Arthur Miller’s Secret
New York Times theater critic Jason Zinoman reflects on the September 2007 Vanity Fair article about Arthur Miller and his son Daniel in A New Stage for Arthur Miller’s Most Private Drama of Fathers and Sons. While Zinoman notes that Daniel had been “something of an open secret for years,” he also says in the same sentence that “most people did not learn” about Daniel until the recent Vanity Fair article—but not included in that phrase “most people” would be the disability community, who had indeed been aware of Daniel’s existence.
Zinoman records the reactions of those who knew Miller—”It’s a subject that most people who knew Miller would rather not discuss”—and of others, such as James Kirchick in a blog on Commentary (”this story ‘ought to damage permanently Miller’s reputation, if not as a writer, then as a humanitarian’”). As Zinoman points out, the “cover-up” of Daniel’s existence jars uneasily with Miller’s public image as the great American playwright, as a voice of morality, as having a “saintly glow,” a hero of the left and a champion of the downtrodden.” Let us not judge Miller too hastily, says Morris Dickstein, who teaches English at the City University of New York Graduate Center:
“But the truth is that very few great artists were admirable people. At heart they’re killers who’ll do anything to get the work done.”
Professor Dickstein cautions, however, against judging Miller too quickly. “How do we know what we would have done?” he asked. “The birth of a child with Down syndrome can be a tremendous trauma, to say nothing of a strain on a marriage.
Zinoman notes that “it was more common in the ’60s to institutionalize a child with Down syndrome than it is today.”
It is the case that the discovery that one’s child is disabled is difficult news for parents to hear, and that it can, too, be difficult on a marriage. There are many more resources exist today to help disabled children and their families. Nonetheless, I think that those who wish to exonerate Miller might consider more their own views about disability, and about persons with cognitive and intellectual disability. Other families with disabled children—-such as the family of Jessy Parks, as documented by her mother, Clara Claiborne Park, in The Siege—-did keep their own disabled children with them and raise them in the 1960s. The protagonists in two of Miller’s most famous plays—Willy Loman in Death of a Salesman and John Proctor in The Crucible—both harbor a secret that compromises their reputation and even their own sense of them selves: Loman had an adulterous affair that his son Biff discovers, and Proctor has also had an affair with a young woman, Abigail, who is one of the young women who claims to have been possessed by witches. Loman and Proctor are critiqued and, it might be said, pay for their secrets and their dishonesty to themselves.
What if a similar analysis were cast on Miller and his plays themselves?
Like his own characters, Miller, it seems, had a secret. It seems to me that the greatest question here is not about whether he might have written some great play based on his experiences with Daniel, experiences that he did not have because Daniel had been so quickly, and permanently, institutionalized in Miller’s lifetime. The question ought to be, what might Daniel Miller’s life have been like had his parents accepted his disability and raised him themselves, and brought him up themselves, in their community? If they had not had him living in a state institution while growing up? If Arthur Miller had not made his son into a secret?
Why, indeed is there such a secret of a disabled, different child behind the figure of “one of the greatest American playwrights and the man who refused to name names before the House Committee on Un-American Activities and eloquently and loudly opposed the Vietnam”?
Why was there an almost lifelong refusal to name Daniel Miller as his own?
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POSTED IN: Disability Rights, Drama, Family, Stereotypes
31 opinions for Arthur Miller’s Secret
amy
Aug 31, 2007 at 4:14 pm
First, I’d separate the writing and the man. In recent years there’s been a demand that great writers be not only terrific artists but decent human beings, and I don’t think it’s reasonable.
Second, had they kept the child home, they would likely have been as scolded and ostracized as any parent of an autistic child today who refused to seek diagnosis and treatment. It would have seemed perverse of them. At the time, that was the treatment. You also have to consider that at the time there were no mainstreaming programs, no voc-training programs, no disability rights. The child would have grown up in a world considerably less friendly to Downs than today’s world is.
And in some senses I must say the medical atittude was less cruel to family than current treatment models can be. Doctors at the time recognized the strain and gravity of raising a child with a serious disability. Today I think the med/psych establishment is far less understanding. You get a handful of “tips for caregivers” — cheery things like “be sure to take time for yourself!” — that may be impossible to carry out in practice. You’re otherwise expected to sacrifice yourself, the rest of your family, and your career. For some that’s acceptable. For others it’s tragic.
Third, there were no amnios at the time. No karyotypes. No nuchal measurement. No legal abortion. I found out I was pregnant shortly after my ex-husband and I had decided to stop trying. We knew something was seriously wrong with him, but had no diagnosis then (that came shortly after; he’s been on a mental-health disability for three years now). I suspected he’d have real trouble being there fully as a parent, and that he’d need care himself. I would not have added a child with Downs to the mix, and had the amnio come back saying Downs, I’d have had an abortion.
Fourth, as for why Daniel was a secret, well, it strikes me as a private question, and one that could be asked of a great many people who institutionalized their children. But I wouldn’t expect any of them to answer in front of mass-media microphones and subject their own decisions to public judgment. Keep in mind, too, that the presumption in your post and others has been that Daniel was a source of shame. Shame is not, by a long shot, the only reason for silence.
Finally, had they kept Daniel home, my guess is that they would have divorced. Had they divorced, Miller’s wife would have been left raising Daniel on her own in the face of public, social, and medical opposition, at a time when divorce was still a mark of shame.
Kristina Chew, PhD
Aug 31, 2007 at 4:25 pm
Thanks for the thoughtful commentary; themes of shame, secrecy, self-scrutiny, marital relations, occur throughout Miller’s plays.
mommy~dearest
Aug 31, 2007 at 4:35 pm
Not only would it be interesting to know what Daniel Miller’s life would have been like had he not been institutionalized, but it would be interesting to know what Arthur Miller’s life would have been like as well.
I understand Amy’s points in the previous comment, but to me, it still seems selfish and self centered. Is it “keeping up with the Joneses” or is this what they really believed what was best for their child? Not themselves…their child.
If divorce was imminent because my husband couldn’t “handle” the idea of his child being disabled, fine. Through all of the tough work and raw edges, my son has brought so much joy to my life- and has truly made me view and experience the world in a different light.
I would like to know if Arthur Miller’s work may have even been improved by his experiences with raising a disabled son? It’s a thought.
Kristina Chew, PhD
Aug 31, 2007 at 4:49 pm
One thing that has really troubled me is Arthur Miller’s not mentioning his son in his own autobiograph, Timebends, and his not including mention of Daniel Miller in the New York Times obituary for Inge Morath (Daniel’s mother). Even if Miller were not as famous as he is, I would find a parent’s not mentioning his or her own child in such contexts notable, and puzzling.
amy
Aug 31, 2007 at 4:58 pm
Kristina writes: “Thanks for the thoughtful commentary; themes of shame, secrecy, “self-scrutiny, marital relations, occur throughout Miller’s plays.”
Yes. They were also heightened themes in the US societally during the period when he wrote. You’ll see them throughout midcentury fiction. That doesn’t mean that his silence on Daniel’s existence had to do with shame. It may or it may not. But it’d be unwise and possibly quite cruel, I think, to assume.
“Not only would it be interesting to know what Daniel Miller’s life would have been like had he not been institutionalized, but it would be interesting to know what Arthur Miller’s life would have been like as well.”
However, it would also have been none of your business. The plays are public. The man is private, and owes the public nothing of his life, unless he chooses to share. It seems that in this case he hasn’t.
“I understand Amy’s points in the previous comment, but to me, it still seems selfish and self centered. Is it “keeping up with the Joneses” or is this what they really believed what was best for their child? Not themselves…their child.”
Again, I don’t think you’re keeping the time in mind. People at the time were exhorted to institutionalize children with Downs, and were told by the experts that it was in the child’s best interest. That it would have been gross selfishness to keep the child home. It’s a rare parent who would have gone against that, and again, the medical/therapeutic/legal supports weren’t there for raising the child at home.
“I would like to know if Arthur Miller’s work may have even been improved by his experiences with raising a disabled son? It’s a thought.”
It’s one he likely had himself. And it’s more than likely that, if he truly loved his son, he put the subject off-limits in his own work. Serious writers tend to protect their children in their own work, which means that they don’t violate them by using them for characters and situations. There’s little compunction when it comes to spouses and other family members.
Somewhat more seriously, there’s no way to know. A killer play might have come out of it. On the other hand, it might well have decimated his output. Writers need quiet, solitude, time, and money if they’re going to produce. I don’t think it’s worth speculating.
amy
Aug 31, 2007 at 5:02 pm
Whoops, sorry. Those last two quotes were from mommy~dearest, not Kristina.
Kristina, again, you may find the omission puzzling, but I think it’s overreaching to presume that shame was the driver. The fact is you just don’t know. I can think of several other potential reasons for not mentioning Daniel, but I don’t know either, and I don’t care to speculate. Some things (unbelievable though it may seem) are simply not my business.
hj
Aug 31, 2007 at 5:05 pm
Just my thoughts …
He eviscerated Marilyn Monroe. She’d spent years in orphanages. He made judgments on many others. I never thought he was as stellar as the critics liked to say. His legacy proves him to be lower than Willie Loman.
KimJ
Aug 31, 2007 at 5:06 pm
Amy brings up a lot of points and I have to say, I disagree with the general sentiment of them. A lot of the erroneous information can be looked up by reading the Vanity Fair piece. Daniel wasn’t really put away “in the 60’s”. Yes, as an infant he was sent to a nursery but it wasn’t until the 70’s that he was committed to an actual institution. One that was infamous for being old, overcrowded, squalid and poorly staffed.
I agree with the lack of public resources for disabled children, however, we are discussing the offspring of a very wealthy man. His “typical” children wouldn’t have been mainstreamed either, rather raised in an exclusive community.
I totally disagree with the idea that Doctors would have been more supportive of parents. Yes, supportive of forgetting their children. Supportive of the “normal” siblings having a “normal”, disability-free home. Not supportive of parents that take care of their disabled child. Dr. Temple Grandin and her mother discuss the amount of pressure doctors put on her to institutionalize Temple.
The theme of shame comes up with the Millers because sources speculate (relying on their observance of the Millers’ dynamics) that Daniel was put away to protect Rebecca. This implies that a normal child needs to be protected from a disabled child, from the possible imbalance of time and energy spent on such a child and the possible fear that the disabled child will stigmatize a socially prominent family.
The story isn’t just about a celebrity denying his son, it’s also about deliberately denying him a decent, dignified lifestyle.
Club 166
Aug 31, 2007 at 5:25 pm
My cousin Betty was born in 1965. She had Down’s syndrome, and in retrospect probably would warrent a co-diagnosis of autism if born today. My uncle was a TV repairman, and my aunt stayed home to assist in taking care of Betty.
While her parents were initially encouraged to send her to an institution, they refused, and there was no big outcry from the doctors against them. There was some pressure to institutionalize still present, but it wasn’t all pervasive at that time. I think the amount of pressure is exaggerated by those who chose to institutionalize their own children. We all like to rationalize our choices.
Raising kids is hard, and even harder if they have significant special needs. But if you aren’t prepared to sacrifice yourself for your children (whatever their specific needs), than are you really qualified to be a parent in the first place?
Joe
Kristina Chew, PhD
Aug 31, 2007 at 5:31 pm
The Vanity Fair article also gives the sense that Miller did not provide for his son financially when he was a child and in a Connecticut state institution—-Daniel received a bill for his care after a child after he was left a fourth of Miller’s estate in the will:
Club 166
Aug 31, 2007 at 9:13 pm
Guess he was too lazy to even set up a special needs trust for his son.
Joe
Kristina Chew, PhD
Sep 1, 2007 at 12:22 am
Or to find out what it is.
amy
Sep 1, 2007 at 12:43 am
Look, I hold no brief for the Millers. But I think you’re making some very broad assumptions about people’s lives — about which you cannot possibly know the details — and being willing to make summary judgments on the basis of a magazine article. I think you’re also making a mistake in expecting an artist to be a nice, sane guy who’s prudent about things like special-needs trusts and Medicaid. You should probably expect otherwise, and avoid looking to them as parental paragons.
Joe writes: “But if you aren’t prepared to sacrifice yourself for your children (whatever their specific needs), than are you really qualified to be a parent in the first place?”
I dunno, people seem to think I’m a pretty good mother. But no, I would not give birth to a child knowing that I would be sacrificing my life for her. Accidents happen, sure. But knowingly? No. And would I expect a major writer to do it? Strictly in practical terms? No. Wait, I take that back. These days, I’d expect a major writer to bravely take it on, make a big splash, and then freak out under the burden of it and quietly dump it on someone else within a year.
As for protecting other children, I wouldn’t have another _normal_ child, and that’s in the name of protecting my existing child. There isn’t enough time and money for her as it is. I wouldn’t try to divvy it further.
KimJ, I’m sure it’s somewhat different when you’re talking about a child rather than a spouse or other family member. But I cared for a mentally ill spouse for three years, and found that when the family was recognized and not treated as an enemy by the psych community, it existed merely as a support structure for the ill person, eternally patient, giving, sacrificing. I was expected to supportively hand over my daughter to a man who was so lost in fog that he couldn’t carry on a conversation, and say goodbye, in the name of “supporting his role as a father”. To see her health insurance and college savings go away as my husband made delusional choices throughout his “processes”. Ignore my own needs and work, and serve as a continuous support, guard rail, and insurance/care administrator. It’s a problem endemic to caregiving to adults, and I would be surprised if some of it didn’t carry over to caregiving to children, too. I know full well that I wasn’t able to care for my husband and my daughter simultaneously. I doubt that I’d be able to care for my daughter adequately while taking care of a high-needs child, which is part of why there’s some dice I won’t roll.
As for Miller’s writing, well, it’s not the lightest touch, is it? But I think of Loman weekly as I look at the mortgage, and it’s occurred to me more than once that as a society, the US has moved far from the Johnson ideal, and is just about back to Loman. (Worse, maybe, in light of subprime loans; that’s more Upton Sinclair territory.) If a writer can make an archetype like that, I think that’s something.
Kristina Chew, PhD
Sep 1, 2007 at 12:52 am
“In this age few tragedies are written,” as Miller writes in Tragedy and the Common Man—but perhaps it could be said that here is a case of a tragedy in real life, whose history is still being written. Tragic heroes in Greek drama have their hamartia, their “tragic flaw”—-thanks for this discussion, which has spurred me to think about secrets and disclosure in Miller’s writings.
hj
Sep 1, 2007 at 1:30 am
Interesting interview with Miller:
http://www.neh.gov/whoweare/miller/interview.html
Regan
Sep 1, 2007 at 2:50 am
Segue alert.
Going from that which I can’t know first hand, to that which I might and which was voluntarily offered openly and warmly:
Jon Will’s Aptitudes
by George Will
http://www.epm.org/articles/willdown.html
Golly, What Did Jon Do?
by George Will
Newsweek, Jan 29, 007
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16720750/site/newsweek/
I have no comment on the Vanity Fair article beyond that already made. I do wonder how Rebecca Miller might be feeling about all this right now…
alicia
Sep 1, 2007 at 9:43 am
So much scrutiny of a famous man’s private life; and we wonder why the news covers more of Lindsey Lohan’s drug addiction and Owen Wilson’s suicide attempt than of, well, anything else. At least, I wonder.
I agree with Amy. We’re making our own judgments about this man and how he lived his life without a) having been in the situation, b) taking into consideration that if we have been in the situation, not everyone reacts the same way, and c) reminding ourselves that, frankly, it’s none of our business. Not to say this hasn’t made for an excellent and thought-provoking post, because it certainly has. It’s interesting to ponder, to come up with theories about why someone acted a certain way - especially when we’ll never likely know the truth.
But in the long run, asking why we weren’t told about something about the life of someone who isn’t even part of our lives (aside from his artistic work) is pointless. The answer is always the same - it’s not our business.
On a side note, Joe, I think your comment “But if you aren’t prepared to sacrifice yourself for your children (whatever their specific needs), than are you really qualified to be a parent in the first place?” is jumping the gun a bit. Being prepared or unprepared doesn’t qualify or disqualify anyone to do or be anything. Plenty of people become parents without a clue in the world as to how their lives are going to change, how much of themselves they’ll give away, and the sacrifices they’ll need to make. Right now, I know I am completely unprepared to make sacrifices - or sacrifice myself - for a child (should I find out I’m having one). Would I make those sacrifices once the child arrived? Would I change my life to adapt to the changes a child brought? Probably. But no one really ever knows what they’d do until they’re in the situation themselves. If there are such things as qualifiers as parenthood, I believe they would include how well you grow and adapt along with the child. Did Miller grow and adapt well? I don’t know.
Too, like Amy keeps saying, it was a different time. Regardless of the decisions some people made, it does seem the general consensus (at the time) was that it was in the best interest of the child to institutionalize him/her. If Miller made a decision based on the times, can we really hold it against him? Should we really throw stones just because he didn’t go against the grain (of the time) and keep his child at home?
And now that the times have changed, should we throw stones because of the many situations the child’s name hasn’t been mentioned? Maybe Miller wants to keep that part of himself, his life, private? It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s shunning the child, or refusing to accept the child is a part of his life. Maybe it’s so simple he just wants to keep some things to himself.
Now I’m rambling. Great post, Kristina.
Kristina Chew, PhD
Sep 1, 2007 at 4:09 pm
Thanks, Alicia!
Amy, besides the Vanity Fair article, this post is based on readings of Miller’s plays and consideration of themes in them, and on other research. It’s not just that Miller was a major writer that I’ve been interested in his decisions regarding Daniel Miller. Due to Miller being (as the NY Times article notes) the “man who refused to name names before the House Committee on Un-American Activities and eloquently and loudly opposed the Vietnam,” his name has been associated with a certain amount of integrity and moral courage. Miller was a public figure in a way that very few are.
M'sDad
Sep 1, 2007 at 11:07 pm
Though other have commented on Joe’s statement that “But if you aren’t prepared to sacrifice yourself for your children (whatever their specific needs), than are you really qualified to be a parent in the first place?”, I can’t resist putting my oar in as well. While I completely agree that parents should be prepared to make sacrifices (to think of others but themselves, put aside previous plans, etc) in raising their children — indeed, that individuals should be prepared to make such sacrifices for family and friends — I think there’s a big step from that to “sacrificing yourself”. I personally think that any parent who is self-consciously “sacrificing her/himself” for their child is likely to resent their child’s condition and see the child as a “burden” in some way — yes, a burden to be borne with joy yadda yadda, but a burden nonetheless. And I suspect that those most eager for a cure for autism have internalized this image of the situation adn are looking for a way out of their “sacrificing” condition.
I willingly made significant changes in my life in the process of adopting my child; even more significant ones, arguably, as xe lost the ability to communicate verbally and was diagnosed with autism at age two and a half. These are changes that some might characterize as sacrifices — changes in professional aspiration, for example, brought about by dedicating significant time to therapies, lack of focus owing to long stretches of three-hour-a-night sleep, etc. There are times of frustration when I certainly imagine a less complex set of parental commitments. Yet I have not sacrificed *myself*; I’ve changed the parameters of my life (and willingly made some “sacrifices”) to reflect the wonderful presence of my child and the challenges of parenting an autistic individual. Semantics, maybe, but I think the distinction is important.
I guess in order not to be totally OT I should bring Miller back into the mix here. I would like to think that in his position I would not have disclaimed my child to the degree that he *appears* to have (I agree with those who are pointing out that we’re going by relatively little information here). I will personally try to use Miller’s story to build my own awareness of less-desirable ways to raise children with disabilities. But I’m not sure I can invalidate the good that he did through his craft because of the ill that he appears to have done to his son.
Kristina Chew, PhD
Sep 2, 2007 at 2:28 am
I have become very wary of the notion of a parent “sacrificing” anything, or “everything,” for a child—it is semantics, yes, but a turn of phrase that puts an incredible amount of pressure on the child (”I gave up everything for you!”, it is implied a parent who “sacrifices” so much can say). It has been our experience that the changes we have made in our lives to help Charlie have strengthened us, have made more good more possible—have bee transforming, and never denigrating.
Peony
Sep 2, 2007 at 5:39 am
Kristina,
Nice post. I’m glad that you brought up this issue on your blog. There are many people commented on other blogs that this issue should not be brought up because it is a private issue and Miller is already dead. As a parent of a special need child, I do feel that the treatment of children with disabilities in the past need to be discussed so that it will not happen again in the future. Just because it happened in the past, the abandonment of the so called “less than perfect” children should not be discounted lightly.
I am saddened with the attitude of a lot of people on other blogs who think that abandoning children with developmental delay, an excusable action. Some cite the huge amount of time and money required taking care of these kids. Some cite the negative impact these kids will have on marriage or on other children. However, the same people will probably be outraged if parents abandon a typical child because he/she has a severe illness such as cancer. I have a friend whose child is seriously ill and need 24 hours care. I can’t imagine the backlash that the parents would get if one of them decided to leave. Why is the same outrage not reserved for the treatment of disabled children especially in the past?
You posted on your blog a while ago about a brother who made a documentary about finding his sister who was sent away because she was developmentally delayed. Thanks for posting that wonderful story. I think everyone should read it. Would you post that link again on this thread? I think it is a relevant story for this post.
alicia
Sep 2, 2007 at 9:02 am
It has been our experience that the changes we have made in our lives to help Charlie have strengthened us, have made more good more possible—have bee transforming, and never denigrating.
That’s a great way of putting it, Kristina.
Kristina Chew, PhD
Sep 2, 2007 at 12:15 pm
Peony, there is a link to the documentary by the brother about finding his sister in this post: Thanks for bringing that up, and the comparison to how people would respond if a parent gave up a typical child with a illness like cancer. For myself, to say that it was all right to (for instance) institutionalize a developmentally child in the 1960s “because that was what people then did” is an explanation, but one that raises many, many more questions.
What Is “Best” When There’s Autism in the Family?
Sep 2, 2007 at 2:45 pm
[…] recent posts here about playwright Arthur Miller and his son, Daniel Miller, who was placed in a “home for infants” in New York City […]
amy
Sep 3, 2007 at 5:06 pm
Kristina, I think there is nothing wrong with the word “sacrificing” when it’s apt. You apparently don’t feel as if you’ve sacrificed, and that’s fine. My daughter is not autistic, and is almost eerily easy and delightful, but I am keenly aware of the sacrifice. A couple of decades from now there will be a pile of stories and books not written. There will instead be a lot of paid work done that has no value to me and no beauty. I suspect I’ll be, in an important sense, stupider as a writer, because I won’t have done the work.
Many people find this view offensive; generally they’re not serious writers or artists, doing difficult and consuming work that happens not to pay any money. The people who do that work understand it well. The response of people who get offended tends to be “Well, writing’s not that important.” To them, that’s true. To them.
I made the choice quite consciously and don’t regret it a bit. But I feel the cost of it daily. Would I tell her about it? Of course not. Will she likely figure it out someday? I think so. Children see what pulls their parents to places where they can’t follow.
I’ve also taken a gamble. I’m betting that I’ll have 20 productive years or so after she’s grown. If I get die early or get very sick, I’ll be seriously pissed. But that’s the gamble.
Did I sacrifice for her mentally ill father? Absolutely, and I think that one was a mistake. Live and learn.
I watched the Thierry video, by the way. While I can understand, maybe, some of the outrage, I absolutely believe those women when they say they were drafted and that they sacrifice. They have. Enormously. They feel it, they want to talk about it, I say good. Maybe as long as we’re talking about accepting diversity, we can accept some diversity on how the cost is reckoned.
There’s a family down the street from me with an autistic son. 3 years old, no words. They moved in when the woman was pregnant. Both the parents are foreign nationals, each from very different countries. The father has his department, but must maintain a professional demeanor; the mother’s English is rough and she seems to be friends mostly with a small expat community. Both are young. Clearly it’s hit them in very different ways, but even so the pain is palpable from here. The man…you can see he was a high flyer, he came to America, was making a success in his scientific field and in enjoying America, was going to build the bright and doting family as well. The woman, sunny, carefree, having a lark… and now all that’s gone. They have no family around. The community is a transient academic community. Two doors down there’s a little girl only a few months older than their son, bright, sociable. There are her steps, her words, her small grave conversations, the scooter, the trike, the hopscotch, the friends.
I remember once I had them over, forgetting that my daughter plays with my molecular modeling sets. She invited the father to play with her, not knowing he’s a scientist. Then she brought him letters. His son meanwhile was howling at a dump truck he’d knocked over; he was spinning the wheels. There whole living room was full of knives for the man. Does she know what ___ means? he asked. Does she do this? Does she do that?
They’ll stay because the job is good and the services are better here than they’d be in either of their home countries. They seem to be coming to terms with the fact of the autism, whatever that might mean. Their pain and fear seem less bright. I couldn’t say “sacrifice” for them, but if they did, I’d feel — as far as I’d have any right to judge, meaning none — it was apt in a literal way.
d j ohlson
Sep 19, 2007 at 10:36 am
One of my book clubs recently read ‘The Memory Keeper’s Daughter’ and many of the members had a hard time believing that a father could ‘put away’ a child born with a birth defect. Those of us ‘of a certain age’ reminded them that mental illness and any form of mental retardation were not looked upon with the same open-mindedness then as it is today. Children born with maladies of those kind were not ’supposed’ to live very long anyway. I plan to share the article about Miller with the group as a little ‘historical refresher’.
Finding Jean and Molly
Oct 22, 2007 at 4:23 am
[…] It always startles me to think that it was not too long ago that children like him—such as Daniel Miller—were taken from their homes, to live their life separate and, too often, forgotten. Life is […]
S. Kirby
Oct 24, 2007 at 3:12 am
I think what most people don’t understand is that Autism(many years ago) was thought of as a psychological condition that was a result of poor parenting in the early stages of a child’s development. It was considered to be brought on by a parent’s inability to connect with a child. Although this is considered completely inacurrate by today’s medical standards, it was considered an acceptable diagnosis of the problem many years ago. As such, many parents felt their child’s disability was a direct result of their failure as parents. This problem was compounded by the fact that the advice of many doctors was for the parents to evaluate their behavior and modify it before they did any further damage to their child. It was this type of reasoning that left many well-meaning parents ashamed. It was not the shame of the child’s condition but the shame that they felt at being told they were responsible for their child’s withdrawal into a world where they were locked out. In addition, it was these very same doctors who advised that it would be best for the child to be removed from the care of the parents. Institutions were considered the only option in such situations. It is a sad and pathetic example of how the medical community handled such crisis situations in the days before social service programs and social service professionals. It must have been hard for the Millers and families like them to see the medical opinion of treatment for this disease change long after they had been faced with some very limited options. It is common knowledge now that poor parenting is not the cause of autism but many people judged their worth of as parents by this diagosis a long time ago. I believe that his feeling of failing his son was his real secret and his realiization that things could have been done differently( and would have been done differently in today’s day and age) was his true regret. Don’t judge him too harshly. It is truly agonizing for a parent to witness his child life with a disability and to accept that the child will not have the opportunities afforded all the other children. I believe it was a wound that ran so deep that he could not even reveal in one of his Pulitzer Prize Winning Plays or novels. A wound that kept hurting up to his final days.
KimJ
Oct 24, 2007 at 10:06 am
Arthur Miller’s son wasn’t autistic, he has Down’s Syndrome.
alicia
Oct 24, 2007 at 12:58 pm
I think what most people don’t understand is that Autism(many years ago) was thought of as a psychological condition that was a result of poor parenting in the early stages of a child’s development. It was considered to be brought on by a parent’s inability to connect with a child. Although this is considered completely inacurrate by today’s medical standards, it was considered an acceptable diagnosis of the problem many years ago. As such, many parents felt their child’s disability was a direct result of their failure as parents. This problem was compounded by the fact that the advice of many doctors was for the parents to evaluate their behavior and modify it before they did any further damage to their child. It was this type of reasoning that left many well-meaning parents ashamed. It was not the shame of the child’s condition but the shame that they felt at being told they were responsible for their child’s withdrawal into a world where they were locked out.
Oh, wow. I had no idea. That may change several points of view.
The New McCarthyism
Oct 28, 2007 at 1:14 am
[…] I have mentioned Miller here, it is to refer to his son, Daniel Miller, who has Down Syndrome and who Miller did not acknowledge for most of his life. I have referred to […]
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