Journal of Autism and Childhood Schizophrenia, 1971, 1, 2 , 1 1 9 - 1 4 5

Follow-up Study of Eleven Autistic Children

Originally Reported in 1943

LEO KANNER 1
John Hopkins University Sr of Medieine

The destinies of the eleven children first reported in 1943 as suffering from
autistic disturbances of affective contact are brought up to date. Their life
histories are summarized succinctly in terms of developmental data, family
constellations, clinical observations in the course of the years, the varieties of
professional planning, and present status. Attention is called to the subsequent
scientific studies of early infantile autism with ever-increasing facilities for
research in nosology, biochemical and general systemic implication, and thera-
peutic amelioration. The need for continued follow-up studies of autistic children
is emphasized.

The June 1943 issue of the now extinct journal The Nervous Child carried a
paper entitled "Autistic disturbances of affective contact"; the first 24 pages
told about 11 children who had in common a pattern of behavior hOt previously
considered in its startling uniqueness; this was followed by 9 pages of discussion
and comment. An introductory paragraph concluded with the sentence: "Since
none of the children of thJs group bas as yet attained an age beyond 11 years,
this must be considered a preliminary report, to be enlarged upon as the patients
grow older and further observation of their development is ruade."
Twenty-eight years have elapsed since then. The periodical in which the
article was printed has been out of circulation for a long time. 2
The patients were between 2 and 8 years old when first seen at the Children's
Psychiatric Clinic of the Johns Hopkins Hospital. What has become of them?
What is their present status?

l Requests for reprints should be sent to Scripta Publishing Corp., 1511 K Street, N.W.,
Washington, D.C. 20005.
2The article was subsequently reprinted in Acta Paedopsychiatrica, 1968, 35, 100-136
and again in J. G. Howell (Ed.), Modern Perspectives in International Child Psychiatry,
Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd, 1969, 617-648.

119

Copyright Q 1971 by Scripta Publishing Corporation.

120 LEO K A N N E R

Under the auspices of Dr. Alejandro Rodriguez, the present director of the
Clinic, Miss Barbara Ashenden, head social worker since 1931, undertook the
task of learning about their whereabouts, functioning levels, and interim
destinies. The results will be presented in the sequence of the original
presentation, preceded in each instance by a synopsis of the status found at first
acquaintance.

Case I

Donald T.'s arrival on October 14, 1938, was heralded by a 30-page history in
which the father gave an excellent account of the child's background. Donald
was born normally at terre on September 8, 1933. Breastfeeding until the eighth
month was followed by frequent changes of formulas. He walked alone at 13
months. Dentition proceeded satisfactorily.
"At one year, he could hum and sing many tunes accurately . . . . He was
encouraged by his family in reciting short poems and even learned the 23rd
Psalm and 25 questions and answers of the Presbyterian Catechism . . . . He very
soon knew an inordinate number of pictures in a set of Compton's Eneyelo-
pedia . . . . He quickly learned the whole alphabet backwards and as well as
forwards and to count to 100. But he was not learning to ask questions or
answer questions unless they pertained to rhymes or things of that nature . . . .
He seems to be self-satisfied. He has no apparent affection when petted. He does
not notice when anyone cornes or goes. He seems to draw into lais shell and live
within himself. He seldom cornes when called but has to be picked up and
carried or led wherever he has to go. When interfered with, he has temper
tantrums during which he is destructive . . . . At 2 years, he developed a mania
for spinning blocks and pans and other round objects, but at the same rime he
had a ` for self-propelling vehicles. He is still fearful of tricycles and seems
to have almost a horror of them when he is forced to ride."
In August 1937, he was placed in a preventorium (State Institution for the
Prevention and Care of Tuberculosis) "in order to provide for him a change of
environment." While there, "he displayed an abstraction which made him
oblivious to everything about him. He seems to be always thinking and to get his
attention almost requires one to break down a mental barrier between his inner
conscience and the outside world." The family physician suggested an
appointment at our Clinic. The director of the preventorium was against it,
stating that Donald "is getting along nicely" and "it looks that now he is going
to be perfectly all right"; his advice was "to let him alone." When the parents
insisted and asked him to send us a report, he did so on less than half a page,
 FOLLOW-UP STUDY OF ELEVEN AUTISTIC CHILDREN 121

referring to Donald as "a concentrated child mentally" and surmised that "he
might have some glandular disease."
The father, whom Donald resembled physically, was "a successful, meticu-
lous, hardworking lawyer, who takes everything very seriously . . . . When he
walks down the street, he is so absorbed in thinking that he sees nothing and
nobody and cannot remember anything about the walk." The mother, a college
graduate, was a calm, capable person to whom her husband felt superior. A
second child, a boy, was born on May 22, 1938.
At the Clinic, Donald was found to be in good physical condition. He was
placed for 2 weeks at the Child Study Home of Maryland for an intensive
observation by Drs. Eugenia S. Cameron and George Frankl. After this, Donald
came back three times for a checkup. Space does not allow our even coming
close to the minutely recorded data in the Clinic files and in the frequent letters
sent by and to the mother who, while her husband had functioned as a reliable
historian, became the active participant in the child's management. Suffice it to
say that the father's description could be confirmed. Donald wandered about
smiling, making stereotyped movements with lais fingers, shaking his head from
side to side, humming the saine three-note tune. He spun with great pleasure
anyth” he could seize upon to spin. Most of his actions were repetitious,
carried out the same way each time. He kept parroting what he had heard said to
him, using the personal pronouns for the persons quoted, even to the point of
imitating their intonation.
In 1942, his parents placed him on a tenant farm about 10 mlles from their
home. When I visited there in May 1945, I was amazœ at the wisdom of the
couple who took care of him. They managed to give him goals for his
stereotypies. They made him use lais preoccupation with measurements by
having Nm dig a well and report on its depth. When he kept collecting dead birds
and bugs, they gave him a spot for a "graveyard" and had him put up markers; on
each he wrote a first naine, the type of animal as a middle name, and the farmer's
last name, e.g.: "John Snail Lewis. Born, date unknown. Died, (date on which he
found the animal)" When he kept counting rows of corn over and over, they had
him count the rows while plowing them. On my visit, he plowed six long rows; it
was remarkable how well he handled the horse and plow and turned the horse
around. It was obvious that Mr. and Mrs. Lewis were very fond o f h i m and just
as obvious that they were gently firm. He attended a country school where his
peculiarities were accepted and where he ruade good scholastic progress.
The test of the story is contained in a letter from the mother, dated April 6,
1970:
"Don is now 36 years old, a bachelor living at home with us. He had an acute
attack of rheumatoid arthritis in 1955. Fortunately, this lasted only a few
122 LEO KANNER

weeks. Physically, since that rime, he has been in perfect health . . . . Since
receiving his A.B. degree in 1958, he has worked in the local bank as a teller. He
is satisfied to remain a teller, having no real desire for promotion. He meets the
public there real well. His chief hobby is golf, playing four or rive rimes a week
at the local country club. While he is no pro, he has six trophies won in local
competition . . . . Other interests are Kiwanis Club (served as president one term),
Jaycees, Investment Club, Secretary of Presbyterian Sunday School. He is
dependable, accurate, shows ofiginality in editing the Jaycee program informa-
tion, is even-tempered but has a mind of Iris own . . . . He owns lais second car,
likes his independencœ His room includes lais own TV, record player, and many
books. In College his major was French and he showed a particular aptitude for
languages. Don is a fair bridge player but never initiates a game. Lack of
initiative seems to be lais most serious drawback. He takes very little part in
social conversation and shows no interest in the opposite sex.
"While Don is not completely normal, he has taken his place in society very
well, so much better than we ever hoped for. If he can maintain status quo, I
think he has adjusted sufficiently to take care of himself. For this much
progress, we are truly grateful . . . . Please give Dr. Kanner our kindest regards.
Tell him the couple Don lived with for 4 years, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis, are still our
friends. We see them quite often. Don has never had any medication for his
emotional trouble. I wish I knew what his inner feelings really are. As long as he
continues as he is now, we can continue to be thankful."

Case 2

Frederick Creighton ("Wikky") W. was seen on May 29, 1942, one week
before lais sixth birthday. This is an abstract of lais mother's complaint
statement:
"He has always been self-sufficient,' I have never known him to cry
demanding attention. He was never very good with cooperative play. Until last
year, he acted as if people weren't there. About a year ago, he began showing
more interest in observing them, but usually people are an interference. To a
certain extent he likes to stick to the saine thing. On one of the bookshelves we
had three pieces of a certain arrangement. Whenever this was changed, he always
rearranged it in the same pattern . . . . He had said at least two words before he
was 2 years old. Between 2 and 3 years, he would say words that seemed to
come as a surprise to himself. One of the first words he said was ' o v e r a U s ' . . . . At
about 289 years, he began to sing. He sang about 20 or 30 songs, including a little
French lullaby. In lais fourth year, I tried to make him ask for things before he'd
 FOLLOW-UP STUDY OF ELEVEN AUTISTIC CHILDREN 123

get them. He was stronger willed than I was and held out longer; he would not
get it but he would never give in . . . . Now he can count up in to the hundreds
and can read numbers, but he is not interested in numbers as they apply to
objects. He has great dift8 in learning the proper use of personal pronouns.
When receiving a gift, he would say to himself: "You say, 'Thank you.' "
He was delivered by elective Caesarean section 2 weeks before terre because
the mother had "some kidney trouble." He was well at birth. Feeding presented
no problem. His mother never saw him assume an anticipatory posture when she
came to pick him up. He sat up at 7 months and walked alone at 18 months.
Wikky was an only child. His father, a plant pathologist, was "a patient,
even-tempered man" who as a child did hOt talk "until late" and was "delicate."
The mother, "healthy and even-tempered," had been a secretary, a purchasing
agent, and a t o n e time a teacher of history. She was 34 and her husband was 38
years old when their son was born.
The paternal grandfather, whose autobiography (published in 1943) was
dedicated "to my family of 11 children and grandchildren," had disappeared in
1911, lais whereabouts remaining obscure for 25 years, during which he had
married a British novelist (without obtaining a divorce from his wife). He had
two listings in Who's Who-one under his real naine and one under an assumed
name. He has had several careers on four continents, which include manganese
mining, directorship of an art museum, deanship of a medical school, and
organization of medical missions. His (legal) wife was a "dyed-in-the-wool
missionary." He had rive children, of whom Wikky's father was the second. One
son was a newspaper man, one a science fiction writer, one worked for a TV
network; a daughter was a singer. Of the maternal relatives the mother said:
"Mine are very ordinary people."
Wikky was well-nourished; occiput and frontal region were prominent. He
had a supernumerary nipple in the left axilla. X-ray of the skull was normal.
Tonsils were large and ragged.
In the office, he wandered aimlessly about for a few moments, then sat down,
uttering unintelligible sounds, and abruptly lay down, smiling. Questions and
requests, if reacted to at ail, were repeated in echolalia fashion. Objects absorbed
him, and he showed good attention in handling them. He seemed to regard
people as unwelcome intruders. When a hand was held out before him so that he
could not possibly ignore it, he played with it as if it were a detached object. He
promptly noticed the wooden form boards and worked at them spontaneously,
interestedly, and skillfully.
In September 1942, he was enrolled at the Devereux Schools, where he
remained until August 1965. A close contact was maintained between the
124 LEO KANNER

Schools and out Clinic. In 1962, a report from Devereux stated: "He is, at 26
years, a passive, likeable boy whose chief interest is music. He is able to follow
the routine and, though he lires chiefly within his own world, he enjoys those
group activities which are of particular interest to him." He was a member of the
chorus in the Parents' Day program and was in charge of the loud speaker at the
annual carnival. He went on weekend trips to town unaccompanied and made
necessary purchases independently.
Wikky, now addressed as Creighton, has been with his parents for the past 5
years. He is now 34 years old. After leaving Devereux, the family spent a year in
Puerto Rico where "he picked up a lot of Spanish and worked out a schedule of
studying language lessons on records at 4 o'clock every afternoon." The family
then moved to Raleigh. The parents report: "We settled into a new home and he
did his part in it. He has become acquainted with the neighbors and sometimes
makes calls on them. We tried him out in the County Sheltered Workshop and
Vocational Training Center. He took right t o i t , made friends with the teachers,
and helped with some of the trainees. Through his relationship there, he took up
bowling and he does pretty well . . . . Creighton was suggested by the Workshop
for a routine job in connection with running duplicating machines. Since
November 25, 1969, he has been working in the office of the National Air
Pollution Administration (HEW) every day, and all day." A letter from the
Acting Director, dated April 29, 1970, says, "Creighton is an outstanding
employee by any standard. Outstanding to me means dependability, reliability,
thoroughness, and thoughtfulness toward fellow workers. In each case Creighton
is notable."

Case 3

Richard M. was 39 months old when admitted to the Johns Hopkins Hospital
on February 5, 1941, with the complaint of deafness "because he did hOt talk
and did hot respond to questions." The pediatrician who examined him
reported: "The child seems quite intelligent, playing with the toys in his bed and
being adequately curious about instruments used in the examination. He seems
quite self-sufficient in his play. He will obey commands, such as 'Sit up' or 'Lie
down', even when he does hot see the speaker. He does hOt pay attention to
conversation going on around him, and although he does make noises, he says no
recognizable words."
Richard's father was a professor of forestry, very much immersed in his work,
almost to the exclusion of social contacts. The mother was a college graduate.
The family, in both branches, consisted of professional people. Richard's
younger brother was described as normal and well-developed.
 FOLLOW-UP STUDY OF ELEVEN AUTISTIC CHILDREN 125

Richard was born normally. He sat up at 8 months and walked at 1 year. His
mother began to "train" him at the age of 3 weeks, giving him a suppository
every morning "so his bowels would more by the clock." Nutrition and physical
growth proceeded satisfactorily.
In September 1940, the mother wrote: "I can't be sure just when he stopped
the imitation of word sounds. It seems that he has gone backward mentally. We
have thought it was because he did not disclose what was in his head, that it was
there all right. Now that he is making so many sounds, it is disconcerting because
it is evident that he can't talk. Before, I thought he could ifhe only would. He
gave the impression of silent wisdom to me . . . . One puzzling and discouraging
thing is the great difficulty one has in getting his attention."
Richard was found to be healthy except for large tonsils and adenoids, which
were removed on February 8, 1941. His EEG was normal.
He had himself led willingly to the office and engaged at once in active play
with the toys, paying no attention to the persons in the room. Occasionally, he
looked up at the walls, smiled and uttered short staccato sounds. He complied
with a spoken and gestural command to take off his slippers. When the
command was changed to another, this time without gestures, he again took off
his slippers (which had been put on again).
Richard was again seen at 489 years. He had grown considerably and gained
weight. He immediately turned the lights on and off. He showed no interest in
the examiner or any other person but was attracted to a small box that he threw
as if it were a ball.
At near 5 years, his first move on entering the office was to turn the lights on
and off. He climbed on a chair, and from the chair to the desk in order to reach
the switch of the wall lamp. He had no contact with people, whom he definitely
regarded as an interference when they talked to him or otherwise tried to gain
his attention.
The mother felt that she was no longer capable of handling him, and he was
placed in a foster home with a woman who had shown a remarkable talent for
dealing with difficult children. After two changes of foster homes, he was placed
a t a State School for Exceptional Children in his home State in May 1946. A
report, dated June 23, 1954, said: "The institution accepted him as essentially a
custodial problem; therefore, he was placed with a group of similar charges."
Richard is now 33 years old. In 1965, he was transferred to another
institution in the saine State. The Superintendent wrote on September 29, 1970:
"At the time of admission, tranquilizers were pushed to the point of toxicity.
After about 3 months, he showed some awareness of his environment and began
feeding himself and going to the toilet. He is now being maintained on
126 LEO K A N N E R

Compazine, 45 milligrams t.i.d . . . . He now resides in a cottage for older

residents who can meet their own personal needs. He responds to his name and
to simple commands and there is some non-verbal communication with the
cottage staff. He continues to be withdrawn and cannot be involved in any
structured activities."

Case 4

Paul G. was 5 years old when he was brought to the Clinic on March 21,
1941, "for determination of his degree of feeblemindedness." He had a history
of normal birth. Early development milestones had progressed satisfactorily. His
enunciation was clear, and he had a good vocabulary.
The father, a mining engineer, had left the family in 1939 "after an unhappy
marriage." The mother, a "restless, unstable, irritable woman," who moved from
London to the United States, gave a conflicting story of her efforts to make Paul
clever by teaching him to memorize poems and songs. At 3 years, "he knew the
words of hot less than 37 songs and many nursery rhymes."
Paul was a slender, attractive child. He had good manual dexterity. He rarely
responded to any form of address, even to the calling of his naine. Sometimes an
energetic "Don't!" caused him to interrupt his activity but usually, when spoken
to, he went on with whatever he was doing. He was always vivaciously occupied
with something and seemed to be highly satisfied, unless someone made a
persistent attempt to interfere. Then he first tried to get out of the way and,
when this met with no success, screamed and kicked in a full-fledged
tantrum . . . . There was a marked contrast between his relations to people and to
objects. Upon entering the room, he instantly went after objects and used them
correctly. He opened a box, took out a toy telephone, singing again and again:
"He wants the telephone," and went around the room with the mouthpiece and
receiver in proper position. He got hold of a pair of scissors and cut a sheet of
paper into small bits, singing "cutting paper" many rimes. He helped himself to a
toy engine, tan around the room holding it up high and singing over and over
again: "The engine is flying." Some of his utterances could not be linked up with
imme` situations. These are a few examples: "The people in the hotel"; "Did
you hurt your leg? .... Candy is ail gone, candy is empty." Reproductions of
warnings about bodily injury constituted a major portion of his utterances . . . .
Ail statements pertaining to himself were made in the second person, as literal
repetitions of things said to him before. He would express lais desire for candy
by saying: "You want candy." He would put his hand away from a hot radiator
and say: "You get hurt."
 FOLLOW-UP STUDY OF ELEVEN AUTISTIC CHI LDREN 127

When the mother came to this country, she deposited Paul with a lady who
ran a small home for retarded children. She removed him some time at the end
of 1941, wrote friendly sounding tetters to the Clinic but did not keep return
appointments. She consulted Dr. Walter Klingman in 1941, Dr. Samuel Orton in
1943, applied for Paul's admission to the Devereux Schools in 1945 but decided
that this was not the proper place for him. This is where the trail ends. Mother
and child could not be located since then.

Case 5

Barbara K. was first seen at the Clinic on February 7, 1942, at the age of 8
years. Her father, a noted physician, stated in a written note:
"First child, born normally October 30, 1933. She nursed poorly and was put
on bottle after a week. She quit taking any nourishment at 3 months. She was
tube-fed rive times daily up to 1 year of age. She began to eat then, though there
was much difficulty until she was 18 months old. Since then she had been a
good eater, likes to experiment with food, tasting, and now fond of cooking . . . .
Ordinary vocabulary at 2 years, but always slow at putting words into sentences.
Phenomenal ability to spell, read, and a good writer, but still has difficulty with
verbal expression. Can't get arithmetic except as a memory feat . . . . Repetitious
as a baby, and obsessive now; holds things in hands, takes things to bed with her,
repeats phreases, gets stuck on an idea or game and rides it hard, then goes to
something else. She used to say 'you' for herself and 'I' for ber mother or me, as
if she were saying things we would in talking to ber . . . . Very timid, fearful of
changing things, wind, large animais, etc. Mostly passive, but passively stubborn
at times. Inattentive to the point where one wonders if she hears. (She does!) No
competitive spirit, no desire to please her teacher. If she knew more than any
member in the class about something, she would give no hint of it, just keep
quiet, maybe not even listen . . . . In Camp last summer she was liked, learned to
swim, is graceful in water (had always appeared awkward in her motility belote),
overcame fear of ponies, played best with children of 5 years of age. At camp
she slid into avitaminosis and malnutrition but offered almost no verbal
complaints."
Barbara's mother is a well-educated, kindly woman. A younger brother, born
in 1937, was healthy, alert, and well-developed.
Barbara "shook hands" upon request (offering the left upon coming, the right
upon leaving) by merely raising a limp hand in the approximate direction of the
examiner's proffered hand; the motion lacked the implication of greeting.
During the entire interview, there was no indication of any kind of affective
128 LEO KANNER

contact. A pin prick resulted in withdrawal of her arm, a fearful glace at the pin
(not the examiner), and utterance of the word "Hurt," not addressed to anyone
in particular.
She read excellently, fmishing the 10-year Binet tire story in 33 seconds and
with no errors, but was unable to reproduce from memory anything she had
read. In the Binet pictures, she saw (or at least reported) no action or relatedness
between the single items, which she had no difficulty enumerating. Her
handwriting was legible. Her drawing was unimaginative and stereotyped. She
used ber right hand for writing, her left for everything else; she was left-footed
and right-eyed.
She knew the days of the week. She began to name them: "Saturday,
Sunday, Monday," then said, "You go to school" (meaning, "on Monday"),
then stopped as if the performance were completed.
Throughout all these procedures, she scribbled words spontaneously: "or-
anges," "lemons," "bananas," "grapes," "cherries," "apples," "apricots,"
"tangerine," "grapefruits," "watermelon"; the words sometimes ran into each
other and were obviously hot meant for others to read.
Her mother remarked: "Appendages fascinate her, like a smoke stack or a
pendulum." Her father had previously stated: "Recent interest in sexual matters,
hanging about when we take a bath, and obsessive interest in toilets."
Barbara was placed at the Devereux Schools in the summer of 1942 and
remained there until June 1952, when she was admitted to the Springfield State
Hospital (Maryland) where she is still residing. She is now 37 years old. A note
written by her ward physician October 8, 1970, has this to say, "She still has the
stereotyped smile, the little girl-hke facial expression with a placid grin, the
child-like voice when uttering her parrot-like repetitions. Whenever I pass the
ward, she greets me as follows: 'Doctor, do you know I socked you once?' She
then usually gets very close to the writer following ber to the office . . . . She still
shows a total absence of spontaneous sentence production; the same phrases are
used over and over again with the same intonation. Her mind is fixed to the same
subjects, which vary to some degree with the person she is communicating with.
Besides all of this she is childish, impulsive, subject to temper outbursts with
stamping her feet, crying loudly and upsetting other patients. Her memory is
completely intact. She likes to hum some melodies montonously; whenever she
feels like it she bangs the piano with well-known songs."

Case 6

Virginia S., born September 13, 1931, had resided in a State Training School
for retarded children since 1936. Dr. Esther L. Richards, who saw her there
 FOLLOW-UP STUDY OF ELEVEN AUTISTIC CHI LDREN 12™

wrote in May 1941: "Virginia stands out from other children because she is
absolutely different from any of the others. She is neat and tidy, does not play
with other children, and does hot seem to be deaf but does not ta]k. The child
will amuse herself by the hour putting picture puzzles together, sticking to them
until they are done. I have seen her with a box filled with the parts of two
puzzles graduaily work out the pieces for each. Ail findings seem to be in the
nature of a congenital abnormality."
Virginia was the daughter of a psychiatrist, who said of himself: "I bave never
liked children, probably a reaction on my part to the restraint from movement,
the minor interruptions, and commotions." Of lais wife he said: "She is not by
any means the mother type. Her attitude (toward a child) is more like toward a
doll or pet than anything else." Virginia's brother, 5 years her senior, when
referred to us because of severe stuttering at 15 years of age, burst out in tears
when asked how things were at home and he sobbed: "The only time my father
has ever had anything to do with me was when he scolded me for doing
something wrong." His mother did not contribute even that much. He felt that
ail his lire he had lived in "a frosty atmosphere" with two inapproachable
strangers.
In August 1938, the psychologist at the training school observed that Virginia
"pays no attention to what is said to her but quickly comprehends whatever is
expected. Her performance reflects discrimination, care, and precision." With
the non-language test items, she achieved an IQ of 94. "Without a doubt, her
intelligence is superior to this . . . . She is quiet, solemn, composed. Not once
bave I seen her smile. She retires within herself, segregating herself from others.
She seems to be in a world of her own, oblivious to all but the center of interest
in the presiding situation. She is mostly self-sufficient and independent. When
others encroach upon her integrity, she tolerates them with indifference. There
was no manifestation of friendliness or interest in persons. On the other hand,
she finds pleasure in dealing with things, about which she shows imagination
and initiative."
When seen on October 11, 1942, Virginia was a tall, slender, neatly dressed
girl. She responded when called by getting up and coming nearer without ever
looking up to the person who called ber. She just stood listlessly, looking into
space. Occasionally, in answer to questions, she muttered: "Mamma, baby."
When a group was formed around the piano, one child playing and the others
singing, she sat among the children, seemingly not even noticing what went on,
and gave the impression of bœ self-absorbed. She did not seem to notice when
the children stopped singing. When the group dispersed, she did not change her
position and appeared not to be aware of the change of scene. She had an
intelligent physiognomy, though her eyes had a black expression.
130 LEO KANNER

Virginia wiU be 40 years old next September. She has been transferred to the
Henryton State Hospital. "She is," the report from there, dated November 2,
1970, says, "in a program for adult retardates, with her primary rehabilitation
center being the Home Economics Section. She can hear and is able to follow
instructions and directions. She can identify colors and can tell time. She can
care for ber basic needs, but has to be told to do so. Virginia likes to work jigsaw
puzzles and does so very well, preferring to do this alone. She can iron clothes.
She does not talk, uses noises and gestures, but seems to understand when
related to. She desires to keep to herself rather than associate with other
residents."

Case 7
Herbert B. was brought to the Clinic by lais mother on February 5, 1941.
Born November 18, 1937, 2 weeks before terre by elective Caesarean section,
he vomited all food from birth thmugh the third month; then feeding proceeded
satisfactorily. He sat up at 8 months but did not try to walk until 2 years old,
when he "suddenly got up and walked without any preliminary crawling or
assistance by chair." He persistently refused to take fluid in any but an all-glass
container. For a time he was believed to be deaf because '"he did not register any
change of expression when spoken to and made no attempt to speak." He
became upset by any change of accustomed pattern: "When he notices change,
he is fussy and cries but he himself likes to pull blinds up and down, open and
close doors, and tear cardboard boxes into small pieces and play with them for
hours."
His parents separated shortly after his birth. The father, a psychiatrist, was
described as "unusually intelligent, sensitive, restless, serious-minded, not
interested in people, mostly living within himself." The mother, a pediatrician,
spoke of herself as "energetic and outgoing, fond of people but having little
insight into their problems, finding it easier to accept people rather than try to
understand them." Herbert was the youngest of three children. The mother kept
voluminous diaries for each of them, especiaUy for ber daughter who, born in
1934, for the first few years "wanted to be left alone, ignored persons, reversed
personal pronouns, was first declared to be feebleminded, then schizophrenic,
but blossomed out after the parents' separation." At the time when Herbert was
seen at the Clinic, she attended school, had an IQ of 108, and "though sensitive
and moderately apprehensive, was interested in people and got along well with
them."
Herbert showed remarkably intelligent physiognomy and good motor
coordination. He displayed astounding purposefulness in the pursuit of
 FOLLOW-UP STUDY OF ELEVEN AUTISTIC CHILDREN 131

self-selected goals. Among a group of blocks, he instantly recognized those that

were glued to a board and those that were detachable. He could build a tower of
blocks as skillfully and as high as any child of his age or even older. He was
annoyed by any interference, shoving intruders away (without ever looking at
them), or screaming when the shoving had no effect.
He was again seen at 489 and at 5 years of age. Both times he entered the
office without paying the slightest attention to the people present. He went after
the form board and busied himself putting the figures into their proper spaces
and taking them out again adroitly and quickly. When interfered with, he
whined impatiently. When one figure was stealthily removed, he noticed its
absence, became disturbed, but prornptly forgot all about it when it was put
back. At times, after he had finally quieted down following the upset caused by
the removal of the form board, he jumped up and down with an ecstatic
expression. He was completely absorbed in whatever he did. He never smiled. He
sometimes uttered inarticulate sounds in a monotonous singsong. A t o n e rime,
he gently stroked his mother's leg and touched it with lais lips. He often brought
blocks and other objects to his lips. There was an almost photographic likeness
of his behavior during the two visits.
After a short stay at the Emma Pendleton Bradley Home in Rhode Island,
and another at Twin Maples ("a school of adjustment for the problem child") in
Baltimore, he was placed by lais mother with Mr. and Mrs. Moreland who had a
farm in Maryland. He seemed happy there from the beginning. He followed the
farmer around on his chores and helped him "making things in the barn." Mrs.
Moreland reported in October 1950: "He knows his way around the area near
the farm and can go for miles and come back without getting lost. He had
tearned to cut wood, uses the power mower, rakes the lawn, sets the table
perfectly, and in his spare time works jigsaw puzzles. He is a manageable and nice
child. Occasionally he get upset if there is a sudden change in plans . . . . When lais
mother cornes to visit, he gets himself absorbed and does not come toward her."
After Mr. Moreland's death, the widow opened a nursing home for elderly people.
Herbert remained with her, took the old ladies out for walks, brought them their
trays to their rooms but never talked.
His mother, after serving as a public health officer in Maryland, spent several
years (1953-1958) abroad-in Iraq and in Greece. On her return, she took a
position in Atlanta, Georgia. She died in 1965.
Herbert is now 33 years. His father wrote on January 5, 1971: CHe is still
with the people in Maryland. It is several years since I have seen him but I have
word that he is essentially unchanged. More than anything else, he seems to
enjoy doingjigsaw puzzles which he can do with the utmost skill."
132 LEO KANNER

A letter from his mother, written shortly before her death, contained this
lainent: "Our marriage seems to have produced three emotionally crippled
children. Dorothy, after a disastrous marriage, is at home with her little baby girl
and is trying to get on her feet working part time as a nurse in a local hospital.
Dave is on the West Coast and has cost me $450.00 monthly as he gets intensive
psychiatric treatment."
Dorothy is Herbert's legally appointed guardian.

Case 8

Alfred L. was brought to the Clinic by his mother in November 1935, at 389
years with this complaint: "He has gradually shown a marked tendency toward
developing one special interest which will dominate his day's activities. He talks
of little else while the interest exists, he frets when he is not able to indulge in it
and it is difficult to get his attention because of his preoccupation . . . . There has
also been the problem of an overattachment to the world of objects and failure
to develop the usual amount of social awareness . . . . Language developed slowly;
he seemed to have no interest in it. He seldom tells experiences. He still confuses
pronouns. He never asks questions in the form of questions (with the
appropriate inflection). Since he talked, there has been a tendency to repeat over
and over one word or statement. He almost never says a sentence without
repeating it. Yesterday, when looking at a picture, he said many rimes, 'Some
cows standing in the water.' We counted 50 repetitions, then he stopped after
several more and began over and over . . . . He frets when the bread is put in the
oven to be made into toast and is afraid it will get burned and be hurt. Fie is
upset when the sun sets or because the moon does not always appear in the sky
at night. He prefers to play alone; he will get down from a piece of apparatus as
soon as another child approaches. He like to work out some project with large
boxes (make a trolley, for instance) and does not want anyone to interfere."
Alfred was born June 20, 1932. For the first 2 months, "the feeding formula
caused much concern but then he gained rapidly and became unusually large and
vigorous." He sat up at 5 months and walked at 14 months. First words at one
year. At 22 months, he swallowed cotton from an Easter rabbit, some of which
lodged in the windpipe; a tracheotomy was performed under local anesthesia.
He was an only child. The father, a chemist and a law school graduate, was
described as "suspicious, easily angered, spends his spare rime reading, gardening,
and fishing, has to be dragged out to visit friends." The mother, a clinical
psychologist, "very obsessive and excitable," was the only parent in the Clinic's
experience who did hot allow notes to be taken when she gave the history. She
 FOLLOW-UP STUDY OF ELEVEN AUTISTIC CHILDREN 133

left ber husband 2 months after Alfred's birth; both lived with the maternal
grandparents in a home in which the mother ran a nursery school and
kindergarten. The grandfather, a psychologist, was severely obsessive-compulsive
and had numerous tics.
Alfred, upon entering the office, immediately spotted a train in the toy
cabinet, took it out, and connected and disconnected the cars in a slow,
monotonous manner. He kept saying many times: "More train-more train-
more train." He "counted" the car windows: "One, two windows, four
windows, eight windows." He could not be distracted from the trains. A Binet
test was attempted in a room in which there were no trains. It was possible with
much difficulty to pierce through his preoccupations. He finally complied in a
manner that clearly indicated that he wanted to get through with the particular
intrusion. Finally, he achieved an IQ of 140.
The mother did hot bring him back after his first visit because of "lais
continued distress when confronted with a member of the medical profession."
In August 1938, she sent upon request a written report from which the
following lines are quoted: "He is called a lone wolf. He prefers to play alone
and avoids groups of children at play. He does not pay attention to adults except
when demanding stories. He avoids competition. He reads simple stories to
himself. He is very fearful of being hurt; he talks a great deal about the use of
the electric chair."
He was again seen in June 1941. His parents had decided to live together.
Prior to that he had been in 11 different schools. He had been kept in bed often
because of colds, bronchitis, chickenpox, impetigo, and a vaguely described
condition that the mother insisted was rheumatoid fever.
Alfred was extremely tense and serious-minded; had it not been for his
juvenile voice, he might have given the impression of a worried little old man. At
the saine time, he was restless and showed considerable pressure of talk, which
consisted of obsessive questions about windows, shades, dark rooms, especially
the X-ray room. He never smiled. In between he answerœ questions, which
often had to be repeated. He was painstakingly specific in his definitions. A
balloon "is ruade out of lined rubber and has air in it and some have gas and
sometimes they go up and sometimes they can hold up and when they got a hole
in it they'll bust up; if people squeeze they'll bust. Isn't it right?" A tiger "is a
thing, animal, striped, like a cat, can scratch, eats people up, wild, lives in the
jungle sometimes and in the forests, mostly in the jungle. Isn't it right?" He
once stopped and asked, very much perplexed, why "The Johns Hopkins
Hospital" was printed on the history sheets: "Why do they have to say it?"
Since the histories were taken at the hospital, why should it be necessary to have
134 LEO KANNER

the name on every sheet, though the person writing on it knew where he was
writing? The examiner, whom he remembered from his visit 6 years previously,
was to him nothing more nor less than a person who was expected to answer his
obsessive questions about darkness and light.
This ended the Clinic's contact with Alfred. The mother started him out on a
tour of schools and hospitals, not informing them about preceding evaluations
and taking him out after a time, not disclosing the next step she planned to take.
We do know that he was at the V.V. Anderson School in Stratsburg-on-Hudson,
N.Y. (1948-1950); the Taylor Manor in Ellicott City, Md. (July to October
1954); and the Philadelphia Hospital Department for Mental and Nervous
Diseases (March 3 to April 20, 1955). Some time between the last two, he was
for a time on Thorazine; then at a "school for brain damaged children" founded
by his mother in October 1954.
Alfred is now 38 years old. So far as can be determined, he is at his mother's
"school." Both at Sheppard-Pratt and Philadelphia Hospitals he was interested in
the occupational therapy materials and did well with them. When this was
brought to the mother's attention, she decided to take him out.

Case 9

Charles N. was brought by his mother on February 2, 1943, with the chief
complaint: "The thing that upsets me most is that I can't reach my baby."
Charles was born on August 9, 1938. He was a planned and wanted child. He
sat up at 6 months; at 14 months "he stood up and walked one day." As a baby,
he was "slow and phlegmatic." He would lie in his crib "almost as if
hypnotized." Thyroid extract medication had no effect.
He was the oldest of three children. Mr. N., a high school graduate clothing
merchant, was described as a "self-made, gentle, and placid person"; lais relatives
were said to be "ordinary, simple people." Mrs. N., "of remarkable equanimity,"
had a successful business record, running a theatrical booking office. Her
"dynamic and forceful" mother had done some writing and composing. Mrs. N.
had a brother, a psychiatrist, who had great musical talent, a sister who was
"very brilliant and psychoneurotic," and a sister who was referred to as "the
Amazon of the family."
The mother prefaced her story thus: "I ara trying hard not to govern my
remarks by professional knowledge which bas intruded in my own way of
thinking now." In this she succeeded. This is a brief abstract of her report: "I-Iis
enjoyment and appreciation of music encouraged me to play records. When he
was 189 years old, he could discriminate between symphonies. He recognized the
 FOLLOW-UP STUDY OF ELEVEN AUTISTIC CHI LDREN 133

composer as soon as the first movement started. He would say 'Beethoven.' At

about the same age, he began to spin toys and lids of bottles and jars by the
houe He would watch it and get excited andjump up and clown in ecstasy. Now
he is interested in reflecting light from mirrors and catching reflections. Whœ he
is interested in a thing, you cannot change it . . . . The most impressive thing is
his detachment and his inaccessibility. He lives in a world of his own where he
cannot be reached. No sense of relationship to persons. He went through a
period of quoting another person; never offers anything himself. His entire
conversation is a replica of whatever has been said to him. He used to speak of
himself in the second person, now he uses the third person at times . . . . He is
destructive; the furniture in his room looks like it has hunks out of it. He will
break a purple crayon into two parts and say, 'You had a beautiful purple
crayon and now it's two pieces. Look what you did.' . . . . He developed an
obsession about feces, would hide it anywhere (for instance, in drawers), would
tease me if I walked into the room: 'You soiled your pants, now you can't have
your crayons! . . . . As a result, he is still not toilet trained. He never soils himself
in the nursery school, always does it when he cornes home. The same is truc of
wetting. He is proud of wetting, jumps up and down with ecstasy, says; 'Look at
the big puddle he made.' "
Charles was a well-developed, intelligent looking boy, who was in good
physical health. When he entered the office, he paid no attention to the people
present. Without looking at anyone, he said: "Give me a pencil," took a piece of
paper from the desk and wrote something resembling a figure 2 (a large desk
calendar prominently displayed a figure 2, the day was February 2). He had
brought with him a copy of Readers'Digest and was fascinated by a picture of a
baby. He said: "Look at the funny baby," innumerable times, occasionally
a d i n g : "Is he hOt funny? Is he not sweet?" When the book was taken away
from him, he struggled with the hand that held it, without looking at the person
who had taken the book. When he was pricked with a pin, he said: "What's
this?" and answered his own question: "It is a needle." He looked timidly at the
pin, shrank from further pricks, but at no time did he seem to connect the
pricking with the person who held the pin. When the Readers'Digest was put on
the floor and a foot placed over it, he tried to remove the foot as if it were a
detached and interfering object, with no concern for the person to whom the
foot belonged.
When confronted with the Seguin form board, he was interested in the names
of the forms before putting them into their appropriate holes. He often spun the
forms around, jumping up and down excitedly while they were in motion. He
136 LEO KANNEta

knew names, such as "octagon," "diamond," "oblong block," but nevertheless

kept asking: "What is this?"
He did not respond to being called and did not look at his mother when she
spoke to him. When the blocks were removed, he screamed, stamped his feet,
and cried: "I give it to you!" (meaning: "You give it to me").
Charles was placed at the Devereux Schools on February 10, 1943. Early in
1944, he was removed, spent 3 months (from March to June) at Bellevue
Hospital; was admitted on June 22, 1944, to New Jersey State Hospital at
Marlboro; transferred to Arthur Brisbane Child Treatment Center on November
1, 1946; transfœ to Atlantic County Hospital, February 1, 1951; transferred
to the State Hospital at Ancora on October 14, 1955. He is still there, now 32
years old. This means that he has been a State Hospital resident from the age of
5 years and 10 months. Inquiries by the Clinic, if responded to at an, yielded
meager general statements about continuing deterioration. One note of
December 1953, said something about "intensive psychotherapy." The last note,
dated December 23, 1970, said: "This patient is very unpredictable in his behavior.
He has a small vocabulary and spends most of the time singing to himself. He is
under close observation and is in need of indefinite hospitalization."

Case 10
John F. was first seen at the Clinic on February 13, 1940, at 28 months of age.
His fathœ said: "The main thing that worries me is the difficulty in feeding.
That is the essential thing, and secondly lais slowness in development. During the
first days of life he did not take the breast satisfactorily. After 15 days he was
changed from breast to bottle. There is a long story of trying to get food down.
We have tried everything under the sun. He has been immature all along. At 20
months he first started to walk. He sucks his thumb and grinds his teeth quite
frequently and rolls from side to side before sleeping. If we don't do what he
wants, he will scream and yell."
John was born September 19, 1937. There was 9 hospitalization
because of the feeding problem. The anterior fontaneUe did not close until he
was" 289 years of age. He suffered from repeated colds and otitis media, which
necessitated bilateral myringotomy.
John was an only child until February 1943. The father, a psychiatrist, was
"a very calm, placid, emotionally stable person, who is the soothing element in
the family." The mother, a high-school graduate, worked as a secretary in a
pathology laboratory before marriage; she "saw everything as a pathological
specimen; throughout the pregnancy, she was afraid she would not live through
the labor."
 FOLLOW-UP STUDY OF ELEVEN AUTISTIC CHILDREN 137

John was brought to the office by both parents. He wandered about the room
constantly and aimlessly. Except for spontaneous scribbling, he never brought
two objects into relation to each other. He did not respond to the simplest
commands.
At the end of his fourth year, he was able to f o r m a limited kind of affective
contact. Once a relationship was established, it had to continue in exactly the
same channels. He formed grammatically correct sentences but used the pronoun
of the second person when referring to himself. Language was mainly a
repetition of things he heard, without alteration of the personal pronoun. There
was marked obsessiveness. Datly routine must be adhered to rigidly; any change
called forth outbursts of panic. He had an excellent rote memory and could
recite many prayers, nursery rhymes, and songs; the mother did a great deal of
stuffing in this respect and was very proud of these "achievements": "He can tell
victrola records by their color, and if one side of the record is identified, he
remembers what is on the other side."
At 489 years, be began to use pronouns adequately. He wanted to make sure
of the sameness of the environment literally by keeping doors and windows
closed. When his mother opened the door, he became violent in closing it again
and finally, when again interfered with, burst helplessly into tears, utterly
frustrated.
He was extremely upset upon seeing anything broken or incomplete. He
noticed two dolls to which he had paid no attention before. He saw that one of
them had no hat and became very much agitated, wandering about the room to
look for the hat. When the hat was retrieved from another room, he instantly
lost ail interest in the dolls.
At 589 years, he had good mastery of the use of pronouns. He had begun to
feed himself satisfactorily. He saw a group photograph in the office and asked
lais father: "When are they coming out of the picture and coming in here?" He
was serious about this. His father said something about the pictures they bave at
home on the wall. John corrected his father: "We have them near the wall." (On
meant to him "above" or "on top"). His father whistled a tune and John
instantly and correctly identified it as "Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto." Though
he could speak of things as big or pretty, he was incapable of making
comparisons. ("Which is the bigger line? Prettier face?")
In December 1942, and January 1943, he had two series of predominantly
right-sided convulsions, with conjugate deviation of the eyes to the right and
transient paresis of the right arm. Neurologic examination showed no abnor-
malities. His eyegrounds were normal. An EEG indicated "focal disturbances in
the left occipital region."
138 LEO KANNER

After attending a private nursery school, John was at the Devereux Schools
(1945-1949), then at the Woods Schools, then at Children's House (June 1950),
and attended Town and Country School in Washington, D.C. An inquiry about
him came from Georgetown Hospital in 1956.
Dr. Hilde Bruch, who saw him in 1953, remarked on his "exuberant
emotional expression with no depth and variation and with immediate turnoff
when the other person withdraws the interest."
John died suddenly in 1966 at 29 years of age.

Case 11

Elaine C. was brought by her parents on April 12, 1939, at the age of 7 years
because of "unusual development." She doesn't adjust. She stops at ail
abstractions. She doesn't understand other children's gaines, doesn't retain
interest in stories read to her, wanders off and walks by herself, is especially
fond of animais of ail kinds, occasionally mimics them by walking on all fours
and making strange noises."
Elaine was born on February 3, 1932. She appeared healthy, took feedings
well, stood up at 7 months and walked at less than a year. She could say 4 words
at the end of her first year but made no progress in speech for the following 4
years. Deafness was suspected but ruled out. Because of a febrile illness at 13
months, her increasing difficulties were interpreted as possible postencephalitic
behavior ` Others blamed the mother, who was accused of inadequate
handling of the child. Feeblemindedness was another diagnosis. For 18 months,
she was given anterior pituitary and thyroid preparations. "Some doctors
thought she was a normal child and said that she would outgrow this."
At 2 years, she was sent to a nursery school, where "she independently went
her way, hOt doing what the others did. She, for instance, drank the water and
ate the plant when they were being taught to handle flowers." She developed an
early interest in pictures of animals. Though generally restless, she could for
hours concentrate on looking at such pictures.
When she began to speak at 5 years, she started out with complete, though
simple sentences that were "mechanical phrases" and knew especially the names
and "classifications" of animals. She did not use pronouns correctly, but used
plurals and tenses well. "She could not use negatives but recognized their
meaning when others used them . . . . She could count by rote. She could set the
table for numbers of people if the names were given her but she could not set
the table 'for three.' If sent for a specific object in a certain place, site could not
bring it if it was somewhere else but still visible . . . . She was frightened by noises
and anything moving toward here. She was so afraid of the vacuum cleaner that
 FOLLOW-UP STUDY OF ELEVEN AUTISTIC CHI LDREN 139

she would hot even go near the closet where it was kept, and when it was used,
ran out into the garage, covering her ears with her hands."
Elaine was the older of two children. Her father /lad studied law and the
liberal arts in three universities (including the Sorbonne), was an advertising
copy writer, "one of those chronically thin persons, nervous energy readily
expended." The mother, a "self-controlled, placid, logical person," had done
editorial work for a magazine before marriage.
Physically Elalne was in good health. Her EEG was normal. When examined
in April 1939, she shook hands with the physician upon request, without
looking at him, then ran to the window and looked out. She automatically
heeded the invitation to sit down. Her reaction to questions-after several
repetitions-was an echolalia-type reproduction of the whole question or, if it
was too lengthy, of the end portion. Her expression was blank, though not
unintelligent, and there were no communicative gestures. A t o n e rime, without
changing her physiognomy, she said suddenly: "Fishes don't cry."
She was placed at the Child Study Home of Maryland, where she remained
for 3 weeks. She soon learned the names of ail the children, knew the color of
their eyes, the bed in which each slept, but never entered into relationship with
them. When taken to the playground, she was upset and ran back to her room.
She was restless, but when she was allowed to look at pictures, play alone with
blocks, draw, or string beads, she could entertain herself for hours. She
frequently ejaculated stereotyped phrases, such as, "Dinosaurs don't cry";
"Crayfish and frogs live in children's tummies"; "Butterflies rive in children's
tummies and in their panties too"; "Fish have sharp teeth and bite little
children"; "There is war in the sky"; "Gargoyles bite children and drink oil";
"Needle head, Pink wee-wee. Has a yellow leg. Cutting the dead deer. Poison
deer. Poor Elaine. No tadpoles in the house. Men broke deer's leg" (while cutting
the picture of a deer from a book).
Elaine was placed in a private school. The father reported "rather amazing
changes: She is a tall, husky girl with clear eyes that have long since lost any
trace of that wildness they periodically showed in the rime you knew her. She
speaks well on almost any subject, though with something of an odd intonation.
Her conversation is still rambling, frequently with an amusing point, and it is
only occasional, deliberate, and announced. She reads very well, jumbling words,
not pronouncing clearly, and not making proper emphases. Her range of
information is really quite wide, and her memory almost infallible."
On September 7, 1950, Elaine was admitted to Latchworth Village, N.Y.
State School. While there, "she was distractible, assaultive, and talked in an
irrational manner with a fiat affect. She ran through wards without clothing,
140 LEO K A N N E R

threw furniture about, banged her head on the wall, had episodes of banging and
screaming, and imitated various animal sounds. She showed a good choice of
vocabulary but could not maintain a conversation along a given topic. EEG did
not show any definite abnormality." She was found to have an IQ of 83.
On February 28, 1951, she was transferred to the Hudson River State
Hospital. She is still there. A report, dated September 25, 1970, says: "She is up
and about daily, eats and sleeps well and is acting quite independent. She is able
to take care of her personal needs and is fairly neat and clean. Her speech is slow
and occasionally unintelligible and she is manneristic. She is in only fair contact
and fairly well oriented. She cannot participate in a conversation, however,
except for the immediate needs. If things do not go her way, she becomes
acutely disturbed, yelling, hitting her chest with ber fist, and her head against
the wall. In her lucid periods, however, she is cooperative, pleasant, childish, and
affectionate. She has epileptic seizures occasionally of grand mal type and is
receiving antiepileptics and tranquilizers. Her general physical condition is
satisfactory." She is now 39 years old.

DISCUSSION

Those were the 11 children who were designated in 1943 as having "autistic
disturbances of affective contact." They were reported as representing a
"syndrome, rare enough, yet probably more frequent than is indicated by the
paucity of observed cases." The outstanding pathognomonic characteristics were
viewed as (a) the children's inability from the beginning of life to relate
themselves to people and situations in the ordinary way, and (b) an anxiously
obsessive desire for the preservation of sameness. A year after the first
publication, the term early infantile autism was added to psychiatric nomencla-
ture.
Now, 28 years later, after early infantile autism has become a matter of
intensive study, after dozens of books and thousands of articles, after active
stimulation by concerned parent groups in many countries, after the creation of
special educational, therapeutic, and research units, it may be of interest to look
back and see how these few children have contributed to the introduction of a
concept that bas since then stirred professional and lay curiosity.
For quite some rime, there was considerable preoccupation with the
nosological allocation of the syndrome. The 1943 report had this to say: "The
combination of extreme autism, obsessiveness, stereotypy, and echolalia brings
the total picture into relationship with some of the basic schizophrenic
phenomena. Some of the children have indeed been diagnosed as of this type at
one time or another. In spite of the remarkable similarities, however, the
 FOLLOW-UP STUDY OF ELEVEN AUTISTIC CHILDREN 14.1

condition differs in many respects from ail known instances of childhood

schizophrenia." The "uniqueness" or "unduplicated nature" of autism was
emphasized strongly then and in subsequent publications. Nevertheless, it has
been just recently that this view has been generaily accepted. The ultimate
concession bas corne in 1967 from Russian investigators who had the courage to
break through the officially sanctioned "line," according to which autism had
been assigned the status of "schizoid psychopathy." The message, however, has
not quite percolated to the framers of the 1968 Diagnostic and Statistical
Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM II) adapted by the American Psychiatric
Association. This is a widely used code system in whJch autism is not included,
and children so afflicted are offered item 295.80 ("Schizophrenia, childhood
type") as the only available legitimate port of entry.
As for the ail4mportant matter of etiology, the early development of the 11
children left no other choice than the assumption that they had "corne into the
world with an innate disability to form the usual, biologically provided contact
with people." The concluding sentence of the 1943 article said, "here we seem
to bave pure-culture examples of inborn autistic disturbances of affective
contact." One can say now unhesitatingly that this assumption bas become a
certainty. Some people seem to have completely overlooked this statement,
however, as wetl as the passages leading up t o i t and have referred to the author
erroneously as an advocate of postnatal "psychogenicity."
This is largely to be ascribed to the observation, duly incorporated in the
report, that aH 11 children had corne from highly intelligent parents. Attention
was called to the fact that there was a great deal of obsessiveness in the family
background. The very detailed diaries and the recall, after severai years, that the
children had learned to recite 25 questions and answers of the Presbyterian
catechism, to sing 37 nursery songs, or to discriminate between 18 symphonies,
furnish a telling illustration. It was noticed that many of the parents,
grandparents, and collaterals were persons strongly preoccupied with abstrac-
tions of a scientific, literary, or artistic nature and limited in genuine interest in
people. But at no time was this undeniable and repeatedly confirmed
phenomenon oversimplified as warranting the postulate of a direct cause-and-
effect connection. To the contrary, it was stated expressly that the aloneness
from th™beginning of life rnakes it difficult to attribute the whole picture one-
sidedly to the manner of early parent-child relationship.
The one thing that the 1943 paper could neither acquire nor offer was a hint
about the future. Everywhere in medicine, prognosis can be arrived at only
through retrognosis. No empirical data were available at the time; the
whole syndrome as such was a novelty as far as anybody was aware. Now
142 LEO KANNER

we have information about the fate of the 11 children in the ensuing

three decadœ
We must keep in mind that they were studied before the days when a variety
of therapeutic methods were inaugurated, based on a variety of theoretical
premises: psychoanalyticaily ofiented, based on operant conditioning, psycho-
pharmacologicai, educational, via psychotherapy of parents, and combinations
of some of them. Sufficient rime has not elapsed to allow meaningful long-range
followup evaiuations. At any rate, no accounts are as yet available that would
afford a reasonably reliable idea about the more than temporary or fragmentary
effects of any of these procedures intended for amelioration.
Of the 11 children, 8 were boys and 3 (cases 5, 6, and 11) were girls. It was,
of course, impossible at the time to say whether or not this was merely a chance
occurrence. A later review of the first 100 autistic children seen at the Johns
Hopkins Hospital showed a ratio of 4 boys to 1 girl. The predominance of boys
has indeed been affirmed by all authors since then. It may be added that the
boys were brought to the Clinic at an earlier age (between 2 and 6 years) than
the girls (between 6 and 8 years).
Nine of the children were Anglo-Saxon descent, two (cases 9 and 10) were
Jewish. Three were ordy children, 5 were the first-born of two, one was the
oldest of three, one the younger of two, and one the youngest of three. Order of
birth was therefore hot regarded as being of major significance p e r se.
On clinical pediatric exarnination, ail 11 children were found to be in
satisfactory health physicaUy. Two had large tonsils and adenoids, which were
soon removed. Five had relatively large head circumferences. Several of the
children were somewhat clumsy in gait and gross motor performances but ail
were remarkably skiltful with regard to finer muscular coordination. Electro-
encephalograms were normal in ai1 except John (case 10), whose anterior
fontanelle had not closed until he was 289 years old and who, 3 years after lais
first visit to the Clinic, began having perdominantly right-sided convulsions.
Frederick (case 2) had a supernumerary nipple in the left axilla. There were in
the group no other instances of congenital somatic anomalies. Ail had intelligent
physiognomies, giving at times-especially in the presence of others-the
impression of serious-mindedness or anxious tenseness, at other times, when left
alone with objects and with no anticipation of being interfered with, a picture of
beatific serenity.
While there were, as is to be expected, individual nuances in the manifestation
of some of the specific features, the degree of the disturbance, and in the
step-by-step succession of incidental occurrences, it is evident that in the first 4
or 5 years of life the overall behavioral pattern was astoundingly similar, almost
 FOLLOW-UP STUDY OF ELEVEN AUTISTIC CHILDREN 143

to the point of identity in terres of the two cardinal characteristics of aloneness

and sterotype. Now, after 30 or more years, it is also evident that from then on,
notwithstanding the basic retention of these two features, major differences have
developed in the shaping of the children's destinies.
We do not know about the present status of Paul A. (Case 4) and of Alfred N.
(Case 8). Paul's mother went shopping around to a number of specialists,
dropping out each rime after one or two appointments, and could not be located
since 1945, despite many efforts worthy of a competent detective agency. Alfred's
mother had him at first in rapid succession in 11 different public and private
schools and then in several residential settings. He responded well to occupa-
tional therapy but the mother, not considering this adequate, took him out and
kept him with her in a "school" founded and run by herself.
Two of the children, John and Elaine (Cases 10 and 11) developed epileptic
seizures. John's began about 3 years after his first visit to the Clinic; after
sojourns in several residential places, he died in 1966. Elaine's convulsions started
in ber middle to late twenties and she is now, at 39 years, still "on anti-epileptics
and tranquilizers"; her EEG was reported normal in 1950, when she was
adrnitted to the Latchworth Village, N.Y. State School. She was later transferred
to the Hudson River, N.Y. State Hospital, where she still resides.
Richard M., Barbara K., Virginia S., and Charles N. (Cases 3, 5, 6, and 9), who
spent most of their lives in institutional care, have all lost their luster early after
their admission. Ofiginally fighting for their aloneness and basking in the
contentment that it gave them, originally alert to unwelcome changes and, in
their own way, struggling for the status quo, originally astounding the observer
with their phenomenal feats of memory, they yielded readily to the uninter-
rupted self-isolation and soon settled down in a lire hOt too remote from a
nirvana-like existence. If at al] responsive to psychological testing, their IQ's
dropped down to figures usually referred to as low-grade moron or imbecile.
This fortunately did not happen to the remaining three children. Herbert B.
(Case 7), still mute, has not attained a mode of living that one can be jubilant
about but has reached a state of limited but positive usefulness. He was placed
on a farm, where, following the fariner around on his chores, he learned to
participate in some of them. When the farmer died and the widow established a
nursing home for elderly people, he learned to perform the functions of a kind,
helpful, competent ordefly, using his routine-consciousness in a goal-directed,
dependable manner.
Donald T. (Case 1) and Frederick W. (Case 2) represent the two real success
stories. Donald, because of the intuitive wisdom of a tenant fariner couple, who
knew how to make him utilize his futile preoccupations for practical purposes
144 LEO KANNER

and at the saine time helped him to maintain contact with his family, is a
regularly employed bank teller; while living at home, he takes part in a variety of
community activities and has the respect of lais fellow townspeople. Frederick
had the benefit of a similarly oriented arrangement in the framework of the
Devereux Schools, where he slowly was introduced to socialized pursuits via lais
aptitude for music and photography. In 1966, his parents took over. He was
enrolled in a sheltered workshop and received vocational training, learning to run
duplicating machines. He has now a regular job and is reported by his chief as
"outstandingly dependable, reliable, thorough, and thoughtful toward fellow
workers."

C OMMENT

Such was the fate of the 11 children whose behavior pattern in preschool age
was so very much alike as to suggest the delineation of a specific syndrome. The
results of the followup after about 30 years do not lend themselves for statistical
considerations because of the small number involved. They do, however, invite
serious curiosities about the departures from the initial likeness ranging al1 the
way from complete deterioration to a combination of occupational adequacy
with limited, though superficially smooth social adjustment,
One cannot help but gain the impression that State Hospital admission was
tantamount to a life sentence, with evanescence of the astounding facts of rote
memory, abandonment of the earlier pathological yet active struggle for the
maintenance of sameness, and loss of the interest in objects added to the
basically poor relation to people-in other words, a total retreat to near-
nothingness. These children were entered in institutions in which they were
herded together with severely retarded coevals or kept in places in which they
were housed with psychotic adults; two were eventually transferred from the
former to the latter because of their advancing age. One superintendent was
realistic enough to state outright that he was accepting the patient "for custodial
care." Let it be said, though, that recently a few, very few, State Hospitals have
managed to open separate children's units with properly trained and treatment-
oriented personnel.
The question arises whether these children might have fared better in a
different setting or whether Donald and Frederick, the able bank teUer and the
duplicating machine operator, would have shared the dismal rate of Richard and
Charles in a State Hospital environment. Even though an affirmative answer
would most likely be correct, one cannot get away from wondering whether
another element, hot as yet determinabte, may have an influence on the future
 FOLLOW-UP STUDY OF ELEVEN AUTISTIC CHILDREN 145

of autistic children. It is well known in medicine that any illness may appear in
different degrees of severity, ail the way from the so-called forme fruste to the
most fulminant manifestation. Does this possibly apply also to early infantile
autism?
After its nearly 30-year history and many bona ride efforts, no one as yet has
succeeded in finding a therapeutic setting, drug, method, or technique that bas
yielded the same or similar ameliorative and lasting results for ail children
subjected t o i t . What is it that explains ail these differences? Are there any
conceivable clues for their eventual predictability?
At long last, there is reason to believe that some answers to these questions
seem to be around the corner. Biochemical explorations, pursued vigorously in
the very recent past, may open a new vista about the fundamental nature of the
autistic syndrome. At long last, there is, in addition, an increasing tendency to
tackle the whole problem through a multidisciplinary collaboration. Genetic
investigations are barely beginning to be conducted. Insights may be gained from
ethological experiences. Parents are beginning to be dealt with from the point of
view of mntuality, rather than as people standing a t o n e end of a parent-child
bipolarity; they have of late been included in the therapeutic efforts, not as etio-
logicai culprits, nor merely as recipients of drug prescriptions and of thou-shalt
and thou-shalt-not rules, but as actively contributing cotherapists.
This 30-year followup has not indicated too much concrete progress from the
time of the original report, beyond the refinement of diagnostic criteria. There
has been a hodge-podge of theories, hypotheses, and speculations, and there have
been many valiant, well-motivated attempts at alleviation awaiting eventual
evaluation. It is expected, with good justification, that a next 30- or 20-year
followup of other groups of autistic children will be able to present a report of
newly obtained factual knowledge and material for a more hopeful prognosis
than the present chronicte bas proved tobe.