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| “Chicago, c. 1952,” by Vivian Maier. All photographs © The Estate of Vivian Maier. Courtesy Maloof Collection and Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York City |
Bette on the Blues
Rediscovering a forgotten Chicago writer
“I should explain right away that I didn’t belong here,” writes Bette Howland (1937–2017) in her 1974 memoir, W-3. “But that goes without saying, no one belonged here.” The “here” in W-3 refers to an inpatient psychiatric ward. After a suicide attempt in 1968, Howland—then a single mother of two, living in Chicago—received treatment at a university hospital. On the ward, the staff appeared to need help as urgently as the patients. Take Seymour Sobeloff, a physician who, rather than work with the residents, chooses to work on himself. He “spent all his time in Occupational Therapy making an ashtray out of colored tiles,” Howland writes, and attends just as thoughtfully to his dietary needs. Every night, the moment provisions for patients’ sandwiches appear in a common area, the doctor does, too: