In 1913 when West Lawn opened, the Riverview Hospital property, then called Essondale, was a newly clearcut development with views down to the Coquitlam River and a few hundred patients. But by 1955, Riverview's patient population had swelled to more than 4,700 people and the mental hospital resembled a company town, with a fire department, a bank, a school, housing for staff and their children and patients, and amenities such as a gymnasium/theatre and a pool. Don Cunnings, who later became Coquitlam's first parks and recreation director, worked at Riverview from 1953 to 1958 and was instrumental in encouraging patients to be physically active.
This month the hospital is closing after nearly 100 years, and the Tri-City News' ongoing series is revisiting its legacy.
PATIENT PYRAMIDS
It was a warm day in June and the trees on the Riverview property, then known as Essondale, were in bloom. The sweeping lawns were abuzz with activity and Don Cunnings, a young recreational therapy worker, was feeling the zest for life and a sense of competition that only a sports day can bring.
He'd been a competitive gymnast for many years and taught tumbling and hand balancing at Notre Dame de Lourdes school in Maillardville. But this day in June 1954 was particularly exciting because Cunnings had a surprise for the staff and patients of the provincial psychiatric hospital.
A group of gymnasts was going to create pyramid shapes, balancing each other using their arms, shoulders and legs.
Dressed all in white with their crisp, short-sleeved shirts and shorts, they were a smart-looking group and even the nurses in their starched uniforms stopped to watch. The Leader, a hospital newsletter, praised the demonstration by the talented "visitors" and Cunnings' heart nearly burst with pride.
The athletes were not visitors but patients, and the display proved that people with mental health issues could be physically fit, learn new skills and look well-dressed, and confident, if given the chance. True, one boy, an epileptic (epilepsy is not a mental illness), had to be convinced to climb on top of a vaulting box to do the display but Cunnings told him: "They're not going to drop you. You're part of a team," and the youth complied.
It was a lesson that served Cunnings well throughout his later career. "It sensitized me to focus on the whole person... to see that patient holistically," says the former director of parks and recreation for the city of Coquitlam. He also learned the value of teamwork, which he has tried to pass on to others over the years.
QUAINT IDEAS
Today, Cunnings' efforts to bring some normalcy and physical activity to the lives of Riverview patients might seem quaint and outdated. Today, people with mental health issues are no longer separated from the community and physical activity is seen as a key determinant of quality of life. With 20% of Canadians expected to experience a mental illness in their lifetime, and new medications and therapies available to improve outcomes, the stigma attached to diseases such as schizophrenia, mood disorders, anxiety disorders, personality disorders and eating disorders is no longer acceptable. With supports, people with these issues can live successfully in the community.
But that wasn't the view in the mid-1950s, when Cunnings was a 25-year-old rec therapy worker at the hospital. In those days, confining people to hospital wards was common practice, and Riverview was considered a safe and secure asylum away from the stresses of community life.
It also had some of the finest recreational facilities in the city, Cunnings recalled. The first pool was built at Riverview, in a Boys Industrial School for juvenile delinquents, and the grounds had the area's first recreational centre with a theatre, audio-visual department and a bowling alley.
"It was so far ahead of anything in Coquitlam," Cunnings recalled.
There were movies on Monday and Tuesday evenings at Pennington Hall, famous groups like The Ink Spots were brought in to perform, and Cunnings remembers the dances with fondness.
"I can still call a square dance," he jokes, giving a spirited display of his square-dance-calling skills.
A DARK SIDE
Yet there was a dark side to living in a hospital environment. Although there were efforts to the improve patients' quality of life with therapy, entertainment and special events, little thought was given to providing patients with opportunities for physical activity. As a result, many patients became overweight and suffered from other health concerns.
Cunnings was hired to work at the rec therapy department because of comments he made about the need for physical activity for patients when he was visiting with his school gymnastics team. At the time, patients were exercised in "airing courts" but that wasn't enough.
"I talked about some views I had about recreation and how it could play a positive role in the life of a patient," Cunnings said. And so, he found himself head-hunted for a job.
He had no experience dealing with mental health patients and found himself facing some difficult situations. There were men in a "catatonic" state who stood like statues for long periods and were gaining an unhealthy amount of weight - and Cunnings was asked to do something about them. He also had to develop programs for people recovering from a lobotomy, then considered a calming therapy, so they could recover their sense of balance.
Cunnings experimented with trampoline activities for the lobotomy patients and it seemed to help; a few became skilled and put on displays during sports day. But the catatonic patients needed a different therapy.
One day while attending a dance, he noticed how music galvanized people into action; men and women who started the evening like statues at the edge of the room began to move and mingle once the music started. The observation triggered an idea and Cunnings hauled a music recorder on wheels into the room where the "catatonic" men sat like stones. He put on a rousing march and stood back to see what would happen.
"Well, these catatonics went from statues to marchers."
"Music played such a profound role [at Riverview], I always did calisthenics to music and Friday night dances were particularly special for so many patients."
Life at Riverview was routine for people who lived and worked their - with a few amazing moments thrown in and Cunnings has fond memories of those years. He met his future wife, Betty, at the hospital while she was doing post-grad work, and has many photos and stories of those days. He's proud of having had some impact on the quality of life of patients, including working with another therapist to start a mini-golf course on a piece of flat ground below Pennington Hall.
Now its, gone, reverted to lawn once again, but it makes a good story, Cunnings acknowledges.
The hospital is shutting down this summer after nearly 100 years of continuous service and Cunnings believes it's time to retell those stories - if for no other reason than to show how far we've come.
dstrandberg@tricitynews.com
Next week: Riverview nurses
