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by Charles Gerstein
It is a great privilege and honor to be able to direct a few
words to the blinded veterans of BVA.
About 60 years ago, after finishing basic training with the title
of Company Aid Man, I and 99 other enlisted men were gathered
from the entire U.S. Army and assigned to Valley Forge General
Hospital in Pennsylvania to work with the blind and disabled army
veterans. Shortly thereafter I was assigned to Avon Old Farms
Convalescent Hospital, the birthplace of your organization.
I had no idea what I was getting into back then. I had finished
my training and was ready to fight the enemy. Nevertheless, it
was not in my cards to do so. The unexpected turn of events reversed
the course of my life completely.
Avon Old Farms was a pet project of President Franklin Delano
Roosevelt, also a man with special needs. Until that time, the
British were the only ones with medical resources for blinded
veterans (St. Dunstan’s). Avon was to be the ultimate in
preparing veterans in up-to-date rehabilitation so that they could
continue life in a productive manner upon discharge.
Avon Old Farms was said to be a replica of Eaton College in England.
The red dirt on the roads outside the Quadrangle was imported
from Sweden. Within the Quadrangle were paved sidewalks bordered
by well-kept grass plots. The stones that made up the buildings
of the Quadrangle were also imported from abroad. If I recollect
accurately, the entrance archways of the buildings were made of
flagstone.
Classrooms and shops comprised the first floor of the buildings.
Trainees stayed on the second floor while members of the detachment
were on the third floor.
Canes were forbidden to the blinded trainees unless they left
the post. They were instructed to use the bordering grass of the
paved walks as a marking guide underfoot. Each building had an
arch-shaped entrance through which one could get in and out of
the Quadrangle.
Orientation classes outdoors consisted of trainees walking on
the paved walks. Orientation aides would follow behind. Trainees
would walk independently with an arm horizontally extended across
the chest. They were encouraged to walk from one building to the
other within the Quadrangle. Warnings from the sighted companion
would never be harsh or sharp, usually something like "easy
now, easy."
Trainees were encouraged to stop just short of approaching walls
and other obstacles. On occasion they would not stop quickly enough
and would bump into something. It was rare for a trainee to bump
into the same object twice. Something registered within them that
forewarned them of that particular spot. The theory at that time
was that trainees were developing "facial vision," which
was based on experiments that were being done with bats (no eyes)
at Harvard University. The goal was to actually "feel’
the presence of large obstacles such as walls in conjunction with
the sound that rebounded to the trainees.
Although the time frame is 1945, which seems like a long time
ago, I still remember seeing trainees being followed with movie
cameras. Their movements would be filmed and replayed so that
staff could observe them in greater detail and provide feedback
for improvement. I don’t remember what happened to the movies.
In one class, trainees were taught how to "Braille read"
a model of the layout of the grounds.
I remember that one trainee (however, I do not remember which
one) coined the ever popular "Who Dat?" for "Who
is That?" He also invented the response, which was "Who
dat say who dat" for "Who is that that says who is that?"
The finale was "Who Dat Say Who Dat When I Say Who Dat?"
for "Who is it that is saying who is that when I say who
is that?" This dialogue eventually became sort of a greeting
exchange among trainees and even among detachment members when
approaching someone.
I have many memories that only recently have surfaced. After
all, man becomes more serious in old age. Names are one thing
that stirs up such memories—names such as Lazarro, Peduto,
Schloss, Burrows, Coffey, Hoffman, Inman, Greenwood, Boswell,
Hale, Garland, Rosen, Pruitt, and Morris, just to name a few of
those with whom I had contact and have never seen again.
The individual with whom I actually could have reconnected was
Father Thomas Carroll of Boston, the civilian chaplain at Avon.
During our time there, he and I rode home to Massachusetts together.
Later, he lived a mere ten miles from where I have lived most
of my life. Some of you of my generation probably knew him as
well as and longer than I did. I did contact him a couple of times
and then became involved with building a new life and a family.
Although my contact with Father Carroll ended at some point,
I have never forgotten him. Because of him, the Carroll Center
for the Blind is one of my favorite charities. Some people are
geniuses in mathematics, languages, or with their hands. Father
Carroll’s genius was in the area of one-on-one relationships,
never as evident as it was when new arrivals came to Avon. He
quickly became a true friend to all who needed him.
I did not realize at the time, nor in the immediate months that
followed, that Avon Old Farms had instilled in me a desire to
spend my life helping people. I went back to school, became a
registered pharmacist in community settings (corner pharmacies
that a few of us still remember), and served the public for more
than 50 years.
Charles Gerstein is a former member of the U.S. Army Detachment
stationed at Avon Old Farms during 1944 and 1945. He has recently
made contact with a number of BVA members, some of whom he met
at Avon and has not seen in nearly 60 years.
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