Nellie Zimmerman's Dance
A True Story
By Dr. Daryl C. Greene

It was a cool, crisp Friday night in October of 1976 when several young adults joined a white haired woman at the Pizza Hut in Canton, Ohio. Among them were Emily, Vicky, who was deaf, and her friend Larry, as well as two students from nearby Malone College, Michael and Michelle. When all had finished their pizza, Michael suggested that they go to their favorite college student hangout, called the Pickle Barrel for music and dancing.

When they arrived, Emily found the establishment crowded, and full of cigarette smoke. She also found the music to be too loud for her to hear what anyone was saying. Frustrated, she couldn't wait to escape and go home.

But when Emily suggested "Let's get out of here!" she was ignored by the older woman, who bent over, removed her shoes, tapped Larry on the shoulder and yelled into his ear, "Would you like to dance?"

Larry took her hand and carefully led her out onto the dance floor. When he let go of her hand, she threw her arms up in the air and began to dance. As she swung her hips, her movements were graceful, feminine, and perfectly matched the beat of the music. Soon Emily, Michael, Vicky and Michelle joined the two. They formed a circle, dancing with each other.

Suddenly, a long haired, rather inebriated student tapped Emily on the shoulder and shouted over the loud music, "What are you doing, dancing with that weird white haired old lady?".

Emily shouted back, "She is my best friend. Her name is Nellie Zimmerman."

Suddenly the music stopped. In that moment of dead silence, every one could hear Emily shout: "Nellie is totally deaf and totally blind. She used to live at the State Hospital. But now she goes to college with us."

As Emily and her young circle of friends danced the night away, they danced in celebration of life, and youth. But Nellie danced in celebration of "Walking Free!" She danced to the vibrations of the music she felt in her feet and chest.

When Nellie Zimmerman was born in Braddock Pennsylvania, in 1906, she had acute hearing and keen vision. But by the time she was 8, due to childhood illnesses, she had become totally deaf. After her family moved to Massillon, Ohio when she was 15, Nellie also began to loose her vision. She was totally blind by the time she was 22.

The best way to communicate with someone who is both deaf and blind is to use the hand signs of the Manual Deaf Alphabet and to spell out every word. The deaf-blind person reads what is being said by putting his or her hands around the speaker's hand in order to feel the three dimensional movement. Nellie's father saw to it that Nellie learned how to communicate by finger spelling. She also learned how to read Braille. Nellie lived a full and active life with her father. But in 1957, after his death, she was committed to the care of the Massillon State Hospital. No one on the hospital staff knew how to communicate with her by finger spelling. Nellie Zimmerman lived in absolute silence. It was like being thrown into "the hole." Solitary confinement. She could see nothing, except an occasional painful shaft of light. She could hear nothing, not even the sound of her own voice. And there was no one to talk with!

To keep her mind sane, Nellie took to reading and memorizing the Braille Bible her father had given her. She played complicated word and math games in her head. She spent hours trying to remember what things sounded like when she was a little girl, and visualizing what things had looked like before she lost her vision.

Eighteen years passed. . . .

Spring came early in 1975. But without any outdoor privileges, or even the ability to look out the window and to see the grounds below, Nellie knew nothing about the weather. She could not have known that outside the monolithic red brick walls of her confinement, the flowers and trees were in full blossom, and that the song of birds filled the air.

She also could not have known that there was a kind of springtime in the social consciousness of America. The movie, One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest had just been released. It was the most recent of a number of movies that dramatized the inhumane conditions of the nation's mental hospital system. A new movement began to emerge, to have as many mental hospital patients as possible released from these institutions. Those who were first targeted for release were people like Nellie, who had been committed not because they were mentally ill, but because they were physically disabled.

Carrie Dixon was an activist in the deaf community. For more than ten years, she had regularly visited with the deaf residents in the Massillon State Hospital. Acting on a tip that there was also a resident who was both deaf and blind, Carrie went in search of Nellie Zimmerman. She pulled open a heavy door and stepped into a great hall. The center of the ward was cleared except for a few tables and chairs. People were milling around everywhere. Carrie had a name. But she had no idea what Nellie looked like. Suddenly, she had an inspiration. "In order to find Nellie, I need to look for someone who is being perfectly still."

Carrie noticed a figure seated in the far corner, alone, away from everyone else. The figure was completely covered from head to toe by a bed sheet. Intuitively, she knew this had to be Nellie. Quickly, she moved to the side of this patient, who was sitting motionless in a high backed arm chair. She wondered if there would be any chance of being able to communicate.

Slowly and carefully, so as not to startle her, Carrie removed the sheet. Instantly, she took heart. Although the woman had appeared to be sitting motionless, she was fidgeting with her hands. Carrie immediately recognized that the woman was spelling out words with her fingers. Obviously, she was talking to herself.

Without taking her eyes off the woman, she methodically folded the sheet, and set it aside. Aware that someone had removed her sheet, Nellie was sitting up straight in her arm chair, with her head tilted to one side ever so slightly, patiently waiting for that someone to do something to her. But using her fingers, she continued to talk to herself.

Carrie recognized the letters: h-a-l-l-o-w-e-d b-e t-h-y n-a-m-e. She gasped in awe as she recognized the familiar words of the Lord's Prayer. Chills ran up and down her spine. To her, this seemed like a sacred moment. So, she allowed Nellie to finish her prayer before she made contact with her.

Carrie used the time to privately observe this woman. Although her long, snow white hair was disheveled from having been under the bed sheet, it was still beautiful. She was pale as a ghost, but she had a flawless complexion. Very thin, she was dressed in a faded hospital gown and worn out house slippers. Her eyes were covered with two tattered, soiled strips of cloth that were loosely wrapped around her head. Carrie gazed in astonishment at the erect, almost regal manner of Nellie's posture. Now that she had finished her prayer, her hands were folded in her lap.

Breathless with anticipation, Carrie reached for the woman's hands. Quickly, she spelled out just one two-letter word. "H-i!"

Nellie gave a sharp gasp of surprise. The silence had been broken!

"Oh! What's happening in the world. Who is the President? Is there peace in the world? Who are you?"

For the first time in 18 years, Nellie had someone to talk to. Their conversation lasted four hours! A few days later Carrie brought a friend, Jim Schneck, to visit Nellie. Jim was not deaf. But he worked with deaf and deaf-blind residents at the Apple Creek Mental Institute, and he knew how to communicate by finger spelling. Nellie was delighted. Now she had two friends.

Carrie and Jim visited Nellie regularly. They also began to discuss what it would take to have her released. But suddenly Carrie died, and it fell to Jim to shoulder the burden of fighting for Nellie's freedom.

The State Hospital flatly refused to consider releasing Nellie. So Jim took his fight to the streets. He presented her case to church groups and civic clubs. He organized the "Free Nellie Committee," which soon swelled to 70 deaf and hearing participants. After almost a year of applying public pressure, the Akron University School of Law threatened to sue the intransigent institution.

In early April of 1976, the Massillon State Hospital finally backed down and set a date for Nellie's release. As the day came closer, Nellie could not help feeling anxious. Every so often she would go weak in the knees. She had lived in this ward for nineteen years. As wretched as it was, it had been her home. She was used to it. Leaving the institution meant that she would be venturing into the unknown. How would she survive without being able to see or hear? It was exciting, and it was frightening!

At last the day came when Jim stopped by and told Nellie that it was time for her to pack her things. That night, Nellie carefully packed her Bible, books, and handcrafts. Then, in preparation for leaving early the next morning, she bathed, and carefully arranged her hair. With sleep impossible, she sat in her chair and waited for the long night to pass.

Jim arrived early the next morning. He had worked long and hard for this moment! Now that Jim was there with her, standing close by her side, all of Nellie's anxieties vanished. The duty nurse told Jim that he could pick up her personal belongings later.

"No!" Jim retorted "I don't want to have to come back here for anything."

He examined Nellie's packed boxes and saw nothing but her Braille reading material and crafts. Uneasy about the possibility of leaving something behind, he spelled into her hand. "Where are your clothes and other things?"

"This is all I have. Everything I own is packed and ready. I am wearing all my clothes."

Jim's jaw dropped. She was wearing a faded house dress. The same one she had worn when she was admitted nineteen years before. She had no underwear and no stockings. Jim helped her put on an old disheveled brown coat, and tied a flowered scarf over her hair. She slipped into her hospital scuffs, the only thing the State Hospital had provided for her to wear on this morning of her release.

Smiling serenely, she placed her hand on his arm. Although she had few earthly possessions, Nellie was the picture of royalty. She squared her shoulders, and held her head high with pride. A big smile was on her face as she walked out of the ward, down the long corridors and out the front door of the State Hospital.

Suddenly, Nellie stopped. "I A-M F-R-E-E !" she spelled with shaking, excited fingers. For the first time in 19 years Nellie was walking free!

Nellie was 71 when she was set free. Shortly thereafter, she met Emily Street. Emily became her live in companion and interpreter. With Emily interpreting the lectures, Nellie attended Malone College, in Canton, Ohio. After all those years of isolation, Nellie reveled in the intellectual and social stimulation. As Nellie danced the night away at the Pickle Barrel, it is no wonder that she was dancing in celebration of "Walking Free!"

Nellie Zimmerman went on to become a well known lecturer, and got her first paying job at the age of 73, working as a life skills instructor at a group home for deaf and deaf-blind teenage boys. In 1980, the Ohio House of Representatives proclaimed Nellie Zimmerman "An Outstanding Ohioan." Later that year, Nellie moved to the Colony For The Deaf in Columbus, Ohio, where she continued to live independently and to enjoy her freedom. And, at the age of 75, she fell in love with a fellow resident who was also deaf and blind. Together they enjoyed life for more than 14 years. Nellie died in obscurity in 1994, at the age of 89. In honor of the 25th anniversary of Nellie's liberation, her biography, "Walking Free: The Nellie Zimmerman Story", written by Rosezelle Boggs Qualls and Dr. Daryl C. Greene was published by Densmore Reid Publications. The book is available at Amazon.com.

For further information about his books, please visit www.densmorereid.com

To return to the column list, Click Here