June 18 - Madness: The Shocking Tale of a Louisiana Governor’s Institutionalization and Escape
Beyond the Performance to the Person
This is the day Louisiana Governor Earl K. Long was committed to a state mental hospital in 1959.
In today's lesson, we will explore how the most broken among us often hide behind the strongest facades, and discover what it truly means to carry each other's burdens in a world that prizes image over authenticity. What happens when we learn to see past the performance and into the person? How might the Church become a place where vulnerability is welcomed rather than feared, and where true healing can begin?
"Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." - Galatians 6:2 (NIV)
This Date in History
The telephone call came at dawn on June 18, 1959. Dr. Charles Belcher, director of Southeast Louisiana Hospital, had been summoned to the governor's mansion for what would become one of the most extraordinary psychiatric evaluations in American political history. Inside the stately residence, Louisiana Governor Earl K. Long paced frantically, his eyes darting toward windows as he muttered about FBI surveillance and assassination plots.
Long's descent into paranoia had accelerated over the preceding weeks. The 64-year-old governor, brother of the legendary Huey Long, had always been known for his colorful personality and heavy drinking. But his recent behavior transcended mere eccentricity. He hurled objects at staff members, screamed incoherently during meetings, and insisted that enemies were poisoning his food. His wife Blanche had recently filed for divorce, adding personal humiliation to mounting political pressures from opponents seeking to exploit his increasingly erratic conduct.
Family members and close advisors watched helplessly as Long's grip on reality loosened. During cabinet meetings, he would launch into rambling monologues about conspiracies, his voice rising to a shout before trailing off into whispered accusations. State business ground to a halt as officials struggled to manage a governor who seemed to inhabit a world of imagined threats and phantom enemies.
When Dr. Belcher arrived that morning with his evaluation team, Long initially refused to cooperate. After hours of assessment, the physicians reached their conclusion: the sitting governor of Louisiana was suffering from acute paranoid psychosis and posed a danger to himself and others. Despite his high office, Long was legally committed to the state mental hospital under Louisiana's involuntary commitment statutes.
The commitment should have ended the crisis, but Long had one final card to play. From his hospital bed, the governor exercised his executive authority to fire Dr. Belcher and replace him with Dr. Titus Harris, a political ally with no psychiatric training. Dr. Harris promptly declared Long mentally sound and ordered his immediate release after just nine days of confinement.
The audacious manipulation sent shockwaves through Louisiana and captured national attention. A sitting governor had essentially engineered his own release from a mental institution by firing the doctor who committed him. The incident exposed the dangerous intersection of political power and mental health treatment, raising fundamental questions about accountability and the rule of law when those in authority refuse to acknowledge their own limitations.
Despite the controversy, Long remained in office as governor until his term ended later that year. He continued to be a colorful and polarizing figure in Louisiana politics until his death in 1960. The Earl K. Long incident remains a bizarre and troubling chapter in Louisiana's political history, highlighting the challenges of addressing mental health issues in positions of power and the potential for corruption and manipulation within the system.
Historical Context
The mental health treatment system of 1959 operated under vastly different standards than today, with involuntary commitment procedures that offered patients limited legal protections. State mental hospitals across America housed over 550,000 patients, many confined indefinitely under broad interpretations of mental illness that sometimes blurred the line between medical necessity and social control. Louisiana's commitment laws, like those in most states, required only a physician's recommendation and family consent to institutionalize someone, regardless of their social status or political position.
The Long family had dominated Louisiana politics for decades, wielding unprecedented influence over state institutions and personnel decisions. Earl Long's brother Huey had revolutionized the state's political machine before his assassination in 1935, creating a system where governors exercised sweeping control over virtually every aspect of state government, including medical facilities and their staff. This concentration of executive power, combined with Louisiana's tradition of colorful, often eccentric political leaders, created an environment where the boundaries between personal authority and institutional oversight remained dangerously blurred. The incident also occurred during an era when mental health stigma was profound, and public officials rarely acknowledged psychological struggles, making Long's public breakdown and hospitalization particularly shocking to a society unaccustomed to such revelations about their leaders.
Did You Know?
Earl Long's political manipulation from his hospital bed wasn't his only act of defiance during the crisis. He also used his gubernatorial authority to fire the hospital's superintendent and attempted to dismiss several state police officers who had assisted in his commitment, demonstrating how extensively he leveraged his executive powers even while institutionalized.
Long's commitment made him the first sitting U.S. governor to be involuntarily hospitalized for mental illness, creating a constitutional crisis with no clear precedent for how executive authority should be handled when a governor is declared mentally incompetent.
Following his release, Long immediately traveled to Texas to avoid further commitment attempts by his family, staying there until he could return to Louisiana and reassert control over his administration. He spent his final months in office pursuing a controversial congressional campaign while his mental health remained a subject of intense public speculation.
Earl Long's hospitalization and dramatic self-release drew national media attention, including a Life Magazine feature, which portrayed the incident as both scandalous and tragically comic, further fueling debates about the role of mental health in public leadership.
In 1963, just four years after Long's commitment, President John F. Kennedy signed the Community Mental Health Act, signaling a shift away from institutionalization toward federally funded outpatient services—a movement partly driven by public awareness raised during cases like Long's.
Today’s Reflection
The 1959 commitment of Louisiana Governor Earl K. Long to a mental institution is more than a political curiosity. It's a sobering testimony to how emotional and spiritual unraveling can go unnoticed by those closest to us. To the public, Long appeared confident, eccentric, even invincible. But beneath the bravado was a man unraveling slowly, and then all at once.
This is a truth many of us overlook: those who are hurting most often hide it best. Success can mask suffering. Loudness can cover loneliness. People who seem the strongest may, in reality, be clinging to the edge.
"Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." Galatians 6:2 (NIV)
Paul's words here are not a gentle suggestion. They are a call to action. And that action is rooted in more than just kindness it's grounded in our shared identity as members of Christ's body. When one part suffers, we all suffer. (1 Corinthians 12:26). Carrying someone's burden requires nearness. It means being close enough to notice what others miss and caring enough to respond.
That's a challenge for modern Christians. We're often distracted, overly impressed by appearances, or unsure how to approach someone in emotional pain. But Scripture doesn't ask us to fix others. It asks us to bear with them. To stand beside. To walk slowly with those who are weary.
This starts with attentiveness. The friend who always volunteers but never shares. The coworker whose jokes mask irritability. The family member who has stopped reaching out. These moments are invitations. Not to pry but to gently ask, to genuinely listen.
"Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." Romans 12:15 (NIV)
Creating a culture of compassion means rejecting stigma. It means allowing room for people to speak of sadness, anxiety, fear without fear of spiritual dismissal or shame. Jesus never turned away the broken. He touched lepers. He wept with mourners. He dignified the afflicted.
That includes you.
This reflection isn't just about noticing the pain of others. It's also about honesty in your own walk. Too often, we feel the need to maintain control. To hide our internal battles behind smiles, church attendance, or professional success.
But Christ doesn't love the image you project. He loves the person you are wounded, weary, and wonderfully His.
He doesn't just meet us in the persona we perform. He meets us in our actual place of need. He loves us as we are, but He also draws us toward healing and transformation.
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28 (NIV)
When we confess our needs first to God, then to trusted brothers and sisters we create space for healing. We model authenticity. We become safe places for others. Vulnerability is not weakness. In the kingdom of God, it is often the first step toward strength. Of course, bearing another's burden requires wisdom, discernment, and often the guidance of the Holy Spirit. But the call to care remains.
Governor Long's story is strange, tragic, and extreme. But its lessons are relevant. It reminds us how isolation magnifies pain. It reveals how unchecked power can silence the vulnerable. It shows what happens when appearances matter more than people.
Let that not be said of the Church.
Let us be known as a people who see, who look past the performance and into the person. Who value presence over polish. Who are slow to judge and quick to draw near.
We are not called to diagnose every struggle, but we are commanded to care. That care often begins with a quiet conversation, a shared meal, a prayer whispered in solidarity. These simple acts become lifelines for the silently suffering.
In a world obsessed with strength and self-sufficiency, the Church must embody something different: gentleness, hospitality, and the courage to enter into one another's pain. That is the law of Christ lived out in real time. That is the gospel made visible.
So look around. Who is God inviting you to notice today?
And if it's you if you're the one barely holding it together don't wait for someone else to reach in. Let your burden be seen. Let yourself be loved. You are not alone, and you are not forgotten. The Body of Christ is meant for this very moment.
Let's carry each other. Let's be the Church.
Practical Application
Begin practicing the ministry of presence by identifying one person in your circle who consistently serves others but rarely shares their own struggles. This week, create an intentional space for genuine conversation by inviting them for coffee or a walk, and instead of discussing your own challenges, focus entirely on listening to theirs. Ask open-ended questions like "How are you really doing?" and resist the urge to offer solutions or spiritual platitudes. Sometimes the most profound act of burden-bearing is simply being present with someone in their pain, allowing them to feel seen and heard without judgment or the pressure to "get better" quickly.
Closing Prayer
Heavenly Father, we thank You for the reminder that we are not meant to walk through life alone, carrying our burdens in isolation. You have designed us for community, for connection, and for the beautiful exchange of grace that happens when we allow others to see our true selves. Forgive us for the times we have been too distracted or too impressed by appearances to notice the pain hiding behind smiles and success. Open our eyes to see those around us who are quietly struggling, and give us the courage to draw near with gentleness and love.
Lord, help us to be a people who reject the stigma that surrounds mental and emotional struggles, choosing instead to create safe spaces where vulnerability is welcomed and healing can begin. Teach us to carry one another's burdens with wisdom and discernment, knowing when to listen, when to speak, and when to simply be present. May Your Church be known not for its perfection, but for its compassion not for having all the answers, but for walking alongside those who are hurting. In Jesus' name, Amen.
Final Thoughts
True strength in the kingdom of God isn't found in maintaining a flawless exterior or projecting invincibility. It's discovered in the sacred exchange that happens when we allow ourselves to be known in our weakness and choose to see others in theirs. The call to carry each other's burdens isn't just about helping those who are struggling it's about creating a community where authenticity is valued over image, where presence matters more than performance, and where the love of Christ is made tangible through our willingness to enter into one another's pain.
Author’s Notes
Although today’s historical event is the same event I used last year, today’s version has been completely rewritten and expanded. I hope you enjoyed it.
If you’ve made it this far down the page can you do me a favor? Let me know what you thought about today’s newsletter. Leave a comment or like (❤️) this post. I would really appreciate it.
Another fascinating and mind-blowing story that I had never heard of! I cannot imagine something like that happening in this day and age.
Thanks also for the reminder and encouragement to carry one another’s burdens. We must not shirk that admonition and responsibility as followers of Christ. 🙏🏾❤️
Great story. Well written. Hope to see it again next year.