Trusted To His Duty Like a Man: A Veteran’s Letter
The history is complex. Rhode Island’s School for the Feeble-Minded, later named The Ladd School, began with noble intentions. It was a place for disabled and disadvantaged youth to acquire skills through physical labor, aiming to help them become productive and independent members of society. Notably, the institution started on a farm, and its first building dedicated to education wasn’t constructed until several years after its establishment.
At that time, the laws concerning the welfare of people with developmental or intellectual disabilities were relatively new, and the definition of “feeble-minded” was quite broad. Anyone deemed “defective” by the overseeing Doctor and arriving at its doors was justifiably taken into its custody. Their freedom could be gained through his favor, which required hard work and obedience, if their abilities allowed. This led to its reputation, during the first half of the 20th century, as a “dumping ground” for the state’s “undesirables” — the outcast, downtrodden, infirm, and insane, whom no other institution would accept or care for.
In the winter of 1909, William Henry Miller, aged 18, was one of only thirty-three inmates at the Rhode Island School for the Feeble-Minded in Exeter. His father, a horse driver, had died young, leaving William as a boy. His mother, a widow, was unemployed and single-handedly raising five children in Providence.
Beyond these sparse, basic details, much of William Miller’s family background, his siblings, and his own early life remain shrouded in obscurity. The genealogical records are limited; much history went unrecorded, and memories have long since faded.
Were it not for a solitary letter, penned in pencil and miraculously preserved for nearly a century, William Miller’s story might have remained unknown. This man, labeled “feeble-minded,” was one of many unlikely heroes conscripted into the United States Army in 1917. There, in the first Great War, he would prove his valor on a global stage.
From the desk of Dr. Joseph H. Ladd, Superintendent of the Exeter School, November 1, 1920:
Dear Doctor:-
I thought I would write about getting my discharge from the School. I have been in the army, also across the sea, for seventeen months and six months on the side.
I have an honorable discharge from the United States Service. I was in the Fifth Division, which was called the Red Diamond, and was in five battles; Metz, [illegible], St. Mihiel, Argonne, St. [illegible],and [illegible] section, beside going over the top several times. I also carried messages from my Officers to the rear [illegibile] a few times.
So you see I trusted to my duty, like a man, and I think I am entitled to a discharge from the school at Exeter.
At present I am working in the jewelry factory and I am getting twenty-five dollars per week and also have money in the bank, and I am well clothed, and I think that is pretty good, don’t you?
Please let me hear from you about the matter as soon as possible.
Send my best regards to all.
From your friend, William H. Miller
Middleboro, Massachusetts
Contribute to Uncovering the Past
Explore the personal letters of Evelyn, Cora, and Dorothy in “Exeter Girls: Letters From a Feeble-Minded School” by Jason Carpenter. This collection offers a firsthand look at the lives of these women, committed to the Ladd School in early 1900s, and their struggle against societal injustices. Their compelling accounts provide a window into a misunderstood chapter of history.
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