her a furtive glance.
“Are you married, single or divorced?” he asked with a half-smirk. He had already been made aware, both by the Superintendent of the Colony, Dr. Priddy, and by the local gossip, of Emma’s “mental peculiarity” which was manifested by “a lack of moral sense and responsibility.”
“Widow,” she murmured. He could barely suppress a knowing chuckle.
Next, he showed her some colors and common objects. He seemed surprised when she could distinguish them all. Indeed, she seemed to understand most of his words and the rudimentary commands he uttered, but, when he asked her to do a simple errand, she merely sat, as if dumbfounded, not moving.
“Could you give this book to the lady over there?” he asked again, slowly and succinctly. When she did not respond, he repeated his request twice.
The woman continued running her hands over her rumpled dress, but made no move to get up and obey. Whether she was being obstinate or simply did not understand, he couldn’t be quite sure.
“I’m going to have to report that you can’t do a simple errand,” he said, petulantly looking at the other two physicians. She shrugged and continued to stare at him. He decided to try a different subject.
“Do you have children?”
She held up three fingers.
“Three?” he questioned.
She nodded her head.
“Any of the children been mentally defective?”
She shook her head, “No, there are not.” Indeed, it was to be a prophetic statement.
Dutifully, he wrote “no.”
They had reached the point in the interrogation where he had to ascertain her physical condition. Grumbling, he began to examine her.
“Have you ever had any serious illness?”
She waited until he had begun to inspect her teeth, tonsils, ears and eyes. “Yes,” she murmured, “pneumonia, rheumatism.” She exhaled a fetid burst of air into his face as she sighed and added, “and syphilis.”
He drew a deep breath and tried to repress a shudder of distaste. “Are you suffering from that affliction now?” he asked. She looked confused.
“Do you have syphilis now?” he asked again.
“You’re the doctor,” she said, matter-of-factly.
Disconcerted, he flipped through his sparse notes. “Yes, I see you do,” he said, shaking his head and noting the confirmation of venereal disease.
“I’m going to test your sight and hearing now, Emma.”
She nodded, and seemed to pay as little attention as possible during the tests. She asked no questions, volunteered no additional information, submitting to his requests almost disdainfully. Watching her, he thought, What had she to be disdainful of? Certainly not of him, a medical doctor, an official of the court, the decider of her future fate. Nevertheless, he hurried the perfunctory tests along so that they could be rid of her. He continued noting the aspects of her appearance which confirmed his preliminary diagnosis. “Distinctly untidy,” he wrote and, where he was charged to record his “moral reaction,” he wrote “notoriously untruthful.” Though her answers seemed candid at present, these were the words used to describe Emma about town, words he and the others in the courtroom had often heard bandied about.
“Have you ever been convicted of a crime?” he went on.
She stifled a yawn, “Yes. Prostitution.”
He did not have to ask the next question. Gossip in town had already alerted him to the fact that she was guilty of “moral delinquency,” even though she had never been confined to a reformatory, prison or place of detention for incorrigibility.
“And you were married?”
She nodded, “I told you I’m widowed.”
“And you have illegitimate children?”
She nodded again, absentmindedly, not even looking at him.
Frowning, he wrote down, “Didn’t conduct herself in a proper conjugal manner.”
Her manner continued to irritate him, and he accelerated his questions, looking about the courtroom for support from his fellow physicians. They nodded sympathetically.
“And what occupation have you followed and with what success?” A tone of snobbishness crept into his voice.
“Occupation?” she looked confused.
This time he didn’t waste a moment trying to explain. He wrote “no” with a flourish.
“You haven’t supported yourself ever?” he went on quickly, as if expecting no answer.
For the first time, Emma objected vehemently. “I have some income from my father’s estate,” she said with dignity, “My father was Richard Harlow. He was a man of property.” Her voice took on an unmistakable ring of pride, “He died of spinal trouble. Mother died in childbirth.”
Dr. Davis looked at her with disdain. “You could do housework, I suppose,” he paused, “under supervision.”
Flashing him an angry look, she turned away and fixed her attention on some non-existent spot on the ceiling. She made no further effort to answer.
As quickly as possible, he concluded the cursory mental examination. There wasn’t much more to record beyond the fact that she could count to ten and that, as far as he knew, she had never been given any approved mental testing. The examination ended and, as speedily as possible on that first day of April 1920, Justice of the Peace C. D. Shackelford signed Emma Buck’s Order of Commitment to State Colony for Epileptics and Feeble-minded Commonwealth of Virginia (City) of Charlottesville, to wit:
To the Sheriff, or Sergeant, of the county or city of Charlottesville and to Dr. A. S. Priddy MD Superintendent of the State Colony for Epileptics and Feeble-Minded of Madison Heights Greetings:
Whereas, I C. D. Shackelford, A Justice, or judge of said county of Charlottesville and J. G. Flippen and W. H. Turner Jr., two physicians, the said J. S. Davis being the physician to the said Emma Buck, constituting a commission of inquiry, etc., into the mental condition of the said Emma Buck, has this day adjudged the said Emma Buck to be Feeble-Minded, and a suitable subject for an institution, for the care and treatment of the Feeble-Minded, and a citizen of this State, and without means of support and no person appearing before me to give bond with sufficient security to be approved by me, payable to the Commonwealth with condition to restrain and take proper care of the said Emma Buck person, without cost to the Commonwealth, until the cause of confinement shall cease for the said Feeble-Minded, I, C. D. Shackelford, do in the name of the Commonwealth, Command you, the said sheriff, or sergeant, to make provisions for the suitable and proper care and custody of the said Feeble-Minded person and you the said Superintendent of the Colony for Epileptics and Feeble-Minded, are hereby required to receive into the said Colony, and into your care and charge, if there be a vacancy, in the said Colony,
