Rose was escorted to the bathing facilities for her obligatory admissions bath to ensure she was not hosting any vermin upon her body or hair, and also for nurses to note for the file any distinguishing marks, skin conditions, or physical ailments. Concurrently, they compiled a rather sparse list of clothing and valuables that accompanied Rose to Cobourg, including a wedding ring (though there was no evidence she was married,) and related comments on quality and condition of the items. Post-bath, Rose was required to provide a urine sample to check for indications of disease, and a blood sample was taken to test for venereal diseases, including syphilis. After being kitted up in the asylum uniform of a rather shapeless, floral-patterned, mid-calf length, cotton housedress, she was served dinner along with the other 400 or so patients and put to bed in her shared room to rest after her stressful day. It was a few days before Dr. William A. Cardwell, one of the staff psychiatrists, met with Rose for a physical and neurological examination, along with the gathering of her history for her case file.

Mrs. Kennedy from the Belmont Industrial Refuge had contacted Blossom, Rose’s mother, a few weeks prior to the transfer to inform her that her daughter may be relocated to another institution for “further training,”  but Blossom was not notified of Rose’s removal to Cobourg until after the deed was done. Apologizing in a letter, Kennedy claimed they only had an hour’s notice to get Rose ready to go and there wasn’t time to send for Blossom to say goodbye, but Rose was in good hands in Cobourg and she wouldn’t have to worry about her daughter getting into trouble again. This information about Rose being sent to an asylum did not sit well with the Gardiner family, especially Bud who had bitter memories of his brothers’ institutionalizations.

Back in the Cobourg asylum, patients were expected to physically contribute to the hospital’s maintenance according to their abilities, either in the kitchen helping prepare the meals or waiting tables, cleaning and polishing every nook and cranny of each floor of the hospital till it gleamed, in the laundry washing and mending the endless bed linens, towels, and patient clothing, or tending to the garden. Teaching patients how to perform domestic duties may have been the “further training” that Mrs. Kennedy had referred to. Rose was assigned to the dining room where she was praised by the staff for her attitude and work ethic, and where she was perfectly content with her responsibilities. She spent her free time reading quietly, most often the bible she had brought with her into the institution, and writing letters to her mother (though not all were posted because the asylum had the right to scrutinize all incoming and outgoing mail). Doctors and nurses recorded comments in Rose’s case file that she was always scrupulously clean and presented very well, her hair waved, and very tidy in appearance. She was congenial with both patients and staff, conversed easily on interesting subjects, spoke lovingly about her daughter, and was generally very positive in her outlook. There were no delusions or hallucinations nor was she mentally deteriorated. Rose was diagnosed as mentally deficient without psychosis, a middle grade moron, nowadays described as having a mild intellectual disability.

In a letter from Rose to her mother in September 1930, she remarked about how much she wanted to come home but did not know exactly when she was to be released. She wrote that Mrs. Kennedy informed her, “I was to come here until my time is up and then it was up to myself how long I stay after. I don’t know what she meant by that.” Bud, on the other hand, was keenly aware of the date Rose’s vagrancy conviction was to expire. Not advised of anything to the contrary, on that date, Bud and Blossom borrowed a car and anxiously began their four-hour drive eastward along Highway 2, a two lane highway that intersected all towns along the route including Oshawa, an industrial city home to General Motors of Canada, and Bowmanville, the location of the Canadian arm of Goodyear Tire and Rubber. They arrived at the Cobourg asylum after lunchtime with the expectation of collecting Rose and bringing her back home. Medical superintendent Dr. William Choate Herriman, confronted by Rose’s parents demanding the release of their daughter, steadfastly refused to discharge Rose into her parent’s custody, regardless of her vagrancy conviction having expired. Ontario’s Hospitals for the Insane Act provided the superintendent with the legal authority to institutionalize a patient past the expiry date of her sentence as long as she was deemed insane, however, he could also discharge a patient if he believed she was fit to be sent home with her parents. Herriman’s assessment was based on his low opinion of the Gardiners, and Rose’s parents having no legal control over her because she was 22 and certified as morally deficient with a poor family history.

Dejected and yearning to return home, Rose spoke to Dr. Charles Archibald Cleland, one of the staff psychiatrists, giving consent to any operation that would allow her to leave the asylum. Rose was referring to sterilization, removal of her reproductive organs to ensure she could not have any more children, understanding that her ability to reproduce was standing in the way of her release. Despite her authorization, no surgery was performed.

As the months of institutionalization dragged on with no end in sight nor clue as to what she must do to be discharged, Rose had become increasingly despondent. Her parents made an appearance when they could; the Gardiners were also frustrated with the denial of Rose’s freedom. By the new year of 1931, Rose began showing symptoms of depression: wanting to sleep more, apathy in her surroundings, and profound sadness. At the beginning of March, Rose was paid a visit by her father who relayed that Rosebud, Rose’s beloved daughter, was to be made a ward of the Children’s Aid Society. Numb from shock and unable to physically speak, a desperate Rose wrote a letter to Dr. Herriman asking if he knew about Rosebud’s situation, of which Herriman denied any knowledge. In reality it was the contrary. Correspondence had begun two months previously between Miss Vera Moberly, the Executive Secretary of the Infants Home and Infirmary, and Herriman who declared that Rose was incapable of supporting Rosebud even if she were to one day be discharged. Both agreed that Rosebud should be under the guardianship of the Children’s Aid Society.

Rose spiralled into a deep depression. One evening six months later, a fellow patient alerted a nurse that Rose had been acting rather oddly. Forewarned, the nurse entered Rose’s room and discovered her with the belt from her robe tied tightly about her neck. Dashing to the bed the nurse shouted out for help while fumbling with the knot, and successfully unbound the sash whilst Rose was weeping and mumbling incoherently. Nembutal, a barbiturate used as a sedative, was prescribed to calm Rose and help her sleep through the remainder of the night. About a week later, Rose again attempted suicide with a rag tied around her neck, but the act was thwarted before completion. Dr. Cardwell’s solution was to admonish her for frightening the nurses and emphatically commanded she stop the nonsense. After Cardwell’s dressing down, Rose penned a letter to him apologizing for her behaviour insisting she did not mean to upset the nurses, and requested permission to sit with the night nurse if she felt suicidal urges again. The upshot was two weeks of hydrotherapy, specifically scotch douches where she stood in a shower being pelted with high-pressure water sprays that felt like stinging needles, alternating from hot for a few minutes to an immediate cold spray for thirty-seconds, repeated twice more per session. Cardwell noted in her case file that no appreciable change in her behaviour had resulted from the treatment.

Over the next few months, Rose endured exhausting bouts of depression. After a third attempt at strangulation in January 1932, Cardwell was convinced she was developing a psychosis; a psychosis she did not have when she first arrived at the asylum. Less than one week later, with no explanation, Rose was hurriedly transferred to Ontario Hospital, Orillia, (hereinafter referred to as the “Orillia asylum,”) again without her parent’s prior knowledge.  A fairly terse letter was dispatched to Bud by the Cobourg medical superintendent the same day as Rose’s relocation, informing him that any future communication should be directed to the Superintendent at the Orillia asylum.

Orillia has long been an asylum site, first appearing pre-Confederation, although the settlement’s population was not yet even 1000 souls. From 1861 through 1870, the Orillia Lunatic Asylum was the northerly branch of the Provincial Asylum in Toronto, a three-storey building with dormer windows in the attic reminiscent of a hotel (which it actually was but had never been used for that purpose prior to being purchased by the government), situated on Lake Couchiching approximately 150 kilometres north of Toronto. In 1876, the Asylum for Idiots, Orillia, was established in the former asylum, housing approximately 140 patients both male and female, however, it quickly overflowed its capacity. By 1885, a new Orillia location was scouted, just south of the original asylum located on the northwest side of Lake Simcoe. Construction began on the cottage plan layout (known as a colony plan in England), with the administration building front and centre imposing and sprawling in its width, with separate smaller buildings for patients tucked in behind and off to the sides, segregated by gender and patient type (violent, quiet, ill), all connected via covered passageways. Admissions were staggered as successive structures were ready for occupation, and it was not until April 1891 that all patients had been transferred into the freshly built, visually commanding buildings that housed over 400 inmates. Forty years later, the architecture had expanded along with the (over)capacity which had quadrupled to more than 1600 patients.

It was into this overcrowded, co-ed, no longer state of the art facility that Rose was admitted on a blustery day of snow flurries. Underdressed for the weather with her coat collar flipped up against the biting wind, holding her hat firmly on her head against the gusts, she entered the administrative building through the massive double doors, the temperature change immediately fogging her eye-glasses. She was greeted by the staff who ushered her through the admissions process. Upon arrival, as was customary in all asylums, she underwent a physical examination documenting her height, weight, and any marks and bruises on her skin, culminating in a bath to ensure cleanliness and that there were no vermin on her body or in her hair. All clothing and personal articles that accompanied Rose were recorded on a preprinted form, revealing she had accumulated quite a wardrobe of dresses and undergarments during her stay in Cobourg, along with seven books, including her bible. Freshly cleansed and scrutinized, Rose was provided dinner and afterwards escorted to her home cottage to settle in and sleep.

Throughout the following month multiple examinations were performed on Rose, including vision, dental, dermatological, gynecological, and tests for syphilis and gonorrhoea. Her menstrual history was recorded and cranial measurements were documented, assessed as indicators of intelligence and criminality. Rose’s mental health evaluation concluded she did not suffer from psychosis, hallucinations, or delusions, although she was depressed for a few days after admission. An intelligence quotient (“IQ”) test was conducted and it was determined her mental age was 12 years and her IQ was calculated as 81. Dr. Foster Hamilton, Orillia’s assistant superintendent, declared Rose’s vocabulary was that of a 14 year old, had a good command of the English language in spite of irregularly attending school for 4 years, and observed that Rose spent the bulk of her time reading rather than socializing with other patients. Ward reports documented that Rose was an excellent worker, willing to learn, well-behaved, clean and tidy, and though quiet, was popular with the other women. Consensus at the doctors and nurses medical round table was that Rose had border line intelligence and she should continue working in the Sewing Room, an important segment of the institution’s economy where female patients stitched together clothes to be worn by the facility’s inmates, but she be directed into the probation prospects stream to be trained as a domestic worker.

Initially, Rose was admitted to one of the female dormitory buildings located on the asylum grounds. In July, due to her exemplary behaviour and work skills, she was transferred to the asylum’s Colony House where she began her probationary period as a domestic worker for assorted families in Orillia. Colony House, located in the town of Orillia, was the live-in residence for a handful of probationary female patients while employed at private citizen’s homes for ten hours a day, returning to Colony House in the evening.

Over the next month, Rose had toiled at three different households in the Orillia area, but her employment at the third home caused her much anxiety. Recounting her troubles to a social worker at Colony House, she openly wept claiming she was incapable of pleasing the Drummond family, especially Mrs. Drummond. Rose’s stress had escalated to the point of fainting the following morning before she left for the Drummond house, after which she was returned to the asylum for observation. Concerned, the social worker proceeded to Mrs. Drummond’s home to discuss the matter and was treated with such contemptuousness that she immediately understood Rose’s perspective, resulting in no more women being placed with the Drummonds again.

One month later in September 1932, Rose was placed as a domestic in the Henderson household. Soon after, Rose confided in a different social worker at Colony House, (the previous person was not available), because she was concerned for her welfare. Mr. Henderson, a married man, was becoming overly familiar with her and had given her a quarter with the directive not to tell anyone. For fear of insulting him, she had accepted the money. The following day he tried to intercept her throughout the house and pressed her for a kiss. Unwilling to intercede on Rose’s behalf, the social worker advised her to return the quarter, give him the cold shoulder, and not to divulge this information to Mrs. Henderson. Rose had very few options. She had no choice as to who employed her and she was not allowed to resign from her position, plus, she was still on probation. Within two weeks, Rose had become so anxious with the situation that she fainted and was rushed to the hospital. Mrs. Henderson, likely unaware of her husband’s advances on Rose, commented to the social worker that she was pleased with Rose’s work but her nervousness held her back from all she could accomplish. Rose never returned to the Henderson household.

One Sunday in November, on a dismal, heavy grey type of day that demotivates even those with the sunniest of dispositions, Rose and fellow probationer Susan Green were bored with their monotonous routine and longed to seek out some amusement to lift their spirits. Slipping away from their church meeting they secretly attended a picture show accompanied by two men, ultimately missing their evening curfew. While Susan fabricated a story about where they had been, Rose had stayed silent, although overnight her guilt caused her to write a seven page confession to the Medical Superintendent, Dr. Sidney Horne. Due to this transgression, Rose was returned to the asylum with her probation temporarily revoked.

By March 1933, Rose resumed probation and her skills as a domestic servant were again for hire, however, she was unable to reside in Colony House because just prior to Christmas in 1932, Colony House burned down due to a fire in the attic, causing all probationers to transfer back to the asylum until another home in Orillia could be acquired. Therefore, all probationary patients had to return to the asylum each evening after work, reverting to a stricter regime with less freedom. During this period, Rose was employed almost exclusively with the Taylor household, to great acclaim. Once a month a social worker contacted Mrs. Taylor, either in person or by telephone, to enquire about Rose’s suitability for the household duties. Mrs. Taylor always provided excellent reports, was very much pleased with Rose, and even commented on her splendid pastry-making skills. Although Rose was comfortable in the Taylor household and fond of the family, she was also becoming increasingly frustrated with her institutionalization.

Five months into her service with the Taylors, Rose wrote a letter to Dr. Hamilton begging him to let her go home, even for just two weeks or a month. She questioned why she was still institutionalized after almost five years even though her sentence was only for two years, reiterating that if it was because she had two illegitimate children, she was willing to undergo sterilization if it resulted in her discharge. Despite her pleas, Rose was not released for any amount of time and continued on probation receiving first-rate reports from Mrs. Taylor.

One delightfully fair, sunny summer day one year later, the kind of day that energizes the mind and body to accomplish everything on a to-do list, Rose toiled at the Taylors but had not returned to the asylum by curfew. Concerned, the asylum’s social worker telephoned Mrs. Taylor who confirmed that Rose left the house shortly after 7:00 p.m. as per usual. Canvassing the patients as to where Rose might have disappeared to, there was only speculation and gossip; she was not to be found.

Two days later, Dr. John Edward Sharpe, one of the psychiatrists at the asylum, wrote a very brief letter to Blossom, Rose’s mother, regretfully informing her that Rose failed to return from her place of employment on Tuesday evening and had not been heard from since. Sharpe requested to be notified immediately if Blossom knew of Rose’s whereabouts or if she returned home. A volley of correspondence ensued. Blossom had not seen Rose for two years since her last visit to the asylum and she was anxious that Rose had perhaps drowned. Sharpe’s response asserted that Rose had purposefully escaped as she had packed and left with all of her clothes, a detail not shared in his initial communication. According to the asylum’s annual report, Rose was officially one of thirteen women who eloped from the institution that year, an unusually high number comparative to previous years.

A warrant was issued for Rose’s arrest one week after her elopement, and pinpointed the location where she was reportedly residing. Concurrently, Medical Superintendent Horne wrote to Dr. Bernard T. McGhie, the director of hospital services, and opined that he was not so sure that Rose should be recommitted given that she had an IQ of 81. McGhie concurred with Horne’s opinion and the warrant was held, only to be used “in the event that the case is drawn to our attention by some outside agency.”

In the summer of 1934, within a couple of weeks of Rose’s escape, she and her paramour, Foster Farmer, a dealer of investment bonds, began a common-law relationship in Toronto, a year after Foster had separated from his first wife of 15 years. There were no children borne of his first marriage although Rose and Foster soon started their own family: their first son Carter was born in 1937 and another son, Cooper, was born four years later.

Nearly 20 years after they had separated, Foster’s first wife filed for divorce citing adultery on the part of Foster. Within days of the divorce being made absolute, Rose and Foster married. He retired in 1958 and passed away a few years later.

Rose, in her 60s, widowed but still vibrant and energetic, had begun working as a clerk at a discount department store in Toronto where she was employed for seven years until the store was shuttered. Predeceased by her youngest son, Cooper, Rose Farmer’s life quietly ceased a few decades after Foster. Laid to rest next to her husband, she was a proud grandmother of four, and was survived by a younger sister, Lily. But where was Rosebud, Rose’s daughter?

Rosebud was eventually returned to Bud and Blossom after a protracted, hard-fought battle with the Children’s Aid Society. Consciously deciding to lock the family skeleton in the closet, Rosebud was raised by the family not as Rose’s daughter but as her sister, as documented in both Bud and Blossom’s wills and most of the sibling’s obituaries. It is unknown whether Rosebud ever knew of her mother’s true identity, but by the 1980s when there were only three surviving siblings, Rosebud and her “sisters” were estranged. Rose’s and Lily’s obituaries had no mention of Rosebud though she was still very much alive. Rosebud had created a world separate from the Gardiner family. She married and had seven children with the love of her life, producing over 20 grandchildren, and a smattering of great-grandchildren. Her husband predeceased her by a decade.

Rose’s story was not uncommon in Ontario in the 1920 and 1930s. Many young, working-class women were swept up and institutionalized in asylums for extended periods for reasons less to do with their mental health and more to do with societal concerns about their morality. Yet Rose’s story was unusual in that she escaped and had a doctor who elected not to capture and re-institutionalize her. By all accounts, Rose had a successful, loving family life after her elopement from the asylum, despite all the challenges she had faced. She was one of the lucky ones.