Sandstone's Chamber of Commerce immediately got to work to find a new use for the prison buildings and land. It urged the State of Minnesota to take over the property for some appropriate use. Negotiations ensued, and by August 16, 1949, the U.S. Senate and House of Representatives had passed a bill leasing the prison to the State of Minnesota for a state mental hospital with the conditions of maintaining the property and turning it back over to the federal government on notice of eighteen months. (39) President Truman signed the bill on August 19, but the State of Minnesota did not take action until May of the following year. Governor Youngdahl signed the lease on May 22, 1950, and the Minnesota State Mental Hospital at Sandstone opened July 18, 1950, with a staff of 110. (40)
Soon approximately 440 male mental patients resided at Sandstone. Most of these men had been institutionalized for at least five years and some up to fifty, and they were transferred to Sandstone in an effort to relieve overcrowding in other state mental hospitals. (41) Staff members worked hard to transform the former prison into a more homey, welcoming place where patients would feel comfortable. Most patients slept in dormitories, but eighty were rewarded with private rooms for their superlative behavior. Patients performed work details, engaged in leisure activities like arts and crafts, reading, music, and sports, and ate nutritious and tasty meals in the dining hall. (42) Some of them even operated a small canteen to entertain their fellow patients. One observing journalist noted,
"In all, Sandstone presents a bright picture amidst the gloom which marks much of the national situation in the care of the mentally ill. Sandstone shines especially in its individualized program of providing the most modern forms of treatment and therapy. No patient ever is considered hopeless, regardless of how many decades he's been in mental institutions." (43)
Despite this “bright picture,” the hospital was nearly always short on funds and had to limit its per patient expenditure to sixty-five cents per day with only $40 allowed for clothing per year. Only $200 was available every three months for recreational purposes, so sometimes patients simply had to go without new clothes or recreational projects. (44) Sandstone residents, however, offered help in the form of donations of clothing, books, radios, magazines, records, sports equipment, and even volunteer hours to supervise recreational activities. The hospital's doctors were pleased by this effort, noting that interaction with local people would “be of great assistance from a medical standpoint, renewing the patients' ties with the outside world, creating new interests and helping in the process of rehabilitation.” (45)
In July of 1958, John F. Hawley received word from Dr. G.H. Adkins, the State Mental Hospital's superintendent, that the federal government was planning to reclaim the buildings and grounds the following year. In February of 1959, the U.S. Bureau of Prisons made the following request: “To relieve the critical situation of overcrowding to some extent, and to provide another institution in the Middle West, we propose to reactivate the Federal Correctional Institution at Sandstone, Minnesota” (46) On July 1, 1959, Sandstone's Federal Correctional Institution was officially reestablished under the leadership of Warden R.W. Meier. (47) The prison was now a “medium security” facility, and most inmates' sentences were less than five years. Eventually the prison's farmland was turned over to the DNR as a wildlife refuge, and inmates were otherwise employed in the FCI's glove factory, print shop, or cafeteria. (48)
Twenty years later, in March of 1979, a newspaper article appeared in one of the Twin Cities' newspapers. It asked the question, “What does the prison mean to Sandstone?” The answer? “Trade. Money. A housing shortage aggravated by relatives who move to Sandstone to be near the inmates. The sound of a whistle when a prisoner escapes. A special section in Spring Park Cemetery for inmates who had no home base.” (49) “This is our bread and butter,” one Sandstone resident remarked. “If we didn't have [the FCI], [Sandstone] would be a rather bleak place.” (50)
39. Hubin.
40. Ibid.
41. Walter Eldot, “No Hopeless Patients Here” (newspaper article, 1950s).
42. Ibid.
43. Ibid.
44. Ibid.
45. Ibid.
46. Hubin.
47. Ibid.
48. Hammond.
49. Ibid.
50. Ibid.
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