I like to write junk…

“So Sis is now getting sophisticated and wise. My team won a game today when the Tus-High School failed to score. Heh”

This message was written on the back of a picture postcard sent from Tuscaloosa, Alabama, on December 12, 1908, to Miss Mary Belle Hopson in Frankfort, Kentucky. It was only two weeks from Christmas.

A message on the front of the card says, “Greetings from Tuscaloosa, Ala.,” with individual photos of City Public School, McLester Hotel, Greensboro Avenue, and Alabama Bryce Insane Hospital.

In the center of all of these photographs is a young lady who appears to be “out of it,” if you know what I mean. This postcard was printed in Germany, of all places. This was only a few years before WWI began. The Red Baron nickname should tell you who the US fought back then.

Had I been a postcard designer and desired to put together a greeting card from Tuscaloosa, I would’ve opted for a different photo shot than that of an insane asylum. The Jemison-Van de Graff Mansion comes to mind. After researching this hospital quite extensively, I discovered there’s more to the place than its former spooky name.    

Bryce Insane Asylum, now known as Bryce Hospital, stands as one of Alabama’s most significant historical landmarks, both for its architectural presence and its role in the evolution of mental health care in the United States. Located in Tuscaloosa, the institution has witnessed a long and complex history, reflecting changing societal attitudes toward mental illness, treatment methodologies, and patient rights.

The origins of Bryce Insane Asylum trace back to the early 1850s, when Alabama lawmakers recognized the need for a state-run hospital for the mentally ill. In 1852, the Alabama Insane Hospital was chartered by the state legislature, and construction began soon after on a site in Tuscaloosa.

The building’s design was heavily influenced by the ideas of mental health reformer Dorothea Dix and followed the Kirkbride Plan, an architectural model emphasizing light, air, and humane treatment.

The hospital officially opened in 1861, with Dr. Peter Bryce as its first superintendent. At just 27 years old, Bryce was a progressive physician who championed moral treatment—a radical departure from the punitive and neglectful practices common at the time. He believed in treating patients with dignity, using occupational therapy, and creating a therapeutic environment.

Under Dr. Bryce’s leadership, the institution earned a reputation for compassionate care. The staff avoided physical restraints whenever possible and emphasized meaningful work and recreation. The hospital’s self-sufficient campus included farmlands, workshops, and gardens, providing therapeutic activities for patients.

However, as the decades passed, the hospital’s population grew rapidly, often exceeding its intended capacity. Overcrowding led to strains on resources, and standards of care became increasingly difficult to maintain. The turn of the century saw Bryce Hospital facing challenges common to many public asylums: underfunding, overcrowding, and changing public expectations.

By the mid-20th century, Bryce Hospital, like many state mental institutions, had become severely overcrowded and under-resourced. Conditions deteriorated, and reports of patient neglect and inadequate care surfaced.

In the 1970s, the hospital became the center of a landmark legal case, Wyatt v. Stickney, which established minimum standards for the care and treatment of people with mental illness and intellectual disabilities.

This case had far-reaching effects, not only improving conditions at Bryce but also influencing mental health care reform nationwide. The litigation led to increased oversight, funding, and a shift toward community-based treatment, gradually reducing the hospital’s population.

In recent decades, Bryce Hospital has continued to evolve, adapting to modern mental health practices and reducing its inpatient population. The original Kirkbride building, a striking example of 19th-century architecture, was acquired by the University of Alabama in 2010. The university has undertaken preservation efforts, integrating the historic structure into its campus while honoring its legacy.

Today, Bryce Hospital operates in a new, modern facility, and the original asylum stands as a testament to both the challenges and progress in the history of mental health care in Alabama and the United States.

The history of Bryce Insane Asylum reflects broader trends in American mental health care: from the optimism and reform of the 19th century, through periods of overcrowding and neglect, to the eventual embrace of patient rights and community-based treatment. Its story is one of change, challenge, and ongoing transformation, offering valuable lessons in compassion and advocacy for vulnerable populations.

Miss Mary Belle Hopson was born in Kentucky on January 12, 1890. Her parents were John Peyton and Mary E. Hopson. John Hopson was the Supreme Court Justice for the State of Kentucky and an accomplished lawyer before that.

The Hopsons’ daughter, Mary Belle, had five siblings, with the one writing this card being John Peyton Hopson Jr., who was attending Alabama State College. I suppose back then, the college baseball teams did play local high school teams for practice.

In 1912, Mary Belle Hopson married Penn Leary Carroll, who was a graduate of the United States Naval Academy. Penn reached the rank of commodore before retiring. The Navy veteran died in Mexico while on vacation in 1961. Mary Belle Hopson-Carroll passed away on October 11, 1976. Both Mary Belle and her husband are buried at Frankfort.

John Peyton Hopson Jr. was born in 1888 and also served as an attorney and judge like his father. He lived in Pikeville, Kentucky, with his wife, Maud, and one son, Joseph. The successful husband and father died on July 9, 1960.

The younger John Peyton Hopson Jr., fortunately, wasn’t a patient at the insane asylum while in Tuscaloosa. It’s highly possible that he was crazy about the town and the ‘Alabama Crimson Tide’ football team when he left.

A picture postcard mailed from Sylacauga, Alabama, on October 27, 1954, to Wichita Falls, Texas, shows a photograph of the Hotel Troy in Troy, Alabama. The attached short message reads,

“Oct 27

I’m leaving Montgomery – will be home soon. We give love to all.

Sallie Mae”

The card was sent to “The Frazier Atwood” in Wichita Falls, Texas. In the context of the postcard, “the” is placed in front of Frazier Atwood—evidently as a form of emphasis or familiarity. This usage can imply that Frazier is well-known to the sender or within a certain group, suggesting a unique or notable identity.

In some regions and informal situations, adding “the” before a name can also indicate affection, distinction, or even a playful tone, setting the person apart from others with the same name. For whatever reason, adding the in front of Frazier Atwood’s name led me to a dead-end road.

Frazier Atwood was elusive. He was born in 1920, attended school in Wichita Falls, where he took part in musical events, such as being part of a quartet. After finding out that much, his trail went cold.

It’s possible that the man changed his name, as singers and actors often do, or moved out of the country. I did discover that the house he lived in at 1107 Bluff Street in Wichita Falls is still standing, for whatever that’s worth.

There were three Sallie Maes to choose from living in Sylacauga at that time: Sallie Mae Johnson, Sallie Mae Childers, and Sallie Mae West. I had no way to identify which one wrote the postcard so I left things at that; unfinished.

With that said, here’s the history of Troy, Alabama, and Hotel Troy, which is what I was more interested in to begin with. My father was named after the city.

Troy, Alabama, has a rich heritage that dates back to its founding in the early 19th century. Originally settled in the 1830s, Troy quickly established itself as a significant center for agriculture and trade in southeast Alabama.

The town benefited from its location along key transportation routes, including railroads, which helped it grow and prosper throughout the late 1800s and early 1900s.

As Troy developed, it became known for its vibrant downtown area, anchored by important institutions and businesses such as Hotel Troy. The presence of educational institutions, most notably Troy University, contributed to the city’s cultural and economic growth.

Over the years, Troy has weathered changes brought on by shifts in industry, natural disasters, and evolving community needs, but it has maintained a strong sense of local identity.

Today, Troy is recognized for its historical architecture, community spirit, and ongoing preservation efforts. The city’s blend of old and new reflects its journey from a rural settlement to a modern, thriving community, honoring its past while looking toward the future.

Hotel Troy was once a prominent hotel located in the heart of Troy, Alabama. Built in the early 20th century, it served as a hub of activity for visitors and locals alike, offering accommodations, dining, and a central gathering place for community events.

Like many historic hotels in small towns, Hotel Troy eventually faced challenges due to changing travel patterns, competition from newer accommodations, and shifts in the local economy. Over time, the hotel’s business declined, and it eventually ceased operations.

The original Hotel Troy building no longer operates as a hotel. The structure has been in limbo, waiting on redevelopment efforts or demolition. Tornadoes and storms did significant damage. Historical records and local accounts indicate that the building stood vacant for a good period before they hit.

The Troy Historic Preservation Alliance (THPA) purchased this building along with other vintage structures in the complex. My research shows that a good portion of it was updated, yet city government, namely the mayor, has slowed things down at least temporarily.

Hotel Troy remains a part of local history in Troy, Alabama, remembered for its role in the town’s early 20th-century social and economic life. Former residents and historians still recall stories and photographs of the hotel, with new memories yet to be made.

“The Frazier Atwood” might’ve disappeared into obscurity, but it appears that “The Hotel Troy” will be around for years to come.

My mother occasionally talked about her family, using the words, family ties, in a conversation. I seldom hear this term anymore, with families perhaps not as close as they were back in the day. I can’t say that about all because I believe ours is, for the most part.

Family ties refer to the strong connections and relationships that exist among members of a family. These bonds are often based on shared experiences, love, support, and a sense of belonging, which help keep family members united across generations and through life’s challenges.

Countries with the strongest family ties are often found in regions where extended families play a central role in daily life and cultural traditions. For example, nations in Southern Europe, such as Italy, Spain, and Greece, are well known for their close-knit family structures, with multiple generations living nearby and frequent family gatherings.

Similarly, many countries in Latin America, such as Mexico and Brazil, emphasize family loyalty and support, with strong intergenerational bonds remaining a cornerstone of social life.

In parts of Asia, including India, China, and the Philippines, family ties are also deeply valued, with respect for elders and communal decision-making being common practices.

These cultures often prioritize family obligations above individual pursuits, fostering a sense of unity and mutual support among relatives. The Western world, which includes the United States and Canada, appears to lack the same close family bonds as other regions.

My mother had four sisters. One of them, Opal, died in 1930 at age one. Cazaree was only 21 when she passed away from leukemia in 1948. The other two, Katrulia and Flavius, lived long, bountiful lives. Perhaps the death of Opal and Cazaree is why my mom and the other siblings remained so close.

If they weren’t writing each other letters, they were sending postcards. In the 1960s through 1970s, long-distance phone calls from Alaska to Alabama could be expensive. Mom devised a way to let her sisters know that all was okay without spending a dime. She’d dial and let the other phone ring twice before hanging up.

As time went on, the phone rates went down. At this point, they’d talk to each other for hours. I don’t know what they found to yak about. Mom and her siblings had their disagreements, yet that never stopped them from communicating.

I suppose you could say that their family ties overrode any hostility. Mom believed in following the Bible verse, Ephesians 4:26. Simplified in my own words, this verse means, “Before the sun sets, let peace rise.” I especially like that verse because of the numbers alone. Only a few close friends will get the meaning here.

I always had good communication with my parents and brother after we went our separate ways. I try to talk to Jim at least once a month, if not more. We email, as I don’t text and never will. My fingers are too big to touch the right keys. Mom would be proud that our family ties, which she so expected, have not wavered.

I try to keep the same going with my two grown children and five grandchildren. It’s tough because they all have active lives, and we live too far away for weekly visits. I tune in to our grandson, Decker’s, hockey games when they’re live-streamed, always rooting for him and the Eden Prairie Eagles.

I’ve also watched several of the grandchildren’s school and church programs on the internet. Perhaps that separation in distance has made our family ties that much stronger, much like Mom and her sisters.

Hopefully, Gunnar and Kay, along with Miranda and Dennis, including grandchildren, Kevin, Grace, Decker, Reece, and Mykah, adhere to Ephesians 4:26 should conflict ever come between any of them. “Never let the sun go down without resolving a family conflict.”

Their departed grandmas, Bonnie and Tallulah, would wish the same!

I decided to do a postcard story on Brownell, Kansas, even though the 1910 postcard I have access to was never used. The history of the place is quite interesting, as it’s now a ghost town with around 23 people living there.

A black and white picture on the front of the card shows a bank and store building with nicely dressed townspeople walking in the dirt. I was able to find a photograph of that same location today. The change is quite significant.

Brownell, Kansas, is a small rural community nestled in Ness County, in the western part of the state. Known for its quiet streets and close-knit atmosphere, Brownell offers a glimpse into the history and development of rural America.

Brownell was founded in the early 20th century, during a period of westward expansion and rural development in Kansas. The town was officially established in 1880 as a stop along the Missouri Pacific Railroad, which played a pivotal role in its initial growth.

The original settlers were primarily farmers and ranchers, drawn to the area by the promise of fertile land and access to transportation. The town was named after a railroad official, J.M. Brownell, reflecting the influence of the rail industry on its origins.

The founding of Brownell was driven by the need to support agricultural communities and provide a hub for trade and communication. Early settlers built homes, businesses, and community institutions, including schools and churches, laying the foundation for the town’s future.

During its first decades, Brownell experienced steady growth as the railroad brought new residents and opportunities. The construction of grain elevators, general stores, and other businesses supported local agriculture and ranching, which remained the backbone of the community’s economy. Infrastructure development included roads connecting Brownell to neighboring towns, further integrating it into the regional economy.

Population growth peaked in the early 1900s, with the town serving as a local center for education, commerce, and social life. The establishment of a post office in 1880 provided essential services and helped solidify Brownell’s status as a community hub.

Brownell has witnessed several notable events throughout its history. The arrival of the railroad marked a turning point, transforming the settlement into a thriving town.

During the Dust Bowl era of the 1930s, Brownell, like many rural Kansas communities, faced severe challenges as drought and economic hardship affected residents. Despite these difficulties, the community persevered, adapting to changing agricultural practices and fluctuating markets.

Other significant moments include the consolidation of local schools and the closure of the Brownell post office in 1967, which reflected broader trends of rural depopulation and economic change in the region.

The demographic profile of Brownell has evolved over time. In its early years, the town’s population consisted mainly of farming families of European descent. As agricultural mechanization increased and economic opportunities shifted, Brownell experienced a gradual population decline, a trend common to many small towns in Kansas.

Census data from the mid-20th century onward shows a steady decrease in residents, with younger generations often moving to urban areas in search of employment and education. Today, Brownell is characterized by a small, aging population, with a strong sense of community and tradition. Younger people have flocked to the larger cities.

Agriculture has always been the cornerstone of Brownell’s economy. Wheat, corn, and livestock production provided the primary sources of income for local families. Over time, changes in farming technology and market conditions led to larger, more efficient farms and a reduction in the number of small family operations.

The decline of rail service and closure of local businesses further impacted the economy, leading to a reliance on regional centers for goods and services. Despite these challenges, Brownell’s agricultural heritage remains a source of pride and resilience for its residents.

Brownell’s history is enriched by the contributions of its residents. While the town has not produced widely known figures, many local leaders, educators, and business owners have played vital roles in shaping the community. The original Brownell schoolhouse, bank, churches, and grain elevators are among the town’s historic landmarks, symbolizing its enduring agricultural roots.

The nearby Ness County countryside offers scenic vistas and historic farmsteads, providing a tangible link to the town’s past. Local events, such as community gatherings and celebrations, continue to foster a sense of identity and belonging.

Today, Brownell is a quiet rural community with a small population. While many of its original institutions have closed or consolidated, the town remains a testament to the resilience of rural America. Residents maintain strong ties to their agricultural heritage and enjoy the peace and camaraderie of country living.

Community life in Brownell is marked by neighborly support, shared traditions, and a commitment to preserving the town’s history. Although challenges persist, Brownell’s legacy endures through the stories and memories of its people.

Brownell, Kansas, stands as a representative example of the rise and transformation of rural communities in the American Midwest. From its founding as a railroad town to its present-day status as a small agricultural community, Brownell’s history reflects broader trends in settlement, development, and adaptation.

The town’s enduring legacy is found in its people, landmarks, and the spirit of resilience that continues to define its character. Brownell is on my list of places to see.