Behavior: The New Runaways: Old Folks

Nursing home residents break out, if only for a day or two

Chicago police call them "wanderers," "walkers" or "repeaters." They are old people—some depressed, some senile, some merely looking for action —who stray from nursing and rest homes all over the city. In the past two years, 1,618 men and 802 women over age 65 have disappeared, if only for a few hours or a day or two. Says Arnold Levine, administrator of Chicago's Royal Gardens Nursing Center: "It's a very serious problem."

Most walkers are back within 24 hours after a minirebellion or a nostalgic trip to old neighborhoods. Says Royal Gardens Resident Arthur McShane, 75, who has been picked up six times in and around Chicago: "You get tired of it here. I go back to my old neighborhood because it's busy." A man who likes to ride trains often sneaks out; he was once picked up in Salt Lake City. An unmarried couple in their 70s escaped regularly for weekend flings, leaving separately and meeting at a Salvation Army center. Says the man: "It was something to look forward to."

Elsewhere the phenomenon is familiar, if not as widespread as in Chicago. In Somerville, Mass., Mother Genevieve of the Little Sisters of the Poor says old people sometimes get into a cab and give the driver the address of a home they lived in many years before. In 1979 Phyllis Murphy, 72, who lived in a nursing home in Hyannis, Mass., filed suit against Governor Edward King, demanding state support for old people who want to live outside such homes. "There's no privacy," she said. "Somebody's running in your room one minute to mop the floors, or to ask you questions." Last February she was finally able to move into her own apartment. In New York City, residents of homes in Queens wander off seeking stimulation—the roller coaster at Coney Island, the lights in Times Square—or simply conversation. Says Police Officer Thomas Chodakiewicz: "Many will come into the precinct just to talk. When they leave, they say, 'Thanks, we just wanted to be listened to.' "

For some, walking away is intended as a more permanent escape. George Donahue, 70, disappeared from his tidy retirement apartment at Chicago's Lawrence House a year ago, leaving behind his checkbook and credit cards but no note for his family. Police assume that he is alive and getting his Social Security checks at a new address. Under the Federal Privacy Act, Social Security officials are not allowed to divulge information on AWOL oldsters.

Nursing home patients have a right to sign themselves out on their own recognizance. Few do so. Some may be unsure of their rights. Others may be worried about alerting family members who want to keep them safely tucked away.

Some escapees cannot function in the outside world but are desperate to try. One wheelchair case, angered that his family would not remove him from his nursing home, broke out and was found dead in the Chicago River. But many are streetsmart, eluding police for long stretches, sometimes cadging up to six meals a day at various social agencies.