HISTORY
"In 1909 when business and finances were at a low ebb, our state legislature appropriated a small sum of money with which to purchase a tract of land for a state hospital site. For some reason, best known to some of our good citizens of that period, the commission was convinced that the tract near Sedro-Woolley offered the most advantages for a hospital site, so was purchased for that purpose . . ."
—Superintendent Dr. James Winfield Doughty, 1940
THE EARLY YEARS: 1910s
Northern State Hospital began as a farm extension of Western State Hospital at Fort Steilacoom (near present-day Tacoma), where the soil was poor and the patient population growing. A legislative act in 1909 established the "Western State Hospital Farm for the Harmless Insane" near the frontier town of Sedro-Woolley. A logging crew was hired to clear the heavy growth of cedar and fir, and in 1910 a small group of patients arrived to do the difficult job of removing the massive stumps.
In April of 1911, 101 patients arrived from Western State to continue land clearing and help construct temporary buildings. The first superintendent, A. H. McLeish, would later recall that the patients were all men "of the lumberjack type." Only 38 were United States citizens; the rest were immigrants from Austria, Canada, Finland, Germany, Italy, Norway, Sweden, and other countries. The primary occupation was laborer, though there were farmers, loggers, sailors, painters, carpenters, and miners in the group. The main cause of admission was designated as "unknown." Other causes included alcohol, exposure, financial, hereditary, love affair, morphine, religion, sunstroke, syphilis, and worry.
Permanent buildings began to spring up in the decade of the 1910s. Spanish Colonial Revival architecture was popular in the early 1900s, with its distinctive cream-colored stucco and red clay tile roofs. Though Spanish-style buildings might seem out of place in the rainy, mossy Northwest, they are strikingly beautiful.
The first permanent structure was the southern half of main administration building, completed in 1912. It containing medical services, a pharmacy, patient wards, hydrotherapy, x-ray equipment, business departments, living quarters for doctors and the superintendent, and a staff kitchen and dining area.
In 1915, the hospital officially became known as Northern State Hospital. Many of the patient ward buildings along today's "Hub Drive" were constructed in the 1910s. Unlike the giant, castle-like Kirkbride asylums in the Eastern United States, Northern State employed a Colony Plan, in which buildings were smaller and separate, set along an artful semi-circle so that each ward had ample sunlight and views of the mountains. Separate buildings also lessened the danger of fire and epidemic spread.
The lovely landscape was designed by brothers Frederick Law Olmsted Jr. and John C. Olmsted, whose father had planned Central Park in New York City. In creating such a serene, park-like setting at Northern State, perhaps they had sympathy for
their father, who died as a patient at McLean Hospital in Massachusetts in 1903.
The chapel ("Hub") auditorium—the most elegant building on campus with its giant rose windows—was built in 1916, used for movies, church services, shows put on by local service groups and schools, and dances with an orchestra. In 1916, a power house with a 120-foot smokestack was constructed, as fuel sources shifted from wood to coal.
Dr. James Winfield Doughty—called "The Doctor" by many who knew him—became superintendent in 1914. He was an award-winning archer, a deep-sea diver, a former country physician, and played several brass instruments. Before assuming the directorship of Northern State, he served at Fannie Paddock Hospital (Tacoma General) and Western State Hospital. He guided Northern State through the early years, until newly elected Governor Hartley removed him in 1930. When a new governor came into office in 1934, Dr. Doughty was reinstated. He served a total of 27 years, retiring in 1945.
In 1918, Northern State, like the rest of the country, was beset by an epidemic of influenza. Superintendent Doughty reported:
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An unusually high death rate will be shown in the reports of this hospital for the period covered by this report and may be accounted for in two ways. First, the result of influenza; and second, the advanced age of a very large percentage of the patients . . . of 848 cases admitted, 533 were discharged and 279 died.
THE 1920s
By 1920, there were about 1,000 patients on record—some in residence, some on parole, and some escapees who were still on the books as committed patients. Though the law stated that only patients who were a danger to themselves or others should be committed, courts and families were eager to place people under state care and expense, including the elderly and individuals referred to as the "chronic harmless" who were technically not eligible for admission.
One of the biggest challenges in the early days was finding and keeping employees to care for the growing number of patients. Superintendent Doughty appealed to the state for funds to construct on-site housing for its 95 employees, 64 of whom were living on the wards with the patients. He wrote:
Men and women who do night duty are obliged to room in the same ward building in which they are employed and are disturbed during their hours of sleep and rest by the noise incident to the care of more than a hundred patients. First-class service can not be expected under these conditions . . .
His request was granted, and the 1920s was a decade of growth and construction. Several new ward buildings, the power house, a new morgue and crematorium, the gatehouse at the campus entrance, and Winfield (Nurses' Home No. 1) were all built during this decade. Also added was the grand superintendent's mansion. Before 1926, the superintendent and family lived in an apartment on the second floor of the administration building.
In 1923, the Maintenance Law was established, requiring families to pay $4.50 per week for hospital care, boarding, and clothing for their patient. These fees helped supplement the state budget, and also made families more attentive to the care their family member was receiving, since they were now paying a portion of the cost.
During the 1920s, the farm was thriving, especially the prize-winning dairy herd. A four-year-old cow named Skagit Wayne Artis III broke state records by producing 753.5 pounds of milk and 30.25 pounds of butter in seven days.
The 1920s was also a time of scandal. The Seattle Star carried the story of a Northern State Hospital cook who mailed moldy food to the governor to show the poor quality of food given to patients. In 1921, Governor Hart instigated a grand inquiry into state mental hospitals, including Northern State, to investigate reports of mistreatment and neglect. The committee determined the allegations to be mostly false, but admitted that ward attendants were not the best caliber. In 1928, a patient died following an altercation with an attendant, resulting in an investigation that grabbed newspaper headlines statewide for months.
A rare patient perspective from the 1920s comes from Augusta Fischer, committed by the court in 1928 after committing a violent crime. She was later released and wrote an autobiography in which she recalls her arrival at Northern State. Sadly, Augusta later took her own life.
Finally through the gates, a very long cream-colored building loomed close and we stopped at the rear entrance of the Northern Hospital for the Insane at Sedro-Woolley. I was carried in by the driver. Mrs. Halloran, a motherly-appearing elderly matron of the receiving ward, had evidently been notified. Now, followed by two assistants who were patients, but husky and happy enough looking, I was ushered straight to the bathroom where I was bathed. To be bathed this way by anyone was embarrassing enough. Here were three persons alternately scrubbing and sousing my long hair in the smelly de-bugging bath . . . searching for and jotting down bruises and blue spots, just in case.
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THE 1930s
The hospital campus continued to expand in the 1930s, with the addition of the beautiful and much-photographed L & M ward building for women, later named Wilkes Hall). Four doctors' cottages were added, and a glass greenhouse.
A new Nurses' Home No. 2—later named Trevennen—provided housing for student nurses, who lived under the care of a watchful matron, though stories persist of young women sneaking out after curfew and following the train tracks to Sedro-Woolley for a night of recreation.
Student nurses could now complete their psychiatric nurses' training in connection with a new education program through the University of Washington. Every quarter, a new rotation of students would come to live on campus for three months of coursework and practical training, and young male attendants were eager to meet them.
1938 saw the completion of the northern half of main administration building and main hospital (later renamed the Denny building). Called the Receiving Ward, the new addition doubled the size of the original 1912 building, and included four new wards, clinical facilities, and medical services. Incoming patients were admitted at this entrance. The addition also allowed for two open-air courtyards for patients, one for men and one for women. Like the rest of the campus, women's wards were on the west side, and men's wards were on the east side.
While the pandemics of the early years had subsided, tuberculosis was a challenge of the 1930s and 1940s. Patients were segregated into special wards for treatment, and the superintendent instituted a regular protocol of x-rays for both patients and staff. Newly elected Governor Hartley had removed Dr. Doughty as superintendent, and the new Superintendent Shovlain wrote:
We have 106 beds for tubercular patients, of which 99 are occupied.
Our population is 2018;
our normal capacity is 1560.
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The primary methods of treatment during the 1930s—two decades before new psychiatric medications would come on the scene—were hydrotherapy, in which patients were showered or soaked in tubs for extended periods, work therapy on the grounds, occupational workshops, and on the farm; and insulin-coma therapy, where patients were administered a large dose of insulin that precipitated a seizure.
In the 1930s, the Narcotics Colony was established under the prompting of the State, though Superintendent Doughty was not enthused about the idea of introducing substance-dependent individuals and alcoholics to live with psychiatric patients. The Narcotics Colony men were also not keen to live at a state hospital, and they often simply walked away. Eventually the project was discontinued—though many years later, drug and alcohol treatment would return to the campus after Northern State Hospital was closed.
In the 1930s, the baseball field and bleachers were installed, and the Northern State Hospital baseball team was born. Originally called the Northern State Hospital Stars, it later became the Norlum (short for Northern Asylum) Indians, and then the NSH Indians. They competed with regional teams such as the Lyman Loggers, Puget Sound Pulp, the Oak Harbor Oaks, and “the scrappy United Restaurants Club of Seattle.” Patients attended the games and cheered on their team, and the Northern State News followed the scores closely. Player uniforms were gray, with the team name lettered in red. The letters were marked by women in the occupational therapy department, and sewed on in the sewing room. Patients in the sewing room also made the canvas curtain that served as a practice backstop.
Occupational therapy took off in the 1930s, with the dual goal of keeping patients meaningfully occupied and supporting the institution with patient workers. Patients worked in the mattress factory, blacksmith shop, carpenter shop, shoe shop, and basket factory, as well as sewing, cooking, canning, and working on the grounds and farm. Patient handicrafts were sold to raise funds for activities.
In December 1931, the first edition of the Northern State Hospital News was published as a project of the print shop and men's occupational therapy. Roving patient reporters gathered news from the wards, friendly gossip about the community, additions and expansions to the hospital, staff arrivals and departures, and the occasional poetic piece. The newspaper would continue until 1970.
The eugenics movement represented a darker chapter in the life of Northern State Hospital (and the country as a whole). In 1909, Washington became the second state to enact legislation permitting sterilization for men accused of rape, and persistent offenders. To stop poor women from having more children and prevent psychiatric patients from reproducing, a more comprehensive law was introduced in 1921 that included a wider range of people, including those housed in state hospitals. Despite a slow start to the eugenics effort in the 1920s, numbers rose dramatically in the 1930s.
The Board of Health reviewed the cases of patients chosen for sterilization by superintendents in accordance with the 1921 law. Across the country, people were sterilized against their will. At least in formal policy, at Northern State permission was required by the patient or a family member. Sterilization was declared unconstitutional in 1942, likely the result of a growing public outcry against Nazi eugenics during WWII—though ironically the Nazi eugenics movement was modeled after efforts begun in the United States.
Despite its mixed history of treatment, Northern State was a refuge for many who struggled to function in their communities. Patients often wrote letters of thanks to the superintendent, such as this 1932 snippet from a patient returning home after seven years at the hospital, and a 1934 writing by a patient describing the changes she'd seen in patient care:
After several years residence in this institution I wish to thank the present officials for the helpful and humanitarian principles which guide their conduct, which has been the means leading to my release.
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THE 1940s
The 1940s brought changes to Northern State, as the hospital felt the challenges of World War II. Doctors and other skilled staff (plumbers, carpenters, electricians) were called to the military, resulting in severe staff shortages even while the patient population reached its height at over 2,100 patients. Often residents were cared for by attendants with little training, who were encouraged to seek help from the more seasoned patients. At the same time, the community pitched in to support the war effort. Staff were encouraged to purchase war bonds and save precious materials. The hospital ran short of knitting needles as patients and staff volunteered to knit items for the Red Cross.
Containers were distributed this week to all wards and departments for the collection of waste paper, rubber, toothpaste tubes, and rags in reasonably good condition. This waste material will be collected by the Boy Scouts of Sedro-Woolley and shipped away for war emergency purposes.
The civilian defense movement was active. "We are prepared" stickers—along with a pail of sand, rake, shovel, and hose—were supplied to each ward, along with air raid precaution posters. Rations were stored in the basement of the administration building, and gas masks were issued by the Department of Defense. There were also moments of levity. Referring to baseball games, the April 1942 Northern State News reported:
There will be no scarcity of umpires. They won't be taken by the draft board—they can't pass the eye test.
Men began returning home from the war in need of psychiatric care, and many passed through the doors of Northern State before going to the state home for veterans.
The 1940s were a busy time at Northern State, bursting at the seams. Superintendent Dr. Doughty retired in 1945, and the new superintendent Dr. Shovlain wrote in 1948 of how much the institution relied upon patient assistance:
Details of patients in all departments assist greatly toward the maintenance, housekeeping and general routine operation of the institution and these tasks afford many hours of diversion for the patients. Maintenance of the institution is equal to that of a small city, and it is rather difficult to enumerate the many various repair jobs that are being handled efficiently with the aid of patient help. Building repairs run from renewal of timbers to plastering and renewing window panes . . . lock and key maintenance entails the service of one paid employee continuously.
Treatments of the decade included hydrotherapy, occupational therapy, and physiotherapy; the use of shock therapy (through insulin, Metrazol, or electric) was extensive. As an example, over 20,000 shock treatments were administered during a two-year period, with a large disparity in the number of women vs. men.
During a small window of time in the late 1940s and early 1950s, transorbital lobotomies were carried out at Northern State. In 1948, the infamous Dr. Walter Freeman visited to demonstrate the procedure. Initially, psychiatrists around the world were enthused about a surgical cure that would allow patients to go home. Nurses of this era reported that it seemed to help some people, while completely disabling others. Later the procedure fell into disfavor, and Dr. Walter Freeman was stripped of his credentials following the death of a patient. In the photo below, a young Dr. Charles Jones attends a lobotomy performed by Dr. Freeman. Dr. Jones would later become the superintendent of Northern State.
Despite the stressful war years and its aftermath, Northern State strove to provide patients with meaningful activity and recreation. Every week, the Northern State Hospital News advertised dances, movies, church services, talent shows, and concerts—many provided by supportive community members and service clubs that came to offer comfort and refinements for the patients.
Recreation reports of the 1940s detail numerous activities including dancing classes, choir, plays, Glee Club, walks, calisthenics, spelling bees, relay races, volleyball and basketball, square dancing, and even French classes. In 1948, a Hammond organ was installed in the Assembly Hall, and in 1949 a broadcast system was added, allowing programs to be broadcast to all 26 wards for the enjoyment of patients who could not attend in person.
Though no one was forced, everyone who was able was encouraged to work outside or in the occupational therapy shops. One distinctive about Northern State was the lack of fences. Though some ward buildings were locked, others were open, allowing patients the freedom to walk the grounds. Escapes were common as patients sometimes simply walked away, turning up later in Sedro-Woolley, on the road, upriver, or even as far away as Seattle. When a patient went missing, an attendant was sent out in the state car to retrieve the wanderer, though sometimes the patient grew anxious and phoned the hospital to ask for a ride back. In 1947, Superintendent Dr. Shovlain wrote to the superintendent of Western State Hospital about an escaped patient:
Your old patient who previously escaped was apprehended in Seattle but again turned up missing yesterday and was returned by the State Patrol. She has sent me word that she does not intend to remain a patient here and will continue to escape as long as she is under our custody.
THE 1950s
In 1950, Dr. Charles H. Jones—at only 32 years of age—took the reins of Northern State. Formerly a staff physician at Western State, Dr. Jones became assistant superintendent at Northern in 1949, with a salary of $629.00 a month, and was later chosen as its next superintendent. One newspaper headline read: "Northern State Will Get Progressive Chief," highlighting Dr. Jones as the youngest man in the country to hold such a post.
Dr. Jones was the son of a Union Pacific Railroad engineer, growing up in Centralia with the ambition of being a small-town general practitioner. He graduated from the University of Washington and University of Oregon Medical School. He served in active duty in the Medical Corps of the Army during World War II, spending 18 months on the Aleutian Island of Shemya. He was commanding officer of the 329th Station Hospital, later promoted to the rank of colonel.
One article described Dr. Jones as a "bright young doctor who wears red socks." His eldest daughter Kristine, who lived with her family on campus for 10 years as a child, recalled:
My father was not at all a dandy in his dress, but he did like red socks. In the 1950s, a white shirt and dark suit was all a professional man wore, plus his hat and coat (and never an umbrella on the West Coast).
Psychiatrists are trying to get away from the word "insane," which is legal terminology, and use "mentally ill," which is therapeutic and less of a stigma on release.
—from the minutes of the Legislative Committee of Washington Society for Mental Hygiene, 1950
Dr. Jones was a promoter of work therapy. As improved treatment methods allowed shorter patient stays, he moved the institution away from dependence upon patient workers and gave patients occupational assignments more suited to their recovery, skills, and interests. In the 1950-52 biennial report, he alluded to past practices in which the needs of the institution had been the primary consideration, and patients were perhaps kept too long on the basis of their ability to serve the hospital:
Assignments are made on the basis of what the patient can do, and occupational rehabilitation is not curtailed because of minor liabilities or slow rate of progress. Thus the creation of a dependent state is avoided, and the long institutionalization of relatively well persons is kept at a negligible minimum.
In the 1950s, societal attitudes began to change about people struggling with mental health. Though court-ordered commitments continued, new commitment laws also provided for voluntary admission to state hospitals if the individual had lived in Washington State for more than two years, could provide $60.00 per month, and understood the significance of a voluntary commitment. Jones wrote:
People used to come to us as a last resort. Now they volunteer for treatment without going through the courts.
In many ways, the 1950s were the heyday years of Northern State. Due to the high patient census, Dr. Jones sought to increase the number of staff. By 1958, the Courier-Times reported that the annual payroll of more than $2,250,000 (the largest steady payroll in Skagit County) provided income for 2,500 employees, with the number of employees doubling since 1952. Previously, the number of medical staff was far below the standard for the staff/patient ratio set by the American Psychiatric Association. In 1952, only 25% of incoming patients were seen by a psychologist. By 1958, the number had risen to 50% and continued to increase.
Dr. Jones expanded the social service department to help patients find jobs and housing upon release—patients who were once kept in the hospital if they had no family to help them reestablish themselves. Now, former "lifetime custodial" patients were able to depart the hospital into protective and appropriate work situations. To meet the new demands of the decade, he implemented an expanded training program for psychiatric residents, nurses, and ward attendants. In the 1950s, Dr. Jones expanded the farm, constructed a new modern kitchen and dining room, dug new wells, and expanded the commissary.
Another change in the 1950s affected the Northern State Hospital cemetery. In prior years, bodies of deceased patients were cremated unless the religion of the person forbade it, in which case the person was buried. First, the superintendent attempted to contact relatives to retrieve the body for burial elsewhere. If families could not be located, some cadavers were sent to the University of Washington for medical study, a practice which continued from the 1910s until the 1960s.
Patient graves were marked with concrete stones, bearing patient initials and a burial number. Due to the soggy ground, most of the stones sank into the ground. Dave Evans, Superintendent of the Portal program, wrote in a 2003 article:
The former morgue attendant, Burlon London, described to me burials in which the box containing the corpse would have to be weighted down to keep it from floating until the grave was closed. I use the term "box" advisedly — there were no proper caskets and London knocked together boxes out of rough lumber, for shallow burial.
In 1953, a new law declared: "State institutions have no authority to embalm, bury, cremate or otherwise dispose of unclaimed bodies of deceased inmates. The jurisdiction of unclaimed bodies of deceased inmates is vested in the coroner of the county in which the inmates died." Consequently, the last burial at Northern State occurred around 1953. In recent years, volunteers have begun preservation work at the cemetery by locating and mapping the headstones and documenting the names of the interred.
In 1960, Dr. Jones resigned to accept the superintendency of Butler Hospital in Rhode Island. In his goodbye letter, he took little credit for his accomplishments as he wrote:
A few nights ago Mrs. Jones and I walked to the top of Goat Hill and sat together looking over the hospital grounds . . . my mind's eye visualized the scene of eleven years ago when we first came. This process required the exercise of erasing from sight numerous barns, silos, sheds, buildings, fence rows, bridges . . . it was gratifying to think that all the physical evidence of progress during the period of my superintendency is only a reflection of the endeavors of the patients and the employees of the hospital.
Dr. Jones left state service and held various administrative positions in his career; he died at his home in 1993 after a tragic fall from a ladder while pruning his beloved trees.
THE 1960s
The early 1960s continued to see advances in treatment and changes in philosophy, as the country as a whole began to move away from the institutional "custodial care" model and toward newer psychiatric medications to allow patients to discharge more quickly. Hydrotherapy was discontinued in the late 1950s, though electo-convulsive treatments continued. In keeping with the drug culture of the 1960s, patients began coming to the hospital on drug trips and suffering from alcoholic psychosis.
Medications were unproven and caused worrisome side effects. Testing the new psychotic meds required a blind study with a select group, half of whom were given a placebo. Some patients responded to the studies favorably, whether from the new medicines, or simply the increased attention.
—Nurse Ardella Harris Douglas, An Era of Change: Memories of Northern State Hospital
Another change in the 1960s was the renaming of the ward buildings. Formerly named with letters (on the women's side) and numbers (on the men's side), the buildings were named for historic personages in Washington State, including the Moore farm ward in honor of Edward Moore, the first psychiatric patient in Washington Territory; and Winfield Hall, in honor of former superintendent James Winfield Doughty. The new medical building was named Douglas, for botanist David Douglas (of the Douglas Fir, though the tree that bears his name is not truly a fir).
State finances changed in the 1960s, and the state began looking for ways to lower the price tag of large institutions like Northern State. Length of patient stay was analyzed, with some elderly patients moved to nursing homes. In 1963, the patient population numbered around 1,100.
Ward life also changed. Recreational programs increased, and there were televisions on the wards. More wards were open instead of locked. Female patients wore regular clothing instead of the old institutional sack dresses as before. "Cosmetic therapy" became a new focus, with three beauticians offering services in the beauty shop and on the wards—and as wards were no longer segregated by gender, women and men began to pay more attention to their appearance.
The 1960s was a time of experimentation and an emphasis on getting well. Not every program succeeded. To the bewilderment of staff, administrators shuffled all the patients into different wards, grouped by the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory, or by the county in which they came from. New "good behavior" programs were instituted, with plastic tokens that could be redeemed for special privileges, though the idea proved mostly impossible to implement. But other programs—like Intermediate Quarters in which selected long-term patients lived on campus but worked off-campus—were very successful.
In 1962, Northern State constructed a new cutting-edge Receiving, Treatment, and Medical Building (later named Douglas), connected via sky bridge to the southern entrance to the hospital on the site of the former circular drive. In many ways, the stark contrast of architectural style represented the decade of change at Northern State—though many people lamented the positioning of the new building, blocking the once-beautiful main facade.
As the patient numbers declined, administrators discussed what to do with the unoccupied spaces. Rumors circulated that Northern State would become a home for "retarded" children, which administrators denied. In March of 1965, Governor Dan Evans announced that there would be an immediate hiring freeze, which meant that when a staff member left, the position was not replaced. The hospital began to offer fewer services to save funds, eliminating routine dental exams and immunizations for patients who only came for a short time. As a cost-saving measure, the prize-winning dairy herd was sent to Monroe in favor of maintaining a beef herd.
In these lean budget years, every area of the hospital suffered. Superintendent Dr. Voorhees stated in a monthly report that the Northern State Hospital newspaper was struggling to continue, and the campus couldn't maintain its usual immaculate landscaping of flowers, trimmed trees, and mowed lawns because of worker shortages and old equipment.
Other institutions were also struggling with changes in state policies. In a 1968 disagreement with the director of state institutions, Superintendent Voorhees resigned, along with the superintendent from the Rainer State School at Buckley. As the 1960s drew to a close, administrators and staff were anxious, but not yet aware of the larger crisis that was to come.
It is going to become even more difficult for the present staff to maintain the current level of treatment. The coming biennium with its austere budget looks grim.
—Superintendent Dr. Voorhees
THE 1970s
Rumblings had already begun in the late 1960s about closing Northern State Hospital. By early 1970, the number of patients had dropped to 700 and the census continued to decline. The state budget crisis—combined with the new nationwide philosophy about de-institutionalization—provided the perfect rationale for Governor Dan Evans to veto the appropriation that would have kept the hospital open.
When the community caught wind of the impending closure, a general outcry arose. Northern State was the largest employer in Skagit County. What would become of the employees? And what about patients who had nowhere to go? Some had lived at Northern State for decades.
High school students protested at the state capitol. Community members, staff, and patients wrote letters to the governor. But the closure was already in the works, based upon the idea that patients could be better treated in small community mental health centers. But the community care system was not equipped for the influx, and the new centers that were promised never materialized. Patients were gradually transferred to Western State Hospital, Eastern State Hospital, and local nursing homes. Some were given bus tickets and sent to Seattle, where they became part of the un-housed population on the streets.
I was angry and hurt. Northern State
was a huge part of my life. I was worried about the patients. I went on the last bus to take patients to Western State Hospital. It was a terrible and tragic time. The patients cried, and so did I.
—Nurse Ardella Harris Douglas, An Era of Change: Memories of Northern State Hospital
The theory of the law was to try to treat as many people as possible in the community. But community treatment facilities are lacking. In theory, the community is a warm, supportive, sheltering place, but that's not the way life is. I think we're going to have a certain percentage of people who, in our impersonal, competitive society, just can't get along.
—Marshall Forest, Whatcom County Superior Court Judge, 1978
In July of 1973, there were only 194 patients left. In September of 1973, Northern State officially closed. 400 employees found themselves without work. Some retired, while others transferred to other state institutions.
In the coming years, new tenants did come to the campus. The Young Adult Conservation Corps (later named Cascade Job Corps) arrived in 1977, with students moving into some of the newly-renovated wards. Later, the PORTAL program and Pioneer alcohol and drug treatment would come. The campus was renamed the Northern State Multi-Purpose Center. In 2010, the State of Washington expressed a desire to surplus the property and look for a local champion to acquire and redevelop the site for a greater community purpose. Working in partnership with the City of Sedro-Woolley and Skagit County, the Port of Skagit took ownership of the property in July 2018.