Huntington's Haunted State Hospital

Now known as the Mildred Mitchell-Bateman Hospital (named for Dr. Mildred Mitchell Bateman and dedicated October 2, 1999), the massive psychiatric hospital on Norway Avenue began life in 1897 as the Home for Incurables.  It would later be simply known as Huntington State Hospital.

In the 1950s, the hospital was under deep scrutiny for its overcrowding, under staffing, and lack of sanitary, modern equipment and facilities.  Patients were segregated only by gender, and never by diagnosis.  Two staff members were assigned to up to 80 patients at a time, and the children's ward was accessible only by a steep, twisting metal ladder.  Resources were lacking, and patients had to share only a few washbasins between them.

 However, nothing could prepare the hospital for the devastation that it would come to on November 26, 1952.  That night around 7pm, fire broke out in the basement of Ward Four, which housed women and children.  The fire burned for two hours before it was contained, and many of the children had to be carried by hand down the steep, twisted ladder. 

When the fire was finally extinguished, many of the patients gathered in the kitchen, which was housed in a separate building.  The staff had tripped the locks so that the patients could flee on their own, yet 14 souls were still lost that night.  9 women and 5 girls under the age of 14 perished in the fire, which led to further outcry for funding for the hospital.

Today, it is these unfortunate souls lost in the fire, plus many others who spent their last, pitiful days in the hospital's darker history, who are still believed to walk its halls.  Many reports of apparitions come directly from staff members, including a man who is seen walking into room 306, a woman wearing distinct red shoes seen walking towards where the former morgue was kept, and the shadowy figure of someone hanging and swinging in the same spot where a patient took his life in the same manner.  Shadowy figures have also been seen in the present kitchen area, and doors are known to slam shut on their own accord.

The hospital sits directly across from Springhill Cemetery, and it is believed that the cemetery is also haunted by the unfortunate souls of those who passed away at the hospital, unclaimed by family members, only to be buried in the pauper section of the cemetery.  

Recent Photo Gallery from the Herald-Dispatch of the 1952 fire