The Ross County Infirmary

Ross County "Home" ca. 1900

I wanted to write a blog about the old Ross County Infirmary, so I did what most would-be historians tend to do and dove into some research. After finding what I could find, I took the next logical step and wrote about what I had found.

Simple enough, right?

But when I was finished I realized that what I had written was rather long-winded and it was filled with lots of dull details, which in other words means it could be considered kinda boring. So I apologize in advance for the long-windedness and hope that as you read, you might glean a few useful facts along the way.

And now the blog:

Jesus himself said that the poor would always be among us. He lectured us, saying that those of us who are more fortunate should help our less fortunate brethren.

For many centuries help has been given to the poor in a variety of ways: by individuals, through churches and other organizations, and by governments. In the early 19^th century one of the prevailing thoughts in the United States was that “poorhouses” were a better, more economical way to address the problem and to provide care to those who couldn’t care for themselves. So, like every other county in Ohio, Ross County established its own poorhouse in 1820. (Around 1850 “poorhouse” would legally become “infirmary” in an effort to reflect their true purpose. Another name change occurred ca. 1919, when “county home” was the more elegant term. For the sake of simplicity, I’ll use infirmary.)

In March 1872, a Scioto Gazette article described the building being used by the county at that time as “a monument of disgrace.” Not long after this article appeared, a contract in the amount of $76,666 was awarded to Hersheiser, Adams, & Co. of Columbus for the construction of a new poorhouse. It did not however include site excavation, bricks, and a few other things, which the county would handle itself. The company agreed to have the facility finished by Jan. 1, 1875.

The new Ross County Infirmary was located about a half-mile east of the Clarksburg Pike (Ohio 104), five miles or so north of Chillicothe, along what is today Fairgrounds Road (about where the Engineer’s Office is and facing toward Clarksburg Pike). The 1872 Gazette article puts the old 1820 poorhouse in a spot “near” the location that a new one was to be built.

The infirmary was designed and the work overseen by well-known local architect John Cook (who also designed Chillicothe’s first City Hall – more on that in a previous blog). In an article from November 1874 the Gazette questioned the cost of the new infirmary, which would eventually amount to somewhere in the neighborhood of $100,000.

Ross County Infirmary ca. 1905

 

“We do not feel that the county was justified in going to such an expense of erecting such a magnificent building for the small number of paupers we have to support…” The Gazette wrote.

 

However, the newspaper praised Cook’s “management and control” of the “stupendous affair.” It would seem that Cook did the county a favor on the project. He was paid only $1,300 for the eight month project, $800 of which went to an assistant.

 

The Gazette questioned Cook’s willingness to work “per diem,” which in the end amounted to $5 a day. “Probably no other architect in the country would have engaged in work at per diem pay.” The Gazette went as far as to say that it was “almost a disgrace to the county.” Had Cook been paid six percent of the total project (apparently the going rate in 1874) he would’ve made $6,000. “We never had any doubt of Mr. Cook’s judgment until we learned of his contract for the new infirmary,” they wrote, “then we began to doubt his not only his judgment, but his sanity.”

 

The infirmary, which the Gazette reported could be seen from three miles away, was turned over to the county commissioners early, on Nov. 19.

 

The Gazette had gotten a tour of the new facility on Nov. 11, and the descriptions that follow come from that tour.

 

The building was 237 feet long (51x100 foot center section; two wings 43x113 feet; and two 50x28 foot sections that connected the center and the wings). It was three stories tall and 50 feet high at the central tower. The tower included windows for natural lighting (6’ plate of glass 1” thick in each floor to light the stairway, the landings, and the main floor, and for ventilation also, as well as architectural beauty). There were shorter towers at either end (or wing) of the building.

 

The central part of the building protruded out 28 feet from the rest of the structure. It was stone with a gabled front/roof. The wings were hip roofed and slate was used for roofing.

 

Over the main entrance was a handsome stone portico, surmounted by a bay window that went all the way up to the base of the third story, which helped add architectural beauty and symmetry.

 

Stone steps went up to the main entrance hall, which itself led back to the grand staircase, from where the rest of the building could be accessed. To the right and left of the main hall were rooms to be used by the warden and his family (seven total, with three on 1^st floor and four on the 2^nd, and they were connected by a private staircase. These rooms were completely “disconnected” from the rooms to be used by the “inmates.” A private stairway led from the warden’s rooms on the second floor to the 3^rd floor, where there was a surgery room, dispensary, and a room for a nurse to use in caring for inmates. Also on the 3^rd floor were rooms for isolating people infected with a contagious disease.

 

At the back of the main entrance hall, past the main staircase was a vestibule. From there a hallway led both left and right into the wings. Down the hallway to the right was a large dining room, with seating for up to 150 people. It was for men only, as the genders were divided into different wings. The ceilings were 12 feet, 8 inches in height, “lending an air of grandeur … out of place for what this building is to be used for.” The dining area was heated by “direct radiation” while the dorm rooms were heated by “indirect radiation.” The building had steam heat throughout. However, there were no above floor radiators in the dorm rooms. Instead a register would introduce heat into those rooms, while vents were located on the walls at the floor, which allowed air to move through the room. The vents higher up could be opened if it got too hot.

 

A kitchen was located next to the dining room. It was “capacious and supplied with every convenience” with “a large range being the main object of interest, while sinks and all those other little additions, which are so attractive to females domestically inclined, stand around in blissful protrusion.” The kitchen included a large water pipe, to which a hose could be connected in the event of a fire. Openings led up to the roof, connecting to other flues as they went.

 

All the dorm rooms had pivot transoms at 11 feet. Doors and sashes were white pine while the rest of the woodwork was poplar. Windows were 12-light box frames. Those on the 1^st and 2^nd floors had a segmented head, while those on the 3^rd floor had a half circle, all made out of brick.

 

For the walls alone some 2.5 million bricks were used.

 

The front and wings were surrounded by three ranges of “free stone belts,” one at each story (the limestone used came from Columbus and Greenfield, while the range and belt stone was from Portsmouth). The cornice was of galvanized iron (from a Chillicothe foundry), and included a 26 inch projection with brackets all around.

 

The basement walls were stone (limestone?), each being four feet wide and 26 inches thick. The center section of the basement held a laundry, wash rooms, bakery, and a mortuary, as well as a room for the warden’s use. The ceilings in that section were nine feet. Under the wings the basement housed workshops, while the basements in the connecting buildings were for lounging (one each for male and for female residents).

 

Dorm rooms were 16 feet square and designed for two people. There were 73 dorm rooms total, including some on the 3^rd floor. It was estimated that the facility could house up to 300 people.

 

A hallway crossed each wing about in the middle. To one side was a stairway to the floors above and to the other side were wash rooms “and other conveniences.” There were two restrooms per ward and they had hot and cold running water. So, the Gazette writer noted, “… if Ross County paupers fail hereafter to keep themselves clean it is not because they are lacking in conveniences for so doing.”

 

From the 3^rd floor there was access to a portion of the attic, where two water tanks were located. They were to the right and the left of the “stacks” (large brick chimneys, 6-8 feet square). Water was pumped up to them by a “Doctor engine” located in the engine room, from two in-ground cisterns (each of which could hold 600 barrels of water). The tanks could hold 8,000 gallons of water each, and the water was gravity fed down through pipes from these tanks to the rest of the building.

 

All of the air ducts fed into the main stacks. The ducts were actually two foot square wooden boxes that ran the length of the floors. Vents in the dorm rooms fed into these ducts and air was carried away.

 

In back of the main central building was a 28’x37’ room with two boilers, (4’x26’) and pipes leading to the entire structure.

 

The Gazette felt that sewage was a problem, since it was emptied directly into a ditch 100-200 yards behind the building.

 

Schoolrooms for the children were located in the women’s wing. There were gardens where residents grew vegetables and a seamstress made and repaired clothing for them. There was also a cemetery, where residents who died could be buried. Unfortunately, it was either in the flood plain or too close to it, and during the Great Flood of 1913 some or all of the graves were submerged and a number of bodies surfaced and were washed downstream.

 

The infirmary was used to house a variety of paupers. There were the poor and unemployed; widowed and single mothers; people who were sick and had no one to take care of them; undoubtedly some people with mental health issues; and at times entire families. During World War I and the days of Camp Sherman, women with sexually transmitted diseases were guests (inmates might be the more accurate term) in the infirmary in an effort to keep them away from the soldiers until their condition could be successfully treated.

 

During the 1930s and 1940s and the presidency of Franklin D. Roosevelt, policies on social programming began to change. Unemployment compensation, aid to dependent children, social security and more contributed to the disuse of the infirmary (county home by that time). Few records exist today, but a 1939 survey found that it had just 75 residents, and that the cost per resident had risen by 69 percent since 1934. By the 1950s it was little used and in disrepair. In 1957 it was condemned. No one seems clear on exactly when it was torn down, but the mid-1970s might be an accurate guess.

 

Today different methods are used to care for those who can’t care for themselves and instead of institutionalizing them, a place of their own is usually provided for them, as well as someone to care for them there. The county still provides for its less fortunate residents, just in a different way.

 

Infirmaries are no longer used. Most have fallen victim to the ferocity of time and to the might of the wrecking ball. Our infirmary was by all accounts a beautiful and unique structure – if not excessively so - and it’s too bad that it’s gone.

 

However, when it comes to our city and our county, and to their preservation record on old buildings, it’s not really surprising.

 

 



 

Ross County Infirmary ca. 1951, with main tower gone.