Review: God Knows His Name: The True Story of John Doe No. 24 by David Bakke

 I read this book many years ago but it has stuck with me and recently I was listening to some Mary Chapin Carpenter who wrote a song based on this unfortunate man's tombstone inscription, so I went back and looked up my review that I wrote for Goodreads many years ago. It's really a book well worth reading and thinking about. 

On October 11, 1946, a black boy of indeterminate age was found wandering the streets of Jacksonville, Illinois. When police discovered he was deaf, mute, and suspected to be retarded, he was sent to the Lincoln State School and Colony, a state facility that bore little resemblance to its name. Had he been permitted to stay at the School for the Deaf, his life would have been completely different, but that school was not permitted to take retarded people.

The Lincoln School was a self-contained city having a farm with price-winning cattle and a dairy processing plant. It generated its own power and returned thousands of dollars to the state treasury, thanks to the free labor provided by the residents (really inmates). These people varied from the very severely retarded to those of borderline intelligence. The place was vastly overcrowded, and the pecking order among residents was often established violently.

John Doe, as he was called since they were unable to identify him at all, was given an I.Q. test, but much like any test, if you don't understand the value or importance of the test, there will be little incentive to do well, even assuming you can understand what is expected of you. A special test was used that had been designed for the deaf, but the examiner had difficulty conveying the purpose and instructions for the various tests that were disguised as games or puzzles. John's deafness and inexperience were a huge impediment, and, not surprisingly, he scored very low on the test. This result was to haunt him for years to come. After several unsuccessful escape attempts, John gradually adapted to his surroundings. He had no known relatives so there was no one to claim him nor to send him packages or money that might help alleviate his situation.

By the mid-sixties, thanks in part to JFK's commitment to improving conditions and education for the mentally retarded and an Illinois commission, facilities and conditions were improving at the Lincoln School. John Doe had now been there close to two decades.

Unfortunately, it was also the time of Chlorpromazine that the psychiatric profession had discovered could turn unruly or violent patients into virtually catatonic, but untroublesome, individuals. It soon became the drug of choice for nearly everyone in an institution. Despite regular doses, John was becoming one of the best students in the ASL class that had been started for the deaf residents. He became a trustee and was placed in charge of several other patients, helping them to dress and to get ready for the day.

By 1973 the side effects of the drugs began to manifest themselves and John was inflicted with diabetes and glaucoma. In 1975, the Lincoln School was converted into a state prison, and John was sent to the Jacksonville Developmental Center. He was now totally blind, but thanks to a few dedicated individuals, his talents were recognized and he was sent to the Helen Keller School. This provided him with the skills he needed to subsequently live in a series of group homes.

He died a few years later, but to this day no one has still been able to track down his identity. God may know his name; it's a shame He didn't give a shit.

P.S. Mary Chapin Carpenter wrote a song that included the words from his tombstone.  Here are the lyrics:

Lyrics

I was standing on this sidewalk
In 1945 in Jacksonville, Illinois
When asked what my name was there came no reply
They said I was a deaf and sightless, half-wit boy

But Lewis was my name though I could not say it
I was born and raised in New Orleans
My spirit was wild, so I let the river take it
On a barge and a prayer upstream

They searched for a mother and they searched for a father
And they searched till they searched no more
The doctors put to rest their scientific test
And they named me John Doe No. 24

And they all shook their heads in pity
For a world so silent and dark
Well, there's no doubt that life's a mystery
But so too is the human heart

And it was my heart's own perfume
When the crape jasmine bloomed on St. Charles Avenue
Though I couldn't hear the bells of the streetcars coming
By toeing the track I knew

And if I were an old man returning
With my satchel and pork-pie hat
I'd hit every jazz joint on Bourbon
And I'd hit every one on Basin after that

The years kept passing as they passed me around
From one state ward to another
Like I was an orphaned shoe from the lost and found
Always missing the other

They gave me a harp last Christmas
And all the nurses took a dance
Lately I've been growing listless
Been dreaming again of the past

I'm wandering down to the banks of the Great Big Muddy
Where the shotgun houses stand
I am seven years old and I feel my daddy
Reach out for my hand
While I drew breath no one missed me
So they won't on the day that I cease
Put a sprig of crape jasmine with me
To remind me of New Orleans

I was standing on this sidewalk
In 1945 in Jacksonville, Illinois

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Mary Carpenter

John Doe No. 24 lyrics © Sentric Music