Okay, so I want you to picture a building in
your mind, but I don't want you to picture, you
know, a sleek skyscraper or a cozy little cottage.
I want you to imagine a massive hulking structure.
Oh, yeah. Made entirely of raw concrete and glass.
It is snark. It's very mid -century modern. It
has that look. Right. It's that heavy, imposing
look that architects in the 1960s just absolutely
loved. But I feel like everyone else found it
just a little bit unsettling. Yeah, it's a very
specific vibe, isn't it? It's that architecture
that basically screams authority, but then whispered
right underneath that is the phrase, secrets
are kept here. Exactly. Yes. Now, if you are
a fan of 80s nostalgia or maybe just sci -fi
horror in general, you probably know this exact
building intimately. You definitely do. You might
even feel a little chill running down your spine
just thinking about it, even if you have literally
never set foot in the state of Georgia. Right.
Because for millions of people watching Netflix,
this isn't just an old building. This is the
Hawkins National Laboratory. The one and only.
This is where Eleven was kept. Yeah. This is
where the Upside Down was breached in Stranger
Things. It really is iconic. But, and I guess
this is... why we are here today, it is not actually
in Hawkins, Indiana. No. And it definitely wasn't
built to house secret government experiments
or interdimensional monsters. Right, right. So
today we are doing a deep dive into the real
world location behind that famous facade, the
Georgia Mental Health Institute. And let me tell
you, the reality of this place is just a weird
mix of Gilded Age wealth, some really ambitious
medical history, and honestly, some serious real
estate maneuvering. It's fascinating. It really
is a perfect case study in the life cycle of
a single piece of infrastructure. We're going
to track this one specific plot of land from
being the home of a Coca -Cola heir to a state
-run psychiatric facility to a Hollywood set,
and finally to its current state, which is facing
imminent demolition. It's a wild ride. And just
to set the table, we've pulled facts directly
from the historical records and the main Wikipedia
entry regarding the GMHI. Just to keep us grounded.
Exactly. Separate the TV fiction from the actual
Atlanta reality. So let's start at the beginning,
or I guess before the beginning. Yeah, the prehistory
of the site. Because before it was this creepy
hospital, this land was actually really fancy.
Oh, extremely fancy, yeah. To understand the
Institute, you first have to understand the ground
it sits on. Right. We are in Druid Hills, Atlanta,
which is a very historic, very affluent neighborhood.
And specifically, we are talking about the grounds
of the Briarcliff Estate. And when you say estate,
I mean you're talking old money. Big money. Yeah,
the land wasn't originally a hospital at all.
It was the private residence of Asa G. Candler
Jr. Okay, Candler. That name rings a bell. Are
we talking about the Coca -Cola candlers? The
very same. His father was the one who founded
the Coca -Cola company. Wow. So Asa Jr., who
was often called Buddy, he builds this massive,
sprawling estate. And what's really fascinating
is that the Mental Health Institute, the concrete
building we all know from TV, was eventually
built right there on the grounds of his estate.
That is such a strange juxtaposition to me. It
is. You've got the soda empire fortune, all that
glitz, and then decades later, it becomes a state
mental health failure. And the mansion itself,
the actual Briarcliff house, is still there.
Really? Yeah, it sits right next door to the
hospital building. Oh, wow. That proximity actually
becomes super important later when we talk about
film locations because a lot of productions end
up using both. But originally this was just a
wealthy family's home and their garden. Well,
I read somewhere that this wasn't just your standard
mansion with like a nice lawn and some hedges.
Didn't he have a zoo? He did. Yeah, this is that
classic eccentric part of the Gilded Age. Candler
Jr. had a private zoo on the grounds. A zoo?
We're talking elephants. Four lions. You're kidding.
A leopard. Baboons. Oh my gosh. He even had a
huge swimming pool that was open to the public
for a fee. Wait, elephants? Just in a residential
neighborhood in Atlanta? I mean, different time.
I guess so. But it paints a picture, doesn't
it? It was a spectacle. It was a place of high
society and strange curiosities. But, you know,
eventually... The Candler era ends. Right, nothing
lasts forever. The family sells the estate, and
eventually the state of Georgia acquires the
land. Okay, so we fast forward a bit. The state
steps in. When does the actual Hawkins Lab building
show up? Because looking at the photos, that
concrete block is definitely not from the 1920s.
No, no. The Georgia Mental Health Institute,
or the GMHI, officially opened its doors in 1965.
Okay. And we really need to talk about the look
of it because that's what made it so famous later
on. Right. This was built at the absolute peak
of an architectural style called brutalism. Right.
I've heard that term thrown around a lot, usually
as an insult. Like, oh, that building is brutal.
Yeah, people think it means cruel or harsh, but
it's actually technical. term. It's derived from
the French phrase, baton brut. Which means? It
just means raw concrete. Oh, interesting. It
wasn't meant to be brutal at all. It was meant
to be honest. The whole philosophy was, show
the materials. Don't hide the structure behind
plaster or paint. It was supposed to project
strength, permanence, and stability. Which I
suppose makes total sense for a government institution.
You want it to look like it's going to last a
thousand years. Exactly. But you have to admit
there's a psychological effect there, too. Oh,
for sure. These buildings can feel very fortress
-like. Impenetrable. Which works great if you're
building a secure facility, but maybe slightly
less so for a place of healing. Yeah, because
structurally, it's a fortress. But functionally,
what was actually happening inside was at an
asylum. Because when I hear mental health institute,
In the context of the 1960s, my mind naturally
goes to some pretty dark places. Sure, and that's
a common misconception. But it was actually much
more sophisticated than those old school asylums.
It was a joint development between Emory University
and the state of Georgia. Ah, okay. That's a
critical distinction. Very much so. It wasn't
just a warehouse for the mentally ill. It was
primarily a teaching hospital. And Emory is a
massive, massive name in medicine. Precisely.
And that partnership really defined how the whole
place operated. Emory doctors were the ones providing
a lot of the mental health services. OK. You
had residents and fellows, you know, doctors
in training doing their psychiatry rotations
right there in the building. So unlike the show
where it's just secret government experiments
in the basement, this was actually a place of
education and learning. It was. In fact, Emory
even based its pediatric. psychiatric outpatient
programs there. Pediatric? So kids? Kids, yeah.
So you had families coming in and out every day,
getting care for their children. It was very
much a functional, public -facing institution.
I do have to ask, though, because the vibe of
the building is just so clinical and so intense,
was there any actual research going on? Or is
the lab part just a complete movie invention?
No, there was real research happening. But again,
think more along the lines of academic rigor,
not... you know, psychic children moving things
with their minds. Right, right. Less telekinesis,
more clipboards. Exactly. At one point, they
had 10 faculty scientists conducting about 18
specific research studies. What were they actually
studying? Well, they were focused on mental health
naturally, but also the brain itself and central
nervous system diseases. Okay, wait. Central
nervous system diseases and brain research. Yeah.
I can totally see how a screenwriter looks at
that resume and goes, oh yeah, we can twist this
into something spooky. Oh, absolutely. It's really
not a huge leap for fiction. If you have a facility
studying the brain and it's housed inside a giant
concrete bunker, the story practically writes
itself. It really does. But in reality, this
was just a massive legitimate operation. At the
time it closed, the facility had 141 beds. Wow.
That is not small. And it had an operating budget
of $24 .5 million. $24 .5 million. That is a
lot of money flowing through one building. A
huge amount. So if it was that big and it was
backed by both the state and a major university
like Emory, why did it stop? Did something go
wrong? Was there a scandal? Nothing that dramatic,
unfortunately. It wasn't a scandal. It was just
economics paired with a major shift in medical
philosophy. This is where we have to talk about
deinstitutionalization. Deinstitutionalization.
Okay, let's unpack that because it sounds like
a textbook buzzword, but I know it had huge real
-world consequences. It really did. For a very
long time, the standard model for treating severe
mental illness was to put people in large centralized
hospitals. Like the GMHI. Exactly, giant institutions.
But starting in the 60s and then really accelerating
through the 80s and 90s, the thinking in the
medical community changed. the new model became
community -based care. So actively moving away
from the whole fortress on the hill model. That's
it. The idea was that patients generally do much
better if they are treated in their own communities.
Makes sense. You know, in smaller group homes
or via outpatient clinics, rather than being
completely isolated from society. So by the late
90s, the Georgia Department of Human Resources
took a really hard look at their books. Because
they were spending $24 .5 million to run this
one single facility. Right. And they proposed
closing it. The strategy was to move the remaining
patients to other nearby hospitals and then redirect
that massive $24 .5 million budget. directly
into community mental health services. Which,
I mean, in theory sounds like a much more efficient
use of funds. You spread the care out where it's
needed rather than keeping it locked up in this
one giant expensive location. That was the logic
driving the decision. So ultimately in 1997,
the Georgia Mental Health Institute officially
closed its doors. And this is where the real
estate maneuvering comes in, right? Oh, yeah.
Because 42 acres in Druid Hills. That is prime,
prime land. It's incredibly valuable real estate.
It's near downtown Atlanta. It's near Emory's
main campus. And this is exactly where Emory
University comes back into the picture. Okay.
After the state closed the facility in 97, Emory
stepped up and bought the entire campus. I am
almost afraid to ask how much they paid for it.
You should be. They paid $2 .9 million. Wait,
2 .9? No, 2 .9 million. For 42 acres in Atlanta,
that's basically theft. It's a steal. It was
an incredible deal. $2 .9 million for the land
and all 17 buildings on the campus. Wow. I mean,
I know real estate was cheaper in the 90s, but
that feels like they bought it for parts. To
be fair to them, they were also buying a massive
liability. That's true. These old institutional
buildings, especially concrete ones, are incredibly
expensive to maintain or retrofit. But yes, even
with that, the price tag was shockingly low.
Okay, so Emory gets the deal of the century.
What was the plan? Did they want to turn it into
dorms? A massive library? They have really big
dreams. They pitched something called the EmTech
Biosciences Center. Fancy. The goal was to turn
the entire property into this cutting -edge biotechnology
research and business development hub. That sounds
very futuristic. It does. Unofficially, everyone
just started calling the campus Emory West. Emory
West, okay. They were looking at either renovating
those 17 existing buildings or just knocking
them all down and building brand new ones. They
really wanted to expand the university's... footprint
significantly. I'm guessing that didn't happen.
Because if it had, we wouldn't have had Stranger
Things filming there in an abandoned building
decades later. UKIP did the dots perfectly. The
plan hit a major snag. And it was pretty simple.
The faculty didn't want to move. Really? A multi
-million dollar biotech hub project died because
of office politics. It often does. The researchers
expressed a very strong desire to stay on the
main campus. Wow. They just didn't want to be
isolated over at Emory West, away from the main
hustle and bustle of the university life. So
because of that pushback, the plans for this
grand redevelopment completely stalled. So they
just kept the land. They kept the land. Obviously,
it was too valuable. Yeah. But the buildings
just sat there. And that stalling, that basically
created the perfect conditions for its next life.
Yes. Absolute limbo. The building sits there.
It's empty. It's creepy. It's got that incredibly
specific architectural look. And then Hollywood
comes knocking. Enter the location scouts. You
have to remember, around this time, Georgia is
starting to offer very aggressive tax incentives
for filming. Right. The Georgia Peach logo at
the end of every credit roll. Exactly. So suddenly
all these massive productions are flooding into
Atlanta and they desperately need locations.
And here sits a massive, empty, incredibly atmospheric
government facility. It was a goldmine for them.
And it is kind of hilarious that this place,
which was originally built for healing and pediatric
research, is now globally famous as a place of
absolute terror. pediatric psychiatric facility.
Yeah. A place of care became the global visual
shorthand for government conspiracy and supernatural
danger. And it creates this weird loop where
the fiction kind of overtakes the reality. Oh,
totally. Most people will never know about the
pediatric care or the community funding issues.
They just point at the screen and go, hey, that's
where the Demogorgon is. And it's not just Stranger
Things, right? Yeah. Because once I started looking
into this for our deep dive, I realized I've
seen this building everywhere. Oh, it's everywhere.
It's like the Wilhelm scream of buildings. Once
you recognize it, you just see it in everything.
It really became a go -to spot for Georgia productions.
If a script says creepy institution, you just
go book the GMHI. Let's run down the list of
what film there, because it is surprisingly long.
What else was shot there? Well, sticking with
the horror theme, the 2017 movie rings from the
Ring franchise. Right. That film there. Naturally.
If you need a spooky hospital where bad things
happen, that's your spot. Then you have something
more recent and gritty. Alex Garland's film,
Civil War. oh really i actually didn't catch
that that movie had such a specific dystopian
look to it yes there is a major scene featuring
a fight between militia men and loyalists that
entire shootout happens at the institute oh wow
the concrete pillars and the layout just make
for a very intense tactical environment that
fits the brutalist architecture perfectly it
feels exactly like a bunker Then there's a sci
-fi film called Elevation from 2024. They used
it for an exterior shot of a hospital. Just a
quick establishing shot, but there it is again.
It really is getting typecast. It's either creepy
hospital or... Regular hospital where things
are about to go terribly wrong. Pretty much.
And then you have the TV shows, the Vampire Diaries
filmed there. Nice. And DC's Doom Patrol. Now,
Doom Patrol, that's interesting because they
use the mansion, right? Not just the hospital.
Exactly. Remember we mentioned the Briarcliff
Mansion is right next to it. Yeah, the one with
the zoo. Right. Doom Patrol uses the Briarcliff
as a key location. They show the facade all the
time and shot scenes right in front of it. That
is so convenient. It is. So you have these productions
using the 1920s mansion and the 1960s hospital,
sometimes simultaneously on the same plot of
land. It's basically a backlot that wasn't actually
built to be a backlot. You can film a period
piece and a sci -fi thriller without ever moving
the catering trucks. There is even an indie movie
called Background Action by Evan Skolnick. It's
a comedy about a production assistant working
on a superhero movie. The GMHI building was the
sole filming location for the entire movie. They
shot the whole thing there. That is fantastic.
The building has honestly had a more active acting
career in its retirement than when it was actually
open for business. It's true. For about a decade
or so, it was essentially a dedicated soundstage
for institutional creepy. filled a niche. But
as we know in real estate nothing stays in limbo
forever. Never. Especially not 42 acres owned
by a university in a booming city. No. The clock
eventually runs out and for the Georgia Mental
Health Institute that clock ran out in 2022.
So what's the final verdict? The limbo is over.
Emory University finally made a move. In 2022,
they leased the property for 99 years to a private
developer called Gallery Living. Gallery Living.
That sounds decidedly not like a biotech lab.
No, not at all. They're building a senior living
community. A senior living community. So we are
going from a psychiatric hospital for kids to
a fake government monster lab to retirement homes.
It's a massive pivot. But here is the consequence
of that deal. Because they are building this
sprawling new community, the developer plans
to clear the slate, meaning demolition. All the
former hospital buildings on the campus are slated
to be torn down. Wow. So Hawkins Lab is literally
going to be rubble. It will cease to exist in
the physical world. The tunnels, the lobby, that
distinctive front entrance, it's all going. That
is actually kind of sad. I mean, I know it's
just concrete and glass and it's been closed
as a hospital for almost 30 years. It really
feels like we are losing a legitimate pop culture.
It is a landmark. But if you zoom out a bit,
this is exactly what happens to these massive
single purpose facilities. They are built for
a very specific societal need, in this case,
mid -century mental health care. And when that
model of care changes, the building just becomes
obsolete. It's like an architectural dinosaur.
It couldn't adapt. Exactly. It sat there for
decades because it was too expensive to fix up
and too expensive to tear down. It existed in
that weird gap between usefulness and land value.
Right. But eventually the sheer value of the
land outweighed the demolition costs. It's the
circle of life, but for concrete. Precisely.
It's the life cycle of infrastructure. From a
Coke Air's private garden to a state institution
to a bargain bin university purchase to a global
television icon. And soon it'll be a quiet place
for seniors to enjoy their golden years. You
know, it really makes you think. When we watch
Stranger Things in five or ten years, or rewatch
Civil War, we are basically going to be looking
at a ghost. We will be. The physical space will
be totally gone. It raises a really interesting
question for you listening right now. How much
of our architectural history is currently being
preserved only on film? That's a great point.
We tend to think of buildings as permanent, standing
forever. But in the digital age, the actual bricks
and mortar might be long gone, while the MP4
file lives on perfectly. That's a haunting thought.
We are inadvertently creating a digital museum
of lost places every single time we film a movie.
The real Hawkins Lab might be slated for demolition,
but the upside down is forever, I guess. Thanks
for taking this deep dive with us into the strange
winding history of the Georgia Mental Health
Institute. It was a real pleasure. We'll catch
you on the next one.