For the past 40 years, you could scarcely bring up the issue of mental illness in these parts without Ruth Anne Sprunger’s name coming up.

She became executive director of the Mental Health Association of Allen County in 1972. Back then, the agency had a staff of one and a half, and mentally ill people who caused a scene were jailed and then shipped off to a state hospital in Richmond, where some remained for years or decades.

Around 1976, that began to change. New federal laws provided money for community mental health facilities and authorities were given the power to place people with mental health issues on 72-hour detention.

That policy didn’t go over that well with police at first. Sprunger recalls meeting with police to explain the new policies, and one husky sergeant stood and asked, “And who are we supposed to call at 2 in the morning” when police were called to deal with a problem relating to mental illness?

“You can call me,” Sprunger said, and she gave her home phone number to every officer in the department.

And Sprunger started getting those calls, at 2 a.m., 4 a.m., all hours of the day.

Over the past four decades, Sprunger estimates she’s received thousands of those middle-of-the-night calls, asking her to come to the rescue of someone with mental health issues and get them into a hospital on a 72-hour hold.

The most recent call came just last week.

Sprunger, though, won’t be getting those calls any more.

Last Tuesday, she technically retired from the agency, which now calls itself Mental Health America in Allen County. Despite her retirement, though, she was still getting calls from the agency, and she still had paperwork to complete.

Over the years, she says, she’s seen the good, the bad and the ugly.

“I’ve been involved with umpteen suicide attempts, people addicted to alcohol and drugs, psychotics, murderers,” she said. “But I’ve also seen tremendous compassion” from the police and the public when dealing with people suffering from mental illness, addictions, developmental disabilities and Alzheimer’s-related problems.

Some things haven’t changed much over the years. The agency still has a Christmas present drive every year to buy gifts for people who have largely been abandoned by their families.

Other things have changed dramatically. Medications have improved, and mental health services are more readily available. No longer are people hauled halfway across the state and isolated and sometimes forgotten.

Some people are forgotten, though, and the agency that Sprunger ran eventually became the guardian of 100 area patients who weren’t capable of making decisions for themselves and had no one else willing to step in.

People started talking, too.

Sprunger compared the way people deal with illnesses. If your kid goes into the hospital with pneumonia, you tell everyone. If a child goes into the hospital with mental health issues, it’s only mentioned in whispers, and to few people.

In the last quarter century, though, as more famous people opened up about problems with addictions, depression and other mental health issues, people have at least become more familiar with the problems and possible solutions.

“There’s a lot more understanding, but there’s still a stigma,” Sprunger said.

The past few years, though, have been particularly tough.

“It’s been rough for all agencies” that survive largely on donations from foundations, gifts and private donations, Sprunger said.

Giving is down.

“I took a 50 percent pay cut two years ago,” she said, “and teachers (who teach about bullying and teasing others who are different) have taken a 25 percent pay cut.”

That’s not why she’s retiring, though. She had been a schoolteacher for six years at the time she took the job, and she’s been doing it for 40 years now. It’s time to step down.

“But I’m not going to disappear. It’s not like I died. I’ll still be active” in other areas in the community.