Farewell, Allen Bennett
I never had the chance or opportunity to visit the old Allen Bennett hospital. But for the last thirty-six years, I have driven past it at some time or another and looked into its dark, glass windows wondering what she was really like inside. They say that once you’ve seen one, you have seen them all, but I’d like to differ with that statement. Each building has its own character just like humans; it has its own creaks and groans, light and darkness, smells and odors. The hallways are both warm and soft or bland and lifeless. From the outside of the building, standing on Wade Hampton Blvd., and looking at this strong, bold, dark brick multi-story structure, facing the mountains with its head erect and chest puffed out in pride, she tells the world to look at me.
For years I passed by this building, daydreaming how I could save the grand structure. Then I thought, “What if I could win the Lottery,” then I could save her from the chopping block I daydreamed thousands of times of ways I would redirect her mission from being just another hospital to a “Veteran’s Recovery Center.” I would buy the structure and spend an equal amount to get her refitted for her new mission. I would set up a new administration department, which all of the local American Legions and Veterans of Foreign Wars Commanders would have an equal say on how it should be administrated. And they will serve her, as volunteers to be advisors and directors, just like their local post. Only the staff will be paid for their services.
They say that people heal faster when they are at home, rather than being stuck at some far away hospital. Thousands of veterans call the Upstate home, even if they weren’t born or raised here. Once this red clay gets into their clothes, and the Blue Ridge Mountains get into their heart, it becomes home and there’s no going back. The Upstate has become my home and I feel alone whenever I get too far away from the Upstate and the hazy Blue Ridge.
Several months ago, I saw an article in The Greer Citizen about the demolition that was planned for this site if someone didn’t come up with the funds to save her or other options for the hospital. I then went into action and called the person that was in charge of the property, Mr. Reno Deaton. I asked if he had made the final decision on the hospital, and he said “No.” So I wrote a letter to John Helms, Head Commander of the American Legion National Headquarters in Indiana, and John Collins, American Legion State Commander of State Carolina. I asked them to step in and save this fine structure for our veterans as a rehabilitation center or a daycare facility; a place where veterans could come by, sit and visit with each other. I was told that neither one could do anything about it because they had no power to purchase. I was dumbfounded and didn’t know where else to turn until I remembered my friend Mike Collins, Post Commander of Post 250 in Tryon. I emailed him a copy of my letter and he passed it to his son who put it into the hands of a state representative whose name I cannot remember. They all thought it was a grand idea, and then it was shelved. With all the talk about who is going to be elected President, and the juggling around to save ones job or how to get re-elected, these fine men have been blinded. They were too busy trying to save their jobs instead of giving a veteran a place close to home to recover from their mental or physical injuries.
With all my heart, I wish that I had started this crusade many years ago. Now I feel I let my fellow veterans down, and I, too, have to say good-bye to a dream and to an old friend, the old Allen Bennett Memorial Hospital.
Leo Lopshire
Campobello
