Carrie Miranda, left, executive director of Looking Upwards, says goodbye to Kathleen A. Ellis, executive director of Avatar, at the vigil.

EXETER –– Blind and unable to speak, Norma Jean Johnson was a child when she began living at the former Ladd Center, the original “Rhode Island School for the Feeble-Minded,” nearly four decades ago. That’s when the music stopped.

“When she was young, and she was at home, she knew all the show tunes. She would hum all the show tunes,” said her father, Normand Johnson of Pawtucket, who was taking part in a three-day vigil at the site of the former Ladd farmhouse. “She lost that when she came here.”

Advocates for the developmentally disabled Monday entered their second day of a 72-hour silent vigil to honor “the thousands of lives who passed through the doors of the Joseph H. Ladd Center.”

The vigil will move to the State House on Wednesday for a rally “in support of individuals with disabilities and the many programs that help them live productive and dignified lives.”

Participants took four-hour shifts in a shady grove where a memorial stone was placed 15 years ago. In 1982, federal authorities ordered the state to close the Ladd Center after an investigation revealed deplorable conditions. Ladd residents were released to group homes and other community settings, and sometimes, to their families. The state abandoned the center in 1994, and it opened a federally supported Job Corps Academy on the grounds in late 2004.

“We are here to commemorate 15 years of people living in the community,” said Kathleen A. Ellis, executive director of Avatar, a Warwick agency that assists people living in group homes. “We are asking legislators not to have any more cuts,” said Ellis. “We want to make sure that people keep that promise that [the developmentally disabled] live in their communities.”

Ellis cited recent published reports that the House Finance Committee has not ruled out sweeping cuts to human-service programs for the elderly and disabled in the face of the state’s growing budget deficits.

“We can’t take any more,” Ellis said. “Most of our revenue goes to our staffing. And if we don’t have enough staffing, then people won’t have their health and safety needs met.”

Ellis, who was a recreation coordinator at Ladd while attending the University of Rhode Island, took residents to Rocky Point, Roger Williams Park or the beach. For many Ladd residents, those trips marked “the only times they got out,” Ellis said.

On Sunday night, Ellis and three other agency directors camped out next to the memorial stone and read passages from The Ladd School, Back Wards, Blue Rooms, by Jason Carpenter and published in 2008. The book draws on state records and Providence Journal investigations of the deplorable conditions and patient deaths at the chronically underfunded and overcrowded center.

Among those stories was that of the death of a 9-year-old child who was found stuffed in a laundry sack that had been hung below a showerhead for more than two hours. A former dining room attendant served three years in prison for her role in the boy’s death.

Said Ellis, “It was a dumping ground,” born of the notion that “people who were feeble-minded should live away from society.”

She added, “People came here for any reason. They came because they were [deemed] promiscuous, or because they stole a car. You could be sent here very easily; all you needed were two doctors” to sign committal papers. “Don’t get me wrong, there were wonderful people here, but who were not trained,” said Ellis. “It was overcrowded … there were some atrocities that just happened.”

She added, “Families did what their doctors told them to do,” and sent their children or relatives to the Ladd Center where “they thought they would be safe.”

Matt Murphy, of L.I.F.E., Inc. (Living in Fulfilling Environments), said, “We’re here to recognize the milestone that occurred when Ladd closed, for folks who were developmentally disabled. You saw them integrate back into the local communities.”

Murphy said Rhode Island “has made tremendous strides, and we are looking to continue providing outstanding supports in our commitment” for people with developmental disabilities.

Normand Johnson, 84, said his daughter is now 55 and living in a group home in Woonsocket.

“My daughter can’t speak for herself. She was born blind and mentally retarded. Somebody has to stand by her and speak for her,” said Johnson, a retired accountant.

Every week, he brings Norma Jean to his home, in Pawtucket, where he plays the jazz music that she loves. “She knows my voice, and I keep time with the music. It makes her smile and laugh,” Johnson said.

“She seems happy and content,” he added. “As soon as she went into the group home, everything changed. It’s a wonderful atmosphere. I’d hate to see anything change.”

kziner@projo.com