TV watching is definitely the main nonscheduled event on Ward 81. The set goes on shortly after wake-up at seven A.M., and is rarely turned off until well after bedtime at nine P.M. Between meals, meds (medication, which the patients receive four times a day), and quiet hours (three one-hour periods during which patients must remain in their rooms), most of the women can be found clutching a favorite ashtray, smoking nonstop and gazing at the set. There's never much reaction to what they see there--but still they watch, almost in silence, speaking only to ask for a cigarette.

"I like TV 'cause there's nothing else to do," says Gloria. "I like violent shows. I like to see people get hurt because they've hurt me."

Several of the women enjoy the TV commercials. They like knowing about the new products, even if they can't go out and buy them.
The teenagers are interested in the clothes and in "keeping up." The television set is their only ambassador from the outside world, their only contact with the rich, the powerful, the "bionic" and the free. But mostly TV is "fill," something to do in a place where there's very little to do.

Most of the women on 81 care very much about any and all outings that can take them off the ward and put them in touch with men. Time off the ward--time not measured by meds, mealtimes and quiet hours--even for a short while is precious. As the patients put it, the best time on Ward 81 is time off Ward 81.

And when the chance comes, they take it if they can--and with high hopes. Jane's favorite activity on the 81 roster is "yarding."

Yarding is held outdoors, on a rectangular sweep of grass enclosed by high cyclone fencing. Yarding happens whenever the aides decide it's "appropriate."

All patients permitted to go yarding on a particular day are called together to be counted. The group passes through Wards 82 and 83, where they meet their yarding partners. Some male patients carry things outdoors--such as blankets, guitars, radios, tape recorders.

Some of the male aides and some of the 83 patients play basketball. The female aides sit on benches. A "hand-holding-only" rule is in effect, but aides playing basketball or sitting on benches cannot observe all the action. The amount of hugging, caressing, fondling and forbidden kissing that goes on is amazing.

Jane returns from yarding and joyfully declares, "Yarding's the most fun about this hospital. Go outside with guys and just fall in love!"

The other big event for a lot of the women--perhaps because it is the most regular and has an air of being the most formal--is "social hour."

From seven to eight every Saturday night, four to eight 81 patients are permitted to attend social hour on Ward 83. Social hour is a dance with recorded music, topped with punch and cookies. It is, indeed, someplace to go and something to get dressed up for, and the women always attempt to look their best for social hour.

The women who aren't permitted to go are usually locked in their rooms for this hour. The others are assembled at the door to 82, the ward they must pass through to get to their destination. "Okay, girls," an aide warns, "now no talking to anybody on 82 on the way over. And appropriate behavior, otherwise you'll be sent right back and miss the whole social."

On 83, the two aides from 81 and the two from 83 sit together at a table, talking over the music. They rarely move except for excursions to enforce hand-holding-only.

The women of 81 dance every dance--whether they have partners or not. Most of them do. They pair off with the men they see regularly at yarding.

Ann comes alive at social hour. She dances to every record with her regular guy. Between dances, they talk constantly--or try to cuddle when the aides aren't watching.

Mary is always surrounded by several admiring males, while Gloria settles down with one man. Grace plays the field, and so does Jane.

After about forty minutes, the female aides get up to make punch, which is served at 7:50. At eight, the party's over.

Back on the ward, the other patients are let out of their rooms. Some want to know all about the dance. Ellen surprises everyone by showing a great interest in the dance. She's never attended a ward social.

At nine, bedtime, Ellen doesn't want to go to her room. When an aide tries to herd her inside, she yells, "Take a shotgun and shoot yourself, you fat bitch!"

The aide is very hurt. She doesn't know what she's done to deserve this. Only those who've seen Ellen's two-step in the pool room, which houses the ward's pool table and stereo, are beginning to realize that despite her frail body, she loves to dance.

Ellen is urged to disclose her secret. If she wants to go to a social and dance, she must let the aides know.

After several pep talks, Ellen decides to ask for permission. The aide is surprised. "But, Ellen," she laughs, "you never go to social hour. You can't even dance."

"Yes, I can," says Ellen. "I can tap-dance." She does a few brush steps and stops, hands on hips, tongue rolling slightly.

The aide is amused. "All right," she says, "you can go."

The next Saturday belongs to Ellen. Whatever she wants, she gets--a bubble bath, help with her hair, a pair of earrings, help getting dressed. "This is so much fun! I'm so excited," she repeats over and over again--when she isn't singing about the dance.

"Hey, Ellen, did you ever go to a dance?" Dixie asks, pitching in to help with the elaborate preparations.

"One time--maybe two times--thirty years ago," she says.

Finally, she is ready--bedecked, fragrant, looking like she's never looked before.

At the social, the men are surprised to see her. They've seen her at yarding once in a while, but never like this. They compliment her on her appearance, are most taken with her makeup and earrings. She dances to every record.

On the way back to 81, she seems tired but delighted. "I'm so happy," she says. "I thought
I was never going to have any fun anymore, just stay locked up forever."

An hour later, Ellen and all the other patients are locked in their rooms for the night.

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