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Emma’s Inquisition—April 1,1920

The dark-haired, swarthy-looking woman who stared around the court room was unkempt, overweight and shabbily dressed. But she had an unmistakable odor of sensuality about her that made the commission, assembled to decide whether to commit her to the Virginia State Colony for Epileptics and Feebleminded, distinctly uneasy.

C. D. Shackelford, justice of the peace and judge for the proceedings, motioned for her to be seated.

But she did not immediately obey. Instead, she stood fidgeting, silently scanning the austere, high ceilings of the room with its scarred benches and dark wooden floor. It was the first of April, but the musty, cold room still felt like winter.

The examining physician, Dr. Davis, came forward to begin “the inquisition and interrogatories.”

He cleared his throat and stared into her dark, defiant eyes. The woman stared right back.

“Be seated,” Shackelford announced. Slowly she sat down in the chair provided.

Again the physician cleared his throat. “Name?” he began, his voice hesitant, uncertain.

“Emma Buck,” she said, cocking her head to one side and running a sickly, white-coated tongue, which he later declared hypertrophic, over her reddened lips.

“When were you born?” he continued, his voice taking on a cutting edge.

She narrowed her eyes, “November 1872.”

“And the day?”

She shrugged.

“You don’t know the day?” he said, exasperated.

Again she shrugged.

“Can you tell me where you were born?”

“Albemarle,” she said, opening her mouth wide to form the vowel sound, almost as though it were the opening word of a familiar song. He noted the poor condition of her teeth.

“Where do you live now?” he asked.

“Charlottesville.” Again she drew out the syllables in that singsong manner.

Quickly, he jotted the information down and glanced up again, throwing her a furtive glance.

“Are you married, single or divorced?” he asked with a half-smirk. He had already been made aware, both by the Superintendent of the Colony, Dr. Priddy, and by the local gossip, of Emma’s “mental peculiarity” which was manifested by “a lack of moral sense and responsibility.”

“Widow,” she murmured. He could barely suppress a knowing chuckle.

Next, he showed her some colors and common objects. He seemed surprised when she could distinguish them all. Indeed, she seemed to understand most of his words and the rudimentary commands he uttered, but, when he asked her to do a simple errand, she merely sat, as if dumbfounded, not moving.

“Could you give this book to the lady over there?” he asked again, slowly and succinctly. When she did not respond, he repeated his request twice.

The woman continued running her hands over her rumpled dress, but made no move to get up and obey. Whether she was being obstinate or simply did not understand, he couldn’t be quite sure.

“I’m going to have to report that you can’t do a simple errand,” he said, petulantly looking at the other two physicians. She shrugged and continued to stare at him. He decided to try a different subject.

“Do you have children?”

She held up three fingers.

“Three?” he questioned.

She nodded her head.

“Any of the children been mentally defective?”

She shook her head, “No, there are not.” Indeed, it was to be a prophetic statement.

Dutifully, he wrote “no.”

They had reached the point in the interrogation where he had to ascertain her physical condition. Grumbling, he began to examine her.

“Have you ever had any serious illness?”

She waited until he had begun to inspect her teeth, tonsils, ears and eyes. “Yes,” she murmured, “pneumonia, rheumatism.” She exhaled a fetid burst of air into his face as she sighed and added, “and syphilis.”

He drew a deep breath and tried to repress a shudder of distaste. “Are you suffering from that affliction now?” he asked. She looked confused.

“Do you have syphilis now?” he asked again.

“You’re the doctor,” she said, matter-of-factly.

Disconcerted, he flipped through his sparse notes. “Yes, I see you do,” he said, shaking his head and noting the confirmation of venereal disease.

“I’m going to test your sight and hearing now, Emma.”

She nodded, and seemed to pay as little attention as possible during the tests. She asked no questions, volunteered no additional information, submitting to his requests almost disdainfully. Watching her, he thought, What had she to be disdainful of? Certainly not of him, a medical doctor, an official of the court, the decider of her future fate. Nevertheless, he hurried the perfunctory tests along so that they could be rid of her. He continued noting the aspects of her appearance which confirmed his preliminary diagnosis. “Distinctly untidy,” he wrote and, where he was charged to record his “moral reaction,” he wrote “notoriously untruthful.” Though her answers seemed candid at present, these were the words used to describe Emma about town, words he and the others in the courtroom had often heard bandied about.

“Have you ever been convicted of a crime?” he went on.

She stifled a yawn, “Yes. Prostitution.”

He did not have to ask the next question. Gossip in town had already alerted him to the fact that she was guilty of “moral delinquency,” even though she had never been confined to a reformatory, prison or place of detention for incorrigibility.

“And you were married?”

She nodded, “I told you I’m widowed.”

“And you have illegitimate children?”

She nodded again, absentmindedly, not even looking at him.

Frowning, he wrote down, “Didn’t conduct herself in a proper conjugal manner.”

Her manner continued to irritate him, and he accelerated his questions, looking about the courtroom for support from his fellow physicians. They nodded sympathetically.

“And what occupation have you followed and with what success?” A tone of snobbishness crept into his voice.

“Occupation?” she looked confused.

This time he didn’t waste a moment trying to explain. He wrote “no” with a flourish.

“You haven’t supported yourself ever?” he went on quickly, as if expecting no answer.

For the first time, Emma objected vehemently. “I have some income from my father’s estate,” she said with dignity, “My father was Richard Harlow. He was a man of property.” Her voice took on an unmistakable ring of pride, “He died of spinal trouble. Mother died in childbirth.”

Dr. Davis looked at her with disdain. “You could do housework, I suppose,” he paused, “under supervision.”

Flashing him an angry look, she turned away and fixed her attention on some non-existent spot on the ceiling. She made no further effort to answer.

As quickly as possible, he concluded the cursory mental examination. There wasn’t much more to record beyond the fact that she could count to ten and that, as far as he knew, she had never been given any approved mental testing. The examination ended and, as speedily as possible on that first day of April 1920, Justice of the Peace C. D. Shackelford signed Emma Buck’s Order of Commitment to State Colony for Epileptics and Feeble-minded Commonwealth of Virginia (City) of Charlottesville, to wit:

To the Sheriff, or Sergeant, of the county or city of Charlottesville and to Dr. A. S. Priddy MD Superintendent of the State Colony for Epileptics and Feeble-Minded of Madison Heights Greetings:

Whereas, I C. D. Shackelford, A Justice, or judge of said county of Charlottesville and J. G. Flippen and W. H. Turner Jr., two physicians, the said J. S. Davis being the physician to the said Emma Buck, constituting a commission of inquiry, etc., into the mental condition of the said Emma Buck, has this day adjudged the said Emma Buck to be Feeble-Minded, and a suitable subject for an institution, for the care and treatment of the Feeble-Minded, and a citizen of this State, and without means of support and no person appearing before me to give bond with sufficient security to be approved by me, payable to the Commonwealth with condition to restrain and take proper care of the said Emma Buck person, without cost to the Commonwealth, until the cause of confinement shall cease for the said Feeble-Minded, I, C. D. Shackelford, do in the name of the Commonwealth, Command you, the said sheriff, or sergeant, to make provisions for the suitable and proper care and custody of the said Feeble-Minded person and you the said Superintendent of the Colony for Epileptics and Feeble-Minded, are hereby required to receive into the said Colony, and into your care and charge, if there be a vacancy, in the said Colony, the said Emma Buck to be treated and cared for as a feeble-minded person; and I do herewith transmit to you, the said superintendent of the Colony for Epileptics and Feeble-Minded, the interrogatories and answers thereto, taken by said Commission, touching the mental condition of the said Emma Buck and also the adjudication of the mental condition of the said Emma Buck, a copy of each of which has this day been delivered by me to the clerk of the court of the said city.

The Order of Commitment was supported by the three physicians: J. S. Davis, the mental examiner, J. C. Flippen, M.D. and W. H. Turner, M.D.

I, J. S. Davis, citizen of Virginia, physician and practitioner in the county of Albemarle, hereby certify that I have examined Emma Buck and find that she is feeble-minded, within the meaning of the law, and is a suitable subject for an institution for feeble-minded, the patient’s bodily health is poor and she has no contagious disorder.

The Order was further substantiated by the findings and adjudication of the Commission of the Commonwealth of Virginia, County of Albemarle.

Whereas, Emma Buck, who is suspected of being feeble-minded or epileptic…, was this day brought before us, C. D. Shackelford, Judge or Justice of said County and J. C. Flippen and W. H. Turner, Jr., two physicians (said J. S. Davis being the physician of said suspected person) constituting a commission to inquire whether the said Emma Buck be feeble-minded…and a suitable subject for an institution for the care, training, and treatment of feeble-minded or epileptic persons: and whereas the judge or justice has read the warrant and fully explained the nature of the proceedings to the said suspected person, and we the said physicians have in the presence (as far as practicable) of the said judge, or justice, by personal examination of witness, satisfied ourselves as to the mental condition of the said Emma Buck, we, the said judge or justice, and physicians constituting the commission aforesaid, do decide this day that the said Emma Buck is feeble-minded, and ought to be confined in an institution for the feeble-minded.

Five days later, on April 6, 1920 at 8:30 p.m., Emma Buck was admitted to Ward V of the State Colony for Epileptics and Feebleminded. According to the Charge Attendant, A. Jones, she brought with her, “$4.80, waist shirt, overshoes, 1 pr. shoes, 1 pr. hose, 1 coat, hat, undershirt 2, skirt.”

The clothes, the attendant noted, were “in very bad condition.”

Emma always insisted that she had not been indigent as the court said and her lack of possessions would seem to indicate. She insisted that her family had left her some money. In view of later findings about her family, she may well have been correct. However, only a few half-hearted inquiries were made in her behalf, such as Dr. Bell’s letter three years later to Caroline Wilhelm, a social worker in Charlottesville.

April 3, 1923

Miss Caroline E. Wilhelm

Charlottesville, Virginia

My Dear Miss Wilhelm:

Carrie Buck’s mother, Emma Buck, who was committed to this institution five years ago from Charlottesville, claims that she has about $460.00 on deposit in one of the banks of Charlottesville, which came to her through the sale of some land that the family had owned. I am going to impose on your time and willingness to the extent of using you to get in touch with the various banks in Charlottesville and ask if such a person had an account there, or has money on deposit.

Emma claims that the money was deposited in the “New National Bank” but she does not know the name. I wish to thank you in advance for this favor and express the hope that you get up this way to see us sometime.

Very truly,

J. H. Bell, M.D.

Superintendent

These inquiries had little effect. Emma Buck was to remain institutionalized for the rest of her life. Twenty-four years later, she died of pneumonia. The note on her chart read “disposition of body: buried in Colony Cemetery grave 575 on April 19, 1944.”

Eight days after her death, her son and daughter came to the Colony to inquire about their mother. “They did not know until their arrival to the hospital that she was dead,” officials said. Though upset, “they were most considerate and accepted the explanation that authorities had been unable to reach Emma’s other daughter, Carrie Buck.”