Dr. Frank Mayfield
was touring Tewksbury Institute when, on his way out, he accidentally
collided with an elderly floor maid. To cover the awkward moment Dr.
Mayfield started asking questions.
"How long have you worked here?"
"I've worked here almost since the place opened," the maid replied.
"What can you tell me about the history of this place?" he asked.
"I don't think I can tell you anything, but I could show you something."
With
that, she took his hand and led him down to the basement under the
oldest section of the building. She pointed to one of what looked like
small prison cells, their iron bars rusted with age, and said, "That's
the cage where they used to keep Annie Sullivan."
"Who's Annie?" the doctor asked.
Annie
was a young girl who was brought in here because she was
incorrigible—nobody could do anything with her. She'd bite and scream
and throw her food at people. The doctors and nurses couldn't even
examine her or anything. I'd see them trying with her spitting and
scratching at them.
"I was only a few years younger
than her myself and I used to think, 'I sure would hate to be locked up
in a cage like that.' I wanted to help her, but I didn't have any idea
what I could do. I mean, if the doctors and nurses couldn't help her,
what could someone like me do?
"I didn't know what
else to do, so I just baked her some brownies one night after work. The
next day I brought them in. I walked carefully to her cage and said,
'Annie, I baked these brownies just for you. I'll put them right here on
the floor and you can come and get them if you want.'
"Then
I got out of there just as fast as I could because I was afraid she
might throw them at me. But she didn't. She actually took the brownies
and ate them. After that, she was just a little bit nicer to me when I
was around. And sometimes I'd talk to her. Once, I even got her
laughing.
One of the nurses noticed this and she
told the doctor. They asked me if I'd help them with Annie. I said I
would if I could. So that's how it came about that. Every time they
wanted to see Annie or examine her, I went into the cage first and
explained and calmed her down and held her hand.
This is how they discovered that Annie was almost blind."
After
they'd been working with her for about a year—and it was tough sledding
with Annie—the Perkins institute for the Blind opened its doors. They
were able to help her and she went on to study and she became a teacher
herself.
Annie came back to the Tewksbury Institute
to visit, and to see what she could do to help out. At first, the
Director didn't say anything and then he thought about a letter he'd
just received. A man had written to him about his daughter. She was
absolutely unruly—almost like an animal. She was blind and deaf as well
as 'deranged.'
He was at his wit's end, but he
didn't want to put her in an asylum. So he wrote the Institute to ask if
they knew of anyone who would come to his house and work with his
daughter.
And that is how Annie Sullivan became the lifelong companion of Helen Keller.
When
Helen Keller received the Nobel Prize, she was asked who had the
greatest impact on her life and she said, "Annie Sullivan."
But
Annie said, "No Helen. The woman who had the greatest influence on both
our lives was a floor maid at the Tewksbury Institute.