PROGRESS REPORT 16 - July 14 - It was a bad day to go out to Warren—gray and drizzly—
and that may account for the depression that grips me when I think about it.
Or perhaps I'm kidding myself and it was the idea of possibly being sent there that bothered me.
I borrowed Burt's car. Alice wanted to come along, but I had to see it alone. I didn't tell Fay I was going.
It was an hour-and-a-half drive out to the farmland community of Warren, Long Island,
and I had no trouble finding the place: a sprawling gray estate revealed to the world only by an entrance of two concrete pillars
flanking a narrow side-road and a well-polished brass plate with the name Warren State Home and Training School.
The roadside sign said 15 MPH, so I drove slowly past the blocks of buildings looking for the administrative offices.
A tractor came across the meadow in my direction, and in addition to the man at the wheel there were two others hanging on the rear.
I stuck out my head and called: "Can you tell me where Mr. Winslow's office is?"
The driver stopped the tractor and pointed to the left and ahead. "Main Hospital. Turn left and bear to your right."
I couldn't help noticing the staring young man riding at the rear of the tractor, hanging on to a handrail.
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