The Wernersville State Mental Institution

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          Thomas Francis Costello was a worrier and an overthinker, a trait he knew well. Twenty years ago, on their tenant farm in the Costello Barony near Charlestown, County Mayo, his father had led him to a freshly plowed field. "Thomas," his father had said, placing a heavy, warm hand on his shoulder. "I know your thoughts sometimes cause you trouble. That has been a Costello trait since the first potato was grown. But remember this: you’ll never plow a field by turning it over in your mind."

          Now, twenty years later, Thomas Francis remembered that advice as he stood before the large oak door. The weight of the unknown future bore down on him, making his every step feel like a leap of faith. His palms were sweaty, and his heart raced as he reached for the doorknob, turned it until he heard the slight click, and pushed it open.

          “Mr. Costello, come in, Sir. Thank you for coming. Have a seat here, in the middle,” said Superintendent and Chief Administrator, Dr. Howard Spencer. His tone was serious and business-like, hinting at the gravity of the situation.

Thomas Francis Costello, 31, was sharply dressed and handsome, with a square chin and penetrating bluish-gray eyes. He had worked as an attendant at the Wernersville State Asylum for the Chronically Insane for three years, a time in which he had saved diligently, even placing his name on the list to purchase a new Model T back in Reading. He had been summoned without knowing the purpose of the meeting.

          "I'm sure, Thomas, that you already know the individuals around the table, but I’ll go ahead and introduce them anyway," Dr. Spencer explained.

          Costello nodded stiffly.

          "Of course, you know, Henrietta Lacs, Director of Nursing and Attendants." Costello gave Lacs a slight, crooked smile. He was an eligible bachelor—a "catch" for anyone at the Asylum unattached—but he avoided her overtures. Nurse Lacs, although a bit homely in her appearance, fit that category. Her flirtatious, gushing smile slightly embarrassed him, but he respected her professional competence.

          Lacs stepped away from her chair, smiling broadly as she extended her hand. "Thomas Francis," she said, "so terrific to see you." He gave her a limp handshake, then quickly looked away, already racing through possibilities.

I must be fired. No, the board wouldn't gather just for that. I treated a patient incorrectly. Perhaps. I’m being punished for rebuffing Lacs. She’d certainly ruin his car deal out of spite. Damn it.

          "And Dr. Raul Bennett, the staff psychiatrist," Dr. Spencer said, interrupting Thomas's inner turmoil. Costello looked at Dr. Bennett, rose slightly from his seat, and stuck out his hand. Bennett reached across the table. "Thomas Francis, how are you, Sir?"

          He's a good man. Takes good care of the patients. I trust him.

          "Dr. Powell," Dr. Spencer said, pointing to the tall, grey-haired man at the end. Powell was the chief medical officer. Thomas thought of his slight, lingering cough. Mother always said a good laugh and a good sleep are the best cures. I hope Powell hasn't let anyone know about my cough: goodbye job and goodbye car.

          "And of course," Dr. Spencer continued, "Mr. Surkowski."

          Costello's eyes flashed to Reed Surkowski, head of grounds and facilities. Polack bum. Like oil and water with this guy. He forced a handshake. "Reed, how are you?" The disdain was barely masked.

         "Good Thomas, good. Very good, thank you."

          Okay, we just needed one 'good,' not three.

          "How are your stories coming, Thomas?" Surkowski asked, catching him off guard.

          Thomas stared. How did he know about that? Spying on me?

          "Thomas works on writing stories in his spare time," Surkowski informed the board.

          "Oh, that's wonderful," Nurse Lacs said admiringly. "What are they about, Thomas?"

          "Nothing special," he answered, avoiding her eyes. "Just about life."

          "Didn't know we had an author in our midst," Dr. Spencer said excitedly.

          "I’m no author," Costello answered, turning back to the Superintendent. "Just like to put thoughts down on occasions."

          "Okay, let's move on, shall we?" Spencer interjected. "To your left, Thomas, you know Matthew Doughrty, head of maintenance and food services."

           "Certainly, I do," Costello said, smiling genuinely as he shook Doughrty's hand. He's Irish Catholic like me. We should be running this place.

          "Okay, at this point, do you know why I invited you here to address the board, Thomas?"

           "No, Sir, I do not."

          "The board has decided to create a new position at the Asylum: Supervisor of Attendants," Dr. Spencer explained. "As you know, all attendants report to Nurse Lacs, who is also head of nursing, and the Board thinks that's simply too much on the shoulders of one person." Costello glanced at Nurse Lacs, who squinched up her shoulders and offered a knowing smile. He quickly looked away.

          "We've created a new position, Supervisor of Attendants, and Thomas, we'd like to offer the position to you."

          Before Costello could answer, Dr. Bennett, the psychiatrist, spoke. "We've all watched how well you work with our patients, Thomas. They light up when you approach them, even those who have lost their ability to speak or reason. Your gentle presence is a blessing."

          "Oh, yes," Nurse Lacs chimed in. "Thomas and I have discussed many times the proper way to interact with them, haven't we, Thomas? You are a rapid learner when taught the correct techniques."

          Costello only nodded a half-smile toward Dr. Bennett. "Yes, Dr. Spencer, that would be something I would like."

          "I'd like Mr. Surkowski to outline what we expect, Reed?"

          "Yes, thank you, Dr. Spencer. Thomas, we’ve watched how you help many of our patients with small garden patches. How did you learn how to do that?"

          "I grew up on a farm in County Mayo, Ireland, Reed. My father was a tenant farmer in the Costello Barony. After the Great Famine, we knew relying solely on the potato was foolish. My father began acquiring cows, pigs, and cash crops, shifting to a system of diversification. He bought his tenant land low after the laws changed in the 1880s and sold the entire, thriving operation high, which gave him the funds to bring his family here."

          "Very interesting," Dr. Powell injected. "So that's how you and your family were able to come to America?"

          "Yes, Sir. We came directly to Philadelphia. Irish children learn early about William Penn. My parents wanted a new life where a strong Catholic family would have religious freedom and wouldn't be discriminated against."

          "It's well known at the Asylum that you go to church every day," Mr. Surkowski observed.

          "Yes, I attend morning Mass at St. Ignatius here in Wernersville before coming to work."

          "I see," Dr. Spencer said. "I think the board made a good selection by offering this job to you, Thomas. Do you have any questions?"

          "Only one, Sir. I would like to expand on the garden patches because I have seen how our patients respond to gardening. It would help if we had more attendants familiar with agriculture."

          Dr. Spencer smiled broadly. "It’s interesting you ask that, Thomas. We are preparing to hire attendants from local farms. We've placed notices in numerous post offices, requesting that the children of farmers apply for jobs here. Two young women have just been offered positions. You will be the first to meet them."

          "That's great. Thank you," Thomas Francis said.

          "Ah, Thomas, there is something else we'd like to have you do."

          "Of course," he responded.

          "There is a patient in Philadelphia that, because of a court order, we are forced to accept. We'd never had a patient such as this one. This is new to us."

          "Absolutely," Thomas Francis responded. "How soon should I go, and do I have to pay my own expenses?"

          "No, you won't. We've purchased a round-trip train ticket on the Lebanon Valley Railroad for you to Reading, where another ticket will take you on the Reading Railroad to Philadelphia."

           So they already knew I’d agree. I wonder if that’s the real reason for my promotion. If this patient were routine, any one of these men would be kissing Spencer’s boot to take a trip to Philadelphia.

          "Thomas," Dr. Spencer said, "you will be leaving on the day after tomorrow. And when you return, you will report back to this board on your findings."

          "I see," Thomas Francis said. "And what is it that you want me to find?"

          "This man is a criminal," Dr. Spencer replied, his voice chilling. "You must return to this board and give us your opinion: is he truly mentally sick, or is he faking it to escape prison?"

          "I understand, Sir, but as you know..."

          Dr. Spencer cut him off, his tone stern. "Thomas Francis, we gave you this promotion and evaluations are now part of the job. We've seen your writing and we believe your clarity of mind is perfect for evaluating this patient. We are pleased to have you in the new supervisory position."

          Thomas pushed his chair back and stood, his heart no longer racing from anxiety, but from the weight of his new, complicated authority. "Thank you all very much." With that, he left the conference room, leaving behind the smell of starch and the promise of a dark journey.

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