| Chicago Tribune, Sunday, October 31, 1999 |
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Their budding relationship offers an unusually happy ending for a story that begins like many others from that era. It is different because an agency affiliated with the Catholic Archdiocese of Chicago, the Special Religious Education Division (SPRED), believes it is never too late to try to mend the fabric of a family. A SPRED worker took advantage of an opportunity for Billy through an agency effort to enrich the spiritual and physical lives of the disabled. Bill, as he now is known, was reunited with his family in the spring of 1993. Today, at 65, he is an active part of their lives. It was a leap of faith for Lutter and his siblings to reunite with their brother, but the rewards have been immeasurable. "He certainly put everything into perspective as far as life itself is concerned," Lutter said. "He added a whole new dimension to our family, bringing us closer together, and making us appreciate our lifestyles more and feeling guilty he wasn't as fortunate. He just radiates love, especially for family." Before meeting the adult Billy, Lutter had memories of him that consisted of a noise, a thumping sound as the boy's limp body collapsed on the wooden floor of the family's Waukegan home. "I can remember my parents struggling with him, trying to teach him to walk," said Lutter, formerly of Wheeling. "I recall him standing in the corner. They would stand him up and he would fall." Finally, Billy's parents, a steelworker and 22-year-old homemaker, gave up and drove Billy to Lincoln, about 30 miles northeast of Springfield, where in 1939 he joined about 3,500 others at Lincoln State School. Lincoln, having opened in 1877 as the Illinois Asylum for Feeble-Minded Children, was only beginning to routinely offer admission services such as physical exams, inoculations and psychological testing. Only 503 residents were enrolled in educational classes. For the first year or so, before administrators asked them to stay away, the Lutters visited Billy, bringing Fred and their camera for photos of the boys in a nearby park. One faded snapshot shows Billy sitting with his mother on a park bench. Today, Bill is still moved to tears by the picture. He had spent three years getting reacquainted with his mother before she died at a Libertyville nursing home in 1996. After the Lutters ended their visits, Billy's relationships were limited to caretakers and fellow residents. His sparse records labeled him as "moderately retarded." He is partially deaf and suffers cerebral palsy, which today requires him to use a walker to accommodate his awkward gait. He learned some sign language, but he was never taught to speak. |
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