Abandoned Elmcrest Hospital I can't breathe... -

A small psychiatric hospital in Portland, Connecticut lay in ruins awaiting its new life, a mixed use retail and residential space called Brainerd Place (Ooh! Another Starbucks!) But before you can order your complicated coffee beverage using some multisyllabic nonsense words–a walk through the Elmcrest Hospital campus, which, like many psychiatric ruins, holds some stunning architecture and perhaps some evil.

Let’s start with the architecture. Three exquisite historic mansions were repurposed as part of the mental health and addiction treatment center when it opened in 1942, one being the childhood home to the wife of firearms bigwig Colt. Thankfully the development plans will repurpose these beautiful structures once again. Their detail and beauty hold up even after many years of neglect.

Though these mansions still stand, some buildings have been demolished, yes. But so much is still there, within overgrowth, schedules likely adjusted due to coronavirus. As we meekly entered and walked deeper into the property, we were surprised by what we had discovered. It was even more of a delight for me as I had never even heard of the place.

Elmcrest had many white wooden buildings with unique features, far different than the institutional brick I was so used to exploring.

Lots of overgrowth. But there are well worn paths to look out for.

The boards on the windows and doors were piecemeal, one ramshackle piece bolted to the next creating a bit of a collage. Such things I find aesthetically appeasing.

And the asymmetrical roof lines. ❤️

I mean, c’mon. Can I just keep this building? I promise I will make it real nice… and I’ll be very cordial to the shoppers. Second thought, this place is totally tainted.

The sun was shining so bright that it was messing up our pictures. Take it easy up there, Sun! I guess we’d have to just make our way inside.

Time to hit the gym. The hospital had a children’s and adolescent unit. This was clearly for the bigger kids.

Gosh, I don’t even know what white balance setting my camera was on. Even with some post production, it was white balance setting: PP. As in pee yellow.

Now we are in one of the children’s buildings. There were classrooms and relatively moderate decay consisting mostly of water damage and its consequences. It was nice to be in a classroom again… kinda.

In this building is where evil occurred. I wasn’t aware of it while there; but learning about it afterwards, I was glad Elmcrest had closed. Glad it was put to rest.

In here… this is the padded time-out room where Andrew McClain, 11 years old, was restrained, sat upon by two adult aides and died of Asphyxia on March 22, 1998. “Get off, I can’t breathe,” he had said before going into cardiac arrest. Andrew had only been a patient at Elmcrest for four days. I can’t breathe… someone who is supposed to be protecting me is killing me. Sound familiar?

Andrew had special needs, a case history that needed to be shared and understood by staff. The hospital and the aides were investigated. Abuse and neglect were determined. As I found myself falling into a Google hole, the details of the death in the room I stood in became even more upsetting. The excuses from a staff nurse, sickening. (Similar to our previous stop in Connecticut, the site of another horrific death.)