If you grew up in St. Louis, the building might have loomed as a threat.

“When we misbehaved as children, our parents threatened to take us to Arsenal Street,” said Felix Vincenz, who grew up in Webster Groves.

Now, all he has to do is push back from his desk a bit and look to the right; he can see the imposing, white dome from his office window in a newer building on the campus. Vincenz is the chief operating officer of the facility, now known as the St. Louis Psychiatric Rehabilitation Center.

“It represents the ‘asylum’ and sometimes the best and the worst of what that word means,” he said. “For many people, it’s a source of sanctuary and a safe haven.”

The building opened 150 years ago this month as the St. Louis County Lunatic Asylum. The dome rises above Arsenal Street, above the highest point in St. Louis.

And while the anniversary is a milestone, it is also an opportunity to reflect on the building’s sometimes dark past, with patients in cots in crowded hallways who were given drug treatments deemed ineffective or dangerous today.

The 175 or so current patients, or clients as they are often called, now stay in a hospital building or in one of several “cottages” on campus set up as apartments. Nobody lives in the original building anymore, but about 75 state workers use offices occupying about half its floors.

The building is obviously old and in need of some work. State officials have met in recent months to talk about the building and its “badly needed improvements and costs” though no decisions have been made about its fate, said Debra Walker, director of Public and Legislative Affairs at the Missouri Department of Mental Health. The department “is aware of how the building is valued in the St. Louis area,” she said in an email.

Andrew Weil, executive director of the Landmarks Association of St. Louis, said that the building is one of the most visible in the city, and people know it even if they don’t know what happens inside.

“It’s important as a great piece of the city’s architectural legacy, but also it’s important as a symbol of the spirit of St. Louis, which has arguably been stronger at various times in our history,” he said. “The driving force behind it is something that we as a community should take pride in.”

Laurent Javois is the regional executive officer for the mental health department. He can also see the historic building from his office window. “We love the building,” he said. “We love the history, and we like the fact that so many people in the St. Louis community have had ties to that building. I can’t tell you how many people we have come across who have a historical or emotional connection to this building. A lot of people would hate to lose that.“

A landmark

The building was designed by William Rumbold, the local architect who also designed what is now known as the Old Courthouse in downtown St. Louis. He also consulted on the design of the U.S. Capitol building.

At that time, the land was considered to be countryside, with nearby Tower Grove Park in its planning stages. The land where the hospital sat was so barren that park founder Henry Shaw donated more than 200 shade trees to be planted on the grounds.

When the hospital first opened on April 23, 1869, it had 127 patients, with room for 150.

That was the last time for 100 years it was below census, said Amanda Hunyar, the facility’s librarian and archivist.

Over the years, wings were added onto either side of the building, and a midcentury-style building was constructed in front of the Rumbold building in the 1960s. In the late 1940s, the population was at its peak, with nearly 4,000 patients.

Hunyar wrote a book, “St. Louis State Hospital: a 150 Year Journey Toward Hope” that reveals the compassionate, humorous and not-so-pleasant parts of the hospital’s history, complete with images of nurses’ scrapbooks, photos of the team of mules that helped patients farm the property, and even photos of charred rooms burned by an arsonist patient.

Hunyar, who has an easygoing personality and a dry wit, hunted down old records in maintenance closets and combed through libraries across the city to find material for her book.

A climb into the dome

Hunyar gives private tours of the main building, which reveals snippets of history: the wings on either ends of the fifth floor hold boxes of files and supplies and plaster peels from the walls, but a closer look reveals woodwork and transoms that were part of doctors’ apartments.

In the late 1800s, superintendent Edward Runge and his wife used to host patients in their apartment for “social evenings” where they would listen to music and recite poetry, Hunyar explains.

Runge once said: “In spending our days among them, we must be like the very sunshine to them, cheering and inspiring them with that essential element of human happiness — hope.”

Round rooms on each floor support the heavy cast-iron frame of the dome. One round room contained a ballroom, the site of dances with patients and members of the community. The round room in the basement contained a turntable for hand-powered railcars to transport trays of food and supplies.

Despite the urban legends, patients were not chained to walls in the basement, said Hunyar.

“I had someone stand here and argue with me that these rings were the ones that held the chains,” she said, pointing to rings on the ceiling. They simply supported pipes.

She does believe ghosts lurk in the hallways, but she’s not afraid. She and others hear what they call “the conversations” — unintelligible talking nearby. Once, as she worked in the research library, she heard voices, and a book fell to the floor, open to an article about the importance of a library in a mental hospital. “I was like, ‘OK then,’” Hunyar said.

Painted signatures mark brick walls in an attic area: “P.W. 1934” denotes the year public works employees came to make improvements on the site, some more skilled than others.

Workers had to be rescued off the water tower and got tangled in their harnesses. Still, they gave the building a face-lift, cleaning its exterior and adding solariums for patients at the ends of the hallways.

And yes, it is possible to climb up to the dome. The view is fantastic.

One creaky, wooden spiral staircase leads to the indoor observation deck of the dome, with windows that allow for views as far as 30 miles on a clear day. Sometimes, you can see the bluffs of Illinois and the office buildings of Clayton.

Another creaky, wooden spiral staircase leads into the dome itself, under the iron and wood frame. A beam with about two dozen wooden rungs nailed to it leads to windows at the dome’s pinnacle.

“I like to call this the beehive. We are inside the cast-iron dome,” said Hunyar.

The views from the observation deck continue to tell the building’s tale: you can see the railroad tracks that once brought patients and their families and supplies to the building, the campus entrance wide enough to accommodate horse-drawn carriages, the boulder on the front lawn to mark the spot of a time capsule buried in 1994, the 125th anniversary.

Hunyar points out the paper snowflakes she made and taped to the window of her library in the center’s hospital building.

Quote “It represents the ‘asylum’ and sometimes the best and the worst of what that word means,” he said. “For many people, it’s a source of sanctuary and a safe haven.” Felix Vincenz

“I think one of the things I was really happy to learn about was the humanity aspect of the place,” she said. “It’s so easy to demonize the place, or say people are crazy or whatever. I’ve learned that psychiatry is like any field of medicine: You just do what you know is best at the time, and it’s always evolving. There are more stories of people caring or going the extra mile.”

Vincenz, the head of the facility, loves to show off the old building. It’s an educational tool to show how far they’ve come, he said. Not as many people live there today compared to 50 years ago because more treatment can be done as an outpatient.

The most common illness for the clients today is schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder. The average length of stay is about five to seven years, and the center releases about 35 to 50 patients a year because of the help those patients get on Arsenal.

“To see someone turn their life around 180 degrees and to have a meaningful life in the community, that’s a profound experience,” said Vincenz. “Our patients get better and have better lives.”

Hunyar will be making presentations and signing copies of her book at various events around town. For more information, visit reedypress.com

To arrange a tour of the center, contact Hunyar at 314-877-5967 or Amanda.Hunyar@dmh.mo.gov

Celebrate the hospital’s 150th anniversary with a party that includes food, speakers, local dignitaries, self-guided tours, a time capsule burial, and a sale and signings of Hunyar’s book.

When 1:30-3:30 p.m. April 23 • Where St. Louis Psychiatric Rehabilitation Center, 5300 Arsenal Street • How much Free • More info 314-877-6500

Helping Hands

The nonprofit group Helping Hands for St. Louis Psychiatric Rehabilitation Center will host a companion event with food and drink to honor those who have helped the center through the years.

When 4-7 p.m. April 23 • Where Rose of the Hill, 2300 Edwards Street • How much $25 • More info hhslprc150.eventbrite.com

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