I’ve always been drawn to big, sweeping statewide projects. There’s something irresistible about assembling a collection than informs the bigger picture! A few months ago, I decided my next long quest would be to visit each of Indiana’s old county infirmaries. I’d already been to six when I set out for the Adams County site just southeast of Decatur. For many years, it went by another name: Golden Meadows.
Adams County was organized in 1836. It wasn’t until nearly forty years later, though, that a home for the community’s infirm and indigent was built. In 1875, officials erected a frame structure for about $2,000. A larger brick version that featured sixty-eight rooms1 and cost $35,000 was put up in 1895. The infirmary was part of a greater campus that featured a superintendent’s residence, two barns, a heating plant, and a number of smaller structures2.
All of those buildings stood on a farm that spanned 270 acres. “Though it is a very unpleasant thought to one of average independence and even ordinary intelligence to consider a home in the ‘poor house,’” a contemporary historian wrote, “it is one of the greatest blessings of a civilized county3.”
Rather than just mark time as a place for Adams County’s out-of-luck, the infirmary became host of several intriguing stories over the years. Probably the biggest headline came when a plot to destroy the structure and kill all of its inmates was uncovered in 1902!
That tale goes like this: Secretary of Indiana’s Board of Charities, A.W. Butler, was in town to inspect the Adams County Home when he came upon the room of Charles Augerman. There, he noticed a pile of rubbish and trash and ordered it removed. Once it was gone, Butler was horrified to find sixty pounds of dynamite, a pair of two-pound bombs, and more than a hundred feet of fuse4! Unfortunately, Augerman5 -also known as Echerman6– had already made a break for it. He was eventually captured and sent to jail7.
Another more tragic chapter unfolded at the Adams County Home in 1913 with the death of a man known only as John. He had been discovered during the winter months, paralyzed and nearly frozen on the road to Decatur. The person who found him brought him to the county infirmary, where attendants slowly nursed him back to health.
Even after he recovered enough to live among the other residents, though, John kept his past a mystery. He never shared where he had come from or what had led him to that lonely stretch of road8.
Those who spent time with John knew only a few things about him. He acknowledged that he was more than seventy years old but closely guarded the rest of his story. That was still true in 1913, when his life came to a sudden end: John’s body was discovered face-down in a shallow creek just east of the county home property. With him went the answers to every question about who he had been and how he had come to that lonely road southwest of Decatur8.
The old Adams County Home was the largest building in the county9 when it was built, even bigger than the courthouse! Unfortunate, a fire believed to be caused by defective wiring burned it to the ground in 194110.
Fortunately, forty-four “inmates” and six members of the superintendent’s family escaped without much harm11. Fire brigades from Berne and Decatur tried to put the flames out, but the building was destroyed within an hour12.
A $100,000 replacement county home was built in 194313. It lasted for eighty years as Golden Meadows until 2023, when commissioners unanimously voted for its closure. Twenty people still lived at the facility, which remained as one of only eight infirmaries in Indiana under state operation14. Furnishings and property were removed from the facility in July, 202415.
By the end, Golden Meadows’ property had shrunk from 270 acres to 1216. In October, 2025, Adams County Commissioners began to think about demolishing the vacant structure17. Fortunately, the abandoned infirmary was still standing when I drove past on a dreary, gray day.
In many ways, the old Adams County infirmary reflects the larger story of county homes across Indiana. Built out of necessity, it sheltered people who had nowhere else to go whose lives rarely made it into official histories. Within its walls were stories both dramatic and quiet: a stash of dynamite that nearly brought disaster, and a mysterious man named John whose past and identity vanished with him at a nearby creek.
A proud building burned in an hour, but its successor served for decades as Golden Meadows before closing in 2023. Today the empty structure represents something far larger than its appearance suggests: it reminds us that behind quiet former county homes were hundreds of lives, many nearly forgotten, that once played out within their walls.
Sources Cited
1 Adams Infirmary Burns’ 3 Injured (1941, August 2). The Indianapolis Star. p. 5.
2 Snow, J.F. (1907). Snow’s History of Adams County, Indiana. B.F. Bowen [Indianapolis]. Book.
3 (See footnote 1).
4 Plot To Destroy A New Infirmary (1902, August 13). The Lafayette Journal and Courier. p. 6.
5 (See footnote 4).
6 In Northern Indiana (1902, August 27). The Fort Wayne Weekly Sentinel. p. 2.
7 (See footnote 6).
8 Death Seals Forever Life Story of “John” (1913, May 22). The Muncie Star. p. 1.
9 (See footnote 2).
10 Inmates Escape Inferno Of Fire (1941, August 2). The Alexandria Times-Tribune. p. 1.
11 Fire Destroys Adams County Infirmary (1941, August 15). The Angola Herald. p. 9.
12 (See footnote 10).
13 Officials Invited To Attend Meeting In Adams County (1943, June 4). The White County Democrat. p. 1.
14 Adams County Commissioners Vote To Close Golden Meadows Home (2023, August 9). The Mercer County Outlook [Celina]. Web. Retrieved March 4, 2026.
15 Mann, E. (2024, July 2). Process for removing Golden Meadows property established. The Decatur Daily Democrat. Web. Retrieved March 4, 2026.
16 Mann, E. (2024, June 11). Golden Meadows Home will be empty this month. The Decatur Daily Democrat. Web. Retrieved March 4, 2026.
17 Nathan, D. (2025, October 22). Golden Meadows home to be demolished? WZBD [Berne]. Web. Retrieved March 4, 2026.
These examples of how we used to care for our poorest are really interesting!
I agree! I’ve made it to eight so far out of thirty-six. Friday I’ll hit the one near Liberty. Week after, I hope to knock some more out in the northeast part of the state.
It seems like in today’s world these homes could still be very useful! Sad that they sit empty or get tore down.
I agree. I assume there must be some reason I’m missing why redevelopment isn’t feasible. Perhaps it just comes down to shortsightedness.
Not to sound like a radical, but I think it comes from a NIMBY-adjacent and philosophically thoroughgoing refusal to let up off of the capitalistic “personal responsibility” refrain that suffering people should be working harder, that’s all, and that their problems are their own fault.
We’ve also now created a system whereby individual and corporate landlords alike receive state funds for housing subsidies, and removing that would re-jigger the economic landscape in a potentially unpalatable way.
Last, there’s something to be said for people maintaining some autonomy and independence, residing in apartments or houses, as they receive benefits.
But I still think there is a place for communal benevolent care.
I was thinking more along the lines of why it hadn’t been repurposed into apartments/mixed space/something rather than being retained as a county home. Not sure NIMBY plays a role here since there are no backyards around anywhere remotely close.
I was just looking over the remaining county homes, including ones that closed over the past 9-10 years. Most often it came down to funding, but an argument could be made about why that funding wasn’t available.
Personally, I’d love to be able to reuse this building, and that is my line of work. Unfortunately, it looks a bit far from municipal utilities (I see no fire hydrants on Google Maps). It’s fascinating that it was operating as recently as 2024, but to update it for housing would likely approach the same cost as building something from scratch while still being constrained by the limitations of the existing structure. I also wonder about the presence of burial grounds on this and similar sites, which would greatly complicate reuse.
Thanks for chiming in, Greg! I didn’t notice any municipal utilities in person either. Something is going on directly southwest with scads of what appears to be pipes sticking out of the ground. Not sure what that might be, but definitely no fire hydrants.
Your economic points make sense.
Per an INGenWeb site I found, “The cemetery never had tombstones and is now farmed over, and is no longer a part of the County Farm. The last date of burial on the farm was April 3, 1918.”
http://ingenweb.org/inadams/Cemeteries/WashingtonTwnshp/AdamsCo.html
Just interesting, is all!
Here in Oregon, a structure like that would be bought by the McMenamin Brothers and transformed into a hotel/restaurant. They did that with the old Multnomah County Poor Farm, now McMenamin’s Edgefield, a great place to get a meal and also see a concert in the summer.
That place looks awesome; I just googled it. I’d love to see something like that in one of these old infirmaries here!
Indiana has 92 counties. Each one once had one or more poor farms. 36 of the infirmaries are still standing. I didn’t bother looking up what they’re all used for now when I mapped them out, but now you’ve inspired me to.