Former "Client" 2005
reply to : Individual Counselors
Posted 9/2/2005 2:38:44 PM by Former "Client" of AG Dozier School
Dena,
I was once incarcerated at this "school for boys" (the only schooling you get is how to become more of a criminal) and would just like to let you know that your son is not the only one who is "helped" by staff in this way. When I was an inmate there in 2000, I was given cocaine by a staff member (no longer works there), cigarettes, learned how to make alcohol from juice, witnessed all manners of abuse, both in the cottages and in ISP (up the hill) was abused myself and basically got no "treatment" whatsoever. Sad to say, NO, your son will not get any help at all in AG dozier school...
This place is reprehensible, I only hope that you will support your son in making proper decisions when he is released, because once again, this place is not going to do anything for him.
I made these things known to DCF represenatives, but nothing ever came of it.
Monday, March 17, 2008
100 Lashes:1815 Flogging of a Slave
Note that this was around 1815, and the number of lashes inflicted on this poor man. This still goes on for children in places in the world, this did not end at FSB until 1967........
http://docsouth.unc.edu/neh/brownj/brownj.html
"Rouse ye, and break the massive chain,
The fetter'd slave that binds;
And check the sorrow and the pain
The wretched negro finds."
FIVE different biographies of the subject of the following pages have been published, during the last seven years,--two in the United States and three in Great Britain. Of these, one was translated into German, and appeared in Dresden, and another was published in the French language in Paris. The writer of this, however, fancies that the relation which she holds to the author of "SKETCHES OF PLACES AND PEOPLE ABROAD," gives her an advantage over those who have preceded her.
WILLIAM WELLS BROWN was born on the farm of Dr. John Young, near Lexington, Kentucky, on the 15th of March, 1815. His father's name was George Higgins, half brother to Dr. Young. The Doctor removed to the State of Missouri, and took with him William and his mother, the former being then an infant. Dr. Young located himself in the interior of the State, sixty miles above St. Louis, in a beautiful and fertile valley, a mile from the river. A finer situation for a farm could scarcely have been selected in any part of the country. With a climate favorable to agriculture, and soil rich, the most splendid crops of tobacco, hemp, flax and grain were produced on the new plantation. On this farm, Elizabeth (William's mother) was put to work at field service. Distinguished for her strength both of body and mind, and a woman of great courage, Elizabeth was considered one of the most valuable slaves on the place. Although Dr. Young was not thought to be the hardest of masters, he nevertheless employed, as an overseer, a man whose acts of atrocity could scarcely have been surpassed in any of the slave States. Grove Cook was a large, tall man, with rough features, red hair, grey eyes, and large, bushy eyebrows, which gave his face the appearance of a spaniel dog. Like most negro drivers, Cook was addicted to drunkenness, and when the least intoxicated, would use the whip without mercy upon those with whom he came in contact. This was the man selected by Dr. Young to look after his plantation, and superintend its affairs.
William was separated from his mother at an early age, and was but seldom allowed to see her. The young slave was taught by bitter experience the want of a mother's care and softening influence. At the age of eight years, he was taken into his master's medical office, and was employed in tending upon the Doctor. As William grew older, he became more serviceable in his new situation. When only about ten years old, the tender feelings of the young slave were much hurt at hearing the cries and screams of his mother, and seeing the driver flogging her with his negro-whip. As he heard the loud, sharp crack of the lash, and the groans of her who was near and dear to him, William felt a cold chill run through his veins. He wept bitterly, but could render no assistance. What could be more heart-rending than to see a dear and beloved one abused without being able to give her the slightest aid? Overseers at the South generally pride themselves upon their ability to break the stubborn spirit of the negro; and the man who shall suffer a slave, male or female, to disobey a rule, without being able to flog him or her for such disobedience, would be immediately discharged by the proprietor. Ability to manage a negro is the first qualification for a good slave-driver.
The Doctor had, among his fifty slaves, a man named Randall, of stout frame, and more than six feet in height, and known as the most powerful slave on the farm. If there was heavy work to be done, Randall was always selected to do it; and his task was sure to be finished before any other person's. The Doctor had flogged every slave on the place but Randall, and he would willingly have whipped him, but that he feared the undertaking, for Randall had often been heard to say, "No white man shall ever whip me; I will die first." Cook, from the time that he came upon the plantation, had frequently declared that he could and would flog any nigger that was put into the field to work under him.
Doctor Young having been elected to represent his district in the State Legislature, Cook took the entire management of the plantation. The Doctor had repeatedly told him not to attempt to whip Randall, but he was determined to try it. As soon as he was sole dictator, he thought the time had come to put his threats into execution. He soon began to find fault with Randall, and threatened to whip him if he did not do better. One day he gave him a very hard task,-- more than he could possibly do,--and at night, the task not being performed, he told Randall that he should remember him the next morning.
On the following morning, after the hands had taken breakfast, Cook called out Randall and told him that he intended to whip him, and ordered him to cross his hands and be tied. The slave asked why he wished to whip him. He answered, because he had not finished his task the day previous. Randall said his task was too great, or he should have done it. Cook said it made no difference, he should whip him. The slave stood silent for a moment, and then said--"Mr. Cook, I have always tried to please you since you have been on the plantation, and I find that you are determined not to be pleased or satisfied with my work, let me do as well as I may. No man has laid hands on me to whip me for the last ten years, and I have long since come to the conclusion not to be whipped by any man living." Cook, finding by Randall's looks and gestures that he would resist, called three of the hands from their work, and commanded them to seize the insolent slave and tie him. The men stood still; they knew their fellow-slave to be a powerful man, and were afraid to grapple with him. As soon as Cook had ordered them to seize him, Randall turned to them and said--"Boys, you all know me; you know I can handle any three of you; and the man that lays hands on me shall die. This white man can 't whip me himself, and therefore he has called you to help him." The overseer was unable to prevail upon them to aid him, and finally ordered them to go to their work.
Nothing was said to Randall by the overseer for more than a week. One morning, however, while the hands were at work in the field, he came into it, accompanied by three friends of his,--Thompson, Woodbridge, and Jones. They came up to where Randall was at work, and Cook ordered him to leave and go with them to the barn. He refused to go; whereupon he was attacked by the overseer and his companions, when he turned upon them, and laid them one after another prostrate before him. Woodbridge drew out his pistol and fired at him, and brought him to the ground. The others rushed upon him with their clubs, and beat him over the head and face until they succeeded in tying him. He was then taken to a barn and tied to a beam.
100 Lashes ???
Cook gave him above one hundred lashes with a heavy cowhide, had his wounds washed with salt and water, and left him tied during the night. The next day, he was untied, and taken to a blacksmith's shop, and had a ball and chain attached to his leg. He was compelled to labor in the field, and perform the same amount of work other hands did.
http://docsouth.unc.edu/neh/brownj/brownj.html
"Rouse ye, and break the massive chain,
The fetter'd slave that binds;
And check the sorrow and the pain
The wretched negro finds."
FIVE different biographies of the subject of the following pages have been published, during the last seven years,--two in the United States and three in Great Britain. Of these, one was translated into German, and appeared in Dresden, and another was published in the French language in Paris. The writer of this, however, fancies that the relation which she holds to the author of "SKETCHES OF PLACES AND PEOPLE ABROAD," gives her an advantage over those who have preceded her.
WILLIAM WELLS BROWN was born on the farm of Dr. John Young, near Lexington, Kentucky, on the 15th of March, 1815. His father's name was George Higgins, half brother to Dr. Young. The Doctor removed to the State of Missouri, and took with him William and his mother, the former being then an infant. Dr. Young located himself in the interior of the State, sixty miles above St. Louis, in a beautiful and fertile valley, a mile from the river. A finer situation for a farm could scarcely have been selected in any part of the country. With a climate favorable to agriculture, and soil rich, the most splendid crops of tobacco, hemp, flax and grain were produced on the new plantation. On this farm, Elizabeth (William's mother) was put to work at field service. Distinguished for her strength both of body and mind, and a woman of great courage, Elizabeth was considered one of the most valuable slaves on the place. Although Dr. Young was not thought to be the hardest of masters, he nevertheless employed, as an overseer, a man whose acts of atrocity could scarcely have been surpassed in any of the slave States. Grove Cook was a large, tall man, with rough features, red hair, grey eyes, and large, bushy eyebrows, which gave his face the appearance of a spaniel dog. Like most negro drivers, Cook was addicted to drunkenness, and when the least intoxicated, would use the whip without mercy upon those with whom he came in contact. This was the man selected by Dr. Young to look after his plantation, and superintend its affairs.
William was separated from his mother at an early age, and was but seldom allowed to see her. The young slave was taught by bitter experience the want of a mother's care and softening influence. At the age of eight years, he was taken into his master's medical office, and was employed in tending upon the Doctor. As William grew older, he became more serviceable in his new situation. When only about ten years old, the tender feelings of the young slave were much hurt at hearing the cries and screams of his mother, and seeing the driver flogging her with his negro-whip. As he heard the loud, sharp crack of the lash, and the groans of her who was near and dear to him, William felt a cold chill run through his veins. He wept bitterly, but could render no assistance. What could be more heart-rending than to see a dear and beloved one abused without being able to give her the slightest aid? Overseers at the South generally pride themselves upon their ability to break the stubborn spirit of the negro; and the man who shall suffer a slave, male or female, to disobey a rule, without being able to flog him or her for such disobedience, would be immediately discharged by the proprietor. Ability to manage a negro is the first qualification for a good slave-driver.
The Doctor had, among his fifty slaves, a man named Randall, of stout frame, and more than six feet in height, and known as the most powerful slave on the farm. If there was heavy work to be done, Randall was always selected to do it; and his task was sure to be finished before any other person's. The Doctor had flogged every slave on the place but Randall, and he would willingly have whipped him, but that he feared the undertaking, for Randall had often been heard to say, "No white man shall ever whip me; I will die first." Cook, from the time that he came upon the plantation, had frequently declared that he could and would flog any nigger that was put into the field to work under him.
Doctor Young having been elected to represent his district in the State Legislature, Cook took the entire management of the plantation. The Doctor had repeatedly told him not to attempt to whip Randall, but he was determined to try it. As soon as he was sole dictator, he thought the time had come to put his threats into execution. He soon began to find fault with Randall, and threatened to whip him if he did not do better. One day he gave him a very hard task,-- more than he could possibly do,--and at night, the task not being performed, he told Randall that he should remember him the next morning.
On the following morning, after the hands had taken breakfast, Cook called out Randall and told him that he intended to whip him, and ordered him to cross his hands and be tied. The slave asked why he wished to whip him. He answered, because he had not finished his task the day previous. Randall said his task was too great, or he should have done it. Cook said it made no difference, he should whip him. The slave stood silent for a moment, and then said--"Mr. Cook, I have always tried to please you since you have been on the plantation, and I find that you are determined not to be pleased or satisfied with my work, let me do as well as I may. No man has laid hands on me to whip me for the last ten years, and I have long since come to the conclusion not to be whipped by any man living." Cook, finding by Randall's looks and gestures that he would resist, called three of the hands from their work, and commanded them to seize the insolent slave and tie him. The men stood still; they knew their fellow-slave to be a powerful man, and were afraid to grapple with him. As soon as Cook had ordered them to seize him, Randall turned to them and said--"Boys, you all know me; you know I can handle any three of you; and the man that lays hands on me shall die. This white man can 't whip me himself, and therefore he has called you to help him." The overseer was unable to prevail upon them to aid him, and finally ordered them to go to their work.
Nothing was said to Randall by the overseer for more than a week. One morning, however, while the hands were at work in the field, he came into it, accompanied by three friends of his,--Thompson, Woodbridge, and Jones. They came up to where Randall was at work, and Cook ordered him to leave and go with them to the barn. He refused to go; whereupon he was attacked by the overseer and his companions, when he turned upon them, and laid them one after another prostrate before him. Woodbridge drew out his pistol and fired at him, and brought him to the ground. The others rushed upon him with their clubs, and beat him over the head and face until they succeeded in tying him. He was then taken to a barn and tied to a beam.
100 Lashes ???
Cook gave him above one hundred lashes with a heavy cowhide, had his wounds washed with salt and water, and left him tied during the night. The next day, he was untied, and taken to a blacksmith's shop, and had a ball and chain attached to his leg. He was compelled to labor in the field, and perform the same amount of work other hands did.
Mark Caldwell
April 17, 2007Rick Reno, attorney for Justin Caldwell, asked the Judge for 60-day extension - his extension was granted. Mr. Reno needs more time to prepare his case, he said. Mr. Reno believes Justin has a very strong Civil Rights case. After the hearing in Marianna, Mr. Caldwell drove to see his son at Jackson County Jail - across the street from Dozier school for Boys where his son was abused. He was asked to go to Dozier to speak with the administrators there. Mr. Caldwell said the atmosphere at Dozier had changed dramatically. There was more calm, the boys appeared less stressed. He learned that all of the boys know what is happening and are thankful for the stand Mr. Caldwell has taken to advocate for these children. Mr.Caldwell met with Isaac Williams - Mr. Williams was one of the new adminstrators hired from an outside group to monitor the program "24/7" said Mr. Caldwell. "I told him Justin's story, how he was abused when he was young and how I didn't know about it. And how Justin has been locked up in this system for 5 years, abused and mistreated. Mr. Williams didn't know what to say other than he felt like crying," said Mr. Caldwell. Department of Juvenile Justice Administrator, Rex Uberman, was there as well. Mr. Uberman indicated he does not want Justin back at Dozier, that he wants him to go home with his father.
Dozier has been in the spotlight before. Just recently six employees were terminated after a sex scandal swept the facility. Four more have been terminated as a direct result of the abuse suffered by Justin. Mr. Uberman said more will be fired, some will brought up on charges of child abuse and on failure to report abuse they witnessed. Mr. Caldwell had a chance to share his thoughts about what he believes is wrong at Dozier. He told Mr. Uberman and Mr. Williams that the length of stay for many of these boys is excessive. Uberman said they are addressing this issue and that they will need to work with Judges because it is the Judges who are sentencing these boys for long periods of time. However, that is only partially true, as we have seen in Justin's case and in Christopher Sholly's case. Often times the boys are sentenced for a period of time and their time is extended repeatedly. Uberman said it will take a team effort. He agreed that while some kids need incarceration, others can be helped through counseling at home, with their families.
Mr. Caldwell also addressed the issue of telephone calls. Parents receive calls from their children through a phone system and are charged an average of $20 for each 10 minute call. Sometimes, Justin likes to call his father three times in an evening. At that rate, Mr. Caldwell is spending $60 per day to talk to his own son while he could be placing the call himself though a long-distance service with unlimited long-distance calling. This has resulted in some parents not being able to speak to their children as much as they would like. Uberman said this issue will also be addressed.
Parents should be encouraged, not discouraged, from speaking to their children. Parent and family involvement is a very important part of the healing process for these children and isolating them from their families does not serve to help them. We believe progress is being made - we must press forward to be sure that changes continue to be made, that those responsible for abusing children are fired from their jobs, are not allowed to work with children in the future, and are prosecuted to the extent of the law. Those who witnessed the abuse and did not report it should, too, be held responsible for their actions. CAICA believes that together we can - and do - make a difference.
Dozier has been in the spotlight before. Just recently six employees were terminated after a sex scandal swept the facility. Four more have been terminated as a direct result of the abuse suffered by Justin. Mr. Uberman said more will be fired, some will brought up on charges of child abuse and on failure to report abuse they witnessed. Mr. Caldwell had a chance to share his thoughts about what he believes is wrong at Dozier. He told Mr. Uberman and Mr. Williams that the length of stay for many of these boys is excessive. Uberman said they are addressing this issue and that they will need to work with Judges because it is the Judges who are sentencing these boys for long periods of time. However, that is only partially true, as we have seen in Justin's case and in Christopher Sholly's case. Often times the boys are sentenced for a period of time and their time is extended repeatedly. Uberman said it will take a team effort. He agreed that while some kids need incarceration, others can be helped through counseling at home, with their families.
Mr. Caldwell also addressed the issue of telephone calls. Parents receive calls from their children through a phone system and are charged an average of $20 for each 10 minute call. Sometimes, Justin likes to call his father three times in an evening. At that rate, Mr. Caldwell is spending $60 per day to talk to his own son while he could be placing the call himself though a long-distance service with unlimited long-distance calling. This has resulted in some parents not being able to speak to their children as much as they would like. Uberman said this issue will also be addressed.
Parents should be encouraged, not discouraged, from speaking to their children. Parent and family involvement is a very important part of the healing process for these children and isolating them from their families does not serve to help them. We believe progress is being made - we must press forward to be sure that changes continue to be made, that those responsible for abusing children are fired from their jobs, are not allowed to work with children in the future, and are prosecuted to the extent of the law. Those who witnessed the abuse and did not report it should, too, be held responsible for their actions. CAICA believes that together we can - and do - make a difference.
Paula Flowe: Ban Spanking
Paula Flowe, Director
National Campaign to ban corporal punishment in U S Public Schoolshttp://www.thehittingstopshere.com/21togo.htm
Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P6hGtiuhPCI
Announcement
Dear Supporters of Banning Corporal Punishment in U S Public Schools,
On November 21, 2008, the national organization, The Hitting Stops Here!, will be holding a national campaign, “21 To Go!,” for banning U S public school corporal punishment in the remaining 21 states. We are looking for concerned citizens in each state who would be interested in hosting a headquarters in their community.
Responsibilities include having a table set up at a local venue in your community such as a library, or Walmart type store front, and distribute free booklets, leaflets and other informational literature on the harmful effects of corporal punishment on children. We will supply the information, including an informative video that can be displayed on a laptop. We ask that you host your venue for a minimum of one hour on at least one of the following days: Friday, November 21, Saturday, November 22, Sunday, November 23
Presently, the states on board are:
Florida
Georgia
Indiana
Mississippi
New Mexico
North Carolina
Tennessee Supporting, non-paddling states and Canada:
California (Main Headquarters)
Washington
Toronto, Canada.
Please view the youtube video announcement of this event: www.youtube.com/watch?v=P6hGtiuhPCI
For more information, please contact Paula Flowe at, paulaflowe@thehittingstopshere.com
Thank you,Paula Flowe, Dir.,The Hitting Stops Here!Board member, Parents and Teachers Against Violence in Education (www.nospank.net)
Schedule of events and locations will be posted after November 1, 2008
FloridaGeorgia IndianaMississippiNew MexicoNorth CarolinaTennessee
Supporting, non-paddling states and outside U S territory:California (Main Headquarters) WashingtonToronto, Canada
Main Headquarters San Jose, California
Thursday, November 20, and Friday, November 2110AM-NoonSan Jose City CollegeStudent Center (front court)2100 Moorpark AvenueSan Jose, CA 95128
Sunday, November 234PM-8PMThe Blue Pheasant22100 Stevens Creek Blvd.Cupertino, CA 95014
Entertainment by the Bay Area's Hottest Band,"Viscious Groove," featuring Band leader, Tebo (Bass Player for John Lee Hooker Jr.)Admission $20.
March on Washington D. C.January 2009Dates to be posted soon.Join other activists in a demonstration at the U.S. Capitol Building for banning corporal punishment in U.S. Public Schools
National Campaign to ban corporal punishment in U S Public Schoolshttp://www.thehittingstopshere.com/21togo.htm
Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P6hGtiuhPCI
Announcement
Dear Supporters of Banning Corporal Punishment in U S Public Schools,
On November 21, 2008, the national organization, The Hitting Stops Here!, will be holding a national campaign, “21 To Go!,” for banning U S public school corporal punishment in the remaining 21 states. We are looking for concerned citizens in each state who would be interested in hosting a headquarters in their community.
Responsibilities include having a table set up at a local venue in your community such as a library, or Walmart type store front, and distribute free booklets, leaflets and other informational literature on the harmful effects of corporal punishment on children. We will supply the information, including an informative video that can be displayed on a laptop. We ask that you host your venue for a minimum of one hour on at least one of the following days: Friday, November 21, Saturday, November 22, Sunday, November 23
Presently, the states on board are:
Florida
Georgia
Indiana
Mississippi
New Mexico
North Carolina
Tennessee Supporting, non-paddling states and Canada:
California (Main Headquarters)
Washington
Toronto, Canada.
Please view the youtube video announcement of this event: www.youtube.com/watch?v=P6hGtiuhPCI
For more information, please contact Paula Flowe at, paulaflowe@thehittingstopshere.com
Thank you,Paula Flowe, Dir.,The Hitting Stops Here!Board member, Parents and Teachers Against Violence in Education (www.nospank.net)
Schedule of events and locations will be posted after November 1, 2008
FloridaGeorgia IndianaMississippiNew MexicoNorth CarolinaTennessee
Supporting, non-paddling states and outside U S territory:California (Main Headquarters) WashingtonToronto, Canada
Main Headquarters San Jose, California
Thursday, November 20, and Friday, November 2110AM-NoonSan Jose City CollegeStudent Center (front court)2100 Moorpark AvenueSan Jose, CA 95128
Sunday, November 234PM-8PMThe Blue Pheasant22100 Stevens Creek Blvd.Cupertino, CA 95014
Entertainment by the Bay Area's Hottest Band,"Viscious Groove," featuring Band leader, Tebo (Bass Player for John Lee Hooker Jr.)Admission $20.
March on Washington D. C.January 2009Dates to be posted soon.Join other activists in a demonstration at the U.S. Capitol Building for banning corporal punishment in U.S. Public Schools
A Mother's Plea:Chris Sholly
Sent: Monday, April 16, 2007 1:41 AMTo: Secretary DJJCc
Subject: Abuse at Dozier: Justin Caldwell, Christopher Sholly
Dear Mr. McNeil,I'm also writing to you due to the horrible abuse my son and other's have suffered while in DJJ, This includes the facilities Of Dozier, Greenville HIlls Academy, and Okaloosa Youth Development Center.
There are names that have been named years ago by my Son, and these Staff members are mentioned in his Diary.Here is a direct link to my Son's diary. I now have a law suite pending against this State for the cruel and inhumane Treatment that has left my son suffering now with severe emotional problems, and has been diagnosed with Post traumatic Stress disorder, and is now on medication and treatment under a Doctors care.
For years I have tried to tell this Department of all the abuse and treatment that my son went through, and What he also witnessed. My son was also falsely accused of hitting a staff member with only 20 days left till he Was to come home. He too was direct filed into the adult system at the age of 17, and suffered in Indian RiverCorrectional Institute, where he was beaten. I cannot believe the gross treatment and neglect that our youth suffer from in this state, and many of them in for Minor "KID" actions. Please read my Son's diary You may then scroll down, and read his entries also here..
The names I have of those that abused my son, and his story about how they abused him are in his diary.. I'll list them here as well. These men and woman need to be removed from our facilities. Greenville Hills Merrit Cottage 2002, Mr. JonesDamien Choice, Mr. Bleu (Blue)Ms. Thompson, Rodney Baynard, Mr. Mactear, Ms. Dickie, Ms. Hopkins, Mr. Joseph, Mr. Williams, John Tallon at this time, he was the Northwest Regional Director, Okaloosa Development Center, Mr. Robinson, Mr. Winston, Marvin Bliss.
Subject: Abuse at Dozier: Justin Caldwell, Christopher Sholly
Dear Mr. McNeil,I'm also writing to you due to the horrible abuse my son and other's have suffered while in DJJ, This includes the facilities Of Dozier, Greenville HIlls Academy, and Okaloosa Youth Development Center.
There are names that have been named years ago by my Son, and these Staff members are mentioned in his Diary.Here is a direct link to my Son's diary. I now have a law suite pending against this State for the cruel and inhumane Treatment that has left my son suffering now with severe emotional problems, and has been diagnosed with Post traumatic Stress disorder, and is now on medication and treatment under a Doctors care.
For years I have tried to tell this Department of all the abuse and treatment that my son went through, and What he also witnessed. My son was also falsely accused of hitting a staff member with only 20 days left till he Was to come home. He too was direct filed into the adult system at the age of 17, and suffered in Indian RiverCorrectional Institute, where he was beaten. I cannot believe the gross treatment and neglect that our youth suffer from in this state, and many of them in for Minor "KID" actions. Please read my Son's diary You may then scroll down, and read his entries also here..
The names I have of those that abused my son, and his story about how they abused him are in his diary.. I'll list them here as well. These men and woman need to be removed from our facilities. Greenville Hills Merrit Cottage 2002, Mr. JonesDamien Choice, Mr. Bleu (Blue)Ms. Thompson, Rodney Baynard, Mr. Mactear, Ms. Dickie, Ms. Hopkins, Mr. Joseph, Mr. Williams, John Tallon at this time, he was the Northwest Regional Director, Okaloosa Development Center, Mr. Robinson, Mr. Winston, Marvin Bliss.
Dozier School for Boys:
Mr. Miller, Mr. Zanders, Mr. Spears, Mr. Spates(Speight)???,( Spelling) Ms. Harvey, Timothy Justice, Gavin Tucker, ED LEEKS... he has since retired, and needs to have his pension taken from him!!Mr. Williams this is the staff member that accused my son of hitting him... where the tape came up missing or wasn't viewable.
I will be calling these facilities to make sure they are fired from DJJ, with a NO REHIRE classification, and I want charges bought up on the people that my son mentioned.I also would like to be able to reach some of the boys that were abused by staff that were mentioned. I and my attorney need to contact Tyler Clarrey, and Anthony Johnson.Some of these staff have even been promoted to superintendants since their abuse of my son and others. Some have been transferred to other facilities, and I do know where some are. I will be giving my son's story to the media as well. These people are the scum of DJJ, and they don't care about these kids. They do nothing but hurt them, mentally and physically. As of now.. my son will never be able to hold a job and keep it.He is on SSI as well. I intend to make sure DJJ and this rotten State compensate him and his family for what you all put us all through!!!!!!!!!
I will never stop and will work to make sure a major reform of all policies and programs are fixed and changed! I am in close contact with Mark Caldwell, and will go to Tallahassee with him if and when the time comes. Something has got to change.. these kids need to be given an amount of time in a program, and come home... not have any extentions or starting over!!!
The staff need to know that should they lay a hand on any child, charges will be pressed.I'm sick of hearing of all the abuse going on. I sat in on a conference call with John Tallon, Timothy Justice, a few weeks ago,concerning Justin Caldwell, and told them that I knew exactly what they were doing, and they both lied to me, stating that they would make sure that an honest investigation would be done.. I see now that at the beginning of it, this was not done, and they were going to sweep everything under the rug as they did to my son as well.When a parent rocks the boat, and reports abuse going on.. wether it is on their own child or another as I did and Mark Caldwell did, retaliation, and false charges are pressed on the child. Abuse anywhere should be reported without the fear or retaliation.
This abuse has been going on at Dozier for many years. A well known Author by the name of Roger Kiser, who writes in the books "chicken soup for the soul" was a boy at Dozier... abused severely as well. He has writeen testimony on this.It is up to you to make changes in all policies and procedure. If things do not change, then there will be more abused children, and more deaths. I intend to sue this state on behalf of my son, and I won't stop there till major changes are made.Mark Caldwell has also contacted Vice President Dick Cheaney and he is well aware of the atrocities here in the Florida DJJ system... It does not work.
SincerelyDawn Chase, Christopher Sholly's Mother
I will be calling these facilities to make sure they are fired from DJJ, with a NO REHIRE classification, and I want charges bought up on the people that my son mentioned.I also would like to be able to reach some of the boys that were abused by staff that were mentioned. I and my attorney need to contact Tyler Clarrey, and Anthony Johnson.Some of these staff have even been promoted to superintendants since their abuse of my son and others. Some have been transferred to other facilities, and I do know where some are. I will be giving my son's story to the media as well. These people are the scum of DJJ, and they don't care about these kids. They do nothing but hurt them, mentally and physically. As of now.. my son will never be able to hold a job and keep it.He is on SSI as well. I intend to make sure DJJ and this rotten State compensate him and his family for what you all put us all through!!!!!!!!!
I will never stop and will work to make sure a major reform of all policies and programs are fixed and changed! I am in close contact with Mark Caldwell, and will go to Tallahassee with him if and when the time comes. Something has got to change.. these kids need to be given an amount of time in a program, and come home... not have any extentions or starting over!!!
The staff need to know that should they lay a hand on any child, charges will be pressed.I'm sick of hearing of all the abuse going on. I sat in on a conference call with John Tallon, Timothy Justice, a few weeks ago,concerning Justin Caldwell, and told them that I knew exactly what they were doing, and they both lied to me, stating that they would make sure that an honest investigation would be done.. I see now that at the beginning of it, this was not done, and they were going to sweep everything under the rug as they did to my son as well.When a parent rocks the boat, and reports abuse going on.. wether it is on their own child or another as I did and Mark Caldwell did, retaliation, and false charges are pressed on the child. Abuse anywhere should be reported without the fear or retaliation.
This abuse has been going on at Dozier for many years. A well known Author by the name of Roger Kiser, who writes in the books "chicken soup for the soul" was a boy at Dozier... abused severely as well. He has writeen testimony on this.It is up to you to make changes in all policies and procedure. If things do not change, then there will be more abused children, and more deaths. I intend to sue this state on behalf of my son, and I won't stop there till major changes are made.Mark Caldwell has also contacted Vice President Dick Cheaney and he is well aware of the atrocities here in the Florida DJJ system... It does not work.
SincerelyDawn Chase, Christopher Sholly's Mother
Mark's Plea To FBI
Thursday Feb 22nd 2007
MY CHILD IS BEING ABUSED
FBI :To whom it may concern,
My name is Mark Caldwell, I am the father of Justin Caldwell who is being mentally and physically abused at Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys in Marianna Florida.He was originally incarcerated at the Elaine Gordon Treatment Facility for Boys, in Broward County Florida for a treatment program lasting for 12 to 15 months this was at the age of 13 [ 2002 ] after approx. one year and an arm broken by a staff member he was transfered to Dozier where he is still incarcerated.
While at Dozier he has had his face smashed into a door by Mr. Miller a staff member who also threatened to kill him twice.My son has been " Choked Out " which means choked from behind until he looses consciousness so many times he does not remember. He has witnessed the abuse of other juveniles as well, and approx 3 weeks ago he had his head banged repeatedly on a concrete floor on 2 different occasions the 2nd of which he had to go to Jackson county hospital for a Cat Scan because he lost consciousness.
The first incident happened in the dinning hall when Justin brushed by a staff member named Mr. Wooten who became irritated and took Justin to the floor put his hands around Justin's neck choked him and began banging Justin's head on the floor, because it happened in the dinning hall there are many witnesses, and a staff member Mr. Spears later told Justin that Mr. Wooten used excessive force.
The 2nd incident occurred in Roosevelt Cottage when a staff member by the first name of Albert ask Justin to stand up, then said are you going to sit down Caldwell, to which Justin replied you just asked me to stand up sir, the staff then grabbed Justin by the throat and kicked Justin's feet out from under him, taking Justin to the floor with his hands around Justin's neck, him being Albert the staff member began banging Justin's head on the concrete floor, staff member then got off of Justin, when Justin stood up he said he felt dizzy and fell into another staff members arms.
He then remembers waking up in the middle of the floor and he heard a staff member ask Albert if he was scared this is when staff was called to take Justin to the hospital.There are many things that happen like this at Dozier frequently, and there are witnesses and there is also a staff member named Latoya Terri that witnessed an incident and the falsifying of reports and she has been fired.
There are to many incidents of abuse to write about you need to talk to Justin Caldwell and the other youth at Dozier. My son and the other youth at Dozier are supposed to receive help and this is abuse instead and it is criminal to treat our children this way!
Please help my son!
Mark Caldwell
_________________________
Well, my son Justin Caldwell went to court today for his arraignment, he pleaded not guilty, and refused a public defender, which is what I wanted him to do. They set his next court date for April 10th 2007 in Marianna Fl., on the charge of "battery on a detention staff", when in fact the detention staff, Mr. Wooten assaulted my son, now I need help with an attorney, my son is innocent of this cover up charge, and not an attorney from Marianna fl. I believe they are with the judge, or buddy,buddy, my son also said they said he would be facing 5 more years if found guilty, so I need help, my son told me the judge was already shaking his head and saying, no, no, no, when he tried to speak!!!
Sincerely Mark Caldwell
MY CHILD IS BEING ABUSED
FBI :To whom it may concern,
My name is Mark Caldwell, I am the father of Justin Caldwell who is being mentally and physically abused at Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys in Marianna Florida.He was originally incarcerated at the Elaine Gordon Treatment Facility for Boys, in Broward County Florida for a treatment program lasting for 12 to 15 months this was at the age of 13 [ 2002 ] after approx. one year and an arm broken by a staff member he was transfered to Dozier where he is still incarcerated.
While at Dozier he has had his face smashed into a door by Mr. Miller a staff member who also threatened to kill him twice.My son has been " Choked Out " which means choked from behind until he looses consciousness so many times he does not remember. He has witnessed the abuse of other juveniles as well, and approx 3 weeks ago he had his head banged repeatedly on a concrete floor on 2 different occasions the 2nd of which he had to go to Jackson county hospital for a Cat Scan because he lost consciousness.
The first incident happened in the dinning hall when Justin brushed by a staff member named Mr. Wooten who became irritated and took Justin to the floor put his hands around Justin's neck choked him and began banging Justin's head on the floor, because it happened in the dinning hall there are many witnesses, and a staff member Mr. Spears later told Justin that Mr. Wooten used excessive force.
The 2nd incident occurred in Roosevelt Cottage when a staff member by the first name of Albert ask Justin to stand up, then said are you going to sit down Caldwell, to which Justin replied you just asked me to stand up sir, the staff then grabbed Justin by the throat and kicked Justin's feet out from under him, taking Justin to the floor with his hands around Justin's neck, him being Albert the staff member began banging Justin's head on the concrete floor, staff member then got off of Justin, when Justin stood up he said he felt dizzy and fell into another staff members arms.
He then remembers waking up in the middle of the floor and he heard a staff member ask Albert if he was scared this is when staff was called to take Justin to the hospital.There are many things that happen like this at Dozier frequently, and there are witnesses and there is also a staff member named Latoya Terri that witnessed an incident and the falsifying of reports and she has been fired.
There are to many incidents of abuse to write about you need to talk to Justin Caldwell and the other youth at Dozier. My son and the other youth at Dozier are supposed to receive help and this is abuse instead and it is criminal to treat our children this way!
Please help my son!
Mark Caldwell
_________________________
Well, my son Justin Caldwell went to court today for his arraignment, he pleaded not guilty, and refused a public defender, which is what I wanted him to do. They set his next court date for April 10th 2007 in Marianna Fl., on the charge of "battery on a detention staff", when in fact the detention staff, Mr. Wooten assaulted my son, now I need help with an attorney, my son is innocent of this cover up charge, and not an attorney from Marianna fl. I believe they are with the judge, or buddy,buddy, my son also said they said he would be facing 5 more years if found guilty, so I need help, my son told me the judge was already shaking his head and saying, no, no, no, when he tried to speak!!!
Sincerely Mark Caldwell
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Harold Sizemore
Local man recalls abuse, torture at Marianna school
December 28, 2008 06:30:00 PM
By JON MILTIMORE / News Herald Writer
MARIANNA — Harold Sizemore was 8 years old when he first was sent to the Florida School for Boys in Marianna during the fall of 1950.
"At first, it was kind of like an adventure," Sizemore said. "But it ended up taking eight years of my life and turning into something else."
The school, now known as the Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys, has been under national scrutiny in recent months since four men came forward with allegations of severe physical abuse. The four former students, dubbed "the White House Boys" in reference to the white building where the alleged abuse happened, said beatings, torture and worse took place within those walls, behind generations of silence.
Earlier this month, Gov. Charlie Crist ordered an inquiry into the 31 unmarked graves lying beneath school grounds.
‘It was like a holiday'
The Bay County man is now 66 years old. He has silver hair, a friendly smile and a twinkle in his dark eyes. After years of silence, Sizemore felt compelled to come forward.
He grew up in a poor family of 10 on the 1300 block of Jenks Avenue. His father was gregarious and kind, Sizemore said, but an alcoholic.
As a boy, Sizemore would spend days at a time living on the street, getting into trouble and making money however he could, cleaning fish for boat captains or diving in the bay for coins tossed by tourists.
"We were just street urchins, really," Sizemore said.
He recalled being teased at school for his shabby clothing, but the Marianna reform school was different and not altogether bad at first, he said.
"They gave you clean clothes, a toothbrush, shoe polish and jacket," Sizemore said. "It was like a holiday."
He spent considerable time at the school between 1950 and 1957. He initially was sent there for skipping school.
Sizemore said the reform school, with its discipline, structure and order, held an allure for a poor boy from the streets. Six cottages holding between 30-35 boys each were led by a "Cottage Father." Days rotated between work and school, with games in the evenings and movies on Sundays.
Boys would play games and sometimes get into fights, Sizemore recalled. Habitual fighting was frowned upon, he said, but more often than not, boys were allowed to settle their differences with fisticuffs on "the court."
There were some rules to the fights - boys had to be close in age and size, for example - but once a fight began, it usually was allowed to continue until one boy had given up. Fights were supervised by school officials, and sometimes allowed to go on for hours at a time, he said.
Sizemore discussed the school's hierarchy. A boy came in as a Rookie and earned points for good behavior, working up to Explorer, then Pioneer. As students progressed in rank, they were awarded greater privileges, freedoms and responsibilities. Once Pioneer, boys often became eligible for release, but some stayed and reached higher ranks, Pilot and then, finally, Ace.
"There weren't too many Aces," Sizemore said, adding that if one did not behave he was likely to be demoted to the rank of "Grub."
"My second trip, I entered as a Grub and I left as a Grub," he said.
Normally, one was not dismissed from the school until he had attained the rank of Pioneer. Sizemore said his second trip was a total of 2 years, 6 months, and 19 days.
The beatings
Sizemore described himself as a "hard case" who disliked authority. He said he grew up without fear because he didn't know any better and could have used some discipline and instruction. He said what he learned instead was cruelty, and that authority was unjust.
"I'll tell you what cruel is: Take an 8-year-old boy, lay him on a bed and strap him until his buttocks are black, black as this shirt I am wearing," Sizemore said.
Whippings were a regular occurrence for Sizemore. He said he was unaware of anyone who had entered the school younger than he - most boys were at least 10-years-old - or took more licks.
Infractions especially frowned upon were cursing and disrespect, Sizemore said, and the man who inflicted the blows most frequently was Robert Hatton, an assistant superintendent at the school. He used a flattened doubled-folded leather paddle with a wooden handle, which was about 30 inches in length.
Sizemore recalled the ridged texture of the raw, split skin, and the array of colors the wounds took as they healed: black to blue, then green, purple and, finally, a soft orange.
Sizemore said other instructors or cottage fathers would administer blows on occasion, but tended to leave marks that were glowing pink or red.
Hatton's punishments were of a different kind.
Sizemore said "one-armed Mr. Tidwell's" punishments were brutal and cruel, but Hatton's went beyond those. Hatton seemed to take pleasure in inflicting pain on the boys, Sizemore said.
"He (Hatton) meant to break me," Sizemore said.
But Sizemore said the beatings were not the worst part.
"The cruelest thing was, he'd keep you in that office, waiting in anticipation for hours," Sizemore said. "And you new what was coming."
One boy was so frightened on the march down he began to panic and scream.
"All I remember is his little jaw trembling, quivering; then he just snapped," Sizemore said.
Sizemore said he was ordered to hold the boy down, who was squirming and would not accept his punishment.
"I told them no," Sizemore said.
Lingering questions
Sizemore said he was too ashamed to talk about the school these last 50 years, like a rape victim reluctant to come forward out of unfounded guilt.
He said he was not aware of any sexual abuse at the school, but knew of a boy who was so traumatized after a beating he lost the ability to speak. After a stint in the infirmary, the boy disappeared and never came back, Sizemore said.
Sizemore wondered how no one in the community was aware of the abuse taking place and how it was allowed to continue for so long. He said he has moved on but still bears emotional scarring.
Sizemore admitted catharsis might be difficult 50 years down the road but not impossible.
Asked if he hated the man who beat him so viciously, Sizemore hesitated, then said no.
"I feel sorry for him," Sizemore said. "That might sound strange, but it's true."
December 28, 2008 06:30:00 PM
By JON MILTIMORE / News Herald Writer
MARIANNA — Harold Sizemore was 8 years old when he first was sent to the Florida School for Boys in Marianna during the fall of 1950.
"At first, it was kind of like an adventure," Sizemore said. "But it ended up taking eight years of my life and turning into something else."
The school, now known as the Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys, has been under national scrutiny in recent months since four men came forward with allegations of severe physical abuse. The four former students, dubbed "the White House Boys" in reference to the white building where the alleged abuse happened, said beatings, torture and worse took place within those walls, behind generations of silence.
Earlier this month, Gov. Charlie Crist ordered an inquiry into the 31 unmarked graves lying beneath school grounds.
‘It was like a holiday'
The Bay County man is now 66 years old. He has silver hair, a friendly smile and a twinkle in his dark eyes. After years of silence, Sizemore felt compelled to come forward.
He grew up in a poor family of 10 on the 1300 block of Jenks Avenue. His father was gregarious and kind, Sizemore said, but an alcoholic.
As a boy, Sizemore would spend days at a time living on the street, getting into trouble and making money however he could, cleaning fish for boat captains or diving in the bay for coins tossed by tourists.
"We were just street urchins, really," Sizemore said.
He recalled being teased at school for his shabby clothing, but the Marianna reform school was different and not altogether bad at first, he said.
"They gave you clean clothes, a toothbrush, shoe polish and jacket," Sizemore said. "It was like a holiday."
He spent considerable time at the school between 1950 and 1957. He initially was sent there for skipping school.
Sizemore said the reform school, with its discipline, structure and order, held an allure for a poor boy from the streets. Six cottages holding between 30-35 boys each were led by a "Cottage Father." Days rotated between work and school, with games in the evenings and movies on Sundays.
Boys would play games and sometimes get into fights, Sizemore recalled. Habitual fighting was frowned upon, he said, but more often than not, boys were allowed to settle their differences with fisticuffs on "the court."
There were some rules to the fights - boys had to be close in age and size, for example - but once a fight began, it usually was allowed to continue until one boy had given up. Fights were supervised by school officials, and sometimes allowed to go on for hours at a time, he said.
Sizemore discussed the school's hierarchy. A boy came in as a Rookie and earned points for good behavior, working up to Explorer, then Pioneer. As students progressed in rank, they were awarded greater privileges, freedoms and responsibilities. Once Pioneer, boys often became eligible for release, but some stayed and reached higher ranks, Pilot and then, finally, Ace.
"There weren't too many Aces," Sizemore said, adding that if one did not behave he was likely to be demoted to the rank of "Grub."
"My second trip, I entered as a Grub and I left as a Grub," he said.
Normally, one was not dismissed from the school until he had attained the rank of Pioneer. Sizemore said his second trip was a total of 2 years, 6 months, and 19 days.
The beatings
Sizemore described himself as a "hard case" who disliked authority. He said he grew up without fear because he didn't know any better and could have used some discipline and instruction. He said what he learned instead was cruelty, and that authority was unjust.
"I'll tell you what cruel is: Take an 8-year-old boy, lay him on a bed and strap him until his buttocks are black, black as this shirt I am wearing," Sizemore said.
Whippings were a regular occurrence for Sizemore. He said he was unaware of anyone who had entered the school younger than he - most boys were at least 10-years-old - or took more licks.
Infractions especially frowned upon were cursing and disrespect, Sizemore said, and the man who inflicted the blows most frequently was Robert Hatton, an assistant superintendent at the school. He used a flattened doubled-folded leather paddle with a wooden handle, which was about 30 inches in length.
Sizemore recalled the ridged texture of the raw, split skin, and the array of colors the wounds took as they healed: black to blue, then green, purple and, finally, a soft orange.
Sizemore said other instructors or cottage fathers would administer blows on occasion, but tended to leave marks that were glowing pink or red.
Hatton's punishments were of a different kind.
Sizemore said "one-armed Mr. Tidwell's" punishments were brutal and cruel, but Hatton's went beyond those. Hatton seemed to take pleasure in inflicting pain on the boys, Sizemore said.
"He (Hatton) meant to break me," Sizemore said.
But Sizemore said the beatings were not the worst part.
"The cruelest thing was, he'd keep you in that office, waiting in anticipation for hours," Sizemore said. "And you new what was coming."
One boy was so frightened on the march down he began to panic and scream.
"All I remember is his little jaw trembling, quivering; then he just snapped," Sizemore said.
Sizemore said he was ordered to hold the boy down, who was squirming and would not accept his punishment.
"I told them no," Sizemore said.
Lingering questions
Sizemore said he was too ashamed to talk about the school these last 50 years, like a rape victim reluctant to come forward out of unfounded guilt.
He said he was not aware of any sexual abuse at the school, but knew of a boy who was so traumatized after a beating he lost the ability to speak. After a stint in the infirmary, the boy disappeared and never came back, Sizemore said.
Sizemore wondered how no one in the community was aware of the abuse taking place and how it was allowed to continue for so long. He said he has moved on but still bears emotional scarring.
Sizemore admitted catharsis might be difficult 50 years down the road but not impossible.
Asked if he hated the man who beat him so viciously, Sizemore hesitated, then said no.
"I feel sorry for him," Sizemore said. "That might sound strange, but it's true."
Larry Houston
" The Florida Industrial School for boys at Marianna" 1958-59
Larry A. Houston's Story
My name is Larry A. Houston from St. Petersburg, Fla. . I was sent to FSB (Florida School for Boy's) when I was only 14 years old. I came from a broken family, had a sister & brother but was a nice kid not a rough-neck. When I got there it was a beautiful campus and I thought this was going to be ok. I was put in #12 Cleveland Cottage and the cottage fathers name was Mr. Robert Sealander. My job assignment was the sewing room with Mrs.Edenfield. She was a nice lady and her husband was head of the kitchen.
The schools Psychologist was named Dr. Robert Curry and he smoked a pipe with cherry blend tobacco and had a brand new Desoto that was pink & grey. When you were interviewed by him he asked weird questions like did you like to masturbate and had you ever thought about having sex with your mother. He was bald on top and sorta husky. I got called to his office one day and was told someone had overheard me talking about running and I was going to be punished. Guys had said they like to make you sweat and boy I did. They came for me at my cottage at night just before shower time. When I got to the "white House" three other boys , Mr. Hatten,Mr. Tidwell and one other man I didn't know were waiting for us.
The smell of the place was very musty and stale. It was a small building in back of the kitchen. The other boys and I were told to set on a bench that was in the hall, all of a sudden someone turned on a big exhaust fan that was very loud then Mr. Tidwell said which one of you wants to be first, no one answered so he pointed to me and said boy go in that room, which I did immediately.I was scared to death and shaking all over for I had never been treated like this before. Mr. Tidwell said drop your pants,lay on the cot,bite the pillow and grab the bedrail, look towards the wall and don't say a word or we will start all over. Mr. Hatten reached under the pillow and grabbed a long leather strap with a wooden handle. The first blow was so hard it felt like my whole ass was split open. I screamed out in pain and Mr.
Tidwell said what did I tell you boy, you better shut your mouth. I gritted my teeth and hung on to the bedrail as tight as I could. Mr. Hatten beat me up and down my legs and buttocks as hard as he could, you could hear the strap hit the ceiling and the wall so you knew it was coming.
I lost count at 39 whacks but it was over soon after. Mr. Tidwell said "get up boy, pull up them pants and go stand in the hall" I could hardly move, but managed to get my pants up. Mr. Tidwell grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hall, pointed to the next kid and said boy get in there,but the kid was so scared after hearing me get beat he was froze to the bench. Mr. Tidwell grabbed the kid by the arm and jerked him up so hard the kid hit the door frame with his head as he was drug in the room. We could not see in the room because the lighting was very bad. They only had one small wattage bulb and the bench was down the hall a little bit. Don't know who whipped that kid but he got it pretty good.
By then I was in so much pain and I could fell blood running down my legs. Next thing I remember I was back at my cottage. Mr. Sealander took me to the locker room, told me to get undressed and get a shower. I could hardly get my jeans off because of the swelling in my butt and legs,but finally managed to. My underwear were literally beaten into my skin. I had to stand under the water a long time and pull very gently to get them off. When I was completely necked some of the other boys in the showers were whispering that I was the worst they had ever seen. I went to the
mirrors and looked at myself and couldn't believe what I saw. I was already black and blue all over my butt and legs and had cuts still bleeding. I put on my pj's and went to bed. It took me two weeks to heal up. Believe me I never talked about running again.
I went"Down" two more times before I went home. Once for low school grades and I cant remember what the third time was for. I got less wacks but the experience was the same. I'm pretty sure my lower back was injured while I was beaten. I had back trouble all my life and to this day still suffer.
I heard a lot of rumors about boys going missing and sexual things happening but to my knowledge it never happen to me other than Mr. Robert Curry asking me strange questions. There were also rumors about the colored boys getting beat a lot harder and a lot more wackes than whites got but I never witnessed any. I know if you were caught for running they gave you one hundred whacks but I personally never saw that either. I cant even imagine getting more than I got.I was really tore up and never want to experience that again.
To Roger Kiser for starting this whole thing, Kudos. You have brought to the surface many hidden memories that needed to be out of my system. And to Robert Straley,Bryant Middleton,Dick Colon and Michael O' McCarthy who helped and/or had a hand bring this matter to the Govenor of Florida for the investgation into the thirtynine crosses with no names on them I want to say "May God Bless each and every one of you"
And to Karl Schultz, thanks for being my best friend while I was in Marianna where ever you are.
Larry A. Houston
John Patterson
John Patterson Jr's Story
My name is John Patterson II. I was 13 years old when I was sent to the Florida School for Boys At Marianna. Before I went to FSB I spent 30 days at the Santa Rosa County Jail in Milton. I had no ideal what was going on at the time.
The Master Log at the Arthur G. Dozier Training School ( Formally known as FSB) state the following: (First Time: Date Of Commitment is: 27 April 1967 / Offense: Ungovernable / Date Of Admit: 28 April 1967 / Date Of Release: 06 April 1968). (Second Time: Date Of Commitment: 08 September 1969 / Offense: Incorrigibility / Date Of Admit: 10 October 1969 / Date Of Release: 07 June 1970).
I remember riding to the reform school in the back seat of a Santa Rosa County Sheriff car, I did not know that it was a reform school I was going to and I had no ideal what a reform school was. Remember when we got there I thought the place looked real nice. I thought this place would be a lot better then living at a abused home. A few days later I found out how bad I was wrong. At 13 I was a small guy and was picked on.
One day I had it and I fought back. (Note: a statement was made that the White House was closed in 1967 - before then the beating was called flogging, and after that it was spankings. I know because I had it done a few times). After the fight was broken up, myself and the other boy was sent to the White House by two staff persons. I only remember one staff person by name and that is Mr. Tidwell, only reason I remember him is that he only had one arm. I remember when we first went inside the White House it was dark only with a small light.
The other things I remember is: told to undress down to my underwear, to lie on a old iron type bed. To hold on a rail bar, told not to say anything and to look at the wall. I remember someone turned on a fan that made a lot of noise.
I remember the first time the strap hit my buttock and the force lifted me up. Remembered holding my teeth together so I would not yell out because of the pain, I knew if yelled out the count would start over - I felt it would not end. I could tell that the strap cut into my skin and that I was bleeding. Remember that someone ended up setting on my back.
After it was done I remember how my underwear stick to my skin and how hard it was to go to the bathroom. Also remember during the beating to myself I was crying :Oh God - Why are you allowing this to happen to me - do you hate me that bad?
After the White House I was taken to the detention and put into small room for a few days. I have been to the White House a few times - a few times for trying to escape -I did it so many times I was given the nick name (Rabbit) because they said I had rabbit blood. ( I was one of the boys who survived the 100 lashes beating)
Now I am 55 and I still have bad dreams about the White House and the so-call spankings I got there. The only right way of putting it: The White House Was A Living HELL.
Also I know for fact that other boys went to the White House during the same period of time that I was at the reform school. I have a letter from Roy C. McKay (Superintendent) 14 August 1998 reflecting the two commitments dates above.
I will mail a picture later that was taken of me in front of the detention center at FSB on 10 June 1967.
John Patterson Jr.
Jimmy Turner
Good Morning Gentlemen;
My name is Pat Turner, my husband Jimmy Turner is one of the "Whitehouse Casualties". This weekend when he read the article in the Floridan, he sat down and wrote a letter which I am forwarding to you; Thanks for taking the time to help these guys heal. He was in the Florida School for Boys around 61 & 62 for a total of 10 months.
"Over A Picture"
I one day took a picture of a group of boys, (I was13 years old) and one was holding his crotch and I did not know it until they took me to the "WhiteHouse" by a man named Burgess, who had an upholstery shop at the east end of town in Marianna.
He told me to lay down on an old bed and grab a mouth full of an old pillow that was so dirty and stained that it looked like it came out of the garbage. Burgess had a long piece of leather strap about 2 or 3 inches wide and began to swing it over his head and down on my rear end leaving me numb for awhile, after he had hit me about 15 times I could not hardly get up, he then grabbed my neck and pushed me to the door, he grabbed me again and then pushed me back on the bed for another 5 or 6 licks because he said I gave him a "dirty look". I was bleeding and was sore for about a week to week/half.
I had made up my mind to get even w/him but never did because he turned a tractor over on him and was killed. That made me feel good, it was wrong for me to feel that way but who caused those feelings, Burgess did that to me.
I feel like they were making hard criminals out of teen aged boys instead of helping them. Even today, I live in Marianna, and can't get close to the school without all that he did to me going thru my mind. I am 60 years old and I
don't guess it will ever heal.
Burgess was an evil man that never should have been working at the school. I really think he enjoyed beating boys the way he beat me. The people of Marianna should have known his back side like we did. How can anyone forget what happened to us in the "Whitehouse"?
We were not allowed to talk about what happened at the "Whitehouse". I would have been sent back if I did. I have prayed to God to help me forget but it still haunts me and always will.
I feel like the State of Florida knew what was happening to us in the "Whitehouse", but did not do anything about it and I was scared to say anything because when you have to talk about it to the law or the state it would have
gotten back to Burgess and I was afraid of that, afraid of him.
I personally feel like the graves bear checking out and the "Whitehouse" torn down and bring the names of the evil men that beat these boys at the school out to the public.
Mr.Michael O'McCarthy and Mr. Robert Straley, I want to thank you for bringing this out to the public and maybe after all these years letting us, the "Boys of the Whitehouse", put to rest our feelings and "The Whitehouse Nightmares."
Jimmy Turner
My name is Pat Turner, my husband Jimmy Turner is one of the "Whitehouse Casualties". This weekend when he read the article in the Floridan, he sat down and wrote a letter which I am forwarding to you; Thanks for taking the time to help these guys heal. He was in the Florida School for Boys around 61 & 62 for a total of 10 months.
"Over A Picture"
I one day took a picture of a group of boys, (I was13 years old) and one was holding his crotch and I did not know it until they took me to the "WhiteHouse" by a man named Burgess, who had an upholstery shop at the east end of town in Marianna.
He told me to lay down on an old bed and grab a mouth full of an old pillow that was so dirty and stained that it looked like it came out of the garbage. Burgess had a long piece of leather strap about 2 or 3 inches wide and began to swing it over his head and down on my rear end leaving me numb for awhile, after he had hit me about 15 times I could not hardly get up, he then grabbed my neck and pushed me to the door, he grabbed me again and then pushed me back on the bed for another 5 or 6 licks because he said I gave him a "dirty look". I was bleeding and was sore for about a week to week/half.
I had made up my mind to get even w/him but never did because he turned a tractor over on him and was killed. That made me feel good, it was wrong for me to feel that way but who caused those feelings, Burgess did that to me.
I feel like they were making hard criminals out of teen aged boys instead of helping them. Even today, I live in Marianna, and can't get close to the school without all that he did to me going thru my mind. I am 60 years old and I
don't guess it will ever heal.
Burgess was an evil man that never should have been working at the school. I really think he enjoyed beating boys the way he beat me. The people of Marianna should have known his back side like we did. How can anyone forget what happened to us in the "Whitehouse"?
We were not allowed to talk about what happened at the "Whitehouse". I would have been sent back if I did. I have prayed to God to help me forget but it still haunts me and always will.
I feel like the State of Florida knew what was happening to us in the "Whitehouse", but did not do anything about it and I was scared to say anything because when you have to talk about it to the law or the state it would have
gotten back to Burgess and I was afraid of that, afraid of him.
I personally feel like the graves bear checking out and the "Whitehouse" torn down and bring the names of the evil men that beat these boys at the school out to the public.
Mr.Michael O'McCarthy and Mr. Robert Straley, I want to thank you for bringing this out to the public and maybe after all these years letting us, the "Boys of the Whitehouse", put to rest our feelings and "The Whitehouse Nightmares."
Jimmy Turner
A Daughter-Lori
Dear Robert
It was by coincidence that stumbled on an article on the CNN website regarding the White House Boys. I am from the area and have family that still live nearby. For the longest time I never knew why my father was so angry and now I think I have a better understanding. A misguided young man, heart broken by his parent’s divorce, my father classified as a runaway was sent to the “boys home” by his parents – my own grandparents. He would never speak of his time there but I seriously believe it has gravely affected who he is and who I am today.
The legacy of abuse did not stop in 1967. It continues today as I have to remember the multiple beatings my brothers and I had to endure from my own father. He strives to be a good man but has never been whole since the day he was left at the boy’s home in Marianna. His temper and rage still continues and I only now see why it did. It doesn't’t make it right what he did to us and my mother but I have an understanding to his own mental and physical torture that he endured
as well.
I haven’t had a relationship with my father for the past seven years and I am not sure that I can have one with him. It is a constant struggle for me now as a parent to not “lose” my control. I cannot even discipline “spank” my children without the fear of going too far.
I am a very loving mother but I am not a whole person because of my father’s fate at the boy’s home many, many, years ago. I am sure reading the book will give me a better understanding of the torture inflicted on him while he was a ward of the state. I want to thank you for coming forward and telling your story and others. It helps to heal the wounds now that I have a better understanding as to the “why”......
Thank you Mr. Straley. I appreciate you and other survivors for coming forward with your story. Without knowing any of this, I would be forever broken. Now I can begin to mend my wounds as well.
Again, thank you~Lori
It was by coincidence that stumbled on an article on the CNN website regarding the White House Boys. I am from the area and have family that still live nearby. For the longest time I never knew why my father was so angry and now I think I have a better understanding. A misguided young man, heart broken by his parent’s divorce, my father classified as a runaway was sent to the “boys home” by his parents – my own grandparents. He would never speak of his time there but I seriously believe it has gravely affected who he is and who I am today.
The legacy of abuse did not stop in 1967. It continues today as I have to remember the multiple beatings my brothers and I had to endure from my own father. He strives to be a good man but has never been whole since the day he was left at the boy’s home in Marianna. His temper and rage still continues and I only now see why it did. It doesn't’t make it right what he did to us and my mother but I have an understanding to his own mental and physical torture that he endured
as well.
I haven’t had a relationship with my father for the past seven years and I am not sure that I can have one with him. It is a constant struggle for me now as a parent to not “lose” my control. I cannot even discipline “spank” my children without the fear of going too far.
I am a very loving mother but I am not a whole person because of my father’s fate at the boy’s home many, many, years ago. I am sure reading the book will give me a better understanding of the torture inflicted on him while he was a ward of the state. I want to thank you for coming forward and telling your story and others. It helps to heal the wounds now that I have a better understanding as to the “why”......
Thank you Mr. Straley. I appreciate you and other survivors for coming forward with your story. Without knowing any of this, I would be forever broken. Now I can begin to mend my wounds as well.
Again, thank you~Lori
A Daughter-Alissa
Mr. Straley,
I write this letter with a heavy, heavy heart.
I have just learned that my father, while a youth of an undetermined age, was a "student"..at the FSB. My father was no angel by any means, but was in trouble and was sent to the FSB. His mother and father moved to Ohio and left he and his brother in the hands of the State of Florida.
I was wondering if there was any way, any records, to determine his offense, his age, dates ..anything I can do to verify ...I'm sorry, I'm probably not making much sense, I suppose I'm in shock.
Growing up, I thought my father was just an unbelievable SOB...I knew he did the best he could, but he was full of rage..had problems with drinking, many other issues. Apparently, my aunt saw a newscast about your group, contacted my father and asked him to contact you..at which he broke down sobbing. My father has cried twice in his life that I remember, and frankly, it has terrified me both times. I've viewed related web pages and saw many of the video newscasts...but I am unsure of what/how to approach my father and uncle in this matter.
Looking through this information about the FSB and what he may have gone through there...(as he broke down sobbing, I can imagine it was horrific)..I am starting to gain a small portion of understanding the man that is my father and I would appreciate any help you could give me.
Robert,
I spoke to my father last night...at length, about his experiences there at FSB. While shock and horror can't accurately describe my reaction to his words, I am thankful to know my father better. I want to thank you and the others for that. Without your strength and courage, these conversations would have never happened in
his life and I would be left wondering who my father was.
At one point during his three stays, he worked in the masonry. He said that the cemetery you found won't be the only one you find. While working there, he and several other children were assigned to a special project...creating 50 concrete crosses, not the iron ones you've found. He said it took them three weeks to
finish all 50...and then one weekend they disappeared and no one ever mentioned them again. I don’t know what this will mean to you or the others, but I felt it was something that should be disclosed.
I want to help you and the men like my father. If there is anything that I can do, if you need someone to help research, investigate, ....anything..please, reach out to me. My background in college is in Psychology and Sociology...with several years of working with the sexually abused. I don’t know what use you may have for
me, but I'd like to do something.
Sincerely, Alissa
I write this letter with a heavy, heavy heart.
I have just learned that my father, while a youth of an undetermined age, was a "student"..at the FSB. My father was no angel by any means, but was in trouble and was sent to the FSB. His mother and father moved to Ohio and left he and his brother in the hands of the State of Florida.
I was wondering if there was any way, any records, to determine his offense, his age, dates ..anything I can do to verify ...I'm sorry, I'm probably not making much sense, I suppose I'm in shock.
Growing up, I thought my father was just an unbelievable SOB...I knew he did the best he could, but he was full of rage..had problems with drinking, many other issues. Apparently, my aunt saw a newscast about your group, contacted my father and asked him to contact you..at which he broke down sobbing. My father has cried twice in his life that I remember, and frankly, it has terrified me both times. I've viewed related web pages and saw many of the video newscasts...but I am unsure of what/how to approach my father and uncle in this matter.
Looking through this information about the FSB and what he may have gone through there...(as he broke down sobbing, I can imagine it was horrific)..I am starting to gain a small portion of understanding the man that is my father and I would appreciate any help you could give me.
Robert,
I spoke to my father last night...at length, about his experiences there at FSB. While shock and horror can't accurately describe my reaction to his words, I am thankful to know my father better. I want to thank you and the others for that. Without your strength and courage, these conversations would have never happened in
his life and I would be left wondering who my father was.
At one point during his three stays, he worked in the masonry. He said that the cemetery you found won't be the only one you find. While working there, he and several other children were assigned to a special project...creating 50 concrete crosses, not the iron ones you've found. He said it took them three weeks to
finish all 50...and then one weekend they disappeared and no one ever mentioned them again. I don’t know what this will mean to you or the others, but I felt it was something that should be disclosed.
I want to help you and the men like my father. If there is anything that I can do, if you need someone to help research, investigate, ....anything..please, reach out to me. My background in college is in Psychology and Sociology...with several years of working with the sexually abused. I don’t know what use you may have for
me, but I'd like to do something.
Sincerely, Alissa
A Sister--Leigh
Hello Mr. Straley
I was reading the paper this morning when I came upon an article about the school in Marianna, FL. I knew my brother had been in a reform school in Florida in 1962-1963 but I was young so I had no idea where it was.
I immediately called my Mom and asked if she had seen today's paper. She asked if I was calling about Marianna which of course I was. We went there once a month to visit him which was all you could do at that time. We also moved to Tennesse shortly after my brother went to Marianna and we would drive down to visit him and bring a picnic lunch. All I remember of this school was getting to see him and my Mom fixing a nice lunch for all of us. My brother was the eldest of 4 children.I asked my Mom if my brother had ever told them anything about being beaten there at Marianna and she said he had.
My brother had often lied to them before so they didn't believe him. He took my Mom and Dad over to see what he called "The White House" and told him that was where he was beaten.My brother died February 18th of this year after living on the streets for well over 30 years. Most of this time he lived in Lakeland, Florida. Fortunately Hospice found us and Mom and I went down to see my brother in Lakeland and were there when he died.
While living on the streets all these years my brother would send a Mother's Day card and also a birthday card to our Mom every year. Mom would send him pre-paid phone cards so he could keep in touch. My brother got involved with drugs and alcohol at a young age after coming out of Marianna. He last came to see us in Chattanooga around 2002 or 2003 and went through CADAS and then got a job and went in a treatment center right by CADAS where you could leave to go to work and then return there. He did fine until he got his first paycheck and then he started drinking again and returned to Lakeland.
When Mom hadn't heard from him in a while I would check on the web page for Polk County Sheriff's Office to see if he was in jail and often that was the case.
We would feel relieved that at least he had a bed to sleep in and was getting fed. My brother had an extremely hard life and a very low self-esteem. We will never know if his life would have been different if he had not been in Marianna.
I am glad these atrocities are being exposed and I wish my brother was here to add his voice. I know I can't tell you much but wanted to do what I could to add my brother's support.
Leigh
(In response to my question of which paper)
Hello Mr. Straley,This article was on the front page of the Chattanooga Times Free Press this morning. If it would help to post this please feel free. This has been unbelievably hard on my Mom since she saw the article this morning because she didn't believe him back then. I heard one time from one of his girlfriends that he hit her and that is all the violence I know of. He was married twice and had three children and he was never violent or verbally abusive but he left both wives and never really knew any of his children. He really missed out on all the good things in life.
I understand the constant feelings of worthlessness that he carried with him.Thank you so much for all your efforts. We can't change or erase what happened to all the boys at Marianna but I believe awareness is one of the first steps to prevention of things like this in the future.
Take care, Leigh
I was reading the paper this morning when I came upon an article about the school in Marianna, FL. I knew my brother had been in a reform school in Florida in 1962-1963 but I was young so I had no idea where it was.
I immediately called my Mom and asked if she had seen today's paper. She asked if I was calling about Marianna which of course I was. We went there once a month to visit him which was all you could do at that time. We also moved to Tennesse shortly after my brother went to Marianna and we would drive down to visit him and bring a picnic lunch. All I remember of this school was getting to see him and my Mom fixing a nice lunch for all of us. My brother was the eldest of 4 children.I asked my Mom if my brother had ever told them anything about being beaten there at Marianna and she said he had.
My brother had often lied to them before so they didn't believe him. He took my Mom and Dad over to see what he called "The White House" and told him that was where he was beaten.My brother died February 18th of this year after living on the streets for well over 30 years. Most of this time he lived in Lakeland, Florida. Fortunately Hospice found us and Mom and I went down to see my brother in Lakeland and were there when he died.
While living on the streets all these years my brother would send a Mother's Day card and also a birthday card to our Mom every year. Mom would send him pre-paid phone cards so he could keep in touch. My brother got involved with drugs and alcohol at a young age after coming out of Marianna. He last came to see us in Chattanooga around 2002 or 2003 and went through CADAS and then got a job and went in a treatment center right by CADAS where you could leave to go to work and then return there. He did fine until he got his first paycheck and then he started drinking again and returned to Lakeland.
When Mom hadn't heard from him in a while I would check on the web page for Polk County Sheriff's Office to see if he was in jail and often that was the case.
We would feel relieved that at least he had a bed to sleep in and was getting fed. My brother had an extremely hard life and a very low self-esteem. We will never know if his life would have been different if he had not been in Marianna.
I am glad these atrocities are being exposed and I wish my brother was here to add his voice. I know I can't tell you much but wanted to do what I could to add my brother's support.
Leigh
(In response to my question of which paper)
Hello Mr. Straley,This article was on the front page of the Chattanooga Times Free Press this morning. If it would help to post this please feel free. This has been unbelievably hard on my Mom since she saw the article this morning because she didn't believe him back then. I heard one time from one of his girlfriends that he hit her and that is all the violence I know of. He was married twice and had three children and he was never violent or verbally abusive but he left both wives and never really knew any of his children. He really missed out on all the good things in life.
I understand the constant feelings of worthlessness that he carried with him.Thank you so much for all your efforts. We can't change or erase what happened to all the boys at Marianna but I believe awareness is one of the first steps to prevention of things like this in the future.
Take care, Leigh
Clifford Hastings
CLIFFORD HASTINGS STORY
I embark on a journey through my memories that I have tried to forget throughout my life time. A journey that takes me down many paths better forgotten, however I have found that to be impossible for me, as I feel that it would be for anyone who walked it.
I am a very un-proud graduate from the death camp that was called; '' Marianna School for Boys'' I started in 1954 & graduated in 1955. The school was beautiful; however the operation and the operators were another thing completely. I am 69 years of age now, so please forgive me if I can’t remember all the names of the people
involved in the tortures. I have not read any ones story about this place. I did this so that I could be as honest as I could about it.
The main culprit that I hold responsible for this nightmare was Arthur G. Dozier the head master of all the crimes committed during my time there. First of all he was completely in charge, and then he turned a blind eye to everything. The beatings were so horrendous that they defy descriptions. I personally experienced 9 or 10
beatings in this time. The so called white house was white in color from the outside only. The inside was stained with the colors of vomit, blood, tears and the agony of everyone who experienced the inside. This building was supposed to have been built to make ice cream for the students (prisoners) of the State of Florida. When they
started buying ice cream in the early 50's they needed another reason not to tear the building down, thus the torture chamber came into existence.
They did not need a reason to beat a child, but if you spit on the ground or scraped your shoe in the so called class room, that was good enough. I was beaten so severely on two occasions that I had to be taken from the torture chamber straight to the hospital to be given medicine for shock, and to be sewn up. Ironically the head nurse that worked on me was married to the monster that caused it. I worked in the laundry with this same man, if he should be called a man.
That is where the child was mysteriously burned to death in the mattress sterilizer; of course no one could ever prove this. There are many unmarked graves on the west side of the state highway that ran through the middle of the school. That was the black side of the school then. I won’t even go into how blacks were treated during this segregated time we were living in.
I forgot to mention why I was there in the first place. I ran away from home, like I'm sure most of the prisoners did. No I never made Ace, I didn't make Explorer. That was their ranking for the good boys, but after my first 5 beatings I just couldn't see myself being good any longer, all I wanted was to get as far away from that hell hole as I could. I can't remember a lot of names.
R.W. Hatton is one that stood out, he was the one who tried to shoot me, but he missed. Why did he try? Well we had a basket ball court right outside of our cottage #3 & it was time for bed at 7pm. at 7:02 Mr. Hatton drove his old black 49 ford car by the basket ball court, there I was making my last hoop. Long story short, he called me over to the car and told me he needed to talk to me. Seems another kid had told him I was talking about running away, and that was a big no, no. He started off to the white house with me, but as we pulled up to the side of the building he got out to open the door, so I decided if I was going to be beat for it, I may as well do it. I ran, and ran, with him right behind me. He shouted if you don't stop I will kill you, I have a gun, so I said shoot me then, well he shot and the bullet zinged right beside my right ear, so I knew he was really trying, I just ran faster. I heard him yell as he fell in ditch that fortunately I remembered was there. Last thing I heard was you'll be sorry you little bastard.
About 102: am I heard hounds baying, he had went to the local road gang and got 3 prisoners and 2 blood hounds, I had climbed a tree as a stupid child would, in about 5 minutes there was a black prisoner holding a knife to my leg telling me, if I didn't come down he would cut my leg off. I came down. They took me to the local jail and left me there for 3 days. Jail was nothing, but the agony I suffered, knowing what was going to happen when I got back was a living hell. Needless to say what happened when I got back, R.W. administered this one himself, it was two in one, back to the hospital for me again.
There was a time a boy climbed the water tower right beside the office. R.W. was involved in that also but it wasn't his fault. The boy jumped and splashed his life away from the top of the water tower; fortunately I did not see this in person. I could write a book about this place and it still wouldn't cover every evil thing that happened there. My life would never be the same.
Clifford Hastings
Pensacola, FL
I embark on a journey through my memories that I have tried to forget throughout my life time. A journey that takes me down many paths better forgotten, however I have found that to be impossible for me, as I feel that it would be for anyone who walked it.
I am a very un-proud graduate from the death camp that was called; '' Marianna School for Boys'' I started in 1954 & graduated in 1955. The school was beautiful; however the operation and the operators were another thing completely. I am 69 years of age now, so please forgive me if I can’t remember all the names of the people
involved in the tortures. I have not read any ones story about this place. I did this so that I could be as honest as I could about it.
The main culprit that I hold responsible for this nightmare was Arthur G. Dozier the head master of all the crimes committed during my time there. First of all he was completely in charge, and then he turned a blind eye to everything. The beatings were so horrendous that they defy descriptions. I personally experienced 9 or 10
beatings in this time. The so called white house was white in color from the outside only. The inside was stained with the colors of vomit, blood, tears and the agony of everyone who experienced the inside. This building was supposed to have been built to make ice cream for the students (prisoners) of the State of Florida. When they
started buying ice cream in the early 50's they needed another reason not to tear the building down, thus the torture chamber came into existence.
They did not need a reason to beat a child, but if you spit on the ground or scraped your shoe in the so called class room, that was good enough. I was beaten so severely on two occasions that I had to be taken from the torture chamber straight to the hospital to be given medicine for shock, and to be sewn up. Ironically the head nurse that worked on me was married to the monster that caused it. I worked in the laundry with this same man, if he should be called a man.
That is where the child was mysteriously burned to death in the mattress sterilizer; of course no one could ever prove this. There are many unmarked graves on the west side of the state highway that ran through the middle of the school. That was the black side of the school then. I won’t even go into how blacks were treated during this segregated time we were living in.
I forgot to mention why I was there in the first place. I ran away from home, like I'm sure most of the prisoners did. No I never made Ace, I didn't make Explorer. That was their ranking for the good boys, but after my first 5 beatings I just couldn't see myself being good any longer, all I wanted was to get as far away from that hell hole as I could. I can't remember a lot of names.
R.W. Hatton is one that stood out, he was the one who tried to shoot me, but he missed. Why did he try? Well we had a basket ball court right outside of our cottage #3 & it was time for bed at 7pm. at 7:02 Mr. Hatton drove his old black 49 ford car by the basket ball court, there I was making my last hoop. Long story short, he called me over to the car and told me he needed to talk to me. Seems another kid had told him I was talking about running away, and that was a big no, no. He started off to the white house with me, but as we pulled up to the side of the building he got out to open the door, so I decided if I was going to be beat for it, I may as well do it. I ran, and ran, with him right behind me. He shouted if you don't stop I will kill you, I have a gun, so I said shoot me then, well he shot and the bullet zinged right beside my right ear, so I knew he was really trying, I just ran faster. I heard him yell as he fell in ditch that fortunately I remembered was there. Last thing I heard was you'll be sorry you little bastard.
About 102: am I heard hounds baying, he had went to the local road gang and got 3 prisoners and 2 blood hounds, I had climbed a tree as a stupid child would, in about 5 minutes there was a black prisoner holding a knife to my leg telling me, if I didn't come down he would cut my leg off. I came down. They took me to the local jail and left me there for 3 days. Jail was nothing, but the agony I suffered, knowing what was going to happen when I got back was a living hell. Needless to say what happened when I got back, R.W. administered this one himself, it was two in one, back to the hospital for me again.
There was a time a boy climbed the water tower right beside the office. R.W. was involved in that also but it wasn't his fault. The boy jumped and splashed his life away from the top of the water tower; fortunately I did not see this in person. I could write a book about this place and it still wouldn't cover every evil thing that happened there. My life would never be the same.
Clifford Hastings
Pensacola, FL
Richard Markwalter
Memories of Marianna by Richard (Paul) Markwalter
The date was March 28, 1961, a date I will never forget. It was my mother’s birthday. It was also the date I was committed to the Florida School for Boys (FSB) at Marianna by Judge Davis of Broward County Juvenile Court. I
was 16 at the time and getting into trouble with the law for the previous 4 years or so. I was kept at Junior Haven, a juvenile detention center in Ft. Lauderdale, until April 23 when along with another boy I was driven about 500 miles from Ft. Lauderdale to FSB at Marianna. We arrived in Tallahassee early evening and the other boy and I had to spend the night in the county jail. The next morning we were picked up and taken to FSB. The other boy who was black was dropped off first on the black side of the campus on the other side of the main road because segregation was still being practiced then. As we pulled onto the campus I was surprised to see no fences or walls. Soon I would find out why.
Starting at the age of 8, I spent two years at St. Benedict’s Catholic boarding school near Dade City FL. I ran away my last year there. I was acting out and my parents just didn’t know what to do. In hindsight I believe it was due to my feelings of not being loved and emotionally supported by them. That’s not to say my parents didn’t love me, but they did not show it as far as an 8-year-old boy could see. When I was 11 I was sent to Miami Military Academy in Miami FL. I ran away my only year there. When I was 14 I ran away from home.
The 2 juvenile officers, with me in the back seat, pulled up to the administration building and checked me in. I was assigned to Adams Cottage, also referred to as number 10. At first I didn’t like my cottage father but soon came to like and respect the man. One day soon after my arrival a boy angered my cottage father who grabbed him with both hands by the front of his shirt, pinned him to the wall, and raised him off of his feet. He proceeded to chew him out with name-calling and threats. I remember commenting to another boy “what a son-of-a-bitch”. The
other boy said “not really”, the chewing out would last about 3 minutes and be done with, much better than getting a “grade”.
FSB had a grading system, which was how I would have to work my way out since I was committed, not sentenced. A commitment is for an undetermined amount of time where a sentence is for a specified amount of time. On arrival all boys would start out as Explorer, then advance to Pioneer after 4-6 weeks if they didn’t receive a low
grade. Then if they walked the straight and narrow they could advance to Pilot and then Ace. Grades would be given periodically, about every 4-6 weeks by the cottage father, schoolteacher and work supervisor. School and workdays would alternate. Sat and Sun would be off days. But a low grade, what we simply called a “grade”, could
and would be given at any time for an infraction of the strict rules. The lowest grade was a zero and would immediately drop a boy’s rank to Grub regardless of his current rank. When a boy was a Grub and got a grade there was no rank to take away so he would “go down”. If a boy ran away, talked about running, or did not report
a boy who “talked about it,” he would “go down,” regardless of rank. To “go down” meant that a boy would be taken down a gently sloped hill about 200 yards from the head office, to the White House. There a “spanking” could be administered. That’s what they called it. It was actually a beating delivered with a leather strap which I never saw but definitely felt and heard. Around a month or so into my stay at FSB I was accused of stealing a T-Shirt. There was no trial. When the grades came out I had a 0 for stealing. When I inquired about the 0 I was told, “you stole a T-shirt”.
One day after being demoted to Grub I was called to the boss’ office. He said I was seen smoking and would get a “spanking” and to wait outside the office on the bench. After what seemed like hours but was probably 10-20 minutes the bosses came from their office and we proceeded down the hill. I remembered what another boy had
told me about what it was like to “go down” and was mentally preparing myself. When we got to the White House we entered through the side door which was locked.
As I write this I am getting that same feeling of fear and nausea in the pit of my stomach as I did 47 years ago.
We walked in, passed through a narrow 10‘ long corridor, turned left then a quick right and entered a small 8’ x 10’ room, which used to be a cell. I could see where bars had been cut out of the doorway. There was a cot with a thin mattress and a steel frame with an arched bar at the head and foot. I was told to lay on the bed, hold on to the bar at the head of the bed, face the wall, do not scream or say anything at all unless asked. They would often ask questions about other boys while on the bed. I was also told not to look at them or try to get off of the bed. I
did as told. Then a loud fan was turned on. Soon I heard the foot pivot on the floor, then the paddle scrape the low ceiling, and the landing on my buttocks just as my smoking buddy described. He had told me to tighten my ass just before the blow landed. I did so and thought, “that’s not so bad”. After the third blow all the air cushion had been expelled from my Levi jeans and then the pain really started. I was also advised by my buddy to count the blows as it would make the time go faster. So I did. I remember it seemed like an eternity between blows as if they wanted time for each blow to register. By the time we got to 20 it was the worst pain I had ever experienced. When the count got to 27 it was over and I was told to get up and run back to my cottage. Later in the common shower the other boys told me that I got a “pinky”. My ass was a deep red but it was still considered a pinky. I was
not “busted” meaning the skin was not broken.
Time went on and before I worked my way out of the Grubs I went down again for talking in the dormitory after lights out. They said the dorm existed for one reason and that was for sleeping. This time I got 32 and my ass was a deep purple but was not busted.
Time continued to move on. I was out of the Grubs and Pioneer with 5s working my way to Pilot. Then one night in the dorm several boys and me sort of lost our composure and started having fun. We flipped mattresses and whole beds with the boys in them. The next day we found ourselves in the boss’ office. He asked me if I would
rather have a “spanking” or a grade. I told him I would rather have a “spanking”, as a grade would lengthen my stay at FSB. He said I was going to get a grade and a “spanking” due to the seriousness of the infraction – he called it a riot. I wondered why he bothered to ask what I wanted. This time I went down with 5 other boys. The other 2 times I went alone. On the way to the White House I asked the “spanker” if I could go first to get it over with. He did not respond to my request but said he knew that my 5s as Pioneer were not earned and was very
disappointed in me. This boss did not often do the “spanking” but when he did he could “bust” within the first 5 blows or so. I had seen the results of his work on a boy in my cottage. Flesh a deep purple, almost black and red from the blood and looking like raw hamburger. I was worried that he was going to wield the paddle. To my surprise my request was granted and I was allowed to go first. It was not that I had courage, quite the opposite. I didn’t want to hear the other boys getting it and have the long wait to get mine. As it happened the same guy did the “spanking” as my previous 2 times going down. I was relieved it was not the “buster”. I knew the drill and lay on the bed, gripped the head rail and faced the wall. The first few blows as before were not so bad but soon the
pain of each blow was excruciating. It seemed that he was really laying it on harder than the other times. I was counting licks and summoning all my will and strength to stay quiet and still. I tried crossing and uncrossing my legs, tightening and relaxing my ass, but nothing relieved the pain. The count got to the high 30s and I wondered if it would ever end. As the count got to the high 40s I did not know if I would be able to stay on the bed without being held down. Then it was over at 52. I was told to get up and wait in the alcove under the fan vent at the end of the corridor between the waiting room and the “spanking” room. I was glad I went first. The sounds of the other boy’s beatings were as frightening as my own even though I knew mine was over. One of the boys broke the protocol and started screaming and begging them to stop. They warned him to be quiet or they would get other boys to hold him down. He still begged so they sent for boys from the kitchen, which was nearby. I was glad I was not told to help hold him down. I was not sure I could do it without protest. It was known that if a boy refused to hold another boy down he would also get a beating and I was not ready for another on top of the one I just got.
I didn’t know it until I got back to my cottage and in the shower that this time I was busted in 3 places. My ass deep black/purple and my shorts were bloody from the right cheek.
I never cried from the beatings. Not because I am brave and have a high tolerance to pain, but because I was afraid of them going harder on me if I did cry.
After this trip to the White House I decided it was time to get out of that hellhole. I asked to transfer to the kitchen from the dental clinic. Kitchen boys worked every day and built up good time. Plus the longer hours would keep me busy with less time to get in trouble. My work station in the dining hall was about 50 yards from the White House and at least every other day I would hear the fan knowing that someone was getting a beating. Some time in April of 1962 I got my release date of May 22, 1962. As was allowed, I could ask any staff member to drive me to the bus station. I asked one of the dentists who was my work supervisor before I transferred to the kitchen. The dentists were interns not regular state staff, and had a different mindset. I felt compassion from them. On the way out of the gate as my friends were waving goodbye I broke down and cried. The dental intern asked why I was crying. I told him because I was so happy to finally be going home.
I am now 64 and as recently as 10 years ago I have had dreams about being sent back to FSB as an adult. In the dreams I would think “why would I be sent back here as an adult”? Then I think after waking up if I’m going to have a nightmare it may as well be about the worst experience of my life.
The White House should be left standing with the doors unlocked as a reminder of man’s inhumanity to children. Much agony was endured in that building and to tear the White House down would be denial that it ever happened. It did.
During my stay at FSB I know of 2 incidents where boys ran and never returned. It was rumored that one boy was shot in the back of the head by a bounty hunter. Dog boys from Apalachicola Prison Farm supposedly beat the other to death. I have no way of knowing if this is true.
Boys who ran received 100 plus whacks and sometimes spent time in solitary confinement, probably to heal before the other boys could see how badly they were busted up.
When I was in Junior Haven waiting to go to FSB I made a decision not to run from there, and not to run from FSB at Marianna. I would take this opportunity to start over with a clean slate. To this day I am glad for that decision.
A Wife-Pat
Robert
I've just played all the video that was on the website and I am so glad that this is
making it's way to the public. My husband was there in '59-'60. He was 15 when he
was sent there for skipping school and running away from home. His mother told
the courts to send him to Marianna, she couldn't handle him. I met him about a
month after he came home from there. I had a hard time believing the stories that he told me about the beatings and having to be taken to the infirmary to have his pants removed because of the injuries. We married a few months later and we lived with what they did to him (mentally) for 29 years, when he died at 47.
His name was Bethel James and I wish his mother was alive to hear the truth about
that place. He was a good man in spite of what they did to him. Thanks for letting
me voice my thoughts!
Pat James
I've just played all the video that was on the website and I am so glad that this is
making it's way to the public. My husband was there in '59-'60. He was 15 when he
was sent there for skipping school and running away from home. His mother told
the courts to send him to Marianna, she couldn't handle him. I met him about a
month after he came home from there. I had a hard time believing the stories that he told me about the beatings and having to be taken to the infirmary to have his pants removed because of the injuries. We married a few months later and we lived with what they did to him (mentally) for 29 years, when he died at 47.
His name was Bethel James and I wish his mother was alive to hear the truth about
that place. He was a good man in spite of what they did to him. Thanks for letting
me voice my thoughts!
Pat James
A Daughter-Shannon
Dear Mr. Straley,
I saw the story a few months ago in the paper regarding the White House Boys. At
the time I read it, I thought how terrible that must have been. I immediately
thought of my own father and how he went to a boys school, but thought surely it
couldn't be the same one...until today. My grandmother passed away this week,
and after her viewing tonight I was talking with my father and he shared some
stories of his past. One of these stories was from a time around 1954-1956 when
he was a boy of about 11 or 12 and he and his younger brother spent time at the
Marianna Boys Home and that he was indeed a White House Boy. My father,
Freddy M. Bishop, and his brother Larry L. Bishop were apparently beaten several
times, but he told me of one specific event that I would like to share with you.
After dinner time my dad had to go to a house to get medicine, one night a group
of boys apparently demanded more food and he believes they were given more
food that night, but he wasn't sure because he was not there. The next day the
group was taken to "the White House" (which he referred to as the ice cream
house because after you went your skin would be every color that is in ice cream).
My dad was thought to be part of the group because he was gone at the same
time to get his medicine. He told me of the man that did the beating, (he can recall his name, but I don't remember what he said) and how he pleaded with him that he had only gone to get his medicine. The man said he was lying and then he was
made to lay on the bed, bite a pillow, with arms stretched around the mattress. He
was then given 34 licks with the strap and the man asked him about what he had
did wrong and my dad tried to explain again he didn't know, he had only gone to
get his medicine; the man then gave him over 20 more licks, and because he
couldn't take the pain any more he told the man he did it, even though he really
didn't know what "it" was at the time. When my dad woke up the next morning his
skin was stuck to the sheets. My dad says if you look close at his back you can
still see scars.
Although my dad did not speak of the things that had happened to me before this
day, I believe it is good for him to know that what happened to him and his brother
has not been forgotten, so I appreciate all that are responsible for this web site and for bringing this story to light. I can tell he recalls what happened to him like it was yesterday even though it has been long ago. Unlike the experience I saw from some other children of White House Boy Survivors, my dad was very much the
opposite. We were sparingly punished if at all, in fact if my mother tried to punish us my dad would fuss about it. I believe my dad wanted us to never have anything close to the horrors he faced in his life. Although we grew up with out a whole lot of money, we never really new as kids. We always had to have more than enough food cooked at every meal and we were allowed to get by with too much, which
often ends up with a negative outcome as well. I am grateful for my dad and
deeply saddened by the experiences he had to face as a boy.
Thanks again for bringing your past to present to help so many; I am sure it has brought back painful memories for you as well. I am also sorry for you, my dad and uncle, and for all that suffered that our state ignored what was taking place at the Marianna Boys School.
Sincerely,
Shannon Bishop Erwin
I saw the story a few months ago in the paper regarding the White House Boys. At
the time I read it, I thought how terrible that must have been. I immediately
thought of my own father and how he went to a boys school, but thought surely it
couldn't be the same one...until today. My grandmother passed away this week,
and after her viewing tonight I was talking with my father and he shared some
stories of his past. One of these stories was from a time around 1954-1956 when
he was a boy of about 11 or 12 and he and his younger brother spent time at the
Marianna Boys Home and that he was indeed a White House Boy. My father,
Freddy M. Bishop, and his brother Larry L. Bishop were apparently beaten several
times, but he told me of one specific event that I would like to share with you.
After dinner time my dad had to go to a house to get medicine, one night a group
of boys apparently demanded more food and he believes they were given more
food that night, but he wasn't sure because he was not there. The next day the
group was taken to "the White House" (which he referred to as the ice cream
house because after you went your skin would be every color that is in ice cream).
My dad was thought to be part of the group because he was gone at the same
time to get his medicine. He told me of the man that did the beating, (he can recall his name, but I don't remember what he said) and how he pleaded with him that he had only gone to get his medicine. The man said he was lying and then he was
made to lay on the bed, bite a pillow, with arms stretched around the mattress. He
was then given 34 licks with the strap and the man asked him about what he had
did wrong and my dad tried to explain again he didn't know, he had only gone to
get his medicine; the man then gave him over 20 more licks, and because he
couldn't take the pain any more he told the man he did it, even though he really
didn't know what "it" was at the time. When my dad woke up the next morning his
skin was stuck to the sheets. My dad says if you look close at his back you can
still see scars.
Although my dad did not speak of the things that had happened to me before this
day, I believe it is good for him to know that what happened to him and his brother
has not been forgotten, so I appreciate all that are responsible for this web site and for bringing this story to light. I can tell he recalls what happened to him like it was yesterday even though it has been long ago. Unlike the experience I saw from some other children of White House Boy Survivors, my dad was very much the
opposite. We were sparingly punished if at all, in fact if my mother tried to punish us my dad would fuss about it. I believe my dad wanted us to never have anything close to the horrors he faced in his life. Although we grew up with out a whole lot of money, we never really new as kids. We always had to have more than enough food cooked at every meal and we were allowed to get by with too much, which
often ends up with a negative outcome as well. I am grateful for my dad and
deeply saddened by the experiences he had to face as a boy.
Thanks again for bringing your past to present to help so many; I am sure it has brought back painful memories for you as well. I am also sorry for you, my dad and uncle, and for all that suffered that our state ignored what was taking place at the Marianna Boys School.
Sincerely,
Shannon Bishop Erwin
A Daughter-Tina
Hello, My name is Tina, Daughter of Clifford Hastings (one of the boys beat 9 or 10
times in a year at The Marianna School for Boys in 1954 and 1955).
I just found out at 43 yrs old exactly what my Dad went through. I always knew
something was wrong with him but my Grandparents told me drugs and alcohol
made him this angry, unstable person. They never bothered to tell me that it was
that school that did this to him. They didn't know or didn't want to believe it. My
Dad has just told me they never believed him.
Image being a child and the people that were suppose to protect you tossing you
away and beating you till they almost killed you or until you wish you were dead.
Could you trust anyone after that? I went for 43 yrs thinking my Dad didn't love me
or want me or anyone for that matter. He was married 6 times. I was raised by his
Parents. I didn't get to meet my Mother until I was 23 yrs old. I remember asking her what happened with you and my Daddy and all she would say was that he was so
angry and confused and she was scared to death of him and that she didn't want to
talk about it.
Again, I thought like I was told it was because of drugs and alcohol. That place
changed my Dad's life, my life, and my Brothers life. I didn't live with him raising my Brother but because of what happened to him he would not spank or discipline my
Brother at all. He could do anything and get away with it. Well now he is 34 yrs old and doesn't have a very structured life. He struggles because my Dad said he
would never be spanked for anything. I on the other hand had my share of
spankings from my Grandparents. So I thought my Dad sure loves my Brother but
he didn't love me. I got spankings but my Brother could do no wrong. It put a
wedge between us.
My Dad's only concern was that my Brother not get punished. It's all so clear now.
All he could see was himself in the face of his Son. My Father was never really able
to have a close relationship with me because having a relationship was so hard for
him. So, these people took my Father away from me. But, I am not as important as
he is in my opinion. He has had a very hard life because of all us this. All these
years unable to sleep at night. Now I know why. This can't happen to anymore kids.
I was sitting in Church looking at the little boys and girls and thinking that is what my Dad looked like when he was ravaged like he was an animal. How could there
be such people in this world. All I could do was cry for him. Life has been so hard
for him.
My Dad got out of that place by lying and having his older Sister sign for him to go
in the Military. He was only 16yrs old and had just came from hell. Well needless to
say the authority thing didn't work out well for him. He ended up in prison. All he
knew to do was fight, fight, fight. Well, in prison he had a nervous breakdown. His
jaws locked. He was then given Electroshock therapy. He became acquainted with
a Psychologist. He told me about him last night. He said he was really good and
made him believe he could be normal and have a life. He became an editor for the
newspaper. He is a very talented artist.
He did his time and was asked if he wanted to go back to the Army. He did. Guess
what? The authority thing came back crashing down on him. Trust no one. All
people are out to get you. Needless to say that didn't work out for him. Well, then
he found drugs and alcohol to numb him. He found a wife or two to take it out on
when he was drinking and all the bad came back to haunt him. His life and ever one
around him would never be normal. Each one in a different way. I have since heard
all these horrible stories and told my Dad how sorry I was for what he has gone
through in his life. I wish I could change it. I am only thankful that he is alive and I can try and show him how much I love him. I know some Daughters and Sons will
not get that chance. Their Fathers died with them saying good riddance you SOB.
All of our lives were shaped from the torture they allowed to go on in this place.
These were little boys who did nothing more than run away. Then when they got
there they just had the wrong look on their face whether it was a smile or a frown.
Some never found a reason to smile again.
Please hear them now. No one heard their cries over the fans and the pillows they
were biting. Make sure they are heard and acknowledged for what they have gone
through.
Tina Billy
Clifford Hasting's Daughter
times in a year at The Marianna School for Boys in 1954 and 1955).
I just found out at 43 yrs old exactly what my Dad went through. I always knew
something was wrong with him but my Grandparents told me drugs and alcohol
made him this angry, unstable person. They never bothered to tell me that it was
that school that did this to him. They didn't know or didn't want to believe it. My
Dad has just told me they never believed him.
Image being a child and the people that were suppose to protect you tossing you
away and beating you till they almost killed you or until you wish you were dead.
Could you trust anyone after that? I went for 43 yrs thinking my Dad didn't love me
or want me or anyone for that matter. He was married 6 times. I was raised by his
Parents. I didn't get to meet my Mother until I was 23 yrs old. I remember asking her what happened with you and my Daddy and all she would say was that he was so
angry and confused and she was scared to death of him and that she didn't want to
talk about it.
Again, I thought like I was told it was because of drugs and alcohol. That place
changed my Dad's life, my life, and my Brothers life. I didn't live with him raising my Brother but because of what happened to him he would not spank or discipline my
Brother at all. He could do anything and get away with it. Well now he is 34 yrs old and doesn't have a very structured life. He struggles because my Dad said he
would never be spanked for anything. I on the other hand had my share of
spankings from my Grandparents. So I thought my Dad sure loves my Brother but
he didn't love me. I got spankings but my Brother could do no wrong. It put a
wedge between us.
My Dad's only concern was that my Brother not get punished. It's all so clear now.
All he could see was himself in the face of his Son. My Father was never really able
to have a close relationship with me because having a relationship was so hard for
him. So, these people took my Father away from me. But, I am not as important as
he is in my opinion. He has had a very hard life because of all us this. All these
years unable to sleep at night. Now I know why. This can't happen to anymore kids.
I was sitting in Church looking at the little boys and girls and thinking that is what my Dad looked like when he was ravaged like he was an animal. How could there
be such people in this world. All I could do was cry for him. Life has been so hard
for him.
My Dad got out of that place by lying and having his older Sister sign for him to go
in the Military. He was only 16yrs old and had just came from hell. Well needless to
say the authority thing didn't work out well for him. He ended up in prison. All he
knew to do was fight, fight, fight. Well, in prison he had a nervous breakdown. His
jaws locked. He was then given Electroshock therapy. He became acquainted with
a Psychologist. He told me about him last night. He said he was really good and
made him believe he could be normal and have a life. He became an editor for the
newspaper. He is a very talented artist.
He did his time and was asked if he wanted to go back to the Army. He did. Guess
what? The authority thing came back crashing down on him. Trust no one. All
people are out to get you. Needless to say that didn't work out for him. Well, then
he found drugs and alcohol to numb him. He found a wife or two to take it out on
when he was drinking and all the bad came back to haunt him. His life and ever one
around him would never be normal. Each one in a different way. I have since heard
all these horrible stories and told my Dad how sorry I was for what he has gone
through in his life. I wish I could change it. I am only thankful that he is alive and I can try and show him how much I love him. I know some Daughters and Sons will
not get that chance. Their Fathers died with them saying good riddance you SOB.
All of our lives were shaped from the torture they allowed to go on in this place.
These were little boys who did nothing more than run away. Then when they got
there they just had the wrong look on their face whether it was a smile or a frown.
Some never found a reason to smile again.
Please hear them now. No one heard their cries over the fans and the pillows they
were biting. Make sure they are heard and acknowledged for what they have gone
through.
Tina Billy
Clifford Hasting's Daughter
A Daughter-Zoe
It’s a crazy thing to attempt: searching for the words to explain my relationship with my father and how I suspect his time at Florida School for Boys affected the outcome of his life, and indirectly, mine.
I can start by saying that I consider myself among the fortunate to have been raised by a man with all his screws securely in place. I didn’t fully realize – and suppose I never will – how psychologically traumatic his childhood was. And then I read Richard a.k.a. Paul Markwalter’s story about his time at FSB: 27 lashes with a paddle for smoking; 32 lashes for talking after lights out; 52 for a pillow fight with the other dorm boys which he said the headmaster referred to as a riot. To think that pop’s punishments were considered among the merciful. And then I consider some of the other residents’ assessments: FSB “taught” them to be criminals rather than to have helped them reform.
Pop had officially cleaned up his act by the time he was in his mid-twenties. He never made it past the eighth grade but I’d be willing to bet his i.q. is in the one-twenties. He’s spent the bulk of his years self-employed, always avoiding the system. He’s lived in fear of applying for a straight job in the event that his undesirable past may be chasing him.
I have spent my adult years dropping out of college, fearing confrontation, attempting to buck the system, and not quite knowing how to become a part of it. When I was a kid, I was riding a moped without documentation and feared arrest when the policeman pulled me over. As I fill out my unemployment information, verifying my job searches, I fear that they will cancel my benefits. This is who I am, a clear illustration of the reality that the dysfunction of abuse is passed from generation to generation regardless of intent. Still, I have the benefit of being a
generation removed from the direct effect that FSB had on human life. Pop doesn’t. Pop is trapped in the fear of being caught, being punished.
I don’t recall pop ever laying a hand on me. He promised himself that he would transcend his parents – his past. And he so much as made me promise to do the same simply by telling me I would. He taught me about honesty and alternative thinking, but he couldn’t help me find the right schools. He couldn’t help me plan an interview. He couldn’t help me fill out forms. And there was always, still is, something there: pain, fear, sadness.
It’s a crazy thing to write this – to wonder if it will make a difference. But I owe it to pop – my father, a victim of the system. He hides, so he loses its benefits as well. The system owes Richard Markwalter, the friends he made at FSB, and the boys he never knew.
Zoe & Pop
Chuck's Story
Mr Hagen was the cottage father at Roosevelt.. seemed like he drove a black '57 Ford that looked like a cop car.. he was just as you described him.. he had seen just about every kind of kid there is/was and completely untrusting of most guys..
I will admit that he started seeing I was sincere in my efforts to make good and started to 'trust' me on a limited basis..
When I arrived my 2nd time, just about everybody, staff and guys, thought I was going to be a bad ass and stay in trouble.. Mr Meyers was an exception.. he became the principle over the school part.. red headed guy... Mr Hagen did not trust me then.. but I worked and did good, eventually being the 'supervisor' over cleaning up and never did puke on anybody.. I also made ACE... I won a scholarship to Chipola Jr College from FSB.. Mr Meyers helped.. later on Pat Currey, worked with Mr Meyers as monitor, also won a scholarship and was my roommate.. we are in touch with each other...
Which brings up another name, Mr Curry was the psychologist you are talking about.. Mr McLean also was a psychometrist and gave tests.. they worked together... I was assigned to help Mr McLean.. Curry was bald, stockier, shorter, and smoked a pipe.. always talked about sex with the guys... Mr McLean on the other hand wasn't that talkative/social but after I got to know him, was friendly and a pretty nice guy..
My first time at FSB-FIS, I worked at the Industrial Arts shop with Mr Howard Hutchinson...
Coincidence.. I have my Vietnam veterans reunion at the Best Western at Ft Walton Beach.. I've been going since about '96 at least once a year and more recently, twice a year.. the next one is scheduled for 1st weekend in May.. we will have to get together.. check the 174th link in my signature block below.. you'll fit right in..
About the White House.. one thing that has held me up about writing about my experiences is it wasn't that traumatic for me... I was brutalized but not traumatized.. After reading about y'all's experiences, I've set back and wondered and meditated about why I was traumatized.. OR did I repress/suppress all those feelings.. the best I can say right now is I took it in stride and was not traumatized.. I could have been in post-trauma from my dad dying a couple of years earliey b/c that was really, really traumatizing for me.. but the spankings were sort of like an initiation rite to me.. and yeah, the first time I had about a one inch rip in my left butt cheek..
I'm planning on staying in touch.. notice I'm CC'ing everybody I've got an email address for.. I also know Bill Haynes that works for the Ala Dept of Corrections over the Communication Division.. I was senior research analyst for them for 22 years plus was correctional counselor at a work release center for my first 5 years.. I got recruited into doing research and a had a great career...
I wonder how we can put all our experiences together where it will help Roger in his efforts.. he was way too young to be spanked/beaten like that.. I was 14+ and a bigger boy then he was..
please get back to me, in peace
Chas "Chuck" Simmons
I hope next year we will be able to have a small reunion and a commemoration for those under the crosses.. for one, I’d like to pay my respects to those whose remains are interred at FSB.. the forgotten aren’t forgotten.. be a good excuse to get together if we need an excuse..
Do they have records for the graveyard?..
I know the Alabama prison system didn’t keep records of who was buried where.. they kept Time Books on each inmate, his crime and time.. just about every state had their system of keeping records.
The Time Books kept a record of an inmate's release whether the release was at end of sentence/time, by escape, by death, or transfer thru court adjudication, etc and there are records of each inmates according to Bryant and Stu...
It shouldn’t be too difficult to look thru FSB’s archives and find out which guys were released by escape and never returned… the number would be relatively small and easier to look into to see whether they reappeared at Appalachee or Raiford.... those not appearing there may be the ones to look further into..
Straley, were you going to upload that email narrative containing my experiences with the White House to the FSB-Marianna site? I had included a consent agreement with it.. I haven't checked your site in several days tho... I hope you have., ;) lol!
It bothered me when I first heard of Roger's traumatic experiences at FSB with Dr Curry and also down at the White House.. my experiences were no where close to being like his was. now understand I had a brutal experience, just like anybody would getting beat like that..
In particular they should not have beat kids… I don’t care how snot nosed a kid can get, after a point a whipping isn’t a whipping once it becomes a beating.. then it’s a physical assault and battery.. there was some young, young kid, nine or under that was there for throwing rocks at cars passing by their dirt road.. he was assigned to #1.. IMHO he shouldn’t have been at FSB for that ‘offense’. I don’t remember him getting ‘flogged’. The point is there are folks too small and too young to be beat..
Incidentally that strap was made of an old-time leather conveyer belt; made by layering a metal reinforced belt between thick layers of horsehide… the strap was cut from the belt, a wood handle, with holes to decrease the wind resistance and create blood blisters
I heard some FSB employees discussing it over coffee at Joe's Restaurant while I was going to Chipola in Marianna.. John Meyer kept a close watch over Pat and me, and later on over Lloyd Garner, and Mark from Pensacola (his last name hasn’t came to me yet)... Arthur Gibson had a shot at going to Chipola too but he wanted to go back to Michigan and attend college on his father’s benefits.. I had coffee lots of time with several of the FSB staff. A couple of the assistant cottage fathers were guys working part time and also going to college at Chipola... I was friendly and polite but wasn’t buddies with them or vice versa.. we each had our own worlds to live in and I wasn't part of theirs..
But, like I was saying.. I was brutalized but not traumatized.. and at first it bothered me that I hadn't been traumatized by the White House beatings. Several of you guys were traumatized and brutalized.. Reason being I wasn’t traumatized was because I was already in shock, a post-trauma from my dad's death and sudden aloneness and responsibility.. I was pretty pissed off at the world, enraged at my dad, and at God and Christ.. I cussed them and raged against them for most of my early adulthood...
I look back nowadays and I see that Christ was there for me all thru FSB... He loved me even when I didn’t love him. I didn't see it then... there wasn't anything outside of me that could hurt me more than I was already hurting... but now I see the Holy Spirit was there with me every step I took..
So I understand now why I wasn't traumatized by being beat at the White House.. brutalized? yes!! Traumatized? Nope.. I had a younger big brother that used to swap licks with each other.. man he could pack his lunch in a punch.. dang he could hit.. and cut with his knuckles.
I held my own tho and gave him as good or better than I got. All my brothers had a lot of anger similar to me..
Flogging was supposed to be by procedure, officially..
Unofficially it got out of control on occasions.. according to what I understand, when FSB hired a male employee, they were invited into a group of people authorized to administer flogging.. within that group was a certain comradeship and competition to being the best flogger.. they took pride in busting a butt in under ten strokes sort of thing.. Hatton, Hagen, and Dixon were rumored to be the ‘best’.. some cottage fathers declined to join the group and were not part of the official group..
Several assistant cottage fathers got into the inner group rivalry.. Mr Tidwell with his one arm couldn’t get the balance/leverage to be in the top group but he was in the group right below.. he wasn’t a slouch by any means.. Mr Zych was another that wanted to be top ranked but with one leg, he couldn't.. they could turn the paddle at certain angles and it became rigid-like and ‘slice’ and pound the glutes..
They would have one guy to whip, one guy to witness and watch the inmate on the cot and any inmate previous been beat.. and then they needed a guy to stay with the inmates waiting to be whipped.. it would take a minimum of three staff members to escort a group of boys to the White House. seems like when they would take four guys at a time to the White House they would also have four staff members..
Anyway, thanks again Roger for the photo.. in peace ;)
The Chazzmanian Devil ;-)
God loves me.. oh yes, even me.. and even you too!! come visit my little toe-hold in cyberspace http://www.myspace.com/chazzmaniak
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I will admit that he started seeing I was sincere in my efforts to make good and started to 'trust' me on a limited basis..
When I arrived my 2nd time, just about everybody, staff and guys, thought I was going to be a bad ass and stay in trouble.. Mr Meyers was an exception.. he became the principle over the school part.. red headed guy... Mr Hagen did not trust me then.. but I worked and did good, eventually being the 'supervisor' over cleaning up and never did puke on anybody.. I also made ACE... I won a scholarship to Chipola Jr College from FSB.. Mr Meyers helped.. later on Pat Currey, worked with Mr Meyers as monitor, also won a scholarship and was my roommate.. we are in touch with each other...
Which brings up another name, Mr Curry was the psychologist you are talking about.. Mr McLean also was a psychometrist and gave tests.. they worked together... I was assigned to help Mr McLean.. Curry was bald, stockier, shorter, and smoked a pipe.. always talked about sex with the guys... Mr McLean on the other hand wasn't that talkative/social but after I got to know him, was friendly and a pretty nice guy..
My first time at FSB-FIS, I worked at the Industrial Arts shop with Mr Howard Hutchinson...
Coincidence.. I have my Vietnam veterans reunion at the Best Western at Ft Walton Beach.. I've been going since about '96 at least once a year and more recently, twice a year.. the next one is scheduled for 1st weekend in May.. we will have to get together.. check the 174th link in my signature block below.. you'll fit right in..
About the White House.. one thing that has held me up about writing about my experiences is it wasn't that traumatic for me... I was brutalized but not traumatized.. After reading about y'all's experiences, I've set back and wondered and meditated about why I was traumatized.. OR did I repress/suppress all those feelings.. the best I can say right now is I took it in stride and was not traumatized.. I could have been in post-trauma from my dad dying a couple of years earliey b/c that was really, really traumatizing for me.. but the spankings were sort of like an initiation rite to me.. and yeah, the first time I had about a one inch rip in my left butt cheek..
I'm planning on staying in touch.. notice I'm CC'ing everybody I've got an email address for.. I also know Bill Haynes that works for the Ala Dept of Corrections over the Communication Division.. I was senior research analyst for them for 22 years plus was correctional counselor at a work release center for my first 5 years.. I got recruited into doing research and a had a great career...
I wonder how we can put all our experiences together where it will help Roger in his efforts.. he was way too young to be spanked/beaten like that.. I was 14+ and a bigger boy then he was..
please get back to me, in peace
Chas "Chuck" Simmons
I hope next year we will be able to have a small reunion and a commemoration for those under the crosses.. for one, I’d like to pay my respects to those whose remains are interred at FSB.. the forgotten aren’t forgotten.. be a good excuse to get together if we need an excuse..
Do they have records for the graveyard?..
I know the Alabama prison system didn’t keep records of who was buried where.. they kept Time Books on each inmate, his crime and time.. just about every state had their system of keeping records.
The Time Books kept a record of an inmate's release whether the release was at end of sentence/time, by escape, by death, or transfer thru court adjudication, etc and there are records of each inmates according to Bryant and Stu...
It shouldn’t be too difficult to look thru FSB’s archives and find out which guys were released by escape and never returned… the number would be relatively small and easier to look into to see whether they reappeared at Appalachee or Raiford.... those not appearing there may be the ones to look further into..
Straley, were you going to upload that email narrative containing my experiences with the White House to the FSB-Marianna site? I had included a consent agreement with it.. I haven't checked your site in several days tho... I hope you have., ;) lol!
It bothered me when I first heard of Roger's traumatic experiences at FSB with Dr Curry and also down at the White House.. my experiences were no where close to being like his was. now understand I had a brutal experience, just like anybody would getting beat like that..
In particular they should not have beat kids… I don’t care how snot nosed a kid can get, after a point a whipping isn’t a whipping once it becomes a beating.. then it’s a physical assault and battery.. there was some young, young kid, nine or under that was there for throwing rocks at cars passing by their dirt road.. he was assigned to #1.. IMHO he shouldn’t have been at FSB for that ‘offense’. I don’t remember him getting ‘flogged’. The point is there are folks too small and too young to be beat..
Incidentally that strap was made of an old-time leather conveyer belt; made by layering a metal reinforced belt between thick layers of horsehide… the strap was cut from the belt, a wood handle, with holes to decrease the wind resistance and create blood blisters
I heard some FSB employees discussing it over coffee at Joe's Restaurant while I was going to Chipola in Marianna.. John Meyer kept a close watch over Pat and me, and later on over Lloyd Garner, and Mark from Pensacola (his last name hasn’t came to me yet)... Arthur Gibson had a shot at going to Chipola too but he wanted to go back to Michigan and attend college on his father’s benefits.. I had coffee lots of time with several of the FSB staff. A couple of the assistant cottage fathers were guys working part time and also going to college at Chipola... I was friendly and polite but wasn’t buddies with them or vice versa.. we each had our own worlds to live in and I wasn't part of theirs..
But, like I was saying.. I was brutalized but not traumatized.. and at first it bothered me that I hadn't been traumatized by the White House beatings. Several of you guys were traumatized and brutalized.. Reason being I wasn’t traumatized was because I was already in shock, a post-trauma from my dad's death and sudden aloneness and responsibility.. I was pretty pissed off at the world, enraged at my dad, and at God and Christ.. I cussed them and raged against them for most of my early adulthood...
I look back nowadays and I see that Christ was there for me all thru FSB... He loved me even when I didn’t love him. I didn't see it then... there wasn't anything outside of me that could hurt me more than I was already hurting... but now I see the Holy Spirit was there with me every step I took..
So I understand now why I wasn't traumatized by being beat at the White House.. brutalized? yes!! Traumatized? Nope.. I had a younger big brother that used to swap licks with each other.. man he could pack his lunch in a punch.. dang he could hit.. and cut with his knuckles.
I held my own tho and gave him as good or better than I got. All my brothers had a lot of anger similar to me..
Flogging was supposed to be by procedure, officially..
Unofficially it got out of control on occasions.. according to what I understand, when FSB hired a male employee, they were invited into a group of people authorized to administer flogging.. within that group was a certain comradeship and competition to being the best flogger.. they took pride in busting a butt in under ten strokes sort of thing.. Hatton, Hagen, and Dixon were rumored to be the ‘best’.. some cottage fathers declined to join the group and were not part of the official group..
Several assistant cottage fathers got into the inner group rivalry.. Mr Tidwell with his one arm couldn’t get the balance/leverage to be in the top group but he was in the group right below.. he wasn’t a slouch by any means.. Mr Zych was another that wanted to be top ranked but with one leg, he couldn't.. they could turn the paddle at certain angles and it became rigid-like and ‘slice’ and pound the glutes..
They would have one guy to whip, one guy to witness and watch the inmate on the cot and any inmate previous been beat.. and then they needed a guy to stay with the inmates waiting to be whipped.. it would take a minimum of three staff members to escort a group of boys to the White House. seems like when they would take four guys at a time to the White House they would also have four staff members..
Anyway, thanks again Roger for the photo.. in peace ;)
The Chazzmanian Devil ;-)
God loves me.. oh yes, even me.. and even you too!! come visit my little toe-hold in cyberspace http://www.myspace.com/chazzmaniak
Visit my photo/art portfolio! http://www.flickr.com/photos/chazzman34/collections/
Read my personal history, w/empasis on military bio: http://www.174ahc.org/bio-15.htm
Leslie's Father
Leslie said...
Mr. Kiser,
I found your comment after doing a little research into what my father refers to as "the boy's home in Marianna". My father has spoken of a beating he received while he was there in the late 1950's. I have not read your comment to my dad, but I was chilled to the bone as my father has even said the name, (known official to be named at a later time) The details of my dad's experience are very much like your own, so much so it gave me goosebumps. Because my dad has always been a wonderful father, very generous, loving, and understanding I as an adult have never been able to fully comprehend the hell and torture he endured at Marianna. I also doubt many people can understand the horrors that these young boys such as my father experienced. I applaude you for sharing your experience, and have often encouraged my father to do the same. NO child should EVER be treated in that manner!
Mr. Kiser,
I found your comment after doing a little research into what my father refers to as "the boy's home in Marianna". My father has spoken of a beating he received while he was there in the late 1950's. I have not read your comment to my dad, but I was chilled to the bone as my father has even said the name, (known official to be named at a later time) The details of my dad's experience are very much like your own, so much so it gave me goosebumps. Because my dad has always been a wonderful father, very generous, loving, and understanding I as an adult have never been able to fully comprehend the hell and torture he endured at Marianna. I also doubt many people can understand the horrors that these young boys such as my father experienced. I applaude you for sharing your experience, and have often encouraged my father to do the same. NO child should EVER be treated in that manner!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Louis de la Parte
Louis de la Parte: A Crusading Champion For Florida's Forgotten
Back in the days when the mentally ill were shuttered away in institutions and troubled children faced cruel conditions in jails and reform schools, one lawmaker stood alone as the champion for reform. His name was Louis de la Parte, and what he saw in Florida's mental hospitals, prisons and juvenile reform schools enraged him so much that he dedicated his leadership to reforming the system. Twenty years later, de la Parte called for the reformation of HRS because of its ballooning inefficiencies. He would make unannounced visits to state institutions, then present fellow legislators with irrefutable testimony that spurred sweeping reforms. When the director of the state's reform school for boys in Marianna was fired for whipping children, then reinstated by a powerful politician, de la Parte drove to the school and found the blood-splattered shed where the abuse had occurred. Tampa Bay Online - Oct 2, 2008
Back in the days when the mentally ill were shuttered away in institutions and troubled children faced cruel conditions in jails and reform schools, one lawmaker stood alone as the champion for reform. His name was Louis de la Parte, and what he saw in Florida's mental hospitals, prisons and juvenile reform schools enraged him so much that he dedicated his leadership to reforming the system. Twenty years later, de la Parte called for the reformation of HRS because of its ballooning inefficiencies. He would make unannounced visits to state institutions, then present fellow legislators with irrefutable testimony that spurred sweeping reforms. When the director of the state's reform school for boys in Marianna was fired for whipping children, then reinstated by a powerful politician, de la Parte drove to the school and found the blood-splattered shed where the abuse had occurred. Tampa Bay Online - Oct 2, 2008
Randolf's Story
Dear Roger
My Name Is Randolph Johnson nick name Randy. Just today I was looking at a map of Florida, having to do with my business , I suddenly ran across the town of Marianna and in that moment all these memories came flooding in about my confinement in Marianna and the abuse that still lingers in the far corners of my 69 year old mind.
Suddenly I was in the white house, I saw the metal bed that had at one time been painted white so typical of white southern folk to paint things white. Only the bars were worn to the metal from all the hands that had held on for dear life, I could smell the odor of damp cement and mildewed mattress, the dirty pillow with blood spots from boys that bit so hard to endure the pain that was being forced on their young tender bodies , how searing that pain was, you can never forget it.
I went to my computer to see if the school was still in existence and found your group and began to read all of the story's including yours, Roger. My tale is similar to all who have experienced this terrifying journey. I was placed there June or July of 1954 until April of 1955 about 9 months, back on the streets for 4 months, returned Sept 1955 until July 1956 10 months.
In this time frame I was sent 4 times to the white house. By the way how did you get the photo of the man with the whip? ,that's the whip! I will never forgot the shape of it, they keep it under the pillow. The man that beat me on all those four times, his name was (KNOWN OFFICIAL TO BE NAMED AT A LATER DATE) the director of the school and (KNOWN OFFICIAL TO BE NAMED AT A LATER DATE) as superintendent . I'm having a big anxiety attack to many memories hammering me at this moment .I will write more later I'm sending you photos of myself now and then at the school. Thank you for taking about this. I'm only now realizing all this was really happening to so many boys and now its a collective memory. Its been in my head for so long.
Thank you again Randy
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Jonathan Coker
My Time at the Florida School for Boys 1957-1958My name is Jonathan Coker . I arrived at FSB in July of 1957, I was fourteen and had been declared incorrigible for not being under the control of my parents and fighting with my Dad. I had spent several weeks in the Bay county jail
and was driven up with another boy from Panama City who had been there several times before.
When we were being processed at the office I made the mistake of sitting in a chair without being asked which was considered a major breach of manners , I was corrected instantly but I think this made Mr Hatton remember me and consider me a "wise guy".
I was assigned to Monroe cottage # 6 with Carlos Smith as the cottage father . He had an assistant named Bull York. who was a bully and was known for punching and slapping around the boys who displeased him. After a week of so on the "yard crew" I was assigned to the Auto Mechanics shop and worked under Mr Lewis. This was across the highway from the colored section where almost all the job training , on the white side we had training in the skilled crafts which might be of some use when you got out. The blacks side did mostly farm work.
Monroe cottage was filled with the larger boys , the person I arrived with was sent to a different cottage I think because he was smaller than me. We went to school one day and worked one day and were divided into groups of "even" and 'odds" in order to maintain this
schedule.
There was a pecking order among us which had the larger and more experienced boys , many second timers at the top and it worked down to the smaller and weaker boys who were often harassed by the larger ones. There were always some who would bully those who couldn't protect themselves for amusement. There were some boys who were bullied by everyone for no real reason and were truly miserable..
I remember one incident when one of these unfortunates was trapped in a hall with 8 or 9 boys passed by with each of us kicking him in the shins or giving him a knee strike to his legs as he was pinned against the wall begging us to stop. None of us were what I considered chronic bullies but the pack mentality was at work and if had we passed him as individuals nothing would have happened. These were daily,common incidents,that would occur when conditions were right..He knew better than to say anything.I can still remember the expression on his face..
In order to gain the respect to make life bearable you would be tested by the bullies who would look for any sign of weakness. You would probably have a fight or two and then you would be left alone even if you lost, since to be caught fighting was always a paddling offense which took all the fun out of it, otherwise you could be tormented the rest of your time at FSB..
If you complained to the staff you would be branded a " puke" or "snitch" and you would be despised by the other boys for the rest of your time in Marianna. The only exception was if someone was talking about running away which was never successful and resulted in the entire cottage losing all privileges for a month. A boy considered a " puke" could have a blanket thrown over him at night and get the crap beaten out of him by 5 or six boys who he could not see. Staff would attempt to find out but if no witness came forward told there would be no action. Your place in the "pecking order" was clear at meals.
At meals we all sat usually eight to a table and the servers would bring the food from the kitchen and give it to the person who was the head of the table, he would take the best and then it would work it's way back and forth across the table until everyone who had been served with the unlucky person at the bottom getting the dregs. The head of the table could decide seating order. I don't remember how one got to be head of the table but they were the bigger and tougher boys.
Things like butter would never make it far past the first three or four people nor would any of the best pieces of chicken or ham or other desirable parts of the meal. The person at the bottom often would get nothing but a chicken neck or some pieces of Fat it is good we usually had enough vegetables. This was often a source of amusement to those closer to the head of the table.
I remember boys complaining that they were being starved by the others and there was some truth in this. I watched boys lose weight after their arrival if they sat near the bottom. We were all muscular,medium build or skinny, there were no fat boys at FSB that I remember.. Staff had a separate dining hall and different food that we only heard about from the kitchen boys.
Meat was mostly chicken and pork. Ham was served with the bristles still on it and called "hairy ham" but on weekends for the evening meals we were served hot dogs ,bread and a dish made of peanut butter and cane syrup called "state peanut butter". Like a lot of the food it took some getting used to. After a month or so I had made the adjustment and a few friends and was promoted from " rookie" to " explorer" and had a visit form my family during which time we were allowed to drive around the campus. I got my father to allow me to smoke a cigarette or two and since he had a carton in the car to give me two packs which I put in my socks.
Arriving back at the cottage Bull York must have smelled smoke because he took me to the locker room and strip searched me and found the cigarettes. I knew I was in a lot of trouble because of the way everyone acted.
I was broken to "grub' but I had to wait almost a week for my "spanking" since it happened on a Sunday.
Routine spankings were normally done on Sat morning, so I reported to the office with the rest and I was in the first bunch and know I was the first boy to be paddled that day.Sometimes there would be 20 or more boys and spankings would go on all morning with different staff members working in rotation.. Usually we would be taken from the office to the whitehouse in groups of 4 with two or three staff members and returned the same way ,usually limping and they would pick up the next group.
Mr Hatton told me to lay on the bed In the little room on the left side while the others waited on the other . I heard the fan turned on and received the first blow shortly after. The power of it was completely unexpected as it actually drove my whole body down on the cot. There was a delay of 20-40 seconds and another blow stronger than the last. I could hear him winding up like a baseball pitcher,his foot scrape,the strap hit the ceiling and then me . I knew it was important to "hold the bed" but was having trouble at about 5 licks. I counted 26 licks and at the end I was just seeing huge flashes of light and pain like I have never experienced before or since. The intervals between blows seemed like an eternity and were an important part of the punishment making each blow a separate experience and much more painful than the last.I thought it would never end. Mr Hattons spankings were not over quickly, I think my beating took about 10-12 minutes at least from start to finish. This gives you a chance to feel the full extent of the fear and pain and also doesn't wear out Mr Hattons arm too soon. He was a very powerful man and had been doing this long enough to make himself a real expert.
After the return to the cottage I was amazed at the damage that had been done to my buttocks, both cheeks were beaten black and "busted in five or six places with blood running down my legs. As I was all wobbly i was having trouble bending my legs to get the underwear off and some one helped into the shower and we took them off there.
I remember Mr Smith looking at it and shaking his head. Most of my friends felt it had been an unusually severe spanking. The next few days were a hell of pain every time I moved and gradually over the next two weeks turned blue,green and yellow as it healed.
I had heard about the spankings and that Mr Hatton was known to brag that he could "bust the skin" in 3 licks and was famous for his ability . I found it hard to believe that the state would allow this to be done to children and wondered what else could be done... I think this would have happened around the end of Aug , I never saw the strap this time. I now know it was made of two pieces of leather belting with a steel insert. It seemed to have a good deal of weight to it.
My next "spanking" was about 2 weeks later. The mechanics shop where I worked was down by the highway across from the colored side was where the fire engine was kept and it always had the keys in it. I made a joke about stealing the fire engine and using it to run away to another boy I worked with. In a couple of hours 2 men came to the shop and took me up to the office where Mr Hatton asked me about talking about running away. I attempted to explain that I was just making a joke and didn't intend anything but his response was running away is nothing to joke about and we would see how funny I thought it was when he was finished.
Anything I said made him more angry and so I shut up.I could tell he intended to teach me a lesson and knew I was really in for it..
After sitting in the office for the rest of the afternoon at the end of the day he and 2 other men walked me over to the whitehouse and I told to get on the cot and the fan was turned on and He took the paddle from under the mattress gave me my paddling which was like the one before except for being much more painful as my bottom had not healed and was still tender. I lost count at 29 licks and may have passed out as I had to be helped to my feet and made to walk around to be sure I was OK. I was crying a little and had chewed up my lip some. This time when I got back to the cottage my butt was in worse shape than ever with the old wounds reopened and busted in many more places and everything black and more bleeding so had to go in the shower and needed help to get the underwear off. The soreness was much worse than before which I didn't think possible. They did remove the keys from the fire engine.
My third and last "paddling" was about a month later and resulted from some horseplay at work that resulted in my being charged with fighting and disrespect. When washing down an area with a hose at work I gave another boy a squirt, since he didn't have a hose he came over and tried to grab it from me resulting in a struggle with both of us getting wet. Mr Lewis felt this was fighting and when I told him we weren't fighting but just fooling around he felt I was showing disrespect and I was written up for fighting and disrespect. I tried to take the blame but we both wound up getting paddled for it.
While waiting I was almost decided to try to run away to avoid another paddling but I knew of no one who had succeeded and they had all received severe spankings for their efforts.I also had no place to go and no plan to get there. I decided to try to grit my teeth and get though it. Next sat I reported to the office and was taken down to the Whitehouse and got to listen when one of the younger boys could not hold the bed after about 12 licks and had to be sat on by the two others boys and received another 5 licks while screaming and crying. I guess he was about 8 or 9 years old. I was the last to be paddled this time and was grateful that Mr Hatton was not there for some reason and I was paddled by Mr Zitch who was our school principal and also had a reputation as a bad paddler but I would have preferred anyone to Mr Hatton.
Mr Zitch had only one leg and could hit pretty hard but not like Mr Hatton , his aim was poor and you would be hit anywhere from the bottom of the buttocks almost to the small of the back. He would sometimes turn the paddle edgewise so the effect was more like being hit with a club and I remember one blow up high felt like an electric shock and caused me to jerk in reflex. I think I got about 20-25 licks that time with the usual effects except for the welts caused by the blows with the strap turned edgewise.. I had lower back pain for a month or two and have been bothered on and off with it all my life.
That was my last paddling and I came to understand how easy it was to get in trouble at FSB and became more careful but was always seeing the results of those who weren't. Once I loaned my camera to take pictures of someone's bad spanking and the film was supposed to be given to his parents to be developed and sent to a State Senator but never heard anything more about it.That would have been in late 57 or early 58. Generally the worst paddlings were reserved for those who ran and they were often allowed to rest for a day in the infirmity and always received severe beatings, but it was possible to get equally severe beatings for lessor offences.
The most important thing was who was doing the paddling and not just the number of blows alone. In my time the most feared was Mr Hatton, but there were others that found pleasure in this way and they competed with each other. I think they were all volunteers for this duty.
Habitual runaways disappeared and we were told that had been sent a place with a fence such as Appalachee , but we must remember that the staff had absolute power over us boys and would be protected in the event of any trouble in order to protect the reputation of the school and State of Florida.. There were stories about some black boys that had broken into a staff members house and were beaten to death in the whitehouse.
After my first spanking I quickly I realized that if they wanted to kill you here they could do it and get away with it.
Another explanation for the graves is that over the years tens of thousands of beatings such as mine and much worse took place and it is probable that some would have been given to kids with preexisting conditions which could cause death.It seems possible a blood clot could form since the muscles of the buttocks were beaten to a pulp and cause death in that way. Any medical care would have been delayed and rudimentary and the school would have gone to any length to conceal this. Thirty nine graves does not seem like a large number in this context..
. FSB was not only a reform school but also functioned as a orphanage and a great many kids were there just because they had been rejected by their families and had no place to go,.. There were also boys who had done everything short of murder such as robberies and serious assaults and were dangerous criminals and could be real predators.
But I think most of us were just scared, lonely, unwanted kids from failed families away from home for the first time. There were also kids who could never adjust to the discipline the school required and kept getting into trouble and would be sent home on a "must" which meant that for minor infractions that would normally result in a demotion , they would receive a spanking instead and keep their rank and be released Many would go to a home which might be worse than the school..
An "Ace' could get out in 71/2 months, a "Pilot" in 81/2, a "Pioneer" in 91/2 , but during my period 18 mos was the Maximum you could stay and many of these boys were up there every Sat morning for a spanking for a minor offense. I left as a "Pioneer" after about 10 mos. I was told average stay was about 11 months.
I would have to say life in the school brought out the best and worst in people,but mostly the worst and overall was a brutalizing experience that you never recover from and produces permanent changes in your personality and attitude towards life. It is hard to see the world as a kind & friendly place after one of the "spankings ' the staff was so free with or to see people as basically good when your main emotions are anger and fear. We all lived in some degree of fear all the time .
This leads to trouble later and closes lots of doors regarding jobs and family unless you are able to overcome it.. There is no doubt I came out an angrier and meaner person than I went in. It took time to learn to survive in this environment, it changed my personality so that in order to ignore your own pain, you became indifferent to the suffering to that of others, any displays of weakness or sentiment invited ridicule or even a fight so you learned to suppress your emotions which could cause problems in later life even such as problems showing affection. There was also the generalized anger and quick temper that I concealed but never quite learned to control and a difficulty in the ability to trust others.
I am 66 now so these my experiences took place 52 years ago. Remembering them instead of repressing them has been like opening a can of worms or pulling a scab off of a wound attempting to heal and the memories just come rushing back like yesterday. They are as vivid and painful as ever. I have been as accurate as I can with my recollections, of this period in my life and though I think it diminished my life and set me up for many problems later I try to avoid any bitterness..
I returned to FSB sometime in the 70"s and things looked much the same,.I entered at the mechanics shop entrance and drove up around behind the dining room, past the whitehouse , around to the school and down past Monroe cottage and out the other entrance. I think I saw a new administration building with R.W. Hatton's name on it but may have been mistaken. I didn't stop and was overwhelmed with images from the past and wanted to leave as soon as I could.. I have never been back.
I have never forgotten the date of my release, May 6th 1958. Actually I have been unable to ever really forget any of it. It will always be a part of me .
. Jonathan ( Jot ) Coker
and was driven up with another boy from Panama City who had been there several times before.
When we were being processed at the office I made the mistake of sitting in a chair without being asked which was considered a major breach of manners , I was corrected instantly but I think this made Mr Hatton remember me and consider me a "wise guy".
I was assigned to Monroe cottage # 6 with Carlos Smith as the cottage father . He had an assistant named Bull York. who was a bully and was known for punching and slapping around the boys who displeased him. After a week of so on the "yard crew" I was assigned to the Auto Mechanics shop and worked under Mr Lewis. This was across the highway from the colored section where almost all the job training , on the white side we had training in the skilled crafts which might be of some use when you got out. The blacks side did mostly farm work.
Monroe cottage was filled with the larger boys , the person I arrived with was sent to a different cottage I think because he was smaller than me. We went to school one day and worked one day and were divided into groups of "even" and 'odds" in order to maintain this
schedule.
There was a pecking order among us which had the larger and more experienced boys , many second timers at the top and it worked down to the smaller and weaker boys who were often harassed by the larger ones. There were always some who would bully those who couldn't protect themselves for amusement. There were some boys who were bullied by everyone for no real reason and were truly miserable..
I remember one incident when one of these unfortunates was trapped in a hall with 8 or 9 boys passed by with each of us kicking him in the shins or giving him a knee strike to his legs as he was pinned against the wall begging us to stop. None of us were what I considered chronic bullies but the pack mentality was at work and if had we passed him as individuals nothing would have happened. These were daily,common incidents,that would occur when conditions were right..He knew better than to say anything.I can still remember the expression on his face..
In order to gain the respect to make life bearable you would be tested by the bullies who would look for any sign of weakness. You would probably have a fight or two and then you would be left alone even if you lost, since to be caught fighting was always a paddling offense which took all the fun out of it, otherwise you could be tormented the rest of your time at FSB..
If you complained to the staff you would be branded a " puke" or "snitch" and you would be despised by the other boys for the rest of your time in Marianna. The only exception was if someone was talking about running away which was never successful and resulted in the entire cottage losing all privileges for a month. A boy considered a " puke" could have a blanket thrown over him at night and get the crap beaten out of him by 5 or six boys who he could not see. Staff would attempt to find out but if no witness came forward told there would be no action. Your place in the "pecking order" was clear at meals.
At meals we all sat usually eight to a table and the servers would bring the food from the kitchen and give it to the person who was the head of the table, he would take the best and then it would work it's way back and forth across the table until everyone who had been served with the unlucky person at the bottom getting the dregs. The head of the table could decide seating order. I don't remember how one got to be head of the table but they were the bigger and tougher boys.
Things like butter would never make it far past the first three or four people nor would any of the best pieces of chicken or ham or other desirable parts of the meal. The person at the bottom often would get nothing but a chicken neck or some pieces of Fat it is good we usually had enough vegetables. This was often a source of amusement to those closer to the head of the table.
I remember boys complaining that they were being starved by the others and there was some truth in this. I watched boys lose weight after their arrival if they sat near the bottom. We were all muscular,medium build or skinny, there were no fat boys at FSB that I remember.. Staff had a separate dining hall and different food that we only heard about from the kitchen boys.
Meat was mostly chicken and pork. Ham was served with the bristles still on it and called "hairy ham" but on weekends for the evening meals we were served hot dogs ,bread and a dish made of peanut butter and cane syrup called "state peanut butter". Like a lot of the food it took some getting used to. After a month or so I had made the adjustment and a few friends and was promoted from " rookie" to " explorer" and had a visit form my family during which time we were allowed to drive around the campus. I got my father to allow me to smoke a cigarette or two and since he had a carton in the car to give me two packs which I put in my socks.
Arriving back at the cottage Bull York must have smelled smoke because he took me to the locker room and strip searched me and found the cigarettes. I knew I was in a lot of trouble because of the way everyone acted.
I was broken to "grub' but I had to wait almost a week for my "spanking" since it happened on a Sunday.
Routine spankings were normally done on Sat morning, so I reported to the office with the rest and I was in the first bunch and know I was the first boy to be paddled that day.Sometimes there would be 20 or more boys and spankings would go on all morning with different staff members working in rotation.. Usually we would be taken from the office to the whitehouse in groups of 4 with two or three staff members and returned the same way ,usually limping and they would pick up the next group.
Mr Hatton told me to lay on the bed In the little room on the left side while the others waited on the other . I heard the fan turned on and received the first blow shortly after. The power of it was completely unexpected as it actually drove my whole body down on the cot. There was a delay of 20-40 seconds and another blow stronger than the last. I could hear him winding up like a baseball pitcher,his foot scrape,the strap hit the ceiling and then me . I knew it was important to "hold the bed" but was having trouble at about 5 licks. I counted 26 licks and at the end I was just seeing huge flashes of light and pain like I have never experienced before or since. The intervals between blows seemed like an eternity and were an important part of the punishment making each blow a separate experience and much more painful than the last.I thought it would never end. Mr Hattons spankings were not over quickly, I think my beating took about 10-12 minutes at least from start to finish. This gives you a chance to feel the full extent of the fear and pain and also doesn't wear out Mr Hattons arm too soon. He was a very powerful man and had been doing this long enough to make himself a real expert.
After the return to the cottage I was amazed at the damage that had been done to my buttocks, both cheeks were beaten black and "busted in five or six places with blood running down my legs. As I was all wobbly i was having trouble bending my legs to get the underwear off and some one helped into the shower and we took them off there.
I remember Mr Smith looking at it and shaking his head. Most of my friends felt it had been an unusually severe spanking. The next few days were a hell of pain every time I moved and gradually over the next two weeks turned blue,green and yellow as it healed.
I had heard about the spankings and that Mr Hatton was known to brag that he could "bust the skin" in 3 licks and was famous for his ability . I found it hard to believe that the state would allow this to be done to children and wondered what else could be done... I think this would have happened around the end of Aug , I never saw the strap this time. I now know it was made of two pieces of leather belting with a steel insert. It seemed to have a good deal of weight to it.
My next "spanking" was about 2 weeks later. The mechanics shop where I worked was down by the highway across from the colored side was where the fire engine was kept and it always had the keys in it. I made a joke about stealing the fire engine and using it to run away to another boy I worked with. In a couple of hours 2 men came to the shop and took me up to the office where Mr Hatton asked me about talking about running away. I attempted to explain that I was just making a joke and didn't intend anything but his response was running away is nothing to joke about and we would see how funny I thought it was when he was finished.
Anything I said made him more angry and so I shut up.I could tell he intended to teach me a lesson and knew I was really in for it..
After sitting in the office for the rest of the afternoon at the end of the day he and 2 other men walked me over to the whitehouse and I told to get on the cot and the fan was turned on and He took the paddle from under the mattress gave me my paddling which was like the one before except for being much more painful as my bottom had not healed and was still tender. I lost count at 29 licks and may have passed out as I had to be helped to my feet and made to walk around to be sure I was OK. I was crying a little and had chewed up my lip some. This time when I got back to the cottage my butt was in worse shape than ever with the old wounds reopened and busted in many more places and everything black and more bleeding so had to go in the shower and needed help to get the underwear off. The soreness was much worse than before which I didn't think possible. They did remove the keys from the fire engine.
My third and last "paddling" was about a month later and resulted from some horseplay at work that resulted in my being charged with fighting and disrespect. When washing down an area with a hose at work I gave another boy a squirt, since he didn't have a hose he came over and tried to grab it from me resulting in a struggle with both of us getting wet. Mr Lewis felt this was fighting and when I told him we weren't fighting but just fooling around he felt I was showing disrespect and I was written up for fighting and disrespect. I tried to take the blame but we both wound up getting paddled for it.
While waiting I was almost decided to try to run away to avoid another paddling but I knew of no one who had succeeded and they had all received severe spankings for their efforts.I also had no place to go and no plan to get there. I decided to try to grit my teeth and get though it. Next sat I reported to the office and was taken down to the Whitehouse and got to listen when one of the younger boys could not hold the bed after about 12 licks and had to be sat on by the two others boys and received another 5 licks while screaming and crying. I guess he was about 8 or 9 years old. I was the last to be paddled this time and was grateful that Mr Hatton was not there for some reason and I was paddled by Mr Zitch who was our school principal and also had a reputation as a bad paddler but I would have preferred anyone to Mr Hatton.
Mr Zitch had only one leg and could hit pretty hard but not like Mr Hatton , his aim was poor and you would be hit anywhere from the bottom of the buttocks almost to the small of the back. He would sometimes turn the paddle edgewise so the effect was more like being hit with a club and I remember one blow up high felt like an electric shock and caused me to jerk in reflex. I think I got about 20-25 licks that time with the usual effects except for the welts caused by the blows with the strap turned edgewise.. I had lower back pain for a month or two and have been bothered on and off with it all my life.
That was my last paddling and I came to understand how easy it was to get in trouble at FSB and became more careful but was always seeing the results of those who weren't. Once I loaned my camera to take pictures of someone's bad spanking and the film was supposed to be given to his parents to be developed and sent to a State Senator but never heard anything more about it.That would have been in late 57 or early 58. Generally the worst paddlings were reserved for those who ran and they were often allowed to rest for a day in the infirmity and always received severe beatings, but it was possible to get equally severe beatings for lessor offences.
The most important thing was who was doing the paddling and not just the number of blows alone. In my time the most feared was Mr Hatton, but there were others that found pleasure in this way and they competed with each other. I think they were all volunteers for this duty.
Habitual runaways disappeared and we were told that had been sent a place with a fence such as Appalachee , but we must remember that the staff had absolute power over us boys and would be protected in the event of any trouble in order to protect the reputation of the school and State of Florida.. There were stories about some black boys that had broken into a staff members house and were beaten to death in the whitehouse.
After my first spanking I quickly I realized that if they wanted to kill you here they could do it and get away with it.
Another explanation for the graves is that over the years tens of thousands of beatings such as mine and much worse took place and it is probable that some would have been given to kids with preexisting conditions which could cause death.It seems possible a blood clot could form since the muscles of the buttocks were beaten to a pulp and cause death in that way. Any medical care would have been delayed and rudimentary and the school would have gone to any length to conceal this. Thirty nine graves does not seem like a large number in this context..
. FSB was not only a reform school but also functioned as a orphanage and a great many kids were there just because they had been rejected by their families and had no place to go,.. There were also boys who had done everything short of murder such as robberies and serious assaults and were dangerous criminals and could be real predators.
But I think most of us were just scared, lonely, unwanted kids from failed families away from home for the first time. There were also kids who could never adjust to the discipline the school required and kept getting into trouble and would be sent home on a "must" which meant that for minor infractions that would normally result in a demotion , they would receive a spanking instead and keep their rank and be released Many would go to a home which might be worse than the school..
An "Ace' could get out in 71/2 months, a "Pilot" in 81/2, a "Pioneer" in 91/2 , but during my period 18 mos was the Maximum you could stay and many of these boys were up there every Sat morning for a spanking for a minor offense. I left as a "Pioneer" after about 10 mos. I was told average stay was about 11 months.
I would have to say life in the school brought out the best and worst in people,but mostly the worst and overall was a brutalizing experience that you never recover from and produces permanent changes in your personality and attitude towards life. It is hard to see the world as a kind & friendly place after one of the "spankings ' the staff was so free with or to see people as basically good when your main emotions are anger and fear. We all lived in some degree of fear all the time .
This leads to trouble later and closes lots of doors regarding jobs and family unless you are able to overcome it.. There is no doubt I came out an angrier and meaner person than I went in. It took time to learn to survive in this environment, it changed my personality so that in order to ignore your own pain, you became indifferent to the suffering to that of others, any displays of weakness or sentiment invited ridicule or even a fight so you learned to suppress your emotions which could cause problems in later life even such as problems showing affection. There was also the generalized anger and quick temper that I concealed but never quite learned to control and a difficulty in the ability to trust others.
I am 66 now so these my experiences took place 52 years ago. Remembering them instead of repressing them has been like opening a can of worms or pulling a scab off of a wound attempting to heal and the memories just come rushing back like yesterday. They are as vivid and painful as ever. I have been as accurate as I can with my recollections, of this period in my life and though I think it diminished my life and set me up for many problems later I try to avoid any bitterness..
I returned to FSB sometime in the 70"s and things looked much the same,.I entered at the mechanics shop entrance and drove up around behind the dining room, past the whitehouse , around to the school and down past Monroe cottage and out the other entrance. I think I saw a new administration building with R.W. Hatton's name on it but may have been mistaken. I didn't stop and was overwhelmed with images from the past and wanted to leave as soon as I could.. I have never been back.
I have never forgotten the date of my release, May 6th 1958. Actually I have been unable to ever really forget any of it. It will always be a part of me .
. Jonathan ( Jot ) Coker
Rel's Story
06/15/07 Other: [Dozier 46 years ago]
re: THE HORRORS OF THE WHITE HOUSE:
In 1961, my mother was contacted by the school authorities who talked her into assigning me to the Florida School for Boys at Marianna, Florida. She thought it was some kind of summer camp or something. I was taken away to this "reform school" where I remained for 14 months... I never experienced such cruelty, many young boys whom I knew did. This only illustrates the living conditions and fear under which we survived while there.
REL
re: THE HORRORS OF THE WHITE HOUSE:
In 1961, my mother was contacted by the school authorities who talked her into assigning me to the Florida School for Boys at Marianna, Florida. She thought it was some kind of summer camp or something. I was taken away to this "reform school" where I remained for 14 months... I never experienced such cruelty, many young boys whom I knew did. This only illustrates the living conditions and fear under which we survived while there.
REL
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Charles Taylor
Charles Taylor's Story:
Note: FISB: he is referring to Florida Industrial School for Boys.
Sent in a letter, transcribed by Robert, as word for word.
Dear Sir:
My name is Charles Taylor, I was born in Lakeland, Florida on 5/23/40. When I was 15 years old I was sent to the Florida Industrial School for Boys in Marianna, Florida. I was in there from 1955-1957 about 18 months. I went home on the must go home list. That means every time I got a low grade, I got beat half to death for that low
grade.
When I first went to F.I.S.B. right before Christmas in 1955 me, Billy Bryant and Franklin Willis, somebody told me R.W. Hatton, we was going to run away, we were taken to the "White House", behind the green doors, with the approval of Arthur G. Dozier. Mr. Hatton beat me with a leather strap until blood was running through my clothes, he busted my butt in two places.
I quite counting the licks at 52 and it seems like he beat me another 30 minutes before he quit. I got off the bed and Billy Bryant was next, he got the same thing I got. Franklin Willis was last, when they start to beat him he started crying and hollering, Mr. Hatton told him he better shut up. He had trouble holding the bed, me and Billy told him to be quiet before they whip us again. Me and Billy was in no shape to hold him down and beside wasn't going to no way or Billy either.That means we would have gotten some licks for not doing that. I don't know how many licks he got, but I know he got extra for not holding the bed. All three of us was bleeding when we went back to the cottage, our Cottage father, Mr. James was helping us trying to get our clothes off, he saw all that blood, he started crying, told us he couldn't take this much longer. He finally quit because he believed in God and he
knew that wasn't right. When they were beating I thought the world was coming to an end, I prayed to God to let me hold the bed, I was in shock. I had never had that much pain put since I left FISB in 1957.
I said that nobody will ever do that to me again without somebody getting killed. It left a bad taste in my mouth. I have never forgotten how the state of Florida let things like that go on for over 40 years.
I hope Arthur G. Dozier's name comes off of FISB. He doesn't deserve that. The State of Florida needs to rename Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys. Mr. Dozier's approval of all that beating. When he came to the white house he asked Mr. Hatton, who do you want first and when the first boy got onto the bed Mr. Dozier went and put his hand
on the wall and the beating began and it didn't stop until he took his hand off the wall. Him and Mr. Hatton never showed no mercy for us young boys. I got beat over twelve times when I was there. No matter how many times I went to the white house I was always scared and had butterflies in my stomach and my legs felt like lead. I was a scared boy.
Mr. Edenfield over in the kitchen, he liked to put three racks on the drain board that goes inside the dishwater, and make you go through the dishwasher. The water was about 160-180 degrees, real hot, it would burn you up if you stayed on the rack, It burn you up quite a bit, him and the others officers thought that was funny. That
happened to me over four times and he done other boys at least two or three times a week.
At the cottage where we live there were some cottage fathers that if they got mad at you would tell you to put your head against the wall, put your hands against your back and then kick your legs out from under you so your forehead would and nose would rub against the wall, all the way down and you would rub the hide off your face and nose and bleed. That was real pain until it got well. That happened to me one time and lots of other boys got it also. It's a wonder we didn't die from blood poisoning. Those pillows and mattress at the white house was never washed, the pillows had blood all over them and the mattress had body fluids on them, no pillow case and no mattress cover on them, mattress roll up so when you got on the bed your butt stuck up so they could get the best lick on you.
Mr. Hatton brag that he could bust you in two licks. He could, I know, and also he could hit the same spot every time.To me being in FISB was a nightmare that lasted 18months. I lived in terror and fear of what they did to me.
When RW Hatton said he was going to take me down you know what was fixing to happen. The only way you were going to get out of that ass whipping was to die or escape and if you escaped and got caught it was going to be twice as bad for you. It was like walking that last mile, you didn't know if this was your last day on earth because a
lot of them didn't make it. Funny things went on in FISB boys came up missing, some say they escape but they was never caught and sent to ACI. Some say they killed them and done away with the bodies.
I don't know, but I do know what they did to me and others and it really tear me up when authorities acknowledge some abuse occurred. Some of abuse is not the word for it, a lot of abuse, more than the public will ever know. Me and the other boys at FISB knows what happen, the good Lord knows and justice will be done. I thank the
good Lord he let me live to see this.
Arthur G. Dozier, RW Hatton, the Tidwells, Willie, I think the one that had one arm , I think his name was Troy Tidwell. Ask your self, If you could ask them do they know Charles Taylor, they would say no, but how come I remember then so well? When someone does something to you, you never forget or get over, you know it had to
be bad. It has been 54 years since I first went to FIS. I have never forgotten or will never forgive them for being that cruel to a young boy or a human being.
When I was there from 1955-1957 about 18 months The average stay in FIS was 9 months I will always believe that Edenfield over the kitchen where I work under him, had
something to do with me being there that long. Bill Edenfield, his uncle, kill my mother's daddy, Bud Blocker in Grand Rapids around 1924 when my mother wasn't but 24 years old, she had me at eighteen, so 16 years & 15 years which is 31 years. That happen before I went to FISB but I found out after I got in the kitchen and it was hell for me then. He didn't like me and I didn't like him. He took his revenge out on me for the state sending his uncle to prison. So now you know my side of the nightmare is living in terror and fear, child abuse in it's worst form, being in FISB was brutal for its beating in the white house. The white house had a green door on it, everybody said "what's behind the green door" If you ever went behind those doors it didn't take you long to find out.
Charles Taylor 1955-1957 #7 Cottage, Madison, Mr. James Cottage Father, #9 Cottage Tyler Cottage Father
Corky Mathies.....The Truth Shall Set Us Free
Note: FISB: he is referring to Florida Industrial School for Boys.
Sent in a letter, transcribed by Robert, as word for word.
Dear Sir:
My name is Charles Taylor, I was born in Lakeland, Florida on 5/23/40. When I was 15 years old I was sent to the Florida Industrial School for Boys in Marianna, Florida. I was in there from 1955-1957 about 18 months. I went home on the must go home list. That means every time I got a low grade, I got beat half to death for that low
grade.
When I first went to F.I.S.B. right before Christmas in 1955 me, Billy Bryant and Franklin Willis, somebody told me R.W. Hatton, we was going to run away, we were taken to the "White House", behind the green doors, with the approval of Arthur G. Dozier. Mr. Hatton beat me with a leather strap until blood was running through my clothes, he busted my butt in two places.
I quite counting the licks at 52 and it seems like he beat me another 30 minutes before he quit. I got off the bed and Billy Bryant was next, he got the same thing I got. Franklin Willis was last, when they start to beat him he started crying and hollering, Mr. Hatton told him he better shut up. He had trouble holding the bed, me and Billy told him to be quiet before they whip us again. Me and Billy was in no shape to hold him down and beside wasn't going to no way or Billy either.That means we would have gotten some licks for not doing that. I don't know how many licks he got, but I know he got extra for not holding the bed. All three of us was bleeding when we went back to the cottage, our Cottage father, Mr. James was helping us trying to get our clothes off, he saw all that blood, he started crying, told us he couldn't take this much longer. He finally quit because he believed in God and he
knew that wasn't right. When they were beating I thought the world was coming to an end, I prayed to God to let me hold the bed, I was in shock. I had never had that much pain put since I left FISB in 1957.
I said that nobody will ever do that to me again without somebody getting killed. It left a bad taste in my mouth. I have never forgotten how the state of Florida let things like that go on for over 40 years.
I hope Arthur G. Dozier's name comes off of FISB. He doesn't deserve that. The State of Florida needs to rename Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys. Mr. Dozier's approval of all that beating. When he came to the white house he asked Mr. Hatton, who do you want first and when the first boy got onto the bed Mr. Dozier went and put his hand
on the wall and the beating began and it didn't stop until he took his hand off the wall. Him and Mr. Hatton never showed no mercy for us young boys. I got beat over twelve times when I was there. No matter how many times I went to the white house I was always scared and had butterflies in my stomach and my legs felt like lead. I was a scared boy.
Mr. Edenfield over in the kitchen, he liked to put three racks on the drain board that goes inside the dishwater, and make you go through the dishwasher. The water was about 160-180 degrees, real hot, it would burn you up if you stayed on the rack, It burn you up quite a bit, him and the others officers thought that was funny. That
happened to me over four times and he done other boys at least two or three times a week.
At the cottage where we live there were some cottage fathers that if they got mad at you would tell you to put your head against the wall, put your hands against your back and then kick your legs out from under you so your forehead would and nose would rub against the wall, all the way down and you would rub the hide off your face and nose and bleed. That was real pain until it got well. That happened to me one time and lots of other boys got it also. It's a wonder we didn't die from blood poisoning. Those pillows and mattress at the white house was never washed, the pillows had blood all over them and the mattress had body fluids on them, no pillow case and no mattress cover on them, mattress roll up so when you got on the bed your butt stuck up so they could get the best lick on you.
Mr. Hatton brag that he could bust you in two licks. He could, I know, and also he could hit the same spot every time.To me being in FISB was a nightmare that lasted 18months. I lived in terror and fear of what they did to me.
When RW Hatton said he was going to take me down you know what was fixing to happen. The only way you were going to get out of that ass whipping was to die or escape and if you escaped and got caught it was going to be twice as bad for you. It was like walking that last mile, you didn't know if this was your last day on earth because a
lot of them didn't make it. Funny things went on in FISB boys came up missing, some say they escape but they was never caught and sent to ACI. Some say they killed them and done away with the bodies.
I don't know, but I do know what they did to me and others and it really tear me up when authorities acknowledge some abuse occurred. Some of abuse is not the word for it, a lot of abuse, more than the public will ever know. Me and the other boys at FISB knows what happen, the good Lord knows and justice will be done. I thank the
good Lord he let me live to see this.
Arthur G. Dozier, RW Hatton, the Tidwells, Willie, I think the one that had one arm , I think his name was Troy Tidwell. Ask your self, If you could ask them do they know Charles Taylor, they would say no, but how come I remember then so well? When someone does something to you, you never forget or get over, you know it had to
be bad. It has been 54 years since I first went to FIS. I have never forgotten or will never forgive them for being that cruel to a young boy or a human being.
When I was there from 1955-1957 about 18 months The average stay in FIS was 9 months I will always believe that Edenfield over the kitchen where I work under him, had
something to do with me being there that long. Bill Edenfield, his uncle, kill my mother's daddy, Bud Blocker in Grand Rapids around 1924 when my mother wasn't but 24 years old, she had me at eighteen, so 16 years & 15 years which is 31 years. That happen before I went to FISB but I found out after I got in the kitchen and it was hell for me then. He didn't like me and I didn't like him. He took his revenge out on me for the state sending his uncle to prison. So now you know my side of the nightmare is living in terror and fear, child abuse in it's worst form, being in FISB was brutal for its beating in the white house. The white house had a green door on it, everybody said "what's behind the green door" If you ever went behind those doors it didn't take you long to find out.
Charles Taylor 1955-1957 #7 Cottage, Madison, Mr. James Cottage Father, #9 Cottage Tyler Cottage Father
Corky Mathies.....The Truth Shall Set Us Free
Michael Tucker's Story
It was early April 1960 when I was sent to "The Boys School" to be straightened-out. At 16 I was too defiant. I smoked in school, (which I had been smoking since I was 11 or 12 years old and was addicted by then). I got into fights because someone would call me a name, instead of telling the teacher as I was told, I did as I was raised to do, I defended myself. I would wind up in the principals office and sometimes get a paddling which was better than being made fun of for being a sissy. I had a duck tail hair style, I listened to "devil music", (Elvis, Fats domino, Little Richard, and Jerry Lee Lewis), wore Levis, penny loafers and had a leather jacket. (I had spent the summer before working in Ft. Myers, Florida, living in a small rooming house, running a cement mixer for a gunite company that built water tanks, a job my older brother got for me. He drove a semi-truck, moving the equipment from job to job.). I was proud of my jacket, it was real leather. I was not allowed to bring it with me to the "Boys School".
I was born in the country where there was at the time an inherit freedom that came from hard work and your word.You bought food, cars, even houses on your word. I heard the saying "I was poor but proud" quite often (I was born between Tampa and Dade City) the 4th of 7 boys and 1 girl. My Dad a( 3rd generation) worked the orange groves as a keeper, which meant we lived in a house in the grove where he kept the trees pruned. For a time we lived in Cedar Key, a fishing village, where my mother was born and raised. My dad had left his home on a farm-ranch to become a fisherman, and they met in Cedar Key. He loved fishing, but could not make a living at it with a big family.
So my dad got a job 30 miles away in GulfHammock, Florida driving log truck for a lumber company. Three years later the company closed down and sold the houses. My dad then got a job 6 miles down the road in Otter Creek. We lived in a house next to the sawmill where he worked. At 12 years old I would catch rides to Cedar Key most Friday evenings to stay with cousins or my great uncle, who was well over 80. He was the wisest man I ever knew. I didn't stay with anyone in particular as half the village was kin to me. I lived mostly on the big fishing dock. I ran errands for the fishermen from Gainesville who lined the docks on the weekends. I was the only kid who Leon the owner of the dock's little bar-restaurant-bait shop let take beer to the fishermen, the more beer they drank the more tips I made.
When I was 13 we moved to Williston, Florida where a friend got my dad a better job with another lumber company. Williston was town where they had a grade school and a high school I started the 7th grade there. It was also where I saw my first miracle. PROPANE! A stove and heater along with running water. We even had a indoor bathroom. (No more hauling firewood and water everyday). Williston was a country town where you could still go to school without shoes. I could sell rabbits to the blacks in the "quarters" for 50 cents and go to a real movie for a dime. Any weekend or holiday I could talk my mother into it, I would catch a ride with Old George (the black man who ran the mail route to Cedar Key).
Freedom was defined only by you own limitations. Things were limited by what you were willing to work for.
At 14 friends of my mother and dad got my mother a job with the state mental institute and my dad a job with the county road department with steady money and insurance in Gainsville, Florida.
In my 65 years of this life I have come to believe there are no accidents, only crossroad where forces of life blocks off the road you are heading down and makes you turn left or right. I have also leaned you cannot turn and go back. Innocence is always lost forever.
Freedom in Gainesville was determined by outside forces that was beyond my understanding. It didn't take long before I was made aware that I was no longer in charge of my freedom. There were rules for people like me. I had better start listening and learn these new rules.
I have also come to realize that by the time I was 14 life had already determined who I was and how I would base my decisions for the rest of my life.
I don't think I even made much of an effort to conform to the new rules, even when the rule enforcers warned me how they would "straighten me out". I would wander the streets at night, restless from being limited to where I could go and what I could do. The police would pick me up and take me home at 2pm. and warn me not to let them catch me out at night. So I tried not to get caught. I found the other kids who didn't learn the rules either. I learned how to run the creek banks and outrun the law. We would hide in empty houses, catch rides to the old airport where we listened to the "Devil music", on car radios. I skipped school, defied the principle when I was caught smoking on school grounds. I wouldn't let him paddle me out of principle because my dad let me smoke.
So when they realized that I wasn't going to conform to their rules, they decided they would "straighten me out".
Beating #1
I was at the "Boys School" three weeks before I gave them the opportunity to
straightening me out! I had worked part time at a fast food drive-in, and had asked to work in the kitchen. After a week of school there came an opening in the kitchen as a cook helper. I was an older boy, so I was placed there, (only the older bigger boys worked in the kitchen, except some younger dish washers). My main job was cracking open cartons of eggs, prepping for the cook and staff cook who was also over the boys when Mr. Edenfield was gone. This was most every day between 1pm and 3pm. It was also my job to watch the serving line until my shift was up, this was when your cottage came in for lunch, then the other crew took over until the next day at lunch. I was preparing to join the guys as they were coming thru the serving line when one of my friends asked me to bring some extra butter with me, when I came to the table. Your were only allowed 2 patties. I reached into the bowl of water and grabbed 4 or 5 patties. as I turned to leave Mr. Edenfield was coming through the kitchen door into the serving area. I dropped the butter on the counter and as I walked by he asked me what I had in my my hand. I said "nothing", as I raised my arm and opened my hand. There stuck to my hand was a patty of butter. He took me into his office, wrote me up for lying and stealing, and made me sign it. The fear built up during the day as I finished the afternoon at school, when I talked to my friends and they reminded me what happens when you have no "rank" to offset being written up. When lights out came,and no one had come to get me I figured they would decide tomorrow what to do about me getting written up.
Confusion mixed with fear as I realized someone was pulling me up from the bed. I was told to keep quiet as I was led from the dormitory to a waiting car. There was another boy from a different cottage in the car, but we didn't look at or talk to each other as they drove us to the "White House". Inside we were taken to a small room with a cot and told to sit. A stocky man with one arm asked us if we knew why we were there? Another taller heavyset man was in the small hallway behind him. He pointed at me and said "come with me", as the one armed man told the other boy to wait there and don't move. The tall man took me by the arm and we followed the one armed man across the hall to another small room. There was a cot with a bare mattress, he held onto my arm and told me to lie on the bunk face down. If I screamed or tried to get up they would get some of the bigger boys to hold me down. (I was later to become one of those bigger boys) he said the best thing to do was get a mouth full of a flat little pillow under my head and bite down. The one armed man was choosing a strap as I was being instructed.
I don't know what I was expecting, but it had nothing to do with the pain that exploded in my head when the skin split across my buttocks, a force that drove my whole body down into the bunk. Somewhere between that first lick and 33 licks later, (even when you don't keep count you know), shock set in,my mind took me somewhere else while my body absorbed their punishment. As the one armed man put the strap back, the big man was pulling me up from the bunk by the arm and asking me "Can you stand up?" As my mind returned to the moment, I turned to look up at him, I had no answer. I was standing at the cross road of my life. He turned me toward the door and as I shuffled from that room, that 16 year old boy was left standing in the middle of life's intersection and had no ideal which way to go. I sat in a daze of fear and numb pain on the bunk, where I had traded places with the other boy I listened to the sound of his pain as their licks drove him into the bunk.They drove us back to the cottage where the cottage father never looked me in the eye. He just led me to the shower to remove my bloody underwear, then to the lockers for new underwear and pajamas. Neither one of us said a word. I was still keeping quiet, with my eyes downcast, I shuffled back to my cot. It was over for them.
"Lesson #1"
They had taught me their "White House" lesson about stealing and lying.
That was the first of 3 times I held onto that bunk while they beat me and made me realize they could to that to me anytime they want to. I could do nothing about it.
There was a young boy 11 or 12, his name was Tucker, I didn't know his first name it didn't matter. Our names gave us a certain bond. When he came through the food line I always gave him a little something extra. I always saw him smiling looking up at me in anticipation.It always made me feel sad for him whenever I saw the raw area that covered his chin as far as he could lick with his tongue. He licked it constantly from a nervous habit. God only knows what happened to him to bring him to a place like this. I had been there a couple of months and I had been moved from cooks helper to staff cook after the other boys had gone home. One day I was called to Mr. Edenfields office and was told along with another one of the bigger boys to go with that same large man who two months earlier had given my instructions on how to take my beating. As I walked out the back door and realized where we were going, the fear set in. The "White House" sat just out back of the kitchen. There are things that are done to you that leaves you with a fear for the rest of your life and there are things that are done to you that scar your soul. Lying on that cot was a boy whose eyes were as red and raw from crying as was his chin from constant licking. I knelt at the head of that bed that day as I was told and held his hands behind his back while the other boy held his feet. I had only thought I had felt pain in that room, but as Tucker stared into my eyes that day, struggling against my grip with all the strength in his little body begging for his mama while they beat him with that strap. I tried to take my mind somewhere else but my eyes could not leave him there in that room by himself. My soul began to understand the real cruelty of mankind. The next day I saw Tucker shuffling through the food line looking at the floor and licking his chin. He never looked up at me again.
"Lesson #2"
I had been taught their "White House"lesson about absolute control.
"Beating #2"
The second beating, I got was around July 1st a couple of weeks after we started football practice. We were not regulated in our starting practice time, as were the high schools that only had 2 weeks of practice before their first game in Sept. I remember the coach was upset because I couldn't practice for over 3 weeks after my beating. When I came back he told me if I couldn't stay out of trouble I couldn't play ball.
It started one evening after we had cleaned up and closed the kitchen around 7 pm. Instead of going to our cottages we cut across the campus to a softball game already in progress. There was no supervisor with us, so until we got to the ball field I was still in charge of the kitchen crew. About halfway to the ball field we were going through a small wooded area when I heard a fight break out behind me. I turned and looked back and saw Jernigan (one of the few names I can remember) had one of the smaller boys on the ground beating him with the intent of beating him to death. The boy had earlier made a confession at the "White House", they gave you the opportunity before a paddling to confess everything you had done. What you knew about the other boys, they wouldn't paddle you later for anything you confessed, but you had to tell them everything you knew. Jernigan was one of several boys who had been written up and lost rank from the boys confession, this set him back from going home. I had heard the rumors earlier in tjhe day of what was going to happen, I hesitated a minute before going back to stop the fight. The next day, as they held Jernigan in confinement I watched the staff member gathered at a table. The asst. superintendent, the psychologist, the boys counselor and one other man) in the rear of the dining hall. They called the boys from the kitchen one at a time. It only took 5-6 minutes for most of them, they were told not to talk about what was said. I was the last one to be called in. After I sat down the asst. superintendent told me the boy who had been beated was in the hospital in Marianna with several broken bones in his face. The psychologist started the questioning by telling me he would know if I lied to them. At some point you know when fate has taken control of your life. I told them everything I knew that had happened on the trail that evening. When I was through the asst. superintendent leaned forward and asked me how long I had waited before breaking up the fight. I knew the moment I hear the tone of his voice and looked in his eyes what that one minutes wait was going to cost me. They didn'twrite me up and I didn't lose rank or my position in the kitchen. When something happen that results in them having to take one of the boys to the "public" hospital someone was going to pay.
There are different kinds of fear and those people knew and used them all. The first time I knew I was going to the "White House" it was the fear of the unknown. As they took me from the kitchen that day to the "White House" it was the fear of what was coming. The shock was already beginning to set in as I was led into that small room and laid down on the cot. No one had to tell me what to do this time. They had sent for the big man from before, but this time he would do the beating. We were in the room alone the asst. superintendent stood in the doorway. I don't remember how long he beat me, my next realization was that they were both holding me up by the arms, walking me to the car and into the hospital. I spent five days there, where the old doc (he was at least 70 or older) removed my underwear from my buttock cheeks and cover them with salve. I was beaten from my lower back to halfway down to my knees. For the first three days he gave me pain pills that kept me drugged. Jernigan was still in the hospital when they came and got me and took me back to the kitchen. It was over for them.
"Lesson #3"
They had taught me their "White House" lesson about responsibility.
Three weeks later I started football practice by walking up and kown the 100-yard field with a football in my hands.
"Beating #3"
I was two weeks away from the possibility of being put on the "Going Home list" which if I remember right it was one month you had to hold your rank after you were put on the list to be released. There were never any problems in the kitchen on my shift, as far as Mr. Edenfield was concerned. I was ahead in my assignment in school and our cottage father was the football coach. I got high grades from all three each week when the grade list came out. I had figured out what they wanted, what it was going to take for them to let me back into society, I set out to give it to them. It was no longer a challenge between them and me. I just wanted out!
We had just won the AVC Conference Championship with out football team. ( the first time ever) I was the star fullback and linebacker, so I was feeling pretty cocky. I had also won the middle weight boxing title which I held until I went home. That was when I got stupid, I was caught smoking in the garbage cooler when Mr. Edenfield came back early one afternoon and walked in. All three of us were taken to his office and written up.
The next morning I was called to the boy's councilors office and told how disappointing it was to see me sitting there, because I had been doing so well. I can't describe the fear and anger at myself for being so stupid. This was going to cost me at least another six weeks stay. My emotions were going crazy when he said, because of my record the past few months he was going to give me a choice. I could accept the drop in rank or I could have the write up (I can't remember what it was called when you were written up) paddled off. If I wanted to I could think about it. There was never a choice, I was going home. I could take their beatings. I was sent back to the kitchen to wait. I fought with fear and anger as I lay on my bunk after light out. Staring at the door of the sleeping dormitory, waiting for it to open. I could not stand the thought of them waking me up. It was over an hour before I saw the cottage father opening the door, for the boys councilor, the one who had given me my choice, with him was the one armed man. I stood up next to my bunk and the cottage father waved me to them. At some point you mind goes to a blank place surrounded by fear, the thought of what is going to happen can't get in. Fear was in the background that night as I lay down on the cot. Anger and dread dulled the blows as I lay there and counted. Perhaps it was because the boy's councilor was there or maybe it was the offense, but I only got 27 licks that night. Even when you know whats coming you never get used to the shock of pain from that first lick, when you are driven into the bunk. Later as I was in the shower pulling my underwear away from my bloody cheeks I realized I wasn't as bad as before. They had showed me they could be kind when they wanted to.
"Lesson #4"
They had taught me the "White House" lesson of no matter who you think you are or your accomplishments you live with-in "their rules". No exceptions!
On December, 1960 they drove me to the bus station in Marianna and put me on a bus home. They were done with me now. I had convinced them that they had "straightened me out"! The day after Thanksgiving in 1961, less than a year after I was released I was on a plane headed to Puerto Rico,to become an apprentice iron worker. I didn't want to live in fear any longer. I knew that after all the "White House" lessons and the effort they had put in to "straightening me out" it had not worked. I could not adjust, I still wanted "MY" freedom, not theirs!
As the plane climbed and turned to cross the ocean, Ieft that intersection, I was headed down a different road now. I was an angry 17 year old "apprentice" man. As I look out the Small window and watched the ocean replace the city below me, I knew I would never lie down for another beating!
As best as I can remember.
Michael "chin" Tucker
I was born in the country where there was at the time an inherit freedom that came from hard work and your word.You bought food, cars, even houses on your word. I heard the saying "I was poor but proud" quite often (I was born between Tampa and Dade City) the 4th of 7 boys and 1 girl. My Dad a( 3rd generation) worked the orange groves as a keeper, which meant we lived in a house in the grove where he kept the trees pruned. For a time we lived in Cedar Key, a fishing village, where my mother was born and raised. My dad had left his home on a farm-ranch to become a fisherman, and they met in Cedar Key. He loved fishing, but could not make a living at it with a big family.
So my dad got a job 30 miles away in GulfHammock, Florida driving log truck for a lumber company. Three years later the company closed down and sold the houses. My dad then got a job 6 miles down the road in Otter Creek. We lived in a house next to the sawmill where he worked. At 12 years old I would catch rides to Cedar Key most Friday evenings to stay with cousins or my great uncle, who was well over 80. He was the wisest man I ever knew. I didn't stay with anyone in particular as half the village was kin to me. I lived mostly on the big fishing dock. I ran errands for the fishermen from Gainesville who lined the docks on the weekends. I was the only kid who Leon the owner of the dock's little bar-restaurant-bait shop let take beer to the fishermen, the more beer they drank the more tips I made.
When I was 13 we moved to Williston, Florida where a friend got my dad a better job with another lumber company. Williston was town where they had a grade school and a high school I started the 7th grade there. It was also where I saw my first miracle. PROPANE! A stove and heater along with running water. We even had a indoor bathroom. (No more hauling firewood and water everyday). Williston was a country town where you could still go to school without shoes. I could sell rabbits to the blacks in the "quarters" for 50 cents and go to a real movie for a dime. Any weekend or holiday I could talk my mother into it, I would catch a ride with Old George (the black man who ran the mail route to Cedar Key).
Freedom was defined only by you own limitations. Things were limited by what you were willing to work for.
At 14 friends of my mother and dad got my mother a job with the state mental institute and my dad a job with the county road department with steady money and insurance in Gainsville, Florida.
In my 65 years of this life I have come to believe there are no accidents, only crossroad where forces of life blocks off the road you are heading down and makes you turn left or right. I have also leaned you cannot turn and go back. Innocence is always lost forever.
Freedom in Gainesville was determined by outside forces that was beyond my understanding. It didn't take long before I was made aware that I was no longer in charge of my freedom. There were rules for people like me. I had better start listening and learn these new rules.
I have also come to realize that by the time I was 14 life had already determined who I was and how I would base my decisions for the rest of my life.
I don't think I even made much of an effort to conform to the new rules, even when the rule enforcers warned me how they would "straighten me out". I would wander the streets at night, restless from being limited to where I could go and what I could do. The police would pick me up and take me home at 2pm. and warn me not to let them catch me out at night. So I tried not to get caught. I found the other kids who didn't learn the rules either. I learned how to run the creek banks and outrun the law. We would hide in empty houses, catch rides to the old airport where we listened to the "Devil music", on car radios. I skipped school, defied the principle when I was caught smoking on school grounds. I wouldn't let him paddle me out of principle because my dad let me smoke.
So when they realized that I wasn't going to conform to their rules, they decided they would "straighten me out".
Beating #1
I was at the "Boys School" three weeks before I gave them the opportunity to
straightening me out! I had worked part time at a fast food drive-in, and had asked to work in the kitchen. After a week of school there came an opening in the kitchen as a cook helper. I was an older boy, so I was placed there, (only the older bigger boys worked in the kitchen, except some younger dish washers). My main job was cracking open cartons of eggs, prepping for the cook and staff cook who was also over the boys when Mr. Edenfield was gone. This was most every day between 1pm and 3pm. It was also my job to watch the serving line until my shift was up, this was when your cottage came in for lunch, then the other crew took over until the next day at lunch. I was preparing to join the guys as they were coming thru the serving line when one of my friends asked me to bring some extra butter with me, when I came to the table. Your were only allowed 2 patties. I reached into the bowl of water and grabbed 4 or 5 patties. as I turned to leave Mr. Edenfield was coming through the kitchen door into the serving area. I dropped the butter on the counter and as I walked by he asked me what I had in my my hand. I said "nothing", as I raised my arm and opened my hand. There stuck to my hand was a patty of butter. He took me into his office, wrote me up for lying and stealing, and made me sign it. The fear built up during the day as I finished the afternoon at school, when I talked to my friends and they reminded me what happens when you have no "rank" to offset being written up. When lights out came,and no one had come to get me I figured they would decide tomorrow what to do about me getting written up.
Confusion mixed with fear as I realized someone was pulling me up from the bed. I was told to keep quiet as I was led from the dormitory to a waiting car. There was another boy from a different cottage in the car, but we didn't look at or talk to each other as they drove us to the "White House". Inside we were taken to a small room with a cot and told to sit. A stocky man with one arm asked us if we knew why we were there? Another taller heavyset man was in the small hallway behind him. He pointed at me and said "come with me", as the one armed man told the other boy to wait there and don't move. The tall man took me by the arm and we followed the one armed man across the hall to another small room. There was a cot with a bare mattress, he held onto my arm and told me to lie on the bunk face down. If I screamed or tried to get up they would get some of the bigger boys to hold me down. (I was later to become one of those bigger boys) he said the best thing to do was get a mouth full of a flat little pillow under my head and bite down. The one armed man was choosing a strap as I was being instructed.
I don't know what I was expecting, but it had nothing to do with the pain that exploded in my head when the skin split across my buttocks, a force that drove my whole body down into the bunk. Somewhere between that first lick and 33 licks later, (even when you don't keep count you know), shock set in,my mind took me somewhere else while my body absorbed their punishment. As the one armed man put the strap back, the big man was pulling me up from the bunk by the arm and asking me "Can you stand up?" As my mind returned to the moment, I turned to look up at him, I had no answer. I was standing at the cross road of my life. He turned me toward the door and as I shuffled from that room, that 16 year old boy was left standing in the middle of life's intersection and had no ideal which way to go. I sat in a daze of fear and numb pain on the bunk, where I had traded places with the other boy I listened to the sound of his pain as their licks drove him into the bunk.They drove us back to the cottage where the cottage father never looked me in the eye. He just led me to the shower to remove my bloody underwear, then to the lockers for new underwear and pajamas. Neither one of us said a word. I was still keeping quiet, with my eyes downcast, I shuffled back to my cot. It was over for them.
"Lesson #1"
They had taught me their "White House" lesson about stealing and lying.
That was the first of 3 times I held onto that bunk while they beat me and made me realize they could to that to me anytime they want to. I could do nothing about it.
There was a young boy 11 or 12, his name was Tucker, I didn't know his first name it didn't matter. Our names gave us a certain bond. When he came through the food line I always gave him a little something extra. I always saw him smiling looking up at me in anticipation.It always made me feel sad for him whenever I saw the raw area that covered his chin as far as he could lick with his tongue. He licked it constantly from a nervous habit. God only knows what happened to him to bring him to a place like this. I had been there a couple of months and I had been moved from cooks helper to staff cook after the other boys had gone home. One day I was called to Mr. Edenfields office and was told along with another one of the bigger boys to go with that same large man who two months earlier had given my instructions on how to take my beating. As I walked out the back door and realized where we were going, the fear set in. The "White House" sat just out back of the kitchen. There are things that are done to you that leaves you with a fear for the rest of your life and there are things that are done to you that scar your soul. Lying on that cot was a boy whose eyes were as red and raw from crying as was his chin from constant licking. I knelt at the head of that bed that day as I was told and held his hands behind his back while the other boy held his feet. I had only thought I had felt pain in that room, but as Tucker stared into my eyes that day, struggling against my grip with all the strength in his little body begging for his mama while they beat him with that strap. I tried to take my mind somewhere else but my eyes could not leave him there in that room by himself. My soul began to understand the real cruelty of mankind. The next day I saw Tucker shuffling through the food line looking at the floor and licking his chin. He never looked up at me again.
"Lesson #2"
I had been taught their "White House"lesson about absolute control.
"Beating #2"
The second beating, I got was around July 1st a couple of weeks after we started football practice. We were not regulated in our starting practice time, as were the high schools that only had 2 weeks of practice before their first game in Sept. I remember the coach was upset because I couldn't practice for over 3 weeks after my beating. When I came back he told me if I couldn't stay out of trouble I couldn't play ball.
It started one evening after we had cleaned up and closed the kitchen around 7 pm. Instead of going to our cottages we cut across the campus to a softball game already in progress. There was no supervisor with us, so until we got to the ball field I was still in charge of the kitchen crew. About halfway to the ball field we were going through a small wooded area when I heard a fight break out behind me. I turned and looked back and saw Jernigan (one of the few names I can remember) had one of the smaller boys on the ground beating him with the intent of beating him to death. The boy had earlier made a confession at the "White House", they gave you the opportunity before a paddling to confess everything you had done. What you knew about the other boys, they wouldn't paddle you later for anything you confessed, but you had to tell them everything you knew. Jernigan was one of several boys who had been written up and lost rank from the boys confession, this set him back from going home. I had heard the rumors earlier in tjhe day of what was going to happen, I hesitated a minute before going back to stop the fight. The next day, as they held Jernigan in confinement I watched the staff member gathered at a table. The asst. superintendent, the psychologist, the boys counselor and one other man) in the rear of the dining hall. They called the boys from the kitchen one at a time. It only took 5-6 minutes for most of them, they were told not to talk about what was said. I was the last one to be called in. After I sat down the asst. superintendent told me the boy who had been beated was in the hospital in Marianna with several broken bones in his face. The psychologist started the questioning by telling me he would know if I lied to them. At some point you know when fate has taken control of your life. I told them everything I knew that had happened on the trail that evening. When I was through the asst. superintendent leaned forward and asked me how long I had waited before breaking up the fight. I knew the moment I hear the tone of his voice and looked in his eyes what that one minutes wait was going to cost me. They didn'twrite me up and I didn't lose rank or my position in the kitchen. When something happen that results in them having to take one of the boys to the "public" hospital someone was going to pay.
There are different kinds of fear and those people knew and used them all. The first time I knew I was going to the "White House" it was the fear of the unknown. As they took me from the kitchen that day to the "White House" it was the fear of what was coming. The shock was already beginning to set in as I was led into that small room and laid down on the cot. No one had to tell me what to do this time. They had sent for the big man from before, but this time he would do the beating. We were in the room alone the asst. superintendent stood in the doorway. I don't remember how long he beat me, my next realization was that they were both holding me up by the arms, walking me to the car and into the hospital. I spent five days there, where the old doc (he was at least 70 or older) removed my underwear from my buttock cheeks and cover them with salve. I was beaten from my lower back to halfway down to my knees. For the first three days he gave me pain pills that kept me drugged. Jernigan was still in the hospital when they came and got me and took me back to the kitchen. It was over for them.
"Lesson #3"
They had taught me their "White House" lesson about responsibility.
Three weeks later I started football practice by walking up and kown the 100-yard field with a football in my hands.
"Beating #3"
I was two weeks away from the possibility of being put on the "Going Home list" which if I remember right it was one month you had to hold your rank after you were put on the list to be released. There were never any problems in the kitchen on my shift, as far as Mr. Edenfield was concerned. I was ahead in my assignment in school and our cottage father was the football coach. I got high grades from all three each week when the grade list came out. I had figured out what they wanted, what it was going to take for them to let me back into society, I set out to give it to them. It was no longer a challenge between them and me. I just wanted out!
We had just won the AVC Conference Championship with out football team. ( the first time ever) I was the star fullback and linebacker, so I was feeling pretty cocky. I had also won the middle weight boxing title which I held until I went home. That was when I got stupid, I was caught smoking in the garbage cooler when Mr. Edenfield came back early one afternoon and walked in. All three of us were taken to his office and written up.
The next morning I was called to the boy's councilors office and told how disappointing it was to see me sitting there, because I had been doing so well. I can't describe the fear and anger at myself for being so stupid. This was going to cost me at least another six weeks stay. My emotions were going crazy when he said, because of my record the past few months he was going to give me a choice. I could accept the drop in rank or I could have the write up (I can't remember what it was called when you were written up) paddled off. If I wanted to I could think about it. There was never a choice, I was going home. I could take their beatings. I was sent back to the kitchen to wait. I fought with fear and anger as I lay on my bunk after light out. Staring at the door of the sleeping dormitory, waiting for it to open. I could not stand the thought of them waking me up. It was over an hour before I saw the cottage father opening the door, for the boys councilor, the one who had given me my choice, with him was the one armed man. I stood up next to my bunk and the cottage father waved me to them. At some point you mind goes to a blank place surrounded by fear, the thought of what is going to happen can't get in. Fear was in the background that night as I lay down on the cot. Anger and dread dulled the blows as I lay there and counted. Perhaps it was because the boy's councilor was there or maybe it was the offense, but I only got 27 licks that night. Even when you know whats coming you never get used to the shock of pain from that first lick, when you are driven into the bunk. Later as I was in the shower pulling my underwear away from my bloody cheeks I realized I wasn't as bad as before. They had showed me they could be kind when they wanted to.
"Lesson #4"
They had taught me the "White House" lesson of no matter who you think you are or your accomplishments you live with-in "their rules". No exceptions!
On December, 1960 they drove me to the bus station in Marianna and put me on a bus home. They were done with me now. I had convinced them that they had "straightened me out"! The day after Thanksgiving in 1961, less than a year after I was released I was on a plane headed to Puerto Rico,to become an apprentice iron worker. I didn't want to live in fear any longer. I knew that after all the "White House" lessons and the effort they had put in to "straightening me out" it had not worked. I could not adjust, I still wanted "MY" freedom, not theirs!
As the plane climbed and turned to cross the ocean, Ieft that intersection, I was headed down a different road now. I was an angry 17 year old "apprentice" man. As I look out the Small window and watched the ocean replace the city below me, I knew I would never lie down for another beating!
As best as I can remember.
Michael "chin" Tucker
Steve's Story
Dear Mr. Kiser
I happened to run across your web page as I was searching for the Florida school for Boys in Marianna. I was also saddened to hear of your horrible experiences at the school. You see I too was at Marianna in 1963/1964 for approx. 11 months. I spent most of the time at Wilson cottage. I also was taken down behind the mess hall to the "White House" several times for beatings as you have told in your stories.
I also remember (known official to be named at a later time) seeming to enjoy hear us cry and plead to stop hitting us. I remember getting taken out of bed in my pajamas in the middle of the night and taken down to the "White House" to be beaten and my buttocks were black and blue and also bleeding and having the threads picked from my butt. I'm glad to hear that they finally quit that in the late 60's. I often wonder about the other guy's that were there, and I pray that they got over it. My memory of that place has haunted me for a long time.
I'm now 58 years old and I have finally gotten my life together. I have been married for the last 18 years to a wonderful lady, who I am finally now sharing this awful past with her. I have had a lot of problems in my life with booze and relationships. I would never trust anyone as you can relate so well. I have recently rededicated my life to Christ and we have joined a wonderful church, and I have been considering sharing this story with some of them. I have to think God is using you and your wonderful gift of writing the stories of abused children to help even older children like me get over the hurt and fear that was beaten into us long ago.
Thanks for sharing you story with me. I have gotten such a blessing from reading and sharing my story with you. May God bless you and your family, my wife and I will be praying for you all, and I hope you keep on telling folks that child abuse is wrong and that we carry it around all our lives. Sincerely,
Steve M. Coker Sr.
NOTE: I think it needs to be noted that the reason Steve was taken to the White House and had his pajamas beaten into his buttocks was because he received an extra pancake during the breakfast meal.
I happened to run across your web page as I was searching for the Florida school for Boys in Marianna. I was also saddened to hear of your horrible experiences at the school. You see I too was at Marianna in 1963/1964 for approx. 11 months. I spent most of the time at Wilson cottage. I also was taken down behind the mess hall to the "White House" several times for beatings as you have told in your stories.
I also remember (known official to be named at a later time) seeming to enjoy hear us cry and plead to stop hitting us. I remember getting taken out of bed in my pajamas in the middle of the night and taken down to the "White House" to be beaten and my buttocks were black and blue and also bleeding and having the threads picked from my butt. I'm glad to hear that they finally quit that in the late 60's. I often wonder about the other guy's that were there, and I pray that they got over it. My memory of that place has haunted me for a long time.
I'm now 58 years old and I have finally gotten my life together. I have been married for the last 18 years to a wonderful lady, who I am finally now sharing this awful past with her. I have had a lot of problems in my life with booze and relationships. I would never trust anyone as you can relate so well. I have recently rededicated my life to Christ and we have joined a wonderful church, and I have been considering sharing this story with some of them. I have to think God is using you and your wonderful gift of writing the stories of abused children to help even older children like me get over the hurt and fear that was beaten into us long ago.
Thanks for sharing you story with me. I have gotten such a blessing from reading and sharing my story with you. May God bless you and your family, my wife and I will be praying for you all, and I hope you keep on telling folks that child abuse is wrong and that we carry it around all our lives. Sincerely,
Steve M. Coker Sr.
NOTE: I think it needs to be noted that the reason Steve was taken to the White House and had his pajamas beaten into his buttocks was because he received an extra pancake during the breakfast meal.
Jerry Cooper
Dear Gov.Crist
My name is Jerry Cooper, I spoke to Ruth Harris,or Harrison,over a month ago,she is suppose to be an investigator on Florida School For Boys case.
She told me she would send FDLE officer to my home to take pictures of scars I still have from beating I took 49 years ago!!!! She told me she would have an investigator at my house within 3-5 days for interview and pictures. Sir, this has not taken place!! And it won't probably unless you order it !!!
I was jerked from my bed at school 1-2a.m. and taken to white house,where I was beaten till I passed out!!!! By the hands of TIDWELL, DOZIER,and a guard. I took 135 lashes, counted by boy in the other room waiting for his punishment. When one man tired out the next would take his place,telling the others they couldn't do it right,let me show you how!!! They treated this like a party. Weapon was a strap about 2-3ft.long,about 3in.wide. They would turn it sideway"s at times to cut your flesh!!!! I had no idea what I was being beat for until next day,I knew I had not
done anything wrong to get such a brutal attack!!!!!!
I learned the next day that another boy in my cottage had run from our sleeping quarters who had run earlier that night and was caught and beaten and taken to our so called hospital where he stayed for over a week. He received 100 lashes, and was in severe condition!!! While being beat he was asked who his best friend in cottage was,he named me!!!! In the school it was known that if you knew a boy was going to run and did not report it you will be punished more than the runner himself!!! How true!!! During my beating they kept asking me about a runner with no mention of who it was!!! I couldn't answer something I didn't know about!!!!! I was beat for nothing!!! When I got out of car at white house there was a young black boy laying on ground beside entrance,his gown was pulled over his head covering his face,gown was soaked in massive amount of blood,I would say he was dead,a large pool of blood
under his body, he was very small and young maybe 10-11 years,this image has been with me all these years!!!
As we entered the white house, there was a boy in the other room crying waiting for his beating,he was the one who counted my lashes. When I saw him awhile after that he thought I was dead from my beating,he was from another cottage when I first entered the room,I thought I was to be killed by these men,like the boy that was laying outside, that I felt was dead.I tried to escape thru them from pure fright.TIDWELL pushed me into wall by the throat and stomped my right foot, breaking the ball under big toe,.When I tried to grab my foot I was then punched in the mouth
knocking 4 front top teeth backwards in my mouth,a real bloody mess. They forced me on to army cot and crossed my legs and stuffed my nightgown between my legs as tight as possible, then tied them to cot,so I could not get up. Nobody could hear my screams, they run a large industrial fan so the boys on grounds can't hear this!!!They beat you on the ass and after the screams slow down they start at the knees and work up to the ass which they know goes numb after about 35-40 lashes.Then the screams are a lot louder, the pain is not explainable I can't!!!!!
I knew when the strap was turned on its side for a blow, made a different sound when it hit and saw blood hit the walls!!! I am scarred on right upper thigh where the strap would cut in to the meat of the leg when turned on it's side, the end of this weapon would cut you to pieces when done and this was done on purpose!!! My gown and
underwear was embedded into my body. While being beat I blacked out and awoke on way back to cottage laying on rear floorboard of state car with guard holding me down with foot on my back!!!! Was then dragged into our bathroom and forced to stand until our cottage father came down from his bedroom,I could barely stand, foot was
hardly able to stand on, was told to act like a man!!! Blood was running down from mouth and legs very fast,a lot of it!!! It took my cottage father a good 30-45 min to come down.
After the guards left I was told to remove my gown and underwear. This was hard to do because it was stuck in my wounds. He threaten to rip it out if I didn't hurry up so he could go back to bed. He said it was one of the best beatings he had seen in a while, he was another sicko that worked there!!! His name was Mr. Hagen nick named
Spider man!!!He hated all of us and would show you just how much very quickly. He had a black ford that looked like a police car,and the ugliest one-eyed bulldog I've ever seen in my life, one of the worst people I have ever met in my life,TRAILER TRASH!!!!!!!
After getting all I could out of legs was told to smear state grease which we had in cans on sink used for cuts, burns,hair grooming etc on my wounds to help block flow of blood. He took my bloody clothes up stairs and returned with a towel and sheet,and told to tie the towel and sheet around me to keep blood out of bed!!! I begged to go to the hospital but was told I was branded as a liar and was not to get Dr.'s help,and this is all you get, because of lying!!!!! The runner was already admitted, but I was denied any medical attention at all. I was in much worst
condition than the runner!!! I was given some toilet paper to pack in my mouth, to control the bleeding, it didn't do any good,sent back to bed. No way to go to sleep!!! Had to be helped out of bed I was trying but couldn't. Bed and pillow was full of blood. One boy started crying and alerted Hagen to come running and he struck this boy in the back of his head open handed !! Then told me I was going to be reported for the boy's action!!!Hello?????
Most of the boys were horrified when they saw me, they hadn't seen anything like that before now!!!! Most didn't even know that this happened during the night.I had to be helped to get dressed I could only walk with my legs stretched out, because inter thighs were swollen together and would rub when walking. It would take forever to try to sit down, too painful!!!I learned that day how to walk on side of right foot and got pretty good at it. Mouth bled all the time and could not hardly eat for weeks!!! My testicles were swollen and black and blue for weeks!!!
I got married at 19 and after yrs. of no children, had a exam, was asked by Dr. why one was half the size of other testicle , I just said I don't Know. The sperm count came back abnormal and never had any children of my own, but I adopted 3 and they are doing fine. Be happy to be examined again!!! Nothing has changed. You may be wondering how I found out my foot was broken by TIDWELL. We were ordered ,not asked to turn out for Varsity football try outs. I was small, and really too young to be playing varsity ball, I was picked to be quarterback for team because of my passing ability. Vick Prinzi was our head Coach he was a great quarterback for Florida and is in the hall of fame Florida state. He played pro ball for Denver and had to have his spleen removed due to Injury he ended up coaching High Schools and college teams and then became a sports announcer. He was Burt Reynolds best friend and best man at Burt's wedding. Burt wept at Vic's funeral in 1987. Vic took me to the hospital and made Dr.Wexler examine my foot,this was a nasty hospital!!!! They had no x-ray machine, only a fluoroscope which showed that big toe ball was broken all the way across it. No cast!!! Too late because of first game was coming soon, I had to practice no matter what. I was given Novocaine injections before practice and all
games we played. This had to be illegal!!!! Foot never healed, I still walk with limp as of today, right foot is deformed at large toe. Got to see a dentist shortly after and he wired teeth with copper wire. I wore the wire for the rest of my
stay there, It did not help, lost those 4teeth a time later and wore a partial for years!!!!!
We won all games when I was there but one. I had to come out of game because of foot hurting to bad to play even with the shots. Our games were all won on passing game, that's where I came in.I never could run fast enough to score but I threw many touchdown Posses we played against varsity teams across the state. I and others witnessed a death in the gym during try outs for football, I was there when a runner was shot in the back of head with a rifle and killed. I saw a boy stabbed thru his hand with a fork, for arguing at the table by HAGEN. Our fullback on football
team had tried to run and was caught by guard dogs and he managed to kill one dog before loosing the battle. He was beaten badly!!!!! He was bitten severely by these dogs. I know these people's names!!!! A boy had run from his cottage and hid under our cottage for 3 days,when they caught him he never came to his cottage,we never saw him again!!!!
I also know they used "The Dog Boys" from I believe from Appalachacola.prison for young offenders.They bragged they had the meanest dogs in the country. These were used to track our runners!!!!These were vicious animals!!!! Ask our fullback if he's still alive. I do know his name!!! And others.
Governor, Please forgive me for such a long letter, but I feel you should know I still don't trust any of them, already I have been told a lie, in this investigation. I feel I'm speaking to the right person now, you seem to be a caring person on this issue. I also voted for you!!! Why was I not contacted back????? I already know why!!! Daffy Duck could figure that out!!!!! These people are not doing what you ordered!!!!! I also know that TIDWELL'S lawyer has asked for dismissal of action due to statue of limitation's , If he manages to pull this off, I will be in his county the next day, to swear out a warrant for attempted murder on me. I don't believe there's a statue on this crime on a child!!!!!!!!
I don't care if he's 84 or 104 he should be punished!!!!! I was always to afraid to go to anybody with these stories, that people would think I was crazy or lying!!!!I'm now 63 and have a good memory on most issues !!! I'm not out for monetary gain, I seek some kind of peace in this matter before I die. I went on with life and retired at 41 and am doing just fine on my funds. I have suffered anger problems since this happened to me,have been arrested for out of control actions on my behalf several times.I had to go to anger management last year at my age,sad right????? I
have been treated for years by meds for these actions, I'm on medicine now called Lexpro and have been doing real good on it. Please don't let these things happen to our children ever again!!!!!!!!You have my permission to inform TIDWELL'S lawyer I'll see him in court one way or the other!!!! I know that from the beating I took that some boys would not be able to live through it, it's only common sense, I went into shock within minutes, so I know some could not make it, I almost didn't, and I am only one of many. Any marked grave on that property is more than likely
legit. The ones with no markings is what they should be looking for!!!!!!!
Thank You For Your Concerns On
This Issue.
Signed: Jerry Cooper
My name is Jerry Cooper, I spoke to Ruth Harris,or Harrison,over a month ago,she is suppose to be an investigator on Florida School For Boys case.
She told me she would send FDLE officer to my home to take pictures of scars I still have from beating I took 49 years ago!!!! She told me she would have an investigator at my house within 3-5 days for interview and pictures. Sir, this has not taken place!! And it won't probably unless you order it !!!
I was jerked from my bed at school 1-2a.m. and taken to white house,where I was beaten till I passed out!!!! By the hands of TIDWELL, DOZIER,and a guard. I took 135 lashes, counted by boy in the other room waiting for his punishment. When one man tired out the next would take his place,telling the others they couldn't do it right,let me show you how!!! They treated this like a party. Weapon was a strap about 2-3ft.long,about 3in.wide. They would turn it sideway"s at times to cut your flesh!!!! I had no idea what I was being beat for until next day,I knew I had not
done anything wrong to get such a brutal attack!!!!!!
I learned the next day that another boy in my cottage had run from our sleeping quarters who had run earlier that night and was caught and beaten and taken to our so called hospital where he stayed for over a week. He received 100 lashes, and was in severe condition!!! While being beat he was asked who his best friend in cottage was,he named me!!!! In the school it was known that if you knew a boy was going to run and did not report it you will be punished more than the runner himself!!! How true!!! During my beating they kept asking me about a runner with no mention of who it was!!! I couldn't answer something I didn't know about!!!!! I was beat for nothing!!! When I got out of car at white house there was a young black boy laying on ground beside entrance,his gown was pulled over his head covering his face,gown was soaked in massive amount of blood,I would say he was dead,a large pool of blood
under his body, he was very small and young maybe 10-11 years,this image has been with me all these years!!!
As we entered the white house, there was a boy in the other room crying waiting for his beating,he was the one who counted my lashes. When I saw him awhile after that he thought I was dead from my beating,he was from another cottage when I first entered the room,I thought I was to be killed by these men,like the boy that was laying outside, that I felt was dead.I tried to escape thru them from pure fright.TIDWELL pushed me into wall by the throat and stomped my right foot, breaking the ball under big toe,.When I tried to grab my foot I was then punched in the mouth
knocking 4 front top teeth backwards in my mouth,a real bloody mess. They forced me on to army cot and crossed my legs and stuffed my nightgown between my legs as tight as possible, then tied them to cot,so I could not get up. Nobody could hear my screams, they run a large industrial fan so the boys on grounds can't hear this!!!They beat you on the ass and after the screams slow down they start at the knees and work up to the ass which they know goes numb after about 35-40 lashes.Then the screams are a lot louder, the pain is not explainable I can't!!!!!
I knew when the strap was turned on its side for a blow, made a different sound when it hit and saw blood hit the walls!!! I am scarred on right upper thigh where the strap would cut in to the meat of the leg when turned on it's side, the end of this weapon would cut you to pieces when done and this was done on purpose!!! My gown and
underwear was embedded into my body. While being beat I blacked out and awoke on way back to cottage laying on rear floorboard of state car with guard holding me down with foot on my back!!!! Was then dragged into our bathroom and forced to stand until our cottage father came down from his bedroom,I could barely stand, foot was
hardly able to stand on, was told to act like a man!!! Blood was running down from mouth and legs very fast,a lot of it!!! It took my cottage father a good 30-45 min to come down.
After the guards left I was told to remove my gown and underwear. This was hard to do because it was stuck in my wounds. He threaten to rip it out if I didn't hurry up so he could go back to bed. He said it was one of the best beatings he had seen in a while, he was another sicko that worked there!!! His name was Mr. Hagen nick named
Spider man!!!He hated all of us and would show you just how much very quickly. He had a black ford that looked like a police car,and the ugliest one-eyed bulldog I've ever seen in my life, one of the worst people I have ever met in my life,TRAILER TRASH!!!!!!!
After getting all I could out of legs was told to smear state grease which we had in cans on sink used for cuts, burns,hair grooming etc on my wounds to help block flow of blood. He took my bloody clothes up stairs and returned with a towel and sheet,and told to tie the towel and sheet around me to keep blood out of bed!!! I begged to go to the hospital but was told I was branded as a liar and was not to get Dr.'s help,and this is all you get, because of lying!!!!! The runner was already admitted, but I was denied any medical attention at all. I was in much worst
condition than the runner!!! I was given some toilet paper to pack in my mouth, to control the bleeding, it didn't do any good,sent back to bed. No way to go to sleep!!! Had to be helped out of bed I was trying but couldn't. Bed and pillow was full of blood. One boy started crying and alerted Hagen to come running and he struck this boy in the back of his head open handed !! Then told me I was going to be reported for the boy's action!!!Hello?????
Most of the boys were horrified when they saw me, they hadn't seen anything like that before now!!!! Most didn't even know that this happened during the night.I had to be helped to get dressed I could only walk with my legs stretched out, because inter thighs were swollen together and would rub when walking. It would take forever to try to sit down, too painful!!!I learned that day how to walk on side of right foot and got pretty good at it. Mouth bled all the time and could not hardly eat for weeks!!! My testicles were swollen and black and blue for weeks!!!
I got married at 19 and after yrs. of no children, had a exam, was asked by Dr. why one was half the size of other testicle , I just said I don't Know. The sperm count came back abnormal and never had any children of my own, but I adopted 3 and they are doing fine. Be happy to be examined again!!! Nothing has changed. You may be wondering how I found out my foot was broken by TIDWELL. We were ordered ,not asked to turn out for Varsity football try outs. I was small, and really too young to be playing varsity ball, I was picked to be quarterback for team because of my passing ability. Vick Prinzi was our head Coach he was a great quarterback for Florida and is in the hall of fame Florida state. He played pro ball for Denver and had to have his spleen removed due to Injury he ended up coaching High Schools and college teams and then became a sports announcer. He was Burt Reynolds best friend and best man at Burt's wedding. Burt wept at Vic's funeral in 1987. Vic took me to the hospital and made Dr.Wexler examine my foot,this was a nasty hospital!!!! They had no x-ray machine, only a fluoroscope which showed that big toe ball was broken all the way across it. No cast!!! Too late because of first game was coming soon, I had to practice no matter what. I was given Novocaine injections before practice and all
games we played. This had to be illegal!!!! Foot never healed, I still walk with limp as of today, right foot is deformed at large toe. Got to see a dentist shortly after and he wired teeth with copper wire. I wore the wire for the rest of my
stay there, It did not help, lost those 4teeth a time later and wore a partial for years!!!!!
We won all games when I was there but one. I had to come out of game because of foot hurting to bad to play even with the shots. Our games were all won on passing game, that's where I came in.I never could run fast enough to score but I threw many touchdown Posses we played against varsity teams across the state. I and others witnessed a death in the gym during try outs for football, I was there when a runner was shot in the back of head with a rifle and killed. I saw a boy stabbed thru his hand with a fork, for arguing at the table by HAGEN. Our fullback on football
team had tried to run and was caught by guard dogs and he managed to kill one dog before loosing the battle. He was beaten badly!!!!! He was bitten severely by these dogs. I know these people's names!!!! A boy had run from his cottage and hid under our cottage for 3 days,when they caught him he never came to his cottage,we never saw him again!!!!
I also know they used "The Dog Boys" from I believe from Appalachacola.prison for young offenders.They bragged they had the meanest dogs in the country. These were used to track our runners!!!!These were vicious animals!!!! Ask our fullback if he's still alive. I do know his name!!! And others.
Governor, Please forgive me for such a long letter, but I feel you should know I still don't trust any of them, already I have been told a lie, in this investigation. I feel I'm speaking to the right person now, you seem to be a caring person on this issue. I also voted for you!!! Why was I not contacted back????? I already know why!!! Daffy Duck could figure that out!!!!! These people are not doing what you ordered!!!!! I also know that TIDWELL'S lawyer has asked for dismissal of action due to statue of limitation's , If he manages to pull this off, I will be in his county the next day, to swear out a warrant for attempted murder on me. I don't believe there's a statue on this crime on a child!!!!!!!!
I don't care if he's 84 or 104 he should be punished!!!!! I was always to afraid to go to anybody with these stories, that people would think I was crazy or lying!!!!I'm now 63 and have a good memory on most issues !!! I'm not out for monetary gain, I seek some kind of peace in this matter before I die. I went on with life and retired at 41 and am doing just fine on my funds. I have suffered anger problems since this happened to me,have been arrested for out of control actions on my behalf several times.I had to go to anger management last year at my age,sad right????? I
have been treated for years by meds for these actions, I'm on medicine now called Lexpro and have been doing real good on it. Please don't let these things happen to our children ever again!!!!!!!!You have my permission to inform TIDWELL'S lawyer I'll see him in court one way or the other!!!! I know that from the beating I took that some boys would not be able to live through it, it's only common sense, I went into shock within minutes, so I know some could not make it, I almost didn't, and I am only one of many. Any marked grave on that property is more than likely
legit. The ones with no markings is what they should be looking for!!!!!!!
Thank You For Your Concerns On
This Issue.
Signed: Jerry Cooper
Friday, March 7, 2008
Tim McCarty-From Prison
Written in a letter from the Ridgeland Correctional Institution S.C.
Transposed to type by Robert Straley as worded.
Dear Mr. Straley
My ex-wife, Lori Burton, said she had talked with you on the phone and sent me your name and address. She, along with other family members, have been telling me about all the news coming out about the horrible nightmare at Marianna so many years ago.
My nightmare started there in the early part of 1958 and ended in December 1958. I was fifteen years old. I was beaten at the white house seven times, mostly for fighting. My fights were for defending the smaller boys from being beat up or sexually abused by the bigger boys. Mr. Hatton beat me four times, Mr. Tidwell, I believe was the one armed man, he beat me twice and then one other official once, I can't remember his name.
When I was released from there in December 1958, I was a very bitter, angry young man filled with hate. I'd never experienced anything as terrible as Marianna, and it certainly damaged me emotionally beyond what I could cope with. Within three months I was breaking into houses and resisting all my Mom's efforts to settle down.
I was arrested in early 1959 for three burglaries. Instead of being sent back to Marianna I turned sixteen in March 1959, and on May 18, 1959, I was sentenced to twenty years in prison. At that time I was the youngest person ever sent to prison in Florida. I served three years and was paroled in December 1961.
I'm not going to blame all of my bad behavior and law breaking on my horrible experience in Marianna, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't believe that it contributed. My life has been one of extreme ups and downs, some very successful and wonderful times and others of pure hell and disappointment. I went from the age of twenty nine when I committed a crime, to hard work, success and happiness for the next thirty four years until I burglarized a store in South Carolina which got me here.
What makes it doubly tragic is I don't remember any part of doing it. I was on a strong pain medication for a bad back and disabled hip when I made the terrible mistake of doubling my medication. I woke up in the county jail and ound out what I had done.
I certainly hope that your efforts will bring out the full scope of the horrible atrocities that took place at Marianna over the years to the State of Florida and the nation. If I can ever be of any help please feel free to contact me or have anyone else do so.
Yours Truly
Timothy McCarty
Transposed to type by Robert Straley as worded.
Dear Mr. Straley
My ex-wife, Lori Burton, said she had talked with you on the phone and sent me your name and address. She, along with other family members, have been telling me about all the news coming out about the horrible nightmare at Marianna so many years ago.
My nightmare started there in the early part of 1958 and ended in December 1958. I was fifteen years old. I was beaten at the white house seven times, mostly for fighting. My fights were for defending the smaller boys from being beat up or sexually abused by the bigger boys. Mr. Hatton beat me four times, Mr. Tidwell, I believe was the one armed man, he beat me twice and then one other official once, I can't remember his name.
When I was released from there in December 1958, I was a very bitter, angry young man filled with hate. I'd never experienced anything as terrible as Marianna, and it certainly damaged me emotionally beyond what I could cope with. Within three months I was breaking into houses and resisting all my Mom's efforts to settle down.
I was arrested in early 1959 for three burglaries. Instead of being sent back to Marianna I turned sixteen in March 1959, and on May 18, 1959, I was sentenced to twenty years in prison. At that time I was the youngest person ever sent to prison in Florida. I served three years and was paroled in December 1961.
I'm not going to blame all of my bad behavior and law breaking on my horrible experience in Marianna, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't believe that it contributed. My life has been one of extreme ups and downs, some very successful and wonderful times and others of pure hell and disappointment. I went from the age of twenty nine when I committed a crime, to hard work, success and happiness for the next thirty four years until I burglarized a store in South Carolina which got me here.
What makes it doubly tragic is I don't remember any part of doing it. I was on a strong pain medication for a bad back and disabled hip when I made the terrible mistake of doubling my medication. I woke up in the county jail and ound out what I had done.
I certainly hope that your efforts will bring out the full scope of the horrible atrocities that took place at Marianna over the years to the State of Florida and the nation. If I can ever be of any help please feel free to contact me or have anyone else do so.
Yours Truly
Timothy McCarty
Billy Foote
My name is Billy Foote, I was in Florida School for Boys in 1962-1963. I was in Madison Cottage and my house parents were Mr. & Mrs. Hollins and Mr. & Mrs. Branch. I was sent to the school from Tampa. I, like most boys, thought that the campus looked nice and the people seemed nice. I was assigned to Laundry, ran by Mr Cook. It did not take me long to find out the truth behind the all the niceness.
One day at the laundry after finishing our work myself and a friend of mine, George Balcome (may be misspelled) that I knew from Tampa were talking. George arrived there a few weeks before I did and he had tried to escape a few days before. He was telling me about what had happened to him. He was instruct not to talk about his experience with any one or they would do it to him again.
A boy by the name of Spivey caught some of our conversation and ran to Mr. Cook and told him we were talking about running, which we were not. Mr. Cook called us separately up to his desk. I told him we were not talking about running. He did not believe us and wrote both of us up. I thought big deal. About half an hour later a black state car pulled up in front of the laundry. If I am not mistaken, the man's name Burgess or something like that. He placed George and myself in the car. He took us to the Director's Office. There we sat for one and a half hours. George
whispered to me they were going to take us down to the white house and beat us. I thought to myself, big deal I have had paddlings in the juvenile home before. George looked really scared and I told him not to punk out on me. They finally called us into the office one at a time. I knew from the start they were not going to believe us, which they did not.
In a few minutes they grabbed us up again and walked us down to a little building next to the mess hall. When I walked in I could smell the mold. We went in and took a left at the end of the short corridor. There were two small
rooms, one on the right and one on the left. They placed us in the one on the left and then they grabbed me up and said "You are first." I wasn't too scared at this point. The old building spooked me out a little. There was a bed with only a old, dirty mattress on it. There was a old fan attached to the wall on the upper right hand side. They told me to lie on the bed, grip the bar, look right at the wall and do not turn to the left. Do not scream or shout because they would start all over again.
The fan was started and the blade must have been bent as it made a noise when it went around, I found out later why. The first lick took the air out of my blue jeans and I thought to myself this won't be to bad but the second lick sent a pain through my whole body. I realized that he was taking the leather belt from his left side and then all the way over his head and jumping up and then coming down. I could hear the belt nick the ceiling right before it came down and I knew another lick was coming. By this time I could feel my blue jean sticking to my butt, it was wet with
blood. My God when is he going to stop? At sixty three licks he stopped. I was hurting so bad they had to help me off the bed. Blood was running down both cheeks of my butt. I was informed that if I told anyone about what happened, they would bring me down again. I was not to discuss anything about the event. After they finished with George they made us run back to the Directors Office. I went back to my cottage and took a shower. The next day my behind was solid black and felt like a piece of old leather. The house parents had to know what was going on. They stood there and watched you take a shower, they saw the blood. That was when I really started hating. I hated everything and everybody! I was to go down two more times, each time was the same. I found out later that if they hurt you really bad, they would put you in detention until you healed. I also saw our FDA (FINAL DISCIPLINARY ACTION), (that was the report they filled out every time you went down) because a friend of mine worked in the office and every one of them stated you received only 25licks.
Mr. Taylor was my school teacher and the another man who was the head of the school, I cannot remember,his name, but he was a very strange man. Most of us thought he was gay. He called me into his office after an incident
in the classroom. He would put his hand down your shirt and rub around your heart area. He said he could tell if you were lying when asked a question by your heart beat. If it was beating fast, you were lying. I thought he was gay because his rubbing lasted too long. I can remember a lot more horror stories but space does not allow it. For instance, the three boxers who were supposedly to have escaped ??????
I am glad I found this site. My body still carries the scares from those beatings, but my mind has finally found rest. I still think of all the other boys who suffered at the hands of those monsters.
One day at the laundry after finishing our work myself and a friend of mine, George Balcome (may be misspelled) that I knew from Tampa were talking. George arrived there a few weeks before I did and he had tried to escape a few days before. He was telling me about what had happened to him. He was instruct not to talk about his experience with any one or they would do it to him again.
A boy by the name of Spivey caught some of our conversation and ran to Mr. Cook and told him we were talking about running, which we were not. Mr. Cook called us separately up to his desk. I told him we were not talking about running. He did not believe us and wrote both of us up. I thought big deal. About half an hour later a black state car pulled up in front of the laundry. If I am not mistaken, the man's name Burgess or something like that. He placed George and myself in the car. He took us to the Director's Office. There we sat for one and a half hours. George
whispered to me they were going to take us down to the white house and beat us. I thought to myself, big deal I have had paddlings in the juvenile home before. George looked really scared and I told him not to punk out on me. They finally called us into the office one at a time. I knew from the start they were not going to believe us, which they did not.
In a few minutes they grabbed us up again and walked us down to a little building next to the mess hall. When I walked in I could smell the mold. We went in and took a left at the end of the short corridor. There were two small
rooms, one on the right and one on the left. They placed us in the one on the left and then they grabbed me up and said "You are first." I wasn't too scared at this point. The old building spooked me out a little. There was a bed with only a old, dirty mattress on it. There was a old fan attached to the wall on the upper right hand side. They told me to lie on the bed, grip the bar, look right at the wall and do not turn to the left. Do not scream or shout because they would start all over again.
The fan was started and the blade must have been bent as it made a noise when it went around, I found out later why. The first lick took the air out of my blue jeans and I thought to myself this won't be to bad but the second lick sent a pain through my whole body. I realized that he was taking the leather belt from his left side and then all the way over his head and jumping up and then coming down. I could hear the belt nick the ceiling right before it came down and I knew another lick was coming. By this time I could feel my blue jean sticking to my butt, it was wet with
blood. My God when is he going to stop? At sixty three licks he stopped. I was hurting so bad they had to help me off the bed. Blood was running down both cheeks of my butt. I was informed that if I told anyone about what happened, they would bring me down again. I was not to discuss anything about the event. After they finished with George they made us run back to the Directors Office. I went back to my cottage and took a shower. The next day my behind was solid black and felt like a piece of old leather. The house parents had to know what was going on. They stood there and watched you take a shower, they saw the blood. That was when I really started hating. I hated everything and everybody! I was to go down two more times, each time was the same. I found out later that if they hurt you really bad, they would put you in detention until you healed. I also saw our FDA (FINAL DISCIPLINARY ACTION), (that was the report they filled out every time you went down) because a friend of mine worked in the office and every one of them stated you received only 25licks.
Mr. Taylor was my school teacher and the another man who was the head of the school, I cannot remember,his name, but he was a very strange man. Most of us thought he was gay. He called me into his office after an incident
in the classroom. He would put his hand down your shirt and rub around your heart area. He said he could tell if you were lying when asked a question by your heart beat. If it was beating fast, you were lying. I thought he was gay because his rubbing lasted too long. I can remember a lot more horror stories but space does not allow it. For instance, the three boxers who were supposedly to have escaped ??????
I am glad I found this site. My body still carries the scares from those beatings, but my mind has finally found rest. I still think of all the other boys who suffered at the hands of those monsters.
Alvin's Story
Dear Mr. Caldwell:
The "bed" has a long history in Florida Juvenile corporal punishment. I too remember lowering my jeans, getting on the bed, and grabbing onto the front rail and squeezing with all of my might. At age 15, I figured it was God punishing me for something else that I may have done. Surely, just "talking about escape" from the Florida School For Boys at Okeechobee (FSB) wasn't sufficient to warrant this severe of a beating. But perhaps I was wrong; maybe I deserved the beating anyway. You see, not only was I convicted of running away from an abusive home, and persistent truancy from school, but also, I forged a man's name on a five-dollar check to purchase food (felony).
I was told that I must lower my pants, because fabric threads driven into the broken flesh might cause severe infection. The tool used was a 4" wide 3/8" thick length of solid leather, and a rubber mat ran from the middle and perpendicular to the bed so that the person administering the beating could take a baseball pitcher type of approach as he applied the leather to the buttocks. The rubber mat prevented the person wielding the leather from slipping or falling and injuring himself.
Severe pain from sitting or laying down subsided in about three days. My buttocks healed completely in about two weeks. However, I must admit that I was able to stand and walk reasonably well within minutes of the beating. Nevertheless, all boys who had been on the "bed" were not allowed visitors for three weeks because of surface skin damage.
Not until recently did I connect the beating at (FSB) to my chronic lower-back pain. This pain first developed at about age 23, back when I was a two-way radio technician. My lumbar back has remained chronic since then with pain worsening from year to year. More recently, the level of pain has left me totally incompacited, unable to sit upright or stand for more than 15 seconds; this level of severity generally lasts for up to 48 hours. Localized pain will last from four weeks to four months.
What were these Neanderthals thinking? The mass of leather used for the beating weighed a few pounds, and folks, energy equals mass times velocity squared (E=MC2). Moreover, leverage from the curvature of the lower spine, will further amply the force toward the vertebras and discs in the lumbar region. Today, my MRI indicates that I have degenerative disc disease with disc protrusions impinging on nerve roots at both L3-4 and L4-5 sections of my lumbar spine. This is incurable, and while I manage it the best I can, chronic pain will remain a part of my life forever.
Well, I said the "bed" had a long history. My beating was in 1961, and I was told it had been a tradition from much earlier than that in both Okeechobee and Marinna. Today, I teach, Humanities courses, part-time at a local university. My research areas are in business, and the social sciences, specifically child abuse issues. The last paper that I presented was on TV violence and its effect on the child's ability to love his or her fellow man.
Mr. Caldwell, I cannot believe that this type of corporal punishment is still in use today. I doubt that there is much I can do, but if you think an old professor could help, send me an email.
The "bed" has a long history in Florida Juvenile corporal punishment. I too remember lowering my jeans, getting on the bed, and grabbing onto the front rail and squeezing with all of my might. At age 15, I figured it was God punishing me for something else that I may have done. Surely, just "talking about escape" from the Florida School For Boys at Okeechobee (FSB) wasn't sufficient to warrant this severe of a beating. But perhaps I was wrong; maybe I deserved the beating anyway. You see, not only was I convicted of running away from an abusive home, and persistent truancy from school, but also, I forged a man's name on a five-dollar check to purchase food (felony).
I was told that I must lower my pants, because fabric threads driven into the broken flesh might cause severe infection. The tool used was a 4" wide 3/8" thick length of solid leather, and a rubber mat ran from the middle and perpendicular to the bed so that the person administering the beating could take a baseball pitcher type of approach as he applied the leather to the buttocks. The rubber mat prevented the person wielding the leather from slipping or falling and injuring himself.
Severe pain from sitting or laying down subsided in about three days. My buttocks healed completely in about two weeks. However, I must admit that I was able to stand and walk reasonably well within minutes of the beating. Nevertheless, all boys who had been on the "bed" were not allowed visitors for three weeks because of surface skin damage.
Not until recently did I connect the beating at (FSB) to my chronic lower-back pain. This pain first developed at about age 23, back when I was a two-way radio technician. My lumbar back has remained chronic since then with pain worsening from year to year. More recently, the level of pain has left me totally incompacited, unable to sit upright or stand for more than 15 seconds; this level of severity generally lasts for up to 48 hours. Localized pain will last from four weeks to four months.
What were these Neanderthals thinking? The mass of leather used for the beating weighed a few pounds, and folks, energy equals mass times velocity squared (E=MC2). Moreover, leverage from the curvature of the lower spine, will further amply the force toward the vertebras and discs in the lumbar region. Today, my MRI indicates that I have degenerative disc disease with disc protrusions impinging on nerve roots at both L3-4 and L4-5 sections of my lumbar spine. This is incurable, and while I manage it the best I can, chronic pain will remain a part of my life forever.
Well, I said the "bed" had a long history. My beating was in 1961, and I was told it had been a tradition from much earlier than that in both Okeechobee and Marinna. Today, I teach, Humanities courses, part-time at a local university. My research areas are in business, and the social sciences, specifically child abuse issues. The last paper that I presented was on TV violence and its effect on the child's ability to love his or her fellow man.
Mr. Caldwell, I cannot believe that this type of corporal punishment is still in use today. I doubt that there is much I can do, but if you think an old professor could help, send me an email.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Willy's Story
WILLY'S STORY
As a young boy I grew up in Tampa Florida in what was known as six mile creek area. Six Mile creek was known a pretty rough part of town and a young boy was either picked on by the older kids or he learned to fight and defend himself, so I learned to defend myself at an early age. I was also a rebellious young man from a poor family. Kids at school could be very cruel to the less fortunate kids like myself and it seemed to me that in many cases to fight was your only recourse.
One must remember that for me to sit down and try to resurrect old memories that I have buried deep in the back of my mind for over fifty years is very painful, so some of my recollections of exact times and places may not be as accurate as I would like however many of my recollections will always be embedded in my mind because they come back from time to time in the form of horrible nightmares.
In 1958 I was sent to The Florida School for Boys at Marianna Florida. As I said earlier I was a rebellious young man and I was one of those boys who had the "Elvis look" with the long greasy hair, turned up shirt collar, smoking cigarettes and was quite popular with the girls etc, but when I went to Marianna I was like a little fish in a big pond and was scared to death.
My first few days at Marianna I was scared and confused and I trusted no one. I was assigned to Tyler cottage #9 and we had several boys who would try to bully me. The first time the bully's tried to give me a blanket party (they would wait until you were asleep and several boys would throw a blanket over your head and beat you with soap in a sock) one of the boys told me which night it was supposed to happen so I sat upright in my bed all night and was scared to death and the party never took place.
If you told anyone about getting a blanket party you would be called a snitch or rat and no one would have anything to do with you. A few days later several of the boys caught me in the corridor between the dormitory and the bath room and shoved me against the wall. There were four boys who said they were told to beat my ass by the cottage bully, but I fought back and three of them abandon the plan and only one continued to fight me. At some point in the fight I had him in a front head lock and I kept holding him and lifting him until he started to choke and passed out. I was too scared to release him. When the other boys saw what was happening they all ran in and pulled me away from him. All this commotion caused the cottage father to come downstairs from his living quarters and made us all return to the dorm.
The next morning I was taken to (known official to be named at a later date)office where I was questioned and told that I would be "going down" for fighting and I was told to sit on a bench in the front office until it was time. That had to be one of the longest wait in my lifetime, minutes seemed like hours. I had been told of the White House by the other boys and I was scared to death. I didn't tell (known official to be named at a later date) who I was fighting with because it was evident that I was going down anyway so telling (known official to be named at a later date) who I was fighting with would only make me a snitch.
Sometime around noon (known official to be named at a later date) and
(known official to be named at a later date) said to me, come on boy and
(known official to be named at a later date) and Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) was on each side of me and Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) held me by my arm. (known official to be named at a later date) was a big man and he had a grip in his remaining arm that could only be matched by a pair of vice-grip pliers or a pipe wrench. Once he had you ,you were not likely to get away from that grip.
As we walked toward the White House I could see some of the boys in the dinning hall looking out the windows at us. The walk from (known official to be named at a later date) office to the White House was like a death walk it was slow and methodical.
When we arrived at the White House (known official to be named at a later date) unlocked the door at one end of the building and said get your ass in there boy and shoved me. It was about a 6 inch step up and I stumbled as he shoved me in the door and we were in a hall way with rooms on each side. The stench of that building was so bad I began to gag and vomit from being scared and the smell of the place. I was shoved into a room I think on the left and the shoved onto a bed where I was told to get face down on the bed. I was the told to hold onto the rail at the head of the bed and face the wall. I was told that if I tried to get up or if I looked at them they would stop and stat all over again. At this time one of them turned on what sounded like a big blower apparently to muffle the sounds of the beating and crying.
No matter how many stories you hear about this place I don't think anything in the world could prepare you for what was about to happen next. As I lay there waiting I heard the sound of a shoe turning on the concrete floor and then it happened. The worst pain I have ever experienced in my life. I received 45 licks on my buttocks and just before each lick I could hear that shoe pivot on the concrete floor from the sand on the floor. When (known official to be named at a later date) finally quit beating me I was told to get my ass up and lets go. When we got to the door to go out of the White House I could not make the 6 inch step down to the ground because my buttocks was so numb and I could not tell how much damage was done to them, I could feel blood running down my legs but I was too afraid to say anything. I was taken back to the cottage where I was allowed to take a shower and I could not believe what I saw when I tied to look at my back side. My buttocks was as black as a crow and bloody. I had pieces of my under shorts embedded in my skin and I tried to pull as much as I could out but it hurt to bad to touch. By the next day my buttocks felt like a big black crust and I could only take steps about 6 inches long. This was one miserable feeling. The hard part was also trying to walk and act like it wasn't all that bad in front of the other boys but I guess they all knew better. The bully's in the dorm said I was pretty cool because I didn't snitch on the other boys I was fighting with. That was my first time to go to the White House but surely not my last.
Several months later I had received some bad grades and I was taken to the White House again and received 50 licks. This time Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) used the paddle. He appeared to be a rather large man and was what I would describe as a portly man. He wore a white shirt and dark trousers and neck tie. Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) was there also but Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) was not there that time. About 3 or 4 nights later I was awaken in my bed by (known official to be named at a later date) and I was told I was going down if I didn't tell them who had some cigarettes in our dorm. I told him I didn't know who had the cigarettes and he took me by the arm and led me out of the dorm and we were headed in the direction of the school house when we got to a room on the side of the school there was a room that led down stairs to the door of the room. I had never been there before but I had been told that was where they would take you and rape you or kill you. This place looked like it was a cellar or something. When we got to the top steps there were two other men there and I didn't recognize the other men. As we approached the top step to go down I started to fight and try to get out of that mighty grip of (known official to be named at a later date) and the two other men tried to help subdue me but I was fighting and screaming for all I was worth, I was kicking at their groin and knee area and swinging my fists at anything I could hit. At one moment I was free from Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) grip and I started running for all I was worth. I ran for what seemed like forever and my buttocks was beginning to bleed from the beating I had received a few days earlier I continued to run into some woods until I could not hear them and I thought they had given up on me. I made my way to what I think was the town of Marianna and I was hiding behind a colored juke joint when all of a sudden a flash light shined in my face and I heard a black man say "yonder one is Duce" as I jumped up to run I ran into another black man who threw me to the ground and held me until Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) and Mr.
(known official to be named at a later date) came and picked me up and took me back to the White House where I received 100 licks for running Mr.
(known official to be named at a later date) did the beating that night and I was told that every time I ran I would receive more licks than the time before.
I was at Marianna for a total of 19 months and went down 8 times, 5 times for running and 3 times for bad reports. They had a rank system and the lowest rank was Grub, if you was a Grub and you did anything wrong you had no rank to take away so you went down.
When I first arrived at Marianna I was assigned to work in the kitchen scrubbing floors and swill cans. Mr. Edenfield was the supervisor over the kitchen and was always yelling at us to do this or do that, He was never unfair to any of us but I guess he had to constantly yell to get things done time after all we were on a time schedule for feeding etc. As a matter of fact Mr. Edenfield was the only member of the staff that I liked. We were never allowed to talk to the black boys when they came over to pick up the swill cans to take to the hogs. On one occasion while we were loading the swill cans I shoved one of the cans and some of the swill spilled over the top and got on one of the black boys shoe and I said I'm sorry man I didn't mean for that to happen, the black boy said it's OK don't worry about it and I said thanks. One of the other boys told Mr. Edenfield I was talking to the black boys and Mr. Edenfield ask me about it and I told him what was said between the black boy and I. Mr. Edenfield told me he was going to tell (known official to be named at a later date) but he never did. I will always thank him for not telling (known official to be named at a later date). I worked my ass off for Mr. Edenfield and apparently he saw something in me because it wasn't long I worked my way up to cook, then staff cook which was one of the best jobs in the kitchen.
After having been in F.S.B. for approximately 16 or 17 months (known official to be named at a later date) called me to the office and told me that my father had been in contact with the school and wanted to know if I wanted to go live with my Father and his wife? I told (known official to be named at a later date)that I didn't know my father but I would try anything to get out of that place. My father was station in Korea at the time and would be coming back to the States in about two months and that I would have to walk the strait and narrow for two months so I did.
Things didn't work out with my dad and his wife so after a while I returned to Tampa where I found a job working for a plumber. I worked for the plumber for about 8 or 9 months until the plumber died and I went into the Military. I was not a good solder so one hitch was enough for me.
After the Military I held several jobs that usually ended up with me loosing my temper and quitting or being fired it seemed that I could not get along with anyone and I didn't trust anyone and always had a chip on my shoulder, I don't know how I kept from going to prison or someone shooting me.
In 1974 I met a wonderful lady and ask her to marry me. When she said yes I made up my mind I would do everything I could to make her happy and I am still working on that. I told my wife about my experience at Marianna and I don't think she really believed how it was until I ask her to read Roger's story about the White House.
I feel in my heart that God must have a special seat in Hell for people like Mr
(known official to be named at a later date) , Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) and Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) and others like them.
I can remember on a few occasions boys would go to the White House and never return to their cottage. We were told that they went to Raiford Prison we didn't know that one had to be convicted of a felony crime at trial to go to Raiford but we were afraid to ask. So what happened to them? Where are their bones buried? How many of them had no family at home to question the authorities. If the juvenile justice system was this bad in the 1950's how bad was it in the 30's and 40's.
What was it like on the Black side. Working in the kitchen we saw a lot of black boys go to the White House, did they get as many licks as we did? We could not tell because of the big blower making noise but they sure stayed in there as long as we did. What about the girls at the girls school? I think it was in Ocala Fl. Did they get beat like the boys did? Were there any records of the beatings? Boys or girls, black or white. When I was in Marianna they were building another boys school in Okeechobee did they have their version of the White House? There is a lot of questions that should be answered and the State of Florida should be held accountable. I just cannot understand why children should be treated in such a brutal manner. I suddenly find myself sitting here crying like a 65 year old child, like I said I am resurrecting old memories that I have had suppressed for over 50 years and its getting to me so I will end for now and try to replace these old memories back in their place in the back of my memory bank. Maybe one day we can have a F.S.B. at Marianna reunion for the 1959-1960's and all have a good cry and then celebrate our survival together.
So long for now, Willy
As a young boy I grew up in Tampa Florida in what was known as six mile creek area. Six Mile creek was known a pretty rough part of town and a young boy was either picked on by the older kids or he learned to fight and defend himself, so I learned to defend myself at an early age. I was also a rebellious young man from a poor family. Kids at school could be very cruel to the less fortunate kids like myself and it seemed to me that in many cases to fight was your only recourse.
One must remember that for me to sit down and try to resurrect old memories that I have buried deep in the back of my mind for over fifty years is very painful, so some of my recollections of exact times and places may not be as accurate as I would like however many of my recollections will always be embedded in my mind because they come back from time to time in the form of horrible nightmares.
In 1958 I was sent to The Florida School for Boys at Marianna Florida. As I said earlier I was a rebellious young man and I was one of those boys who had the "Elvis look" with the long greasy hair, turned up shirt collar, smoking cigarettes and was quite popular with the girls etc, but when I went to Marianna I was like a little fish in a big pond and was scared to death.
My first few days at Marianna I was scared and confused and I trusted no one. I was assigned to Tyler cottage #9 and we had several boys who would try to bully me. The first time the bully's tried to give me a blanket party (they would wait until you were asleep and several boys would throw a blanket over your head and beat you with soap in a sock) one of the boys told me which night it was supposed to happen so I sat upright in my bed all night and was scared to death and the party never took place.
If you told anyone about getting a blanket party you would be called a snitch or rat and no one would have anything to do with you. A few days later several of the boys caught me in the corridor between the dormitory and the bath room and shoved me against the wall. There were four boys who said they were told to beat my ass by the cottage bully, but I fought back and three of them abandon the plan and only one continued to fight me. At some point in the fight I had him in a front head lock and I kept holding him and lifting him until he started to choke and passed out. I was too scared to release him. When the other boys saw what was happening they all ran in and pulled me away from him. All this commotion caused the cottage father to come downstairs from his living quarters and made us all return to the dorm.
The next morning I was taken to (known official to be named at a later date)office where I was questioned and told that I would be "going down" for fighting and I was told to sit on a bench in the front office until it was time. That had to be one of the longest wait in my lifetime, minutes seemed like hours. I had been told of the White House by the other boys and I was scared to death. I didn't tell (known official to be named at a later date) who I was fighting with because it was evident that I was going down anyway so telling (known official to be named at a later date) who I was fighting with would only make me a snitch.
Sometime around noon (known official to be named at a later date) and
(known official to be named at a later date) said to me, come on boy and
(known official to be named at a later date) and Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) was on each side of me and Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) held me by my arm. (known official to be named at a later date) was a big man and he had a grip in his remaining arm that could only be matched by a pair of vice-grip pliers or a pipe wrench. Once he had you ,you were not likely to get away from that grip.
As we walked toward the White House I could see some of the boys in the dinning hall looking out the windows at us. The walk from (known official to be named at a later date) office to the White House was like a death walk it was slow and methodical.
When we arrived at the White House (known official to be named at a later date) unlocked the door at one end of the building and said get your ass in there boy and shoved me. It was about a 6 inch step up and I stumbled as he shoved me in the door and we were in a hall way with rooms on each side. The stench of that building was so bad I began to gag and vomit from being scared and the smell of the place. I was shoved into a room I think on the left and the shoved onto a bed where I was told to get face down on the bed. I was the told to hold onto the rail at the head of the bed and face the wall. I was told that if I tried to get up or if I looked at them they would stop and stat all over again. At this time one of them turned on what sounded like a big blower apparently to muffle the sounds of the beating and crying.
No matter how many stories you hear about this place I don't think anything in the world could prepare you for what was about to happen next. As I lay there waiting I heard the sound of a shoe turning on the concrete floor and then it happened. The worst pain I have ever experienced in my life. I received 45 licks on my buttocks and just before each lick I could hear that shoe pivot on the concrete floor from the sand on the floor. When (known official to be named at a later date) finally quit beating me I was told to get my ass up and lets go. When we got to the door to go out of the White House I could not make the 6 inch step down to the ground because my buttocks was so numb and I could not tell how much damage was done to them, I could feel blood running down my legs but I was too afraid to say anything. I was taken back to the cottage where I was allowed to take a shower and I could not believe what I saw when I tied to look at my back side. My buttocks was as black as a crow and bloody. I had pieces of my under shorts embedded in my skin and I tried to pull as much as I could out but it hurt to bad to touch. By the next day my buttocks felt like a big black crust and I could only take steps about 6 inches long. This was one miserable feeling. The hard part was also trying to walk and act like it wasn't all that bad in front of the other boys but I guess they all knew better. The bully's in the dorm said I was pretty cool because I didn't snitch on the other boys I was fighting with. That was my first time to go to the White House but surely not my last.
Several months later I had received some bad grades and I was taken to the White House again and received 50 licks. This time Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) used the paddle. He appeared to be a rather large man and was what I would describe as a portly man. He wore a white shirt and dark trousers and neck tie. Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) was there also but Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) was not there that time. About 3 or 4 nights later I was awaken in my bed by (known official to be named at a later date) and I was told I was going down if I didn't tell them who had some cigarettes in our dorm. I told him I didn't know who had the cigarettes and he took me by the arm and led me out of the dorm and we were headed in the direction of the school house when we got to a room on the side of the school there was a room that led down stairs to the door of the room. I had never been there before but I had been told that was where they would take you and rape you or kill you. This place looked like it was a cellar or something. When we got to the top steps there were two other men there and I didn't recognize the other men. As we approached the top step to go down I started to fight and try to get out of that mighty grip of (known official to be named at a later date) and the two other men tried to help subdue me but I was fighting and screaming for all I was worth, I was kicking at their groin and knee area and swinging my fists at anything I could hit. At one moment I was free from Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) grip and I started running for all I was worth. I ran for what seemed like forever and my buttocks was beginning to bleed from the beating I had received a few days earlier I continued to run into some woods until I could not hear them and I thought they had given up on me. I made my way to what I think was the town of Marianna and I was hiding behind a colored juke joint when all of a sudden a flash light shined in my face and I heard a black man say "yonder one is Duce" as I jumped up to run I ran into another black man who threw me to the ground and held me until Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) and Mr.
(known official to be named at a later date) came and picked me up and took me back to the White House where I received 100 licks for running Mr.
(known official to be named at a later date) did the beating that night and I was told that every time I ran I would receive more licks than the time before.
I was at Marianna for a total of 19 months and went down 8 times, 5 times for running and 3 times for bad reports. They had a rank system and the lowest rank was Grub, if you was a Grub and you did anything wrong you had no rank to take away so you went down.
When I first arrived at Marianna I was assigned to work in the kitchen scrubbing floors and swill cans. Mr. Edenfield was the supervisor over the kitchen and was always yelling at us to do this or do that, He was never unfair to any of us but I guess he had to constantly yell to get things done time after all we were on a time schedule for feeding etc. As a matter of fact Mr. Edenfield was the only member of the staff that I liked. We were never allowed to talk to the black boys when they came over to pick up the swill cans to take to the hogs. On one occasion while we were loading the swill cans I shoved one of the cans and some of the swill spilled over the top and got on one of the black boys shoe and I said I'm sorry man I didn't mean for that to happen, the black boy said it's OK don't worry about it and I said thanks. One of the other boys told Mr. Edenfield I was talking to the black boys and Mr. Edenfield ask me about it and I told him what was said between the black boy and I. Mr. Edenfield told me he was going to tell (known official to be named at a later date) but he never did. I will always thank him for not telling (known official to be named at a later date). I worked my ass off for Mr. Edenfield and apparently he saw something in me because it wasn't long I worked my way up to cook, then staff cook which was one of the best jobs in the kitchen.
After having been in F.S.B. for approximately 16 or 17 months (known official to be named at a later date) called me to the office and told me that my father had been in contact with the school and wanted to know if I wanted to go live with my Father and his wife? I told (known official to be named at a later date)that I didn't know my father but I would try anything to get out of that place. My father was station in Korea at the time and would be coming back to the States in about two months and that I would have to walk the strait and narrow for two months so I did.
Things didn't work out with my dad and his wife so after a while I returned to Tampa where I found a job working for a plumber. I worked for the plumber for about 8 or 9 months until the plumber died and I went into the Military. I was not a good solder so one hitch was enough for me.
After the Military I held several jobs that usually ended up with me loosing my temper and quitting or being fired it seemed that I could not get along with anyone and I didn't trust anyone and always had a chip on my shoulder, I don't know how I kept from going to prison or someone shooting me.
In 1974 I met a wonderful lady and ask her to marry me. When she said yes I made up my mind I would do everything I could to make her happy and I am still working on that. I told my wife about my experience at Marianna and I don't think she really believed how it was until I ask her to read Roger's story about the White House.
I feel in my heart that God must have a special seat in Hell for people like Mr
(known official to be named at a later date) , Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) and Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) and others like them.
I can remember on a few occasions boys would go to the White House and never return to their cottage. We were told that they went to Raiford Prison we didn't know that one had to be convicted of a felony crime at trial to go to Raiford but we were afraid to ask. So what happened to them? Where are their bones buried? How many of them had no family at home to question the authorities. If the juvenile justice system was this bad in the 1950's how bad was it in the 30's and 40's.
What was it like on the Black side. Working in the kitchen we saw a lot of black boys go to the White House, did they get as many licks as we did? We could not tell because of the big blower making noise but they sure stayed in there as long as we did. What about the girls at the girls school? I think it was in Ocala Fl. Did they get beat like the boys did? Were there any records of the beatings? Boys or girls, black or white. When I was in Marianna they were building another boys school in Okeechobee did they have their version of the White House? There is a lot of questions that should be answered and the State of Florida should be held accountable. I just cannot understand why children should be treated in such a brutal manner. I suddenly find myself sitting here crying like a 65 year old child, like I said I am resurrecting old memories that I have had suppressed for over 50 years and its getting to me so I will end for now and try to replace these old memories back in their place in the back of my memory bank. Maybe one day we can have a F.S.B. at Marianna reunion for the 1959-1960's and all have a good cry and then celebrate our survival together.
So long for now, Willy
Stu Kruger's Story
STU KRUGER'S STORY
My name is Stu Kruger, and I was at FSB for 13 months from 1957-58.I was a 'guest' in Monroe Cottage and Carlos Smith was the ruler of that cottage, along with his assistant, Bull York.
I was raised by my grandparents, never knowing my mother (she died when I was two) or my father. I lived in New York at the time. When I was 7, my grandparents were too old to care for me, so I was shipped off to live in Florida with my father and his new wife. I lived with them until I was 14 or 15, and ran away to New York several times to get away from the physical and mental abuse I was receiving at home.
The last time I ran, I was actually stopped by the police at the bus station and was sent to a juvenile facility until I was to appear in front of a judge. At the hearing my father was given a choice. To either take me back home, or let the state take charge. I was so happy when he told them to keep me, as I thought I would be better off away from him. Boy, was I ever wrong!!
I recall being placed in handcuffs, and having my shoes removed, placed in the back of a state car and driven to Marianna, about an 8 hour ride. My first night there was a nightmare, and it remained that way for the next 13 months.
After I was there for about three months, I attempted to run away..And was caught in the city about five miles away. I remember running thru the woods, and hearing the dogs they used to track people howling in the night.
I was taken directly to the white house by Mr. Hatten and his white bulldog that stood guard by the door. As all the boys have indicated, I was told to grab the rail, bite the sheet and not to scream. The first sound I heard was the strap hitting the ceiling, then the wall, then my rear. Hatten was a very tall man, and the room was very small. He hit me 37 to 40 times on my rear, lower back and legs. I had to be carried out and taken to the infirmary on the grounds, where I stayed for a day or two until I could walk.
I was 15 years old, had not committed any crime nor hurt any one, and I was beaten like a prisoner of war, by these sadistic men. About two months later I was in my bunk in the dormitory where about 50 of us slept, and the two boys on either side of me began to fight, and when it was broken up by Mr. Smith,I was taken again to the white house with the other two boys because it looked like I was part of the fight.I pleaded with them not to beat me, and the other two even admitted I was not involved, but it fell on deaf ears. Once in the white house, you don't leave until you are beaten.
I got about 25 blows that time (I guess they felt sorry, ha!) I also remember never having enough to eat....We all sat at a table for eight with one at the top, one at the bottom and three along each side. The food was served to the top seat and was passed down by each boy. When it reached the bottom, there was usually just scraps left. Requests for more was unheard of.
I witnessed grown men beating boys for no earthly reason (Bull York) and so many acts of abuse that are too numerous to get into at this point. I will add to this from time to time. Let me hear from any one who may remember me, or care to talk..
My name is Stu Kruger, and I was at FSB for 13 months from 1957-58.I was a 'guest' in Monroe Cottage and Carlos Smith was the ruler of that cottage, along with his assistant, Bull York.
I was raised by my grandparents, never knowing my mother (she died when I was two) or my father. I lived in New York at the time. When I was 7, my grandparents were too old to care for me, so I was shipped off to live in Florida with my father and his new wife. I lived with them until I was 14 or 15, and ran away to New York several times to get away from the physical and mental abuse I was receiving at home.
The last time I ran, I was actually stopped by the police at the bus station and was sent to a juvenile facility until I was to appear in front of a judge. At the hearing my father was given a choice. To either take me back home, or let the state take charge. I was so happy when he told them to keep me, as I thought I would be better off away from him. Boy, was I ever wrong!!
I recall being placed in handcuffs, and having my shoes removed, placed in the back of a state car and driven to Marianna, about an 8 hour ride. My first night there was a nightmare, and it remained that way for the next 13 months.
After I was there for about three months, I attempted to run away..And was caught in the city about five miles away. I remember running thru the woods, and hearing the dogs they used to track people howling in the night.
I was taken directly to the white house by Mr. Hatten and his white bulldog that stood guard by the door. As all the boys have indicated, I was told to grab the rail, bite the sheet and not to scream. The first sound I heard was the strap hitting the ceiling, then the wall, then my rear. Hatten was a very tall man, and the room was very small. He hit me 37 to 40 times on my rear, lower back and legs. I had to be carried out and taken to the infirmary on the grounds, where I stayed for a day or two until I could walk.
I was 15 years old, had not committed any crime nor hurt any one, and I was beaten like a prisoner of war, by these sadistic men. About two months later I was in my bunk in the dormitory where about 50 of us slept, and the two boys on either side of me began to fight, and when it was broken up by Mr. Smith,I was taken again to the white house with the other two boys because it looked like I was part of the fight.I pleaded with them not to beat me, and the other two even admitted I was not involved, but it fell on deaf ears. Once in the white house, you don't leave until you are beaten.
I got about 25 blows that time (I guess they felt sorry, ha!) I also remember never having enough to eat....We all sat at a table for eight with one at the top, one at the bottom and three along each side. The food was served to the top seat and was passed down by each boy. When it reached the bottom, there was usually just scraps left. Requests for more was unheard of.
I witnessed grown men beating boys for no earthly reason (Bull York) and so many acts of abuse that are too numerous to get into at this point. I will add to this from time to time. Let me hear from any one who may remember me, or care to talk..
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Michael O'McCarthy's Story
My name then was Michael Babarksy, the name from my Polish-Lithuanian step-father, Jim, who entered my life when I was five. We were living in my native home of Miami, Florida. He was a floor layer – a infantry veteran of WWII Pacific theatre, the step-son of an alcoholic coal miner from Scranton, PA. His step-mother came at an early age and all I knew of her was that she beat him and his siblings with a poker iron. He was alcoholic and a rage alcoholic.
My Edna mother was an alcoholic and addicted to Miltown given to her post her second caesarian birth to me and my step-brother Joe. She came from a large Georgia dirt-farm family and her father was alcoholic, a wife and child beater.
The two of them fought constantly. Their violence reached murderous suicidal levels when he would take out his hunting weapons, shoot into the ceiling of the house and threaten to kill everyone including himself.
My response was to begin to run away and drink alcohol at age 14 from our home in the Florida Keys. At age 15 I was on probation for running away from home, drinking under age. I was on suspended sentence to FSB for a juvenile mischievous prank when, while drunk, a friend and I lit candles used for the Sunday Catholic Church service in the Old Coast Guard Building and one of the candles fell against a wooden door scorching it.
I was sentenced to Mariana for violating that probation by purchasing alcohol, providing alcohol to a minor (my friends,) and having sex with a sixteen year old girl.
From the first day Mariana was a nightmare of verbal abuse and physical threats from the adults and the institutionalized culture of teen-on-teen culture. The senior boys ambushed new kids in private with soap-in-sock weapons, or sheeted them without redress. I was forced to view the back, buttocks and legs of a kid who had been beaten in the White House.
I did what I had learned to do to get away from the violence: I ran away. The following is what was done to me when I was captured and returned to the Florida “School” for Boys at Mariana under the color of state law. The following is my narrative story then published under my birth name, Michael Burt McCarthy. Today my literary name, nom de plume, if you will, is Michael O’McCarthy.
A VISIT TO THE WHITE HOUSE
By
Michael McCarthy (*)
©
First published in SOUTHERN EXPOSURE 1980 – anthologized in GROWING UP
SOUTHERN , PANTHEON, 1981
It was typical 0f Southern jails in the 1950s: a concrete and brick, two-story building with the first floor housing the sheriffs offices, jail booking office and small kitchen; the second floor, a hollow shell with a steel-barred cage set about four feet from the surrounding green walls and three feet below the dimly lit ceiling. There were segregated cells, each with two flat, metal-slatted bunks and an encrusted toilet bowl-wash basin combination. The floor, unpainted, grey-grouted cement, sloped towards drain-holes to facilitate a monthly hosing and to accommodate the inevitable flooding by a rampaging prisoner.
The two fifteen-year-old boys occupying the front cells by the security door were typical, too. Except they were clothed in State-issued, white cotton boxer shorts, dirty with road clay, torn by briars and thistles. They were runaways from what was called, by some, The Florida School for Boys, and by others, The Florida Industrial School at Marianna. Whatever. It all meant the same thing in the end. They were juvenile escapees from Florida’s one reform school for boys. And that’s why both boys had a look of cold terror about them. They knew what awaited runaways.
At a little past three o’clock in the afternoon, the security door swung open, and the county jailer came in, dressed in the gaudy green, grey and gold patch uniform, keys clanking and clinking against the hollow silence. Then came the two Statesmen in the casual dress of the boys’ school informality: white solid or thin-striped, short-sleeved shirts: brown or black slacks; white cotton or black argyle socks; black or brown laced shoes. These were the men with taut grins and white Baptist faces, men off the broken farms of north Florida, southern Georgia and Alabama, men in the benevolent tradition 0f the Southern paternal order. Hard Christian men serving the State, steeped in the doctrine of original sin and the swift application of salvation and retribution.
The jailer keyed the lock, and told the boys in a not unkindly way to back up against the cell door with their hands behind them. A Statesman manacled first one, then the other boy. He asked each if the cuffs were too tight; they in turn mumbled their no s. They were motioned out of the cell — the slimmer 0f the two, Mike, moving lamely on his left leg. His knee, ankle and foot were encrusted with blood and dirt.
The jailer led them down the hollow concrete steps, into the booking room, and the Statement motioned the boys to the wooden bench by the wall as they signed them out. The officials exchanged their good-byes, then the boys were led squinting into the orange-white sun of the parking lot. The omnipresent grey State car sat waiting, a well-used transport for State supplies and runaway boys.
The State car headed northwest out of Apalachicola on Highway 98; the boys were seated in the rear, the window and door handles removed. Fifty miles per hour along the golden Gulf Coast where the sun splashed on white beaches, green-brown saw grass, the sparse northern Florida pines. Then north on 71 out 0f Port St. Joe, through Wewahitchka, along the Dead Lake.
Little was said. What was there to say? They were taking them back to Marianna. Going to Hell in the “Sunshine State” of Yankee tourists and retirees.
The State car moved along the three-hour trip through the small towns of Blountsville and Althea, through the open grazing land of the humid Florida Panhandle. The road signs marked the distance as they drew nearer and nearer to Marianna. At the 20-mile sign, cold sweat began to film on the bottom of the boys’ feet, in the palms 0f their hands, in their armpits; it trickled through the hair of their groins, down and around their testicles to the vinyl seats, soaking their asses. The near-naked boys sat manacled arms behind their backs, on the elevated rear seat 0f the State station wagon, gawked at by pedestrians from curbsides and passengers in faster vehicles, Images conjured of Southern times past, of other runaways, their black bodies manacled, clothing torn and tattered, seated in the rear of a wagon.
The State car passed through the rock portals and up the road leading to the central offices 0f the school: it swung left and stopped in front of the Director’s office, Mr. Dennis, the school’s Boy Scout leader, got out the passenger seat and walked to the office door: he said something to the inside. Then, hack at the car, he waited. Soon a tall, angular man, the Director, came out. He had a slight, right-legged limp born with a sternness he seemed to pride. He neither looked at nor spoke to the boys, but motioned to the driver with a long, gaunt arm. Pointing towards the dining room and kitchen, and he said something to Dennis.
Dennis said.” Okay," and got back into the car. They drove the short, pine tree-lined road past the kitchen, and stopped before a one-story, white cement, windowless building. “You boys just sit there for a minute.” Dragging some keys from his pocket. Dennis unlocked the buildings heavy wooden door, and disappeared into the darkness. The boys could hear the clamor and din from the dining room as nearly 400 boys sat down to their evening meal.
Shortly, the Director appeared at the right side 0f the car and reached through the front window to unlock the rear door. “You can get out now, he said to Mike. Dennis reappeared through the doorway and opened the car’s left rear door, telling the other buy, Woody, to get out.
Motioning toward the building, the Director said, “You boys get on in there.” Dennis led them out of the late afternoon Florida sunlight into the near-darkness of the building known as the White House.
The boys were led into a dank. whitewashed corridor six feet wide, eight feet high. The aged walls were lit only by a single wire-encased bulb glaring against the musty ceiling.
Three quarters of the way down the corridor were two identical rooms, one on either side, both lit with bulbs encased in the rusty wire mesh. The boys were directed to the one on the left-the Colored Boys room it was called-equal and identical, separate by law. Word had it the only difference was in the number of strokes given blacks.
The room held nothing but a rusting, GI-green army cot, with an uncovered, striped mattress and pillow, dark with the liquid stains of human miser. The two runaways were uncuffed and ordered to sit on the cot. The two Statesmen stood over them, silent, watching as the terror began to tremble their bodies. A third state man stood waiting in the corridor. The director began to question them:
Why did you boys run? … Don’t you know you cant get away from here? You boys are lucky; farmers hereabouts shoot runaways. Either that or the swamps get them. What’s your excuse? … if you’ve got one, I want to hear it.”
Woody began to cry softly, the director’s voice signaling the inevitable emotional buildup to the beating.
Mike crying too, tried to speak: “I don’t know … I could take anymore … I just wanted to get away … I …”
Dennis said nothing; the director slowly tapped his game right foot. Finally, Mike gave up, his head bowed.
“All right,” the director said.
“Which of you will go first?”
Neither answered. The director pointed to Mike.
“You then, let’s go---into the other room. And giving a nod to Dennis, the director led Mike in the White Boys room.
Pointing to the army cot, the director gave the instructions:
“All right now, son, it’ll go easier on you if you do as I tell you. You’re to lay down on the cot on your belly; turn your face to the wall. If I were you, I’d stuff the corner of that pillow in your mouth. Once we begin, don’t turn your head. Don’t cry out or scream if you do, we start all over again. Place both hands on the cot frame and keep hold of it. Do not try to get up or try to stop us. If you do, we’ll send for some kitchen boys to hold you down. I’d try to stay as relaxed as you can; you’re less likely to be hurt.”
The mask of sternness began to slip. Something---remorse perhaps---began to flow down the long lines of his face.
“Now get this straight in your head. Every boy is told about running away. You knew the punishment; you’ve seen boys brought back to your cottage from here. You knew what to expect when you were caught. So you asked for this.”
The new mask melted into place: two hundred years old; seen from a thousand Protestant pulpits; from a multitude of Southern court benches at sentencing time; before the cringing figure of a mischievous child; at the hanging of a good slave gone bad; before the daughter being sent away from the unacceptable lover.
The patriarch stood towering before Mike. A long pause followed as he turned the show of his flawed right leg on the cement floor. Then he spoke the formula: “Let me tell you something son, this is going to hurt me more than it will you.”
Have said his piece, the director pulled himself erect, the tone of self-pitying condescension gone from his face.
“All right now, lay on down there, turn your head and get a’ hold of the cot.”
The boy, visibly shaken, did as he was told.
The director spoke again:
“You best do as I said and stick the corner of that pillow in your mouth.”
Mike caught the pillow corner in his mouth, turned his head flat on its side, shut his eyes, and waited. Seconds, minutes of clenched waiting. His body trembled. Sweat ran under his arms; sweat ran down the crack of his ass, the white-cotton shorts turning damp, clinging to the skin of his buttocks. He lay there in the silence, waiting for it to begin.
He heard Dennis’ footsteps return. The director step halfway out the door and tell him to “hit the fan.” And then heard the awful roar of the huge exhaust fan at the corridor’s end. The whole of the White House seemed to shudder under its force. It filled the room until no sound but the fan was possible.
Half in fear, reacting to the shock of the fan, Mike turned his head toward the director. In a glimpse of terror, he saw it. Pushing his head back toward the wall, he took the pillow again in his mouth; his hands squeezed the bed frame; he clamped his eyes shut.
The first stroke exploded. The sound like the booming Ka-Pow of a shotgun slammed into his ears as the impact of the blow penetrated into the tissues of his ass. The second stroke was higher, cutting just across the top elastic of his shorts.
Crack-Pow. The boom echoed louder off the barren walls; the shock of pain cracked into his lower back. He was driven deeper into the mattress.
The mattress and springs pushed his body up to meet the third stroke: Crack-Pow. The skin on the back of his thighs was ripped upward with the stroke’s completing.
Crack-Pow. Two thousand, three thousand, four thousand. The pain began to turn a deep, bright red as it ran through him.
He saw it clearly. Swinging in an arc over the director’s head, slapping in the cheeks of his ass.
THE PADDLE. an innocuous schoolroom term given it by the director. The Paddle. Two strips of quarter-inch polished leather, two feet long, over two inches wide, separated by a sixteenth-inch piece of taut, pliant sheet metal. Attached to a four-inch round hand grip, the leather was perforated on either side midway down, with one-eighth-inch holes, ending in a half-inch long taper. The effect brought the whipping weapon down in a cracking slap that drove through the thinness of the cotton shorts, into the upper tissues of the skin. Halfway through the beating, the holes were filled with blood-covered flesh.
The Paddle began to pull and suck to the side and away. Finally, with each stroke, the tapered end snapped the flesh, cracking it wherever it had grown taut and swollen. Crack-Pow. The strokes were coming in a marked rhythm now.
As the director began each stroke the foot of his twisted right leg slid on the cement floor, making a terse rasping sound. Then as the paddle was swung up and over the director’s head, it scraped against the ceiling just before it came down against the flesh. Between the eighth and twelfth blows the boy, now crying softly into the pillow, began to try different measures to ease the blows.
First he waited the split second between the scrape on the ceiling and at the impact, tightened his lower back, ass, and legs, and just as the blow landed, he would force himself to go limp.
Between the sixteenth and twentieth, he tried just the opposite. Just as the blow was to land, he would go rigid; as it ended, he went loose.
Somewhere between the twenty-third and twenty-sixth, he succumbed to deep guttural moaning, biting the pillow deeply so it was tight against his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He knew nothing would ease the pain as the Director, in his practiced, methodical manner, alternated the strokes first to the middle buttocks, then to the back of the legs, then to the small of the back, then hit just one cheek, the tapered end snatching and tearing at the inside of the crevice.
At the thirty-first stroke, the boy went into a state of semi-shock. The roar of the fan, the lunging breathing of the Director, the scraping foot, the paddle catching at the ceiling — all became surreal. The blows passed into his body, sending a numbing wave into his groin, on into the mattress, pushing him deep into the springs. At the thirty-sixth stroke the boy lost track of numbers. Then, without apparent reason, after ten or twelve more, it ended.
For the first time since the beginning, the Director spoke: “All right now, get up.”
The boy tried, but nothing moved.
“I said, get on up.”
The boy again tried to move his legs, to turn, but nothing worked. “If you don’t get up off that cot like I told you, we’re going to start all over again. Now get up.”
Pulling against the bed frame, Mike moved his body from the cot. Pushing, he turned toward the Director who was already looking out the door to the Colored Boys’ Room where Woody was waiting; the long strap hung hot and ready in his hand. An image of a hard-hewn woodcutter awaiting the next load of logs filled the boy’s mind. Crying, he finally managed to sit upright on the sagging cot, as Dennis re-entered the room.
“Alright boy, stand up, drop your shorts, bend over, and let’s have a look at you.” Mike finally struggled to his feet as Dennis moved closer. He turned his back to the Statesmen, pulled slowly at the waistband, and drew the shorts to his knees as he bent.
“That ain’t too bad.., some bleeding,” the Director motioned with his hand, talking to Dennis. The boy, head down, looked through his knees. The already mud-smudged, tattered shorts were now blotted with blood.
“Okay, you can pull them up. Go with Mr. Dennis and do as he tells you”; the Director turned and went into the Colored Boys’ Room.
Dennis motioned to Mike to follow him down the corridor. Limping stiff-legged, the boy obeyed. “Now you just stand over there in the corner with your face to the wall and wait. Don’t make any more noise, or else the Director wilt have you back in that room.” It was the first time since entering the White House that Dennis had spoken to the boy. “We’ll take you down to the hospital afterwards to see to your leg wounds.” Dennis left the boy standing face towards the wall, as Woody was taken into the White Boys’ Room.
Dennis gone, Mike leaned against the wall, gulping for air, trying to stop the trembling. A few feet to his left, the fan roared on, covering the voices in the White Boys’ Room. Suddenly the second round of strokes began, the sound cracking 0ff the walls, echoing into the corridor, breaking in the boy’s ears. He slunk to his knees, falling against the wall, covering his eyes with his forearm.
The Director again took up his steady rhythm: Crack-Pow two thousand, three thousand, four thousand — Crack-Pow. The fifth stroke, the sixth...
The boy pushed his head harder into his arm, but the image of the Director swinging the strap over his shoulder and down upon the prone body would not fade. Again and again he could see it fall.
Between the sixteenth and nineteenth stroke the boy called Woody began to cry out at each impact. At the twenty-third, the Director shouted at him, “Boy, I told you to stuff the corner of that pillow in your mouth and keep it there. I don’t want to have to listen to your crying and bawling.” The strap fell upon the boy as he got the pillow back into his mouth.
When the twenty-seventh stroke hit Woody, it must have cracked him open. He screamed. A loud, deep, animal cry of agony. Again and again he screamed. As each explosion of leather on ruptured skin broke, he screamed. By the thirty-third, the screaming was one long, continuous wail, rising with each stroke.
After the thirty-sixth stroke, a scuffle broke out in the White Boys’ Room. Mike heard the Director yell to the other Statemen, “Get him back on his stomach,” and to the boy, “Boy, this is it with you. Now you lay yourself back down there or else we’ll send for the kitchen boys. You ain’t getting anything you don’t de-serve. Now lay back down there and take your medicine like a man.” Woody was forced back on the cot and the beating and the wailing began again.
An insane image began to fill Mike’s mind. He’d seen it dozens 0f times at the movies and on the TV: Somewhere out West, a fort is surrounded. The last remaining troops of a long siege peer over the stockade walls. Over a not-too-distant hill, the glow from an Indian camp lights the nocturnal horizon. The cavalry troops are waiting to see if the volunteer sent to get relief makes it through the encircling savages... Suddenly, the silence is broken by a scream. A loud, deep, screaming cry of agony as the volunteer’s white skin is ruptured.
Succumbing to hysteria, Mike’s scream mixed with those of the boy on the cot.
Finally, the beating stopped. The three Statemen came out of the White Boys’ Room. “What is the matter with you, boy . . . do you want some more of the same?” Mike looked up and saw the three pallid-skinned Christians; the tall angular one swinging the blood-wet weapon in his hand. With all his force, with all the resourcefulness he could call upon, he shouted, “I’m praying to Jesus for forgiveness!”
After a long pause, the Director spoke again, “Well boy, you just do that, but you’d better do your praying a lot quieter — Or else you’ll have a lot more to pray about. Now keep quiet, hear me!”
Without waiting, he led the Statemen back into the room, and the beating continued; through forty, forty-five, fifty. At the fifty-sixth stroke, Mike lost count.
He slowly pulled himself to his feet as the sound 0f the exploding crack of The Paddle, Woody’s cries, merged into the receding roar of the fan. The pain from the wounds on his foot and leg, from the swollen, cracked flesh of his back and buttocks, melted into rage. It no longer mattered how long, how many blows retribution the Statemen inflicted. They had done all that was necessary.
(*) The following is the original bio at the end of the Pantheon edition.
(McCarthy, a Florida native, has worked variously as a disc jockey, freelance journalist, political editor of the Los Angeles Free Press, and sociologist. He served time from 1963 to ‘69 in California prisons. There, he says, “I obtained an extraordinary education in the disciplines of social and political science, social psychology and philosophy.” Now living in Hixson, Tennessee, McCarthy is currently at work on The Rise of the Dragons, a political history of the California Prison Movement, as well as The South: A National History.*>
-The end of the original SOUTHERN EXPOSURE PIECE-
From a memoir in progress: THE LONG JOURNEY OF DIXIE LULLABY.
They brought us from the White House to the infirmary dressed in our under shorts. The part time doctor from the nearby farm town of Marianna had been called to come and examine us. After examining Woody’s ass he dismissed him and Woody was taken back to the cottage to dress to go to the dining room for dinner.
As I remember he first looked at my ass and said it would heal just fine. He may or may not have cleansed the torn flesh or swabbed it with antiseptic. I don’t remember because I was still in shock.
AI do remember next that he ordered me up on the metal examining table and had me lie down on my back despite the terrible pain from my ass. He began examining the thorn wounds in my left knee and ankle which I had received when I jumped into the briars when we thought we saw a State car coming down the road early in our escape.
There were still thorns in the wounds. Some buried deeply in and under the skin. He took out his surgical instruments, which I remember as being a scalpel and scissors. That is when I asked him what kind of anesthesia he was going to use when cutting out the thorns. He flicked away my question with a wave of his hand. The one with the scalpel.
“Boys that run away don’t get no anesthesia,” he said with his medical degreed cracker twang and poured antiseptic on the wounds. The pain was horrible. He then motioned to the inmate infirmary attendants to hold my leg still and began to cut and pluck the thorns out of the already festering wounds. I only remember pain. I cannot recall how long he worked away on me. I may have passed out. I only remember being taken back to the cottage and dressed to go to the dining room to join the other boys. Woody was already there.
*The following is an episode from Michael Burt McCarthy’s
semi-fictional autobiography, The Long Journey of Dixie Lullaby.
(*)The piece was written under what was then my legal name.
Subsequently a birth certificate was found with the name Michael Burt
McCarthy. I adopted the nom de plume, Michael O’McCarthy in 1997.
AFTER STORY:
Something happened to me the 15 year old boy, the juvenile delinquent that was sentenced to FSB. My innocence, the essence of childhood trust in adults and adult institution was essence was killed. More to the point, the humanity that children bring to the world as a free gift from nature was twisted into a rational twisted with selfishness and cowardness and a twisted viewpoint that believed in manipulation and connivance as the way to live. What survived was a tormented boy with a twisted sense of what I had to do to survive in a life I neither understood nor was capable of dealing with on life's terms. So rather than the geographic escapes I'd chosen before Marianna, now I escaped into the drug of alcohol. While is clear today that the I was in all probability an alcoholic genetically from birth, the kind of alcoholic I would become was one only partially functional, incapable of the mature, emotional thinking at any past 14-15.
It was obvious at the end that I needed psychological help. A Dr. Curry had begun to see me and indicated that too.
I never received it. I returned to my home a traumatized kid who had suppressed all my natural pain and anger below the surface to survive Mariana and to get out. I immediately began drinking.
I left Florida that summer for Jim’s business location in Chicago Heights, Ill. I continued to drink but managed to stay out of legal trouble through my senior year in high school. Upon leaving I began to have alcoholic, psychotic breaks: when drunk I would have paranoid episodes where I believed that people were out to get me to kill me. I was placed in the Cook County psychiatric ward, but released and sent back to Florida. I entered the US army only to have another alcoholic-psychotic episode that lead to AWOL and a medical discharge.
I went to California, (yet another in what we alcoholics call “Geographic’s,”” where shortly thereafter I had yet another and the worst. I was arrested while drunk for robbing a gas station of $6.37 of gas while fleeing the country to Mexico. I was sentenced to 1 year to Life in the California Department of Corrections and imprisoned in some of the worst prisons in the US correctional system.
There I changed, in order to survive. I became a painter and a published writer; I obtained a self-educated background in psychology, sociology and political science. I emerged seven years later, a political organizer of the first prisoner’s union in the history of the US, a hero to those in the human rights movement.
I would go on to a career in print journalism with the Los Angeles Free Press, a career20in movies for television; a social activist on behalf of prisoners, citizens in Virginia facing open pit uranium mining, become the spokesperson and negotiator to the Congress of the United States on behalf of the Viet Nam Veteran’s Coalition; locate and publicize the victims of the Rosewood Massacre which lead to their recognition before the state of Florida and their compensation, the first reparations paid to African Americans in the history of the US.
Currently I am a well published writer, editor and executive producer in film. I am a recovered alcoholic and drug addict with over 23 years of clean and sober living.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Robert's Story
.....
Robert's Story
I was thirteen when I was sent to the Florida School For Boys in Marianna (FSB). I had an abusive relationship with my mother (mental abuse) and starting running away from home. This got me sent to the Juvenile Hall. I was there for about a month and then, one day, with out a clue or plan, I and another boy climbed the fence, razor wire and all, and ran into the woods. We were caught about a week later and I was sent to Marianna as the outcome.
There were about eight of us that traveled in the back of a locked truck to arrive at The Florida School For Boys. When I first saw the FSB grounds I was surprised at how beautiful it looked. There were two story brick cottages surrounded by foliage and oak trees.
I saw a group of boys walking in line to one of these cottages. To my surprise they were mostly wearing street clothes which excited me as I was small, weighing only a hundred and five pounds and the clothes I had been issued in the Juvenile Hall were far too big, I was lost in them. I spent the day pulling up on my pants. I had a hopeful feeling because the place looked nice, I could make some friends. I thought I might like this new place.
We were given uniforms, you could wear street clothes if your parents would send them, processed and assigned a cottage by age. I was thirteen, only three or four months from fourteen so I was in a cottage where the boys were from thirteen to sixteen. When we had put our state clothes on our bunks I drifted off to set on a bench at the back of the cottage, being shy and not knowing what to do. Three of the boys that had traveled in the truck with me came over and sat down. They immediately started to talk about running away as there were no fences. They asked if I wanted to go and I told them I thought I would stick it out as the place didn't look all that bad. I left, never dreaming that there was a boy that had been behind us and listening to every word. A brown-nosing snitch.
We had supper in a large mess hall, it was better than I had been getting at Juvenile Hall which had been peanut butter and jelly sandwiches twice a day. We marched in single file back to our cottage and when we got there I and the other boys that had been setting on the bench were quickly gathered up by a tall man (known official to be named at a later date). He said we were going to the "White House" for talking about running. When I had the audacity to say that I had not done that, he just grabbed me by my neck and practically threw me into a waiting car. His grip was like iron.
It was a short trip to the "White House", we were pushed and shoved into a darkened doorway and a small room. The tall man whose name I believe was
(known official to be named at a later date), reached up and started a huge fan that made a considerable racket. Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) grabbed one of the boys and said "You're first," turning to give the rest of us a cold look.
We stood with wide eyes, trying not to tremble, but our fear was overwhelming as we heard the faint screams and cries of the first boy. The fan was not quite noisy enough to completely blot out those fearful sounds. When the first boy came out his eyes were bloodshot and he was shaking like a leaf, his hands on his crotch. It seemed as if time had slowed down to a mere crawl. It was eerie, unreal. Something beyond our young comprehension. Two more boys went in and came out with shocked expressions and glazed eyes. I was scared to death. I had never been whipped, I had never been in a fight, I didn't know what pain was, but I was about to find out.
The other boys were standing against the wall, faces down turned, averting each other's watery gaze. I remember looking at them as if they could somehow help when the tall man came around the corner quickly and grabbed me by my arm. I winced in pain, these men were strong and didn't mind letting you know it. There was Mr. (known official to be named at a later date), a long, thick leather belt, longer than my arm, hanging from his hand. A low iron bed with a thin mattress, a stained sheen and dirty striped pillow was up against the wall. He told me to grab the bed rail and turn my face to the wall. I did and the beating began.
The first four or five blows were so hard I was merely stunned and amazed at how far down in the bed the force of the blows had sent me. Then it started to get bad, really bad, some of the blows were landing just at the top of my legs and some just at the bottom of my back. It felt like my skin was ripping, being peeled off. I rolled over and started to get up thinking it would be better to fight these men, anything would be better than this, maybe they'd just knock me out. No such luck. The tall man grabbed me by the neck and slammed me down on the bed, his knee on my back. I started screaming, begging, shouting to God to help me, but the beating continued. Each lash felt as if it were tearing off my flesh and with each lash the pain just got worse. Finally it was over.
I was in a state of shock, Someone pulled me off the bed and pushed me toward the door. I remember missing the door way and stumbling straight into the edge of the door frame. They took us to the shower room and made us change into our new state clothes. We all looked at each other as we stripped while the men watched us with a satisfied look. All of us had bloody underwear that was literally beaten into our skin. One of the older boys that had more courage ripped his off fast, like ripping off a bandage that has been on a wound. We did the same, it burned like fire. Once naked we were told to hit the showers. The water was cold and it felt like someone had thrown acid on the raw flesh of our wounds. The top of our legs to the bottom of our backs were deep black and blue with red patches where the skin had come off. We had only gotten thirty five to forty five lashes, if you ran and got caught you automatically got one hundred. I still to this day cannot imagine that.
I got up the next day, walking very stiffly, my left eye nearly closed from hitting the door frame. The boys in the cottage were not a bad lot and I soon made friends. One was a boy named Mike Schreck that would turn out to be the best friend I would ever have. He was six foot five at fifteen and not a bad bone in his body. He would later take a beating for me, taking the blame for some seemingly trivial event. He knew how terrified I was of the "White House" and Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) But it was far from over and the real nightmare was about to begin. Twice, in the late of night, around two or three in the morning, I would feel someone sit down heavily on the edge of my bed and I would awake with a start to look up into the cold eyes of Mr. (known official to be named at a later date). He had his hand on my arm, I could feel the clammy sweat of his palm. He smelled bad and his breath was as rank as a dog's.
"Get up and follow me," he said in a flat voice. I followed and there was the tall man again, standing by the front door to our cottage. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) said I had been smoking and if I denied it I was "going down" I was utterly helpless. Of course I had not been smoking and they knew it. Looking into their eyes that first time I realized the devil probably has a smiling face These men were pure evil, they had complete and utter control over us and no one to answer to. Sure, there were inspections, but we always knew about them at least a week before. Everything was clean, neat, polished and happy little boys were playing under the shade of the mighty oaks. If only they could have been privy to that night.
So down I went and there was more screaming and crying and pleading and I was told to keep my mouth shut. I had never gone down. I was even denied the luxury of telling my friends, looking for some sympathy. But the boys knew, a few of them. It's hard to hide black and blue in the shower.
Two months later this happened again, but this time they took me to a room below ground. I remember walking between them, my feet barely touching the ground held in their vice-like grip. We came to a stairwell that went down into darkness. I was shaking so bad I could hardly stand up wondering if they were going to kill me this time, just for fun. I knew in my heart they were capable of anything.
We went in the room and one of them flicked on a light switch. It was a small bulb and didn't give off much light. The last thing I saw were the windows that were covered with cardboard before they slammed me onto the hard floor. They were on me with their knees, both of them. This time I didn't scream, I couldn't. At one hundred and five pounds there aren't many options when two grown men are on top of you. I thought they would crush me, it felt like my spine was going to crack. My world exploded in pain and that's the part I remember well, all of that terrible weight. I had been naive and innocent and hardly capable of grasping the evil that men could do to a child.
This was what I buried for forty eight years until it became an old, familiar, re-occurring nightmare. I was always walking down steps into darkness and in my dream it became larger than life, the walls beating like Poe's Tell Tale Heart, stairs becoming stone, winding down and ever down towards something that gleamed red in the dark. It lay waiting at the bottom. Something so terrible that I would surely go mad if I came to it face to face. Then I would awake, just as it touched me.
At least once a week for forty eight years I felt that weight push down on the edge of my bed, as an invisible demon from my past visited me once again. In my dream I lay frozen in fear, thinking it would somehow go away if I would just be really, really still. Then there was that clammy hand on my arm, and the smell of rotted teeth and I would awake, leaping or falling out of bed, to search the house for some intruder. It was a dream so real it was nearly impossible to react in any other way. Even to this day it happens and I am old and should know better.
So, after having a particularly bad night, I told a friend and former secretary about Marianna. I had never told anyone. She said I should do something about it and being a resourceful young lady, managed to find Roger Kiser's web site. When I saw the picture of the torture room and read Roger's terrifying account, I could hardly believe it. It was a hard week, all of those demons rising to the surface, truth coming at me like the lights of a onrushing car in the eyes of a rabbit. The "White House" It still stands, a grim tribute to the poor children of the Florida School For Boys. The school opened in 1900 and the very ground it sets on is soaked in their blood. If it was that bad in 1963 what cruelty was suffered in the past? I can almost hear the children screaming.
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Robert's Story
I was thirteen when I was sent to the Florida School For Boys in Marianna (FSB). I had an abusive relationship with my mother (mental abuse) and starting running away from home. This got me sent to the Juvenile Hall. I was there for about a month and then, one day, with out a clue or plan, I and another boy climbed the fence, razor wire and all, and ran into the woods. We were caught about a week later and I was sent to Marianna as the outcome.
There were about eight of us that traveled in the back of a locked truck to arrive at The Florida School For Boys. When I first saw the FSB grounds I was surprised at how beautiful it looked. There were two story brick cottages surrounded by foliage and oak trees.
I saw a group of boys walking in line to one of these cottages. To my surprise they were mostly wearing street clothes which excited me as I was small, weighing only a hundred and five pounds and the clothes I had been issued in the Juvenile Hall were far too big, I was lost in them. I spent the day pulling up on my pants. I had a hopeful feeling because the place looked nice, I could make some friends. I thought I might like this new place.
We were given uniforms, you could wear street clothes if your parents would send them, processed and assigned a cottage by age. I was thirteen, only three or four months from fourteen so I was in a cottage where the boys were from thirteen to sixteen. When we had put our state clothes on our bunks I drifted off to set on a bench at the back of the cottage, being shy and not knowing what to do. Three of the boys that had traveled in the truck with me came over and sat down. They immediately started to talk about running away as there were no fences. They asked if I wanted to go and I told them I thought I would stick it out as the place didn't look all that bad. I left, never dreaming that there was a boy that had been behind us and listening to every word. A brown-nosing snitch.
We had supper in a large mess hall, it was better than I had been getting at Juvenile Hall which had been peanut butter and jelly sandwiches twice a day. We marched in single file back to our cottage and when we got there I and the other boys that had been setting on the bench were quickly gathered up by a tall man (known official to be named at a later date). He said we were going to the "White House" for talking about running. When I had the audacity to say that I had not done that, he just grabbed me by my neck and practically threw me into a waiting car. His grip was like iron.
It was a short trip to the "White House", we were pushed and shoved into a darkened doorway and a small room. The tall man whose name I believe was
(known official to be named at a later date), reached up and started a huge fan that made a considerable racket. Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) grabbed one of the boys and said "You're first," turning to give the rest of us a cold look.
We stood with wide eyes, trying not to tremble, but our fear was overwhelming as we heard the faint screams and cries of the first boy. The fan was not quite noisy enough to completely blot out those fearful sounds. When the first boy came out his eyes were bloodshot and he was shaking like a leaf, his hands on his crotch. It seemed as if time had slowed down to a mere crawl. It was eerie, unreal. Something beyond our young comprehension. Two more boys went in and came out with shocked expressions and glazed eyes. I was scared to death. I had never been whipped, I had never been in a fight, I didn't know what pain was, but I was about to find out.
The other boys were standing against the wall, faces down turned, averting each other's watery gaze. I remember looking at them as if they could somehow help when the tall man came around the corner quickly and grabbed me by my arm. I winced in pain, these men were strong and didn't mind letting you know it. There was Mr. (known official to be named at a later date), a long, thick leather belt, longer than my arm, hanging from his hand. A low iron bed with a thin mattress, a stained sheen and dirty striped pillow was up against the wall. He told me to grab the bed rail and turn my face to the wall. I did and the beating began.
The first four or five blows were so hard I was merely stunned and amazed at how far down in the bed the force of the blows had sent me. Then it started to get bad, really bad, some of the blows were landing just at the top of my legs and some just at the bottom of my back. It felt like my skin was ripping, being peeled off. I rolled over and started to get up thinking it would be better to fight these men, anything would be better than this, maybe they'd just knock me out. No such luck. The tall man grabbed me by the neck and slammed me down on the bed, his knee on my back. I started screaming, begging, shouting to God to help me, but the beating continued. Each lash felt as if it were tearing off my flesh and with each lash the pain just got worse. Finally it was over.
I was in a state of shock, Someone pulled me off the bed and pushed me toward the door. I remember missing the door way and stumbling straight into the edge of the door frame. They took us to the shower room and made us change into our new state clothes. We all looked at each other as we stripped while the men watched us with a satisfied look. All of us had bloody underwear that was literally beaten into our skin. One of the older boys that had more courage ripped his off fast, like ripping off a bandage that has been on a wound. We did the same, it burned like fire. Once naked we were told to hit the showers. The water was cold and it felt like someone had thrown acid on the raw flesh of our wounds. The top of our legs to the bottom of our backs were deep black and blue with red patches where the skin had come off. We had only gotten thirty five to forty five lashes, if you ran and got caught you automatically got one hundred. I still to this day cannot imagine that.
I got up the next day, walking very stiffly, my left eye nearly closed from hitting the door frame. The boys in the cottage were not a bad lot and I soon made friends. One was a boy named Mike Schreck that would turn out to be the best friend I would ever have. He was six foot five at fifteen and not a bad bone in his body. He would later take a beating for me, taking the blame for some seemingly trivial event. He knew how terrified I was of the "White House" and Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) But it was far from over and the real nightmare was about to begin. Twice, in the late of night, around two or three in the morning, I would feel someone sit down heavily on the edge of my bed and I would awake with a start to look up into the cold eyes of Mr. (known official to be named at a later date). He had his hand on my arm, I could feel the clammy sweat of his palm. He smelled bad and his breath was as rank as a dog's.
"Get up and follow me," he said in a flat voice. I followed and there was the tall man again, standing by the front door to our cottage. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. Mr. (known official to be named at a later date) said I had been smoking and if I denied it I was "going down" I was utterly helpless. Of course I had not been smoking and they knew it. Looking into their eyes that first time I realized the devil probably has a smiling face These men were pure evil, they had complete and utter control over us and no one to answer to. Sure, there were inspections, but we always knew about them at least a week before. Everything was clean, neat, polished and happy little boys were playing under the shade of the mighty oaks. If only they could have been privy to that night.
So down I went and there was more screaming and crying and pleading and I was told to keep my mouth shut. I had never gone down. I was even denied the luxury of telling my friends, looking for some sympathy. But the boys knew, a few of them. It's hard to hide black and blue in the shower.
Two months later this happened again, but this time they took me to a room below ground. I remember walking between them, my feet barely touching the ground held in their vice-like grip. We came to a stairwell that went down into darkness. I was shaking so bad I could hardly stand up wondering if they were going to kill me this time, just for fun. I knew in my heart they were capable of anything.
We went in the room and one of them flicked on a light switch. It was a small bulb and didn't give off much light. The last thing I saw were the windows that were covered with cardboard before they slammed me onto the hard floor. They were on me with their knees, both of them. This time I didn't scream, I couldn't. At one hundred and five pounds there aren't many options when two grown men are on top of you. I thought they would crush me, it felt like my spine was going to crack. My world exploded in pain and that's the part I remember well, all of that terrible weight. I had been naive and innocent and hardly capable of grasping the evil that men could do to a child.
This was what I buried for forty eight years until it became an old, familiar, re-occurring nightmare. I was always walking down steps into darkness and in my dream it became larger than life, the walls beating like Poe's Tell Tale Heart, stairs becoming stone, winding down and ever down towards something that gleamed red in the dark. It lay waiting at the bottom. Something so terrible that I would surely go mad if I came to it face to face. Then I would awake, just as it touched me.
At least once a week for forty eight years I felt that weight push down on the edge of my bed, as an invisible demon from my past visited me once again. In my dream I lay frozen in fear, thinking it would somehow go away if I would just be really, really still. Then there was that clammy hand on my arm, and the smell of rotted teeth and I would awake, leaping or falling out of bed, to search the house for some intruder. It was a dream so real it was nearly impossible to react in any other way. Even to this day it happens and I am old and should know better.
So, after having a particularly bad night, I told a friend and former secretary about Marianna. I had never told anyone. She said I should do something about it and being a resourceful young lady, managed to find Roger Kiser's web site. When I saw the picture of the torture room and read Roger's terrifying account, I could hardly believe it. It was a hard week, all of those demons rising to the surface, truth coming at me like the lights of a onrushing car in the eyes of a rabbit. The "White House" It still stands, a grim tribute to the poor children of the Florida School For Boys. The school opened in 1900 and the very ground it sets on is soaked in their blood. If it was that bad in 1963 what cruelty was suffered in the past? I can almost hear the children screaming.
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Martin Tabert's Death By Flogging
Martin Tabert's Story
The man whose death by flogging led to the ban of this cruel punishment.
December 31, 1921:
The brutal side of the convict lease system led to its downfall with a case that brought national attention to Florida. Martin Tabert, a North Dakota resident, is arrested for hopping a freight train and is incarcerated in Leon County for vagrancy.
According to an article reprinted in the Panama City News Herald in June 2001, this is how Tabert's story unfolds:
Martin Tabert's Brutal Death Leads to
End of Convict Lease System
"(Tabert) was ordered to pay $25 or spend three months at hard labor. Tabert immediately wired his family who sent the $25 plus an additional $25 so he could return home. But through mishandling, the Leon County court never received the money.
Although prisoners sentenced to a year or more of labor were usually sent to the convict camps, a guard whisked Tabert away to the tiny community of Clara in Dixie County, 60 miles south of Tallahassee. He was assigned to the foreign-run Putnam Lumber Co.
At this camp, Tabert labored in the swamps cutting and clearing timber. He soon suffered from fevers, headaches and oozing sores. When he could no longer remain in the woods, Walter Higginbotham, the whipping boss, propped him up on his swollen feet and flogged him about 50 times with a 5-foot leather strap because Tabert failed to do his day's work.
Tabert begged for mercy, but he was so weak he could hardly talk. While he lay in his bunk unconscious, the company doctor examined him and left quinine, for what he diagnosed as "pernicious malaria." But Tabert died a little after 8 p.m. that night.
The Panama City Pilot detailed his story and death on Feb. 2, 1922, headlining the article as "Florida's disgrace."
Tabert's family brought the death of their son to the attention of those in charge in Tallahassee. Newspapers all over the country covered the story. Higginbotham was tried for first-degree murder, but acquitted.
As a result of Tabert's death, Governor Cary Hardee signed bills which forbid the flogging of prisoners and outlawed the convict leasing system in Florida. The leasing system was not completely abolished until 1923.
The man whose death by flogging led to the ban of this cruel punishment.
December 31, 1921:
The brutal side of the convict lease system led to its downfall with a case that brought national attention to Florida. Martin Tabert, a North Dakota resident, is arrested for hopping a freight train and is incarcerated in Leon County for vagrancy.
According to an article reprinted in the Panama City News Herald in June 2001, this is how Tabert's story unfolds:
Martin Tabert's Brutal Death Leads to
End of Convict Lease System
"(Tabert) was ordered to pay $25 or spend three months at hard labor. Tabert immediately wired his family who sent the $25 plus an additional $25 so he could return home. But through mishandling, the Leon County court never received the money.
Although prisoners sentenced to a year or more of labor were usually sent to the convict camps, a guard whisked Tabert away to the tiny community of Clara in Dixie County, 60 miles south of Tallahassee. He was assigned to the foreign-run Putnam Lumber Co.
At this camp, Tabert labored in the swamps cutting and clearing timber. He soon suffered from fevers, headaches and oozing sores. When he could no longer remain in the woods, Walter Higginbotham, the whipping boss, propped him up on his swollen feet and flogged him about 50 times with a 5-foot leather strap because Tabert failed to do his day's work.
Tabert begged for mercy, but he was so weak he could hardly talk. While he lay in his bunk unconscious, the company doctor examined him and left quinine, for what he diagnosed as "pernicious malaria." But Tabert died a little after 8 p.m. that night.
The Panama City Pilot detailed his story and death on Feb. 2, 1922, headlining the article as "Florida's disgrace."
Tabert's family brought the death of their son to the attention of those in charge in Tallahassee. Newspapers all over the country covered the story. Higginbotham was tried for first-degree murder, but acquitted.
As a result of Tabert's death, Governor Cary Hardee signed bills which forbid the flogging of prisoners and outlawed the convict leasing system in Florida. The leasing system was not completely abolished until 1923.
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A Courtroom Account
Martin Tabert's fellow prisoners testified before the grand jury, describing the events that led up to his death. They said Tabert, strong and sturdy when he first entered the camp, weighed only 125 pounds at the time of the whipping. They explained that Tabert suffered with frequent headaches and his feet were badly swollen and covered with boils.
Several prisoners reported that they lined up, waiting for the guards to count them, on the night of Martin Tabert's whipping. T. W. Higginbotham, head guard and "Whipping Boss" of the camp, first called three men out of the line and beat them. When he finished with those men, he called for Martin Tabert. Higginbotham did not hear Tabert's answer and became angry.
Tabert, the prisoners agreed, was weak from his illness. He spoke softly and moved slowly. Higginbotham was so angry that he grabbed him and ripped off his undershirt. Then he began to whip Tabert. Glen Thompson reported that Higginbotham "whipped Martin about thirty-five to fifty licks." He described the lash Higginbotham used as a "four inch strap, five feet long, with three-ply leather at the handle, two-ply half way down." Another prisoner reported he counted eighty lashes in all.
A third prisoner testified that Higginbotham told Tabert to get up when he stopped hitting him, but the man was too weak to stand. This angered Higginbotham further and he said, "haven't you had enough?" and started whipping Tabert again. Several prisoners testified that this second whipping lasted as long as the first and Higginbotham placed one of his feet on Tabert's neck throughout the beating.
Another prisoner testified that when Higginbotham finished beating Tabert he hit him over the head with the butt end of the whip and continued striking him with the whip until he was back in line. Several prisoners reported that when they got Tabert in the sleeping shack and removed his clothes his "skin was all off his back in one chunk from his shoulders to his knees." Another witness said the doctor did not come to see Tabert and they "dared not ask for one" although they knew he was dying.
Monday, March 3, 2008
COMPENSATE VICTIMS/NEWS
ON NEWS PAGE AT: http://whitehouseboys.com
http://www.miamiherald.com/news/breaking-news/story/1169888.html
Senator: Compensate injured victims of reform school
A state senator says the victims of abuse at a Florida reform school should be compensated for injuries.
Similar stories:•FDLE: No evidence of coverup in beatings at boys' schoolFDLE: No evidence of coverup in beatings at boys' schoolThe Florida Department of Law Enforcement said Friday there is no evidence to conclude that officials at the Dozier School for Boys in Marianna covered up any beating deaths in the anonymous graves on school property.Using officials records of the school and state, as well as interviews with more than 100 former students and staff of the school, state investigators concluded that there were 31 bodies buried at the school between 1914 and 1952 and each of the deaths were attributable to a known cause.''There is no evidence to suggest that the school or the staff made any attempt to conceal any other deaths,'' said FDLE Commissioner Gerald Bailey at a news conference Friday.•Inquiry urged into remains buried at school for boys
Inquiry urged into remains buried at school for boys
Convinced the 32 unmarked graves at the Florida School for Boys in Marianna are the bodies of boys abused and killed decades ago there, four former residents of the school are demanding the governor and state and federal attorneys investigate.The four men, all of whom suffered from brutal beatings while students at the Marianna-based school for delinquent boys in the late 1950s, sent letters to Gov. Charlie Crist, the U.S. Department of Justice and the U.S. attorney general alleging that the boys were victims of state-sponsored hate crimes and murder.
Their goal, they said, is for ''every last child, Caucasian, Hispanic and African-American who disappeared from the Florida School for Boys [to be] accounted for and, whatever relatives he may have, be given peace at last,'' said Michael O'McCarthy, 66, who resided at the school in 1958-59.
Probe finds no coverup of beating deaths at boys' school
In the first report on abuse allegations at the Dozier School for Boys in Marianna, state officials said Friday there is no evidence that the anonymous graves at the site were used to cover up beating deaths at the school -- a finding that has outraged several former students who were detained at the school.
The report by the Florida Department of Law Enforcement found that there were 31 bodies buried at the school between 1914 and 1952 and each of the deaths was attributable to a known cause.''There is no evidence to suggest that the school or the staff made any attempt to conceal any other deaths,'' FDLE Commissioner Gerald Bailey said at a news conference Friday.•Inquiry urged into remains buried at school for boysInquiry urged into remains buried at school for boys
Convinced the 32 unmarked graves at the Florida School for Boys in Marianna are the bodies of boys abused and killed there decades ago, four former residents of the school are demanding the governor and state and federal attorneys investigate.Standing on the steps of the U.S. Courthouse on Monday, the men recounted painful memories of their classmates who disappeared decades ago after brutal beatings or torture at the school for delinquent boys. They asked Gov. Charlie Crist and U.S. Attorney General Michael Mukasey to identify the remains to bring the families peace.The graves were on what officials once called ''the colored side'' of the school.
The men now believe they remain unmarked ''to hide the nature of those children's deaths,'' said Michael O'McCarthy, 66, who resided at the school in 1958-59.
BY MARY ELLEN KLASHerald/Times Tallahassee BureauTALLAHASSEE
-- TALLAHASSEE
Victims of abuse at the Florida Reform School for Boys should be compensated for their injuries at the hands of school staff during the 1940s, '50s and '60s, a Tampa state senator said in a bill filed on Friday.Sen. Arthenia Joyner, a Democrat and lawyer, filed the claims bills to pay an undetermined amount to the victims known collectively as the White House Boys, a reference to the white cinder-block house where the boys at the reform school in Marianna were sent for beatings.
Joyner's bill says that boys at both the Marianna and Okeechobee campuses suffered ``physical and psychological abuse'' that ``included beatings in which the boys were forced to lie face down on a blood-stained cot'' and were ``struck repeatedly with a leather razor strap.'' The bill details many of the allegations made by former students of the schools, which were first reported by The Miami Herald and later detailed by the St. Petersburg Times and other news organizations.`
`Some boys as young as 10 years of age were severely beaten, requiring the pieces of their cotton underwear be extracted from the boys' flesh,'' the bill reads. Other victims ``needed medical attention,'' and others ``were placed in solitary confirnement for as many as 30 days'' in an eight-foot windowless cell with a bunk and a bucket.
The news reports prompted Gov. Charlie Crist to order an investigation into 31 unmarked graves at the Marianna school in December.In May, the Florida Department of Law Enforcement concluded that there was no evidence that the graves held the remains of abused boys or that state officials covered up abuse. It found that there were 31 bodies buried at the school between 1914 and 1952 and each of the deaths was attributable to a known cause.
Hundreds of the alleged victims have since filed a class-action lawsuit in Pinellas County circuit court. The suit now has more than 400 claimants ``and is growing daily,'' said attorney Greg Hoag.The bill says that the class-action claimants are willing to hold off their lawsuit while the Legislature considers the claims bill. The bill also would limit the attorneys' proceeds in the case to 25 percent.
BY MARY ELLEN KLASHerald/Times Tallahassee BureauMary Ellen Klas can be reached at meklas@MiamiHerald.com
http://www.miamiherald.com/news/breaking-news/story/1169888.html
Senator: Compensate injured victims of reform school
A state senator says the victims of abuse at a Florida reform school should be compensated for injuries.
Similar stories:•FDLE: No evidence of coverup in beatings at boys' schoolFDLE: No evidence of coverup in beatings at boys' schoolThe Florida Department of Law Enforcement said Friday there is no evidence to conclude that officials at the Dozier School for Boys in Marianna covered up any beating deaths in the anonymous graves on school property.Using officials records of the school and state, as well as interviews with more than 100 former students and staff of the school, state investigators concluded that there were 31 bodies buried at the school between 1914 and 1952 and each of the deaths were attributable to a known cause.''There is no evidence to suggest that the school or the staff made any attempt to conceal any other deaths,'' said FDLE Commissioner Gerald Bailey at a news conference Friday.•Inquiry urged into remains buried at school for boys
Inquiry urged into remains buried at school for boys
Convinced the 32 unmarked graves at the Florida School for Boys in Marianna are the bodies of boys abused and killed decades ago there, four former residents of the school are demanding the governor and state and federal attorneys investigate.The four men, all of whom suffered from brutal beatings while students at the Marianna-based school for delinquent boys in the late 1950s, sent letters to Gov. Charlie Crist, the U.S. Department of Justice and the U.S. attorney general alleging that the boys were victims of state-sponsored hate crimes and murder.
Their goal, they said, is for ''every last child, Caucasian, Hispanic and African-American who disappeared from the Florida School for Boys [to be] accounted for and, whatever relatives he may have, be given peace at last,'' said Michael O'McCarthy, 66, who resided at the school in 1958-59.
Probe finds no coverup of beating deaths at boys' school
In the first report on abuse allegations at the Dozier School for Boys in Marianna, state officials said Friday there is no evidence that the anonymous graves at the site were used to cover up beating deaths at the school -- a finding that has outraged several former students who were detained at the school.
The report by the Florida Department of Law Enforcement found that there were 31 bodies buried at the school between 1914 and 1952 and each of the deaths was attributable to a known cause.''There is no evidence to suggest that the school or the staff made any attempt to conceal any other deaths,'' FDLE Commissioner Gerald Bailey said at a news conference Friday.•Inquiry urged into remains buried at school for boysInquiry urged into remains buried at school for boys
Convinced the 32 unmarked graves at the Florida School for Boys in Marianna are the bodies of boys abused and killed there decades ago, four former residents of the school are demanding the governor and state and federal attorneys investigate.Standing on the steps of the U.S. Courthouse on Monday, the men recounted painful memories of their classmates who disappeared decades ago after brutal beatings or torture at the school for delinquent boys. They asked Gov. Charlie Crist and U.S. Attorney General Michael Mukasey to identify the remains to bring the families peace.The graves were on what officials once called ''the colored side'' of the school.
The men now believe they remain unmarked ''to hide the nature of those children's deaths,'' said Michael O'McCarthy, 66, who resided at the school in 1958-59.
BY MARY ELLEN KLASHerald/Times Tallahassee BureauTALLAHASSEE
-- TALLAHASSEE
Victims of abuse at the Florida Reform School for Boys should be compensated for their injuries at the hands of school staff during the 1940s, '50s and '60s, a Tampa state senator said in a bill filed on Friday.Sen. Arthenia Joyner, a Democrat and lawyer, filed the claims bills to pay an undetermined amount to the victims known collectively as the White House Boys, a reference to the white cinder-block house where the boys at the reform school in Marianna were sent for beatings.
Joyner's bill says that boys at both the Marianna and Okeechobee campuses suffered ``physical and psychological abuse'' that ``included beatings in which the boys were forced to lie face down on a blood-stained cot'' and were ``struck repeatedly with a leather razor strap.'' The bill details many of the allegations made by former students of the schools, which were first reported by The Miami Herald and later detailed by the St. Petersburg Times and other news organizations.`
`Some boys as young as 10 years of age were severely beaten, requiring the pieces of their cotton underwear be extracted from the boys' flesh,'' the bill reads. Other victims ``needed medical attention,'' and others ``were placed in solitary confirnement for as many as 30 days'' in an eight-foot windowless cell with a bunk and a bucket.
The news reports prompted Gov. Charlie Crist to order an investigation into 31 unmarked graves at the Marianna school in December.In May, the Florida Department of Law Enforcement concluded that there was no evidence that the graves held the remains of abused boys or that state officials covered up abuse. It found that there were 31 bodies buried at the school between 1914 and 1952 and each of the deaths was attributable to a known cause.
Hundreds of the alleged victims have since filed a class-action lawsuit in Pinellas County circuit court. The suit now has more than 400 claimants ``and is growing daily,'' said attorney Greg Hoag.The bill says that the class-action claimants are willing to hold off their lawsuit while the Legislature considers the claims bill. The bill also would limit the attorneys' proceeds in the case to 25 percent.
BY MARY ELLEN KLASHerald/Times Tallahassee BureauMary Ellen Klas can be reached at meklas@MiamiHerald.com
Bloody History: The Truth
Picture from Florida Archives
Link to Fl. Corrections History & Talbert Story: As below:
http://etd.lib.fsu.edu/theses/available/etd-10252005-172103/unrestricted/Main_Dissertation.pdf
In 1889, another Joint Investigating Committee urged the Legislature to establish a permanent penitentiary with enough land attached to the site so that invalids and prisoners not otherwise employed could be self-sustaining. It also recommended that the Legislature provide juvenile offenders under the age of sixteen a separate correctional home.
Although urged by Governor Bloxham to create a state farm for all prisoners, the legislators ignored his recommendation and focused instead on creating a state reform school. In 1897, they passed an act establishing a state reformatory designed "for the employment, instruction, correction and reformation of juvenile offenders." They resolved that criminals between the ages of ten and sixteen should go to the reform school for not less than six months or more than four years. The school would also provide a place to hold orphans or other wards of the state.
Notably, the act creating the state reform school included a provision for taxing the citizens of Florida for building and operating the facility. This was the first act a Florida Legislature passed that levied a tax to reform criminals.
Sixty-seven Jackson County residents donated $1,400 and 1200 acres of land near Marianna for the construction of the reform school. In 1899, two three-story brick dormitories were completed each designed to hold seventy-two children. One building housed white children and the other black children. The reform school opened on January 1, 1900, finally providing a separate place to incarcerate some of the children in the Florida prison system.
The state provided a separate school for delinquent girls sometime between 1916 and 1920. There is some indication that a "reform school" of some sort operated in one of the buildings on the Chattahoochee property after it became a hospital for the insane, but the evidence is not definitive. When speaking to the Senate in 1911, Governor Albert Waller Gilchrist mentioned that if the state ever decided to "remove the reform school from Chattahoochee," it should be somewhere on the 16,867 acres purchased for a state prison. Governor Gilchrist explained further that he recommended this since only ten percent of the 1800 acres the state owned at Chattahoochee was suitable for cultivation. Any other record of a reform school refers to Marianna.
No mention of the Marianna reformatory appeared in the 1902 report of the Commissioner of Agriculture. A 1903 report of a "Citizen's Committee" to the Florida Children's Commission however, charged that the reform school was "nothing more than a prison." This committee found forty- four children imprisoned at the reform school in Marianna, including thirty-seven black males, five white males and two females. Committee members reported they "found them in irons, just as common criminals, which in the judgment of your committee, is not the meaning of a 'State Reform School' as defined by the law creating said school."
A member of the Reform School Board took exception to the citizens' report. In a public information release he explained, the "corps of guards being so small it has been necessary to shackle many of the prisoners while they are at work to prevent escape and to prevent the over-powering of the guards." Children at the school worked in "step-chains," until 1930. Step-chains were "bracelets" welded on both of the prisoner's ankles and joined by a chain long enough for the child to walk freely but not long enough for him to run.
In its first five years of operation, the school provided neither vocational nor academic education. Children were "hired out" to work for people in the area, or they were compelled to cultivate the school's farm acreage and do maintenance work. The Marianna Times Courier explained that the Board of Managers of the school told their reporter "the Legislature has never provided money to pay a teacher."
The reformatory was meant to separate children convicted of a crime from the general prison population, but it is obvious in several Prison Reports that not all juvenile offenders were sent to the industrial school. A writer in the Tallahassee Weekly True Democrat reported that under a 1905 contract, the Board of Commissioners recently signed, "men, women and boys would be leased."
In 1901 and 1902 one of the most frequent complaints Governor William Sherman Jennings received from citizens about state and county convict camps questioned the propriety of leasing out the labor of juvenile prisoners. Counties also leased all prisoners regardless of their age. In several instances, they leased the labor of children less than twelve years old to turpentine and phosphate concerns where the work could be brutal. The lessees expected those children to perform the same amount of work they required of other prisoners, and if they did not, the complainants said, they suffered severe beatings.
As late as 1909 the Commissioner of Agriculture continued to complain in Prison Reports that the state forced him to lease the labor of young children. This was almost ten years after the reform school opened. Reporting the age of new prisoners inducted into the convict lease system stopped in 1911. The omission of this information significantly diminished the public's complaints about leasing the labor of children.
The Pensacola Journal reported on two white girls and two black girls at the reform school at Marianna in 1912. J. H. Sherrill, member of a Special Investigative Committee of the Legislature, explained that "at present these girls live in the same buildings with the boys but in rooms connected with the matrons who have them constantly under supervision and busy at housework." Sherill said the committee members heard that the state intended to build a residence for the girl inmates, but they felt it would be wise to locate the "girls and boys in different towns."
A 1913 law enacted by the Legislature resolved to create the Florida Industrial School for Girls at Ocala and ordered the removal of the girls from the Marianna school. If the authorities removed the girls at that time, available reports do not indicate where they held them until the new industrial school was ready for use.
Revelations of abuses committed on juveniles in county convict camps continued to appear in the Florida Times Union and described in letters sent to the Governor. One report stated a sixteen-year-old white boy from Georgia named Girrard H. Brake, charged with vagrancy, received a sixty-day sentence in the Alachua County jail. The County authorities included Brake in a lease to a phosphate concern operating at Dutton. Witnesses reported that two men held Brake down while the owner of the camp applied the strap. The boy died as the result of the beating. Five physicians performed autopsies and they all attributed his death to torture.
Ex-convict W. F. Brown explained that a young prisoner named Oscar Anderson "was a docile boy, obedient to every order, and tried to do the tasks assigned to him as manfully as he could." Brown reported that the boy had orders to collect fifty-two buckets of turpentine every day, the same as required of an adult man, but the boy could not do it. "I saw them beat Oscar Anderson each and every day upon the alleged ground that he had not completed his allotted task. They beat him with a piece of leather, a strap, and they beat him until he was raw on the back." Brown explained the productivity quota doubled what free laborers did in a day. "The boys are given the same tasks as the men, and are obliged to work sick or well. I have seen them fall over in the fields and afterwards whipped because they fell."
Dr. S. H. Blitch, who the state hired to oversee the health of prisoners in the labor camps, represented Florida at the American and International Prison Congress held in Washington, D.C., on October 2-8, 1910. His report to the Commissioner of Agriculture on the Prison Congress expressed the consensus of its members: specialists who "understand and sympathize with children" should interact with juvenile offenders. He argued that when arrests and detention occur, the children should not share quarters with adults. Further, the members of the Prison Congress agreed, cases of young delinquents "should never be heard at the same session with cases of adults."
Members of the Prison Congress did feel government needed to deal with the "idleness and vagabondage of children in large cities." They recommended that states pass laws "making parents responsible for the wrong doing of their children." They also urged the several states to "compel deserting fathers to return to their duty or to support their children." Finally, members passed a resolution advocating that all state governments create laws that would allow children to be removed from "unfit homes and properly placed for training and care."
The Prison Congress considered "legislative measures and moral and social propaganda necessary for the protection of illegitimate children." The members advocated state intervention to benefit children. In an illegitimate birth, they agreed "the decision as to which parent shall have the future care of an illegitimate child should be based upon the child's best interest and its needs as a future citizen."
The members concluded "that no person, no matter whatever his age or past record, should be assumed to be incapable of improvement." They recommended reformation of prisoners of all ages by "religious and moral instruction, mental quickening, physical development, and such employment as would place the prisoner on a good industrial basis." Describing this system of rehabilitation as "incompatible with short sentences," they advocated long periods of such "treatment" with "special treatment" for adolescent criminals whether they were recidivists or not. They further recommended that the long periods of institutional treatment combine with closely supervised parole.
New York and other northeastern states established houses of refuge for wayward girls beginning around 1825. Although publicly financed, these institutions also received support from charitable groups and individuals. The houses of refuge employed solitary confinement and corporal punishment to control rebellious or violent girls, but the reformers were "remarkable for their honest attempts to help delinquents." Their method was to "subdue them by kindness" by teaching self-discipline and clean living. The rate of success was, however, disappointing. Reformers wondered if "the failure might not actually lie with the clients." Some reformers of that era suggested that perhaps delinquents were innately bad, the offspring of "poor stock" and therefore unsalvageable.
In the 1850s, several states began Reform Schools in rural areas where they established the "Family Plan" placing girls and boys in small groups that functioned somewhat like a household. While this practice improved the reform school's effectiveness, many reformers in the early 20th century still believed that delinquents were not salvageable.
Dr. Blitch's report on opinions expressed at the National Prison Conference held in Lincoln, Nebraska, in October 1905, expresses this fear. He cited an opinion offered by one "expert" advocating the sterilization of habitual criminals. Another opined that the authorities should incarcerate for life adult habitual criminals when "he or she has proven, beyond doubt, that they will continue to war upon all that is right and proper." These ideas particularly focused on girls and women who broke the law.
As late as 1913 girls were still at the Marianna reform school. Members of a visiting committee advised the Legislature that "the state should make arrangements to have a separate school for girls, or the girls placed, to the expense of the state in some institution where they can be properly cared for." Committee members recommended this because they believed the "character of the girls sent to said school, as a rule, is such as to make their presence there a menace to the boys."
In 1920, Commissioner of Agriculture W. A. McRae, asserted "there is no economic question of greater importance to the State or Nation or one which is receiving more consideration than the question of delinquents of all classes." Florida provided an Industrial School for Boys and another for white girls, but little change occurred in developing juvenile courts, removing children from county or town jails, or providing trained probation officers. The state provided nothing for black girls classified as juvenile offenders or wards of the state, and continued to sell their labor.
In Florida and in most other states, children were still arrested, detained, tried, and sent to prison by adult courts, and under the same rules as adult criminals. In 1928, Lawyers and juvenile court judges of several states representing the National Probation Association drafted a Standard Juvenile Court Law. The National Probation Association published this proposed body of law as the national standard.
In 1931, the Legislature directed the Florida State Board of Public Welfare to study how the state's courts addressed children. The Board found that only seven Florida counties had juvenile courts: Duval, Dade, Pinellas, Orange, Monroe, Hillsborough, and Broward. (Broward County's legislation creating a juvenile court was waiting for voter approval in 1931.) In other counties, "judges in juvenile session, justices of the peace and municipal judges, all heard cases involving or affecting children." The entire state had only sixteen full-time probation officers, and they all worked in the counties that had juvenile courts.
A Legislative committee formed to investigate juvenile courts reported that the "method of appointment of all probation officers is faulty and invites political influence and incompetency." Committee members complained that "in no county did we find [probation] work of high standard being done." Committee members also found probation used as a "gesture of leniency or tolerance" when it should offer individualized treatment and an "opportunity for the state to cure crime in its incipient stage." The members concluded that few children who left the state's industrial schools received the guidance of probation to assure their finding a place in society.
Recommendations of the Legislative Committee on Juvenile Courts included a complete revision of state laws, to meet the requirements of the Standard Juvenile Court Law as published by the National Probation Association. The Committee also recommended the state stop charging children with crimes prosecuted in the criminal courts. They urged that "Juvenile Court should have exclusive original jurisdiction over children's cases." They also advised immediately changing the General Laws of Florida so the juvenile court would not lose jurisdiction when a child under its purview married.
Potentially, the most critical modification of court procedure for children in Florida, was the committee members' urging that "the fee system be abolished in proceedings with children." Most children brought into court were "charged with a crime," when this happened, the juvenile court, if it existed, lacked jurisdiction. Florida's county judges received a fee for each case they heard as a crime, but if they heard a case as a juvenile judge, they received only their small salary. In one county, prosecutors brought criminal charges against forty-one out of forty-five children in court in 1929.
The committee found that additional complications existed for juveniles brought into court. In one county, five separate courts handled children's cases. "They were the county judges' court in juvenile session, the county judges' court in criminal session, the justice of the peace court, the police court and the circuit court."
This confusion and the complete lack of available probation services resulted in a high incidence of children sent to industrial schools. The report said "in one county having a population of 73,000, the county judge sent nineteen boys to the industrial school in 1929. This county has inadequate probation service." Most Florida counties were the same, but "in nearby Orange County, population 55,000, having a full-time juvenile court judge, two full-time probation officers, and a local parental home, two boys were committed to the industrial school in 1929."
Commissioner of Agriculture McRae included in his 1920 Prison Report information that in the Industrial School for Girls at Ocala, the records show "an average attendance of approximately forty girls since the opening of the school, four years ago." McRae pointed out that a new building under construction would provide room for forty more girls.
The Legislature had appropriated money for this new building for delinquent girls. Construction was to begin in 1916. If this school existed for four years before 1920 as the Commissioner stated, it must have occupied a rented building. James C. Lanier, Probation Officer of the Juvenile Court of Duval County confirmed this through a letter to R. A. Gray, Secretary to the Board of Commissioners of State Institutions.
Dated October 31, 1916, Lanier's answer to a letter in which Secretary Gray explained that the state had not been able to fund this "unusual and extraordinary appropriation." Lanier argued the "immediate need of some school for the care of the Florida delinquent girls, who are entitled to the same consideration for reformation that the boys are." He asked "what position the Board took on furnishing a temporary school for the urgent and immediate needs?" He explained that "for instance, in the last two weeks we have rescued two fourteen-year-old white girls from the restricted district in this city." He claimed the girls belonged to good families from Jacksonville, but older companions led them astray.
Lanier complained that the only thing he could do in such cases was "to send them to a Catholic Convent in Memphis, which is a great cost to the families of these girls and places them where we lose entire supervision of their care or of their conduct." He argued that his office lacked detention places and "one of these girls is at this time in the county jail waiting the time that her people can raise the money to send her off" to the Catholic Convent.
Janetta F. Johnson's study of girls committed to a training school in nearby Georgia, found that most of the charges against these girls were "offenses against self," which included being "ungovernable", a "chronic runaway", and drinking. The next category of charges listed was "offenses against society." These charges included promiscuity, violation of school attendance law, incest, gang activities, and prostitution.
In 1933, the Florida Industrial School for Girls was completed and operating. The facility held ninety girls and had a long waiting list. The industrial school first served girls from nine to seventeen, but later it stopped receiving girls under the age of twelve. The girls held in the Industrial School engaged in "home economics," by "doing all the work connected with the school, including dairy and poultry work." They received a "common school education through the 8th grade, are in school three hours each day, and in sewing class one hour." The girls made all clothing used in the school.
Commissioner McRae reported in 1920 that The Boys'
Industrial School at Marianna had an average attendance of "approximately three hundred since it was established some twenty years ago, one-third of the boys were white and two-thirds were black." By 1920, the school operated two racially separate campuses. McRae expressed much concern with the quality of the executive supervision of the boys and girls schools. He asserted that the Governor and his cabinet, which also served as the Board of Commissioners, provide supervision. McRae recommended "that the Legislature, at its next session which convenes on April 5, 1921, provide for a "Board of Control of State Institutions." He explained that this Board should have "direct control and supervision" of the State Farm, the State Hospital, the Industrial School for Boys, and the Industrial School for Girls."
A 1931 report of a special committee representing the National Probation Association and the Florida Board of Public Welfare criticized both of Florida's industrial schools as inadequate in education and capacity. On June 30, 1930 the Boys Industrial School at Marianna reported a rapidly growing population and a high incidence of escapes.
CHILDREN IN THE FLORIDA INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL FOR BOYS
In residence 194 258 Escaped 73 16 Paroled 298 369 Released 2 36 Discharged 2 27 Transferred 1 0
According to the Committee report, boys held in this institution were aged ten to eighteen years. The authorities had continued "jurisdiction up to twenty-one years for both dependents and delinquents."
This committee's greatest criticism of the juvenile system stressed the number of parolees lacking supervision. Most Florida counties did not have probation officers, but it appeared to this committee that even when a probation officer was available, supervision did not occur. The Committee did not comment on the astonishing number of escapes from the training schools, especially among the white boys. It criticized the practice of not separating older boys from younger, or inmates convicted of crimes from inmates merely dependent on the state.
The committee also cited a jurisdictional conflict in releasing children from the schools. It explained that the committing magistrate maintains "right to release" over children sent to the schools. However, the Laws of Florida provide that the Board of Commissioners of State Institutions may release children on parole. Further, a Florida "law passed in 1915, permitting the judge of any circuit court of record or county judge to commit any person over 10 and under 18 years of age to the Industrial School was held to be unconstitutional."
Florida counties without juvenile courts or probation officers locked children in county jails pending their court appearance. In Polk County, committee members found "children, white and colored, over fourteen and under seventeen, were, in some cases, sentenced to the road gang." The committee recommended that a provision be enacted ordering that "no child under fourteen years of age be detained in jail."
A 1927 law prohibited placing any children in jails, but according to the committee's report, most Florida counties violated this law. "In one county we found forty-three children, both white and colored, held for various periods in the county jail. Several were under fourteen years of age." The Committee learned that in this county it was the custom of the police to "pick up" youngsters and put them in jail for a "day or so" and release them, just for the "lesson." The children in question did not appear in court nor receive a legal sentence. The Sheriff held some of the jailed children "on suspect."
The children remanded to county jails without trial included girls, and the committee argued that the Industrial School for Girls was "entirely inadequate for the present needs of the state." They also noted there was "no institution in Florida for delinquent colored girls." The committee did not explain where the state or counties incarcerated delinquent or dependent black girls. If prohibited in either the boys or girls Industrial School, there was no other place to send them but the adult prison system.
The investigating committee's report urged the Florida Legislature to enact laws creating juvenile courts in every county, rather than waiting for each county to create the courts. They also strongly urged the use of probation officers and preliminary hearing reports in every county. Committee members advised close follow-up by state probation officers on juveniles released from the state industrial schools. They made no recommendation concerning the recapture of children who escaped from the school. Minutes show that members discussed the problem of recidivism at length, but ignored the high number of escapes.
Several changes made in Florida laws in 1927 attempted to develop a better system of juvenile justice throughout the state. Some of the changes sought uniformity, but in many cases confusion as to jurisdiction continued. Laws affecting juveniles remained a patchwork. New and modern provisions existed, but so did many old statutes, some conflicting with the new laws.
In a report based on a 1930 survey of criminal justice systems, the National Probation Association recommended a complete revamping of Florida laws to bring them up to national standards. The Legislature created a Children's Code Commission to recommend changes in the laws to provide Florida a juvenile justice system.
Florida's systems of incarcerating deviants changed and improved slowly. When authorities finally removed women and children from the convict lease system, legislators imposed taxes to fund their housing and maintenance. Florida citizens accepted the tax and still opposed the lease system, fully aware that building and maintaining a state prison would require additional tax increases.
By the 1930s, following the recommendations of the National Prison Congress, Florida offered most juvenile offenders the "separate and specialized treatment" designed for children. From 1913 to the mid-twenties, citizens, state leaders, the press and one boy who was "out to see the world," transformed the state's prison system.
The state was without question, permitting road camp captains to use the whip to maintain discipline as late as 1921. The Tallahassee Daily Democrat reported a mutiny in a state convict camp at Zellwood in Orange County. Of the thirty-six state prisoners working on the road, two refused to work. The captain whipped them. The other convicts joined the original men and all refused to work. The Board of Commissioners sent a new captain to restore order at the camp and the men returned to work. A news reporter wrote that the state planned to bring charges against J. A. Hayes, the original captain, for cruel and inhumane treatment of convicts
The lease that eventually placed Martin Tabert in the hands of Putnam Lumber Company began with a vote by the Leon County Commissioners reported in the Tallahassee Daily Democrat on July 6, 1921. The Commissioners decided to advertise a large number of the county's prisoners for lease because they had no work for them and "it is a heavy expense to keep so many men for upkeep only."
The Commissioners agreed to lease most of their prisoners to the Clara Turpentine Company in Taylor County. Either the prisoners transferred from Clara Turpentine Company later, or Leon County negotiated a new lease in 1922 that placed the prisoners with the Putnam Lumber Company.
It was getting more difficult for Florida counties to maintain the propriety of their lease systems. New people were moving into the state, and public opinion firmly opposed the convict lease. Thousands of Americans poured into Florida in the 1920s, resulting in considerable economic and demographic growth.
Urban Americans had the time and money to travel, and many had enough money to invest in Florida real estate. More importantly for Florida, the automobile industry mass produced vehicles and lending agencies amortized consumer purchases over time, creating a massive middle class automobile market. Many in the middle class now owned cars.
Earlier immigrants from the north were elderly, wealthy, and typically visited Florida for a short winter visit. Florida, however, was the staging ground for troops that went to Cuba in the Spanish-American War. Many of those men wanted to see the state again and communicated their favorable impressions to others. The state was a training ground for troops in World War I.
Northern newsmen glamorized Florida and what became a real estate boom, encouraging thousands of middle aged, middle class Americans to invest in Florida land before the opportunity was lost.
This was the era of the "Tin Can Tourists," named for the large cans of spare gasoline and water supplies they always carried. They could not always count on finding gas stations or restaurants when they needed them. In their vacations to Florida as many as three families would travel in a single automobile or truck. They loaded the vehicle with tents and food and headed for the beaches. Businesses along the major highways built tourist camps with recreational facilities and, of course, gasoline stations and automobile repair shops. Constituents inundated Florida's leaders with demands that they build new roads and "open up" the country.
The real estate boom started in Miami and spread through the peninsula, up to Jacksonville and finally west to Gainesville and Tallahassee. In addition to tourists, new residents poured into Florida. The state's small farmers and residents of little villages and towns did not benefit from the land boom unless they happened to be on a major highway.
The Florida land boom happened in a time of general prosperity for middle class urban Americans, but the 1920s was also a time of rising racism and nativism. In Florida, the extreme manifestation of those factors was the power of the Klu Klux Klan. Many individual racial incidents occurred, including public hangings. Several times white mobs attacked black communities and burned them out. Black's homes burned in Perry, Rosewood, and Ocoee. Racism and nativism occurred nationally, not only in Florida. The xenophobia of those years, and its Florida component did not have an impact on the state's real estate boom.
The peak of the national interest in Florida occurred in 1923. Officials hoped the land boom would never end. The last thing they wanted was adverse publicity, but the legacy of the convict lease system still hung over the state. The system had officially ended, but many of the counties still leased the labor of their prisoners to businesses or individuals. County Commissioners found the system too profitable to give up voluntarily.
The End of the Convict Lease System: The Murder of Martin Tabert
Early in 1923, the Florida Legislature received a copy of a resolution from the North Dakota Legislature. The resolution charged that Martin Tabert, a citizen of North Dakota, died in a Putnam Lumber Company convict lease camp from torture and physical abuse. The resolution also said an employee of the Putnam Lumber Company named T. W. Higginbotham, "Whipping Boss" of the convict camp killed Tabert.
Tabert's family, with financial assistance from various North Dakota organizations and individuals, formed a "Martin Tabert Committee" in the town of Langdon, North Dakota. The Martin Tabert Committee also sought publicity to support Tabert's parents in their effort to find out what happened to their son. The Taberts hired an attorney, Norris Nelson, to investigate their son's death. The Martin Tabert Committee also sent Gudmunder Grimson, a North Dakota State Attorney, to Florida to examine the circumstances of Tabert's death.
Florida Governor Cary Augustus Hardee replied to the North Dakota resolution in a letter to that state's Governor, R. A. Nestos. Hardee asserted, rather testily, that the charges in the resolution had injured Florida's reputation. He stated, "no state treated its convicts more humanely than Florida." Hardee assured Governor Nestos that if any "criminal responsibility attaches to anyone connected with the affair he will be promptly and vigorously prosecuted." Several Florida newspapers accused Governor Hardee of "feeling sore without just cause" because of his show of annoyance.
When he completed his investigation of Tabert's death, Attorney Gudmunder Grimson announced his conviction that the State of Florida was not a party to the abuse that led to the man's death. Grimson asserted he was sure the state felt the same indignation as "is felt by the State of North Dakota represented by its Legislature." Grimson said he felt certain that Florida would work to redress the wrong done to Tabert and take steps to make it impossible for such abuses to happen again.
The Florida Legislature also ordered a full investigation of the Tabert case and appointed a Joint Committee to pursue the matter. The legislators instructed the committee to mount an investigation encompassing the convict lease systems throughout the state. The committee was late in issuing its report. Committee chairman, Fred B. Davis explained that "the committee desired to go further into the resolution." Several newspapers, including North Dakota's Minot News, and the Orlando Star criticized the delay and urged immediate legislation to end convict leasing.
Florida legislators were acutely embarrassed when the press charged them with cruelty to convicts. The Tabert case was given front-page space for several months by the New York World and dozens of newspapers all over the United States. The editors of the World saw that this story, of "a poor farm boy, tortured to death in a convict camp," had national appeal if handled right. The editors sent staff writer Samuel D. McCoy, to Tallahassee to cover the story. The editors planned a campaign with four goals. They planned to use the power of the press to attain "abolition of the convict leasing system in Florida, abolition of the lash, punishment of Tabert's murderer, and damages for his family."
Several newspapers in North Dakota and the Industrial Solidarity newspaper in Chicago had carried the Tabert story earlier, but the New York World had national influence and a reputation for championing causes of this kind. Also, the World's editor knew that the people, the government and business leaders of Florida were "particularly sensitive to Northern criticism, especially that of a great metropolis."
In the campaign orchestrated and led by the New York World, articles exposing every detail of the Tabert case appeared in more than fifty important newspapers around the nation. Artfully included with the story of Tabert's death was the complete history of Florida's convict lease system, revealing its whipping of prisoners and other recorded abuses. This story also appeared in magazines throughout the United States and likely influenced the people of Florida, and humiliated their legislators, Governor Hardee, and especially the state's business leaders.
The Martin Tabert story started as many Florida stories had since the state enacted its first harsh vagrancy laws immediately after the Civil War. J. R. (Jim Bob) Jones, Sheriff of Leon County, arrested Tabert and charged him with vagrancy on December 15, 1921. Tabert rode a train without a ticket, and when Sheriff Jones caught him, he had no money to pay his fare. Tabert went before Leon County Judge B. R. Willis, who found him guilty of vagrancy and fined him twenty-five dollars. When Tabert could not pay his fine, Judge Willis ordered him to serve ninety days in jail.
The Judge remanded Martin Tabert to the custody of Sheriff Jones, who immediately sold his labor to the Putnam Lumber Company. Tabert was to serve his ninety days working in Putnam's convict camp at Clara, in Dixie County, sixty miles from Tallahassee. He had two days in the Leon County jail before he went to the Putnam camp. The boy immediately wired his brother, John Tabert, at Munich, North Dakota, asking him to send fifty dollars to pay his fine. He asked the elder Tabert to wire the money in care of Sheriff Jones.
John Tabert did not wire the money to his brother. The money came to Tallahassee through the mail, in a letter addressed to Martin Tabert "in care of Sheriff Jones." When the postmaster received the letter, he notified the Sheriff. Instead of taking the letter to Tabert, Sheriff Jones told the postmaster to return it. Martin Tabert's mother, Mrs. Ben Tabert, of Munich, North Dakota. received the letter back, stamped by the post office, "Returned to writer unclaimed." Also written on the envelope was "Returned by request of Sheriff, Party Gone." Sheriff Jones did not tell Tabert's parents that a Judge had convicted Martin of vagrancy and sentenced him to ninety days in jail, or that he was serving his time in the Putnam Lumber Company convict camp. The Taberts believed their son had secured his release some other way.
A little more than a month later, Martin Tabert's family received a letter from Putnam Lumber Company notifying them of Martin's death. The writer explained that the boy had died "of fever and other complications," and the Company had given him a Christian burial in a cemetery nearby, with a minister officiating. The Tabert family had their lawyer, Norris Nelson, write to the Putnam Lumber Company asking why Martin did not receive the money they sent to him. A representative of Putnam Lumber answered, suggesting he write to J. R. Jones, Sheriff of Leon County for that information.
When Nelson contacted Sheriff Jones, he acknowledged that the money for Tabert's release arrived in Tallahassee. He said "there was some money wired to him after he was gone, but I could not get it, as it was sent in his name. I therefore returned it." Tabert's family thought they knew the whole story, but they were soon to receive disturbing information.
Glen Thompson, a prisoner in the Putnam Lumber Company camp at the same time as Tabert, wrote to the postmaster at Munich, North Dakota. asking if Tabert's parents wanted to know the true circumstances of their son's death. Thompson claimed that he was an eyewitness. The postmaster forwarded the letter to the Taberts. They responded to Thompson, asking for more information and began a correspondence with Thompson, fellow prisoner John Gardner and several other eyewitnesses to Tabert's death. These men gave the family enough evidence to substantiate their growing belief that the Leon County Sheriff and the representative of Putnam Lumber Company had lied to them about what happened to their son.
Gudmunder Grimson found evidence that the Putnam Lumber Company and Sheriff J. R. Jones of Leon County had a corrupt understanding "that the Sheriff would endeavor to obtain the arrest and conviction of men for pretended or petty offenses." Once the men received their sentence, the Sheriff leased them to the lumber company. "For each convict so obtained from the custody of the sheriff he would receive a cash compensation, and that Tabert was a victim of such conspiracy."
When confronted with the charges Jones answered them in a letter addressed to Fred H. Davis, Chairman of the Special Legislative Committee of the Florida House:
It has just come to my attention that the
Legislature of Representatives has now
officially received a resolution from the
State of North Dakota, herein, among other
things, official misconduct on my part has
been charged. I have read numerous press
stories about the fact of such resolution,
but had decided to take no action toward
arguing the matter in the press. Now that
the matter has become an official one, I
wish to publicly and officially deny the
truth of the charges made against me, and
to ask the Legislature for the fullest
investigation of the facts. Neither I nor
any official of Leon County, has anything
to fear as the result of an investigation
and the charges made in the resolution
referred to so far as they charge or
insinuate any willful corrupt action on my
part are utterly false.
Sheriff Jones would later testify that he had a private contract with the Putnam Lumber Company that guaranteed him $20.00 for each man he delivered to their camp and he had received $20.00 for the delivery of Tabert. He also admitted the postmaster notified him that Tabert received a letter, but he did not see it and told the post office to return it to the sender. Jones denied receiving any inquiry from the Tabert family about their son.
On Governor Hardee's recommendation, the Legislature immediately removed Jones as Leon County Sheriff on charges of malfeasance. The investigation revealed that B. F. Willis, the Leon County Judge who sentenced Tabert, conspired with Jones and the Putnam Lumber Company to furnish men for their camp. The legislators also removed Judge Willis from office.
Martin Tabert's fellow prisoners testified before the grand jury, describing the events that led up to his death. They said Tabert, strong and sturdy when he first entered the camp, weighed only 125 pounds at the time of the whipping. They explained that Tabert suffered with frequent headaches and his feet were badly swollen and covered with boils.
Several prisoners reported that they lined up, waiting for the guards to count them, on the night of Martin Tabert's whipping. T. W. Higginbotham, head guard and "Whipping Boss" of the camp, first called three men out of the line and beat them. When he finished with those men, he called for Martin Tabert. Higginbotham did not hear Tabert's answer and became angry.
Tabert, the prisoners agreed, was weak from his illness. He spoke softly and moved slowly. Higginbotham was so angry that he grabbed him and ripped off his undershirt. Then he began to whip Tabert. Glen Thompson reported that Higginbotham "whipped Martin about thirty-five to fifty licks." He described the lash Higginbotham used as a "four inch strap, five feet long, with three-ply leather at the handle, two-ply half way down." Another prisoner reported he counted eighty lashes in all.
A third prisoner testified that Higginbotham told Tabert to get up when he stopped hitting him, but the man was too weak to stand. This angered Higginbotham further and he said, "haven't you had enough?" and started whipping Tabert again. Several prisoners testified that this second whipping lasted as long as the first and Higginbotham placed one of his feet on Tabert's neck throughout the beating.
Another prisoner testified that when Higginbotham finished beating Tabert he hit him over the head with the butt end of the whip and continued striking him with the whip until he was back in line. Several prisoners reported that when they got Tabert in the sleeping shack and removed his clothes his "skin was all off his back in one chunk from his shoulders to his knees." Another witness said the doctor did not come to see Tabert and they "dared not ask for one" although they knew he was dying. This whipping took place on a Friday and Tabert died the following Wednesday.
Higginbotham refuted the prisoners' testimony, swearing he had only given Tabert ten "gentle" blows with the whip because he refused to do his work properly. He denied putting his foot on Tabert's neck during the whipping and claimed that he sent for the doctor as soon as he heard the man was ill.
Higginbotham's lawyer argued that the Putnam Lumber Company employed him to discipline the prisoners and he had not broken any law because corporal punishment was legal in Florida. The court indicted Higginbotham for the murder of Martin Tabert. He denied the charge, saying he did not deny whipping Tabert and others, but the whipping he gave Tabert was light and according to law.
In November of 1922, the Board of Commissioners of Leon County voted to use all of their convicts on the roads after January 1, 1923. The Commissioners instructed the clerk to notify the Putnam Lumber Company that they would call the convicts in when their present lease expired at the end of December.
Members of the Legislature, The New York World and Florida newspapers began receiving letters and affidavits attesting to the evils of Florida's convict camps. Several ex-convicts offered testimony on Higginbotham's brutality. One reported, "One day he beat nearly every one of the men in the grading gang and there were more than twenty. Seems like when he got started he wouldn't know when to quit."
Tabert's family began writing letters to every name the other prisoners could remember of men who had served time in the Putnam Lumber Company camps. They began to receive letters from men in many states, who told essentially the same story about life in the camps and about "Whipping Boss" Higginbotham in particular.
An ex-convict reported that Higginbotham regularly placed his foot on the neck of a man to hold him still while he whipped him. Still another reported Sheriff "Jim Bob" Jones arrested him for riding a train without a ticket. Like Tabert, he turned him over to Putnam Lumber Company. He said "the first week I was there I was licked with a strap by Higginbotham three different times." He described the strap as about "four feet long, four inches wide and with a handle two or three inches thick. It laid the skin bare from my shoulder to my knees. When Higginbotham got through, he said, next time I have to beat you, I'll kill you."
Dr. T. Caper Jones, the physician for the convict camp testified that he saw Martin Tabert three days before his death. He explained that he completed a burial permit saying that Tabert died of pneumonia and malaria. When questioned about the cause of Tabert's death, Dr. Jones confessed he falsified the cause of death on the permit. He then said Tabert had really died of syphilis. He hid his diagnosis to save embarrassment to the young man's family. Other physicians testified that the whipping as described could have caused Tabert's death. An article in the Literary Digest asserted that doctors throughout Florida denounced Dr. Jones as a "disgrace to the profession."
The Investigative Committee of the Legislature ordered Putnam Lumber Company to exhume Tabert's body and deliver it to his parents at the expense of the state. Conflicting stories described Tabert's burial. A spokesman for Putnam Lumber Company claimed that Tabert had a proper funeral, held in a cemetery in Clara. He described a funeral including "a small group of kind-hearted township people singing hymns, wide-eyed school children looking on and an itinerant pastor officiating."
An ex-prisoner claimed to have prepared Tabert's body and attended his burial. He claimed they put Tabert in a cheap coffin and dropped him in a hole half-full of water. He said the only people present at the burial beside him were the three prisoners who helped him carry Tabert's coffin. Further investigation revealed that despite Dr. Jones' testimony, Tabert's file with the State Board of Health did not contain a burial permit. The Investigative Committee ordered a thorough search for Martin Tabert's burial place so his body could be exhumed and returned to his parents, but his grave was never found.
Walter Higginbotham faced trial in Cross City, Dixie County, for the first-degree murder of Martin Tabert. The state's attorney asked for a change of venue, contending it would be impossible to get a fair trial in Dixie County, considering the extensive influence of the Putnam Lumber Company. The attorney submitted to the court that if they held the trial in Cross City, Higginbotham's friends and employees of Putnam Lumber Company would intimidate witnesses and members of the jury. Higginbotham protested, but the court agreed and granted the change of venue and the trial moved to Lake City.
Higginbotham's wife testified for him, vowing she was an eyewitness to the whipping of Martin Tabert and he was struck only eight or nine times. She claimed her husband used a strap that weighed no more than one and one-half pounds. Mrs. Higginbotham also testified that she personally attended the prisoner while he was sick with malaria, plying him with hot soup every day. Other witnesses testified that the strap Higginbotham used on the prisoners weighed approximately seven and one-half pounds and had a steel handle. Those witnesses also testified that Tabert received no care other than the little the other prisoners could give him.
Jury members deliberated a little more than an hour before they returned a verdict of guilty to second-degree murder. Higginbotham's sentence was twenty years in prison, but he obtained release on bond pending the result of an appeal. In May of 1924, the Supreme Court of Florida granted his appeal and overturned the lower court verdict. The Court attributed its decision to "the error in granting a change of venue from Dixie County, on motion by the State, over the objections of the defendant without having made an actual test to decide that it was practically impossible to obtain an impartial jury in that county." The judges ordered that "the judgment is reversed and a new trial is granted."
The second trial of T. W. Higginbotham, held in Cross City in Dixie County, began in July 1925. The Martin Tabert Committee hired Stafford Caldwell, a lawyer from Miami, to assist the state in Higginbotham's prosecution. Caldwell wrote to Gudmunder Grimson, the North Dakota assistant state attorney, saying "the state, I think, has a fighting chance in Dixie County. Some of my conservative friends in Dixie County are not so sanguine. I am under the impression that Judge Kelly is not so sanguine of a conviction but is more confident of preventing an acquittal."
The State Attorney was correct in his assertion that the jury in Dixie County would have a strong bias in Higginbotham's favor. The men selected for the jury swore they could be impartial, but although there were dozens of eyewitnesses to Higginbotham's brutality to Martin Tabert, and the Supreme Court had even agreed in its ruling that the evidence was sufficient to convict, the jury quickly found him not guilty.
Newspaper reports on the trial had an indignant tone, and referred to the acquittal as a "gross miscarriage of justice." Several blamed the Florida Supreme Court. The Gainesville News declared the ruling was "unreasonable, especially in this case, for Dixie County, in which the flogging occurred, was absolutely under the control of the Putnam Lumber Company, which employed Higginbotham." The Miami News called the verdict a disgrace.
Martin Tabert's death and the ensuing legislative investigation into the county convict camps, sparked considerable discussion and debate in the Legislature on the merits of abolishing corporal punishment in all parts of the prison system. Coupled with the public's response to the World's publicity campaign, many legislators believed something had to be done. Letters containing reports of many incidents of cruel whippings in various camps went to newspapers and to members of the Legislature. The Joint Committee investigated the allegations and where they found the charges true, they removed prisoners from the camps.
The legislative Committee also found evidence of prisoner abuse in turpentine camps in Baker and Bradford Counties. These camps belonged to Florida Senator, T. J. Knabb. He regularly used convict labor in his businesses. Paul Revere White, an ex-prisoner, explained that when arrested for vagrancy, he received six months in the Alachua County jail and his labor was leased to Knabb's camp in Baker County. He said he was "kicked, beaten, and whipped practically every day" because he could not do as much work as others could. Dr. Lamb of Macclenny, testified that he treated White when he left the camp. He reported that White's "hands and feet were minus skin, ulcers were found on his legs, and one or more ribs were fractured."
J. B. Thomas, Convict Supervisor, reported that White slept on a cot with no covering when the temperature was eighteen degrees. He said he personally took White from Knabb's camp because he believed the man would die if left there. Supervisor Thomas concluded, "Mr. Knabb is running a human slaughter pen."
Paul White made a request to the Congress of the United States for an investigation into the convict leasing system in Florida and the turpentine camps of Senator Knabb in particular. The Congress ignored White's request at first. He received no reply until the Martin Tabert case hit the national newspapers. A congressional aide then contacted him and urged him to tell his story. White was suing Senator Knabb for $50,000 in damages for the abuse he suffered in his camp.
The Legislature procrastinated in passing legislation to abolish the lease system and the use of the lash to punish prisoners. A flurry of objections, petitions and letters urged it to act. Florida's United States Senator, Duncan U. Fletcher announced to a New York World reporter that he hoped the Florida Legislature would abolish the county convict leases, "for no matter how well they are fulfilled the system is wrong in principle and brings reproach to our state."
John W. Martin of Jacksonville spoke at a mass meeting of the Prisoner's Aid Society of Florida, saying the lease system was "an abomination sustained in this state by men who make money out of it." The membership of the Miami Rotary Club demanded that the Legislature abolish corporal punishment. The Tampa Board of Trade sent a resolution to the Legislature complaining that the disclosures of cruel and inhumane treatment to prisoners and graft in the convict lease system "brought disgrace to the state."
Other groups, including the Order of United Commercial Travelers of America, The Grand Council of Georgia and Florida urged the legislators to act. A group of Master Masons from a Florida Lodge, the Rotary Club of Gainesville, and other institutions spoke against the convict lease system and the use of corporal punishment. Resolutions asking for the system's abolition came from other states, some from as far away as Wisconsin, where the Milwaukee Woman's Club sent a resolution to the Legislature condemning the convict lease system and asking that the legislators abandon it.
The Mayor of St. Petersburg wrote to the Speaker of the House urging the system's abolition. The Florida Chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy and the Union Congregational Church of Crystal Springs demanded the Legislature take immediate action to abandon whipping prisoners and abolish the convict lease system.
Amos Pinchot, a New York attorney and brother of Gifford Pinchot, Chief of the United States Forestry Service under McKinley, Roosevelt and Taft made Florida his winter home. He lent his name to the fight against the convict lease and the use of corporal punishment in the system. Pinchot wrote an attack on the convict lease system in a letter addressed to Mrs. William S. Jennings, (wife of the former Governor) and Miss Elizabeth Skinner. He charged that the whipping bosses in the camps were only the instruments of Florida's laws and regulations, arguing that those regulations and the men who supported them were the real guilty parties.
Acknowledging the difficulty of fighting the powerful lumber, turpentine and similar interests in the state that supported the convict lease system, Pinchot, a great outdoorsman, pledged not to fish or hunt in Florida "as long as peonage survives." Copies of Pinchot's letters went to the editor of the New York World and to Gudmunder Grimson, the North Dakota State Attorney.
George Westcott Stearn, president of the American Agricultural Association, urged Pinchot to ask President Warren G. Harding and the Attorney General of the United States to take "prompt and vigorous action" to put an end to the convict lease system. Florida State Senator John Stokes, who served as chairman of the Joint Investigating Committee, personally assured Pinchot that the convict lease system and corporal punishment were doomed in Florida.
Many out-of-state newspapers joined the New York World in calling for the abolition of the lease system and the use of corporal punishment. Editorials appeared in the Dayton Ohio Journal, Bismarck North Dakota tribune, Chicago Daily News, San Francisco News and nearly one hundred other papers. Most Florida papers joined the fight. Influential state papers like the Miami Herald, the Pensacola Journal, The Ocala Star, The Florida Times Union, The Tampa Tribune, and the Tallahassee Democrat all demanded that the convict lease system be abolished.
The people of Oldsmar, and others in Hillsborough and Pinellas counties sent a resolution to the Legislature on May 10, 1923. They resolved to "continue to hold mass meetings in Oldsmar just as long as it is necessary, in order to let the State Senators understand plainly that we know they are misrepresenting the will of the people of this state." The group mailed copies of the resolution to every member of the Florida Senate and the House of Representatives.
Even the Klu Klux Klan joined the crusade against the lease system. A letter from the Justice Committee of the Klu Klux Klan went to Senator J. B. Johnson of Live Oak, and eleven other senators. The notice claimed the Klan was watching the Senators' "conduct in connection with your work against doing away with the leasing of convicts and applying the LASH to them." The letter accused the Senators of being traitors to their state and the people who elected them. It warned "you and every other man who hereafter vote to continue such hellish principals as convict leasing or using the LASH, that within thirty days after the senate and house adjourns, you will receive 100 lashes on your nasty hide, and a cote of tar and feathers."
When the Legislature took up the question of the convict lease system and the use of the whip to discipline prisoners, Representative Nathan Mayo made a stirring speech against corporal punishment. He waved aloft a whipping strap, describing it as made of leather more than two inches wide and four feet long. Mayo held up the actual seven and one-half pound strap with the heavy steel handle "Whipping Boss" T. W. Higginbotham used to discipline prisoners at the Putnam Lumber camp where Martin Tabert died. Mayo explained that guards commonly coated the whipping strap with syrup and dragged it in sand to make it more effective.
Representative Mayo then displayed a "pair of ragged shoes and a striped object that resembled convict breeches. Holding these items aloft, he moved that the legislators waive the rules and "the measures seeking the abolition of the lease system and corporal punishment be passed at this time." Representative Fred H. Davis also spoke against flogging as discipline for prisoners in the Florida system, vehemently arguing that even the neighboring state of Georgia had discontinued the use of corporal punishment in its prison system.
The many abuses of prisoners and other problems uncovered in the convict leasing system by the Martin Tabert investigation and the public embarrassment Florida suffered finally prompted officials to act. The Florida Legislature repealed the leasing statutes and prohibited corporal punishment in county convict camps for all time. The lawmakers did not completely abolish corporal punishment in the state prison system, but suspended it for two years.
Conclusions:
Until 1897, Florida officials achieved practically nothing in "prison reform" although public pressure forced the creation of new rules to alleviate some of the worst conditions in the state and county convict camps. The Board of Commissioners of State Institutions hired one Convict Inspector to travel from camp to camp to check on the treatment of the leased prisoners. Later the Legislature provided for four inspectors. The Board of Commissioners formulated rules designed to improve operation of the camps, but reports of prisoner abuse grew worse.
Increasing public criticism of conditions in the convict camps finally prompted the Legislature to appoint a Joint Committee to investigate the charges in 1895. This committee report asserted that convicts that worked under the lease system were better off than they would be in a prison building, shut away from Florida's "pure air and sunshine.
National efforts to reform prisons in the United States began in earnest with the establishment of the American Prison Reform Association in New York in 1870. This group developed goals for the treatment of prisoners that sought to follow a sequence of "classification, diagnosis, probation, parole, and reformation." Although reports the Florida Commissioner of Agriculture collected indicated he and other Florida officials were familiar with publications of the Prison Reform Association, little changed. Florida continued its practice of leasing out the labor of prisoners to pay for their incarceration and earn a profit for the state.
In the early years of the 20th century, articles and letters published in Florida newspapers, reports to the Legislature and letters to the Governor and other officials condemning the convict lease system increased many times over. Stories of the brutal and inhumane treatment of prisoners appeared in newspapers throughout the state, but the Legislature did not act.
Contracting out the prisoners' labor provided the state and county governments profits that benefited every Florida citizen by reducing their tax bills. The letters and public statements of the people of Florida clearly demonstrated their dislike of the harsh manner labor contractors treated the state's prisoners. People were obviously angry and embarrassed to find women and children included in the convict leases, living and working in the camps with men. Florida citizens, however, still did not support tax increases to abolish the lease system.
Increasing public complaints about the brutality of the lease system attracted attention from outside the state in 1905. The Missouri Department of Labor sent Special Agent Collis Lively to investigate penal institutions in Florida and other Southern states. Lively published a report charging that prisoners in Florida and other southern states lived in a "hopeless state of slavery, more cruel and inhuman than chattel slavery ever was." His report concluded that the South governed its penal institutions solely for revenue.
In answering Lively's charges, Governor Broward spoke in praise of the lease system. He explained that the terms of the lease contracts fully monitored and protected the welfare of the prisoners. Broward recommended that the state employ an additional inspector to assist in visiting the convict camps regularly "to guard against the improper handling or treatment of the prisoners." He dismissed as inaccurate the complaints of Florida citizens against the abuses of the system, asserting contractors in the state's convict lease system were innocent of abuses. The Governor asserted that reported brutality occurred only in county convict camps. He recommended that the Legislature enact laws to require the "inspection and proper care" of prisoners and make those laws mandatory for County Commissioners.
By 1911, the increase in public sentiment against the convict lease system led the Legislature to pass a bill abolishing leasing convict labor to private contractors, but continued their use on the state's road system. Governor Gilchrist vetoed the bill, asserting it did not include a provision for convict care. The state did not own buildings suitable for a prison, and the Legislature did not appropriate money to build or operate such a facility.
But Florida's economy grew. The state's improved tax base made it possible for officials to balance the budget and gradually improve public services. In 1913, work finally began on constructing buildings and moving prisoners and equipment to the permanent state prison on property in Bradford County, near Raiford. 664
In 1923, the prison farm had over 4000 acres of land under cultivation growing vegetables, and inmates cared for hogs, cattle, goats and chickens, and fifty dairy cows. The farm had more than 100 working horses and mules. The prisoners' work made the institution almost completely self-sufficient in food for inmates and farm animals, reducing costs to the taxpayers.
Responding to reforms adopted in other states, officials introduced a system of classification of prisoners but the design of the Florida system supported work on the state roads, categorizing inmates according their race and ability to labor. The state established a Convict Road Force in 1917 and placed it under the control of the State Road Department. Convict leasing by the state ended in 1919, but some state prisoners were leased to private parties by counties.
Public outrage over the unexplained death and probable murder, of a young white man on a county convict crew created a climate in Tallahassee that allowed a bill to pass the Legislature in 1923 to abolish the lease system in Florida counties. The Legislature and the people of the state re-directed their focus from the monetary cost of making changes in the prison system, to negative publicity damaging Florida commerce and growth. The governor signed the bill to abolish the county convict lease system in May 1923.
Once the convict lease system ended in the counties and condition of Florida's economy improved, the state created more prison farms. Modern prison reform ideas began to make themselves felt. The goal of reforming lawbreakers, and returning them to society as productive citizens slowly replaced the idea that imprisonment was to punish the guilty and make money for the state. Prisoners continued to work on the state roads, and performed industrial jobs within the prison system.
In the 1920s, Florida still had no formal parole system although most penologists viewed parole as the most successful method available to aid a prisoner in returning as a productive member of society. Supervisors of prisoners still made recommendations and appeals for individual pardons and occasionally the Governor granted them, but it was not until 1941 that the Legislature created a formal system for considering and granting parole to Florida prisoners.
An improved economy, the state's rapid settlement and developing order, and a growing sense of civic responsibility among citizens, enabled Florida to abandon its convict lease system. Florida leaders opted to join the 20th century, finally taking full responsibility for the offenders incarcerated under its laws.
Men and women still lived and worked in chains and behind high fences in Florida work camps, under laws that allowed employers to hold workers for debt. The same legislative session that passed the bill to end convict leasing passed a bill that would commit many men and women to the brutality of the equivalent of a convict camp. The "Act to Provide a Penalty to be Imposed Upon any Person in This State Who Shall, With Intent to Injure and Defraud, Obtain or Procure Money or Other Thing of Value on a Contract or Promise to Perform Labor or Service and Prescribing a Rule of Evidence Governing Same."
Historian Jerrell H. Shofner found "it was the 'rule of evidence' that was pernicious." Under this law, if a person accepted anything of value from another, such as transportation to a work camp, or a purchase on credit at a store, even if the value was disputed, a court accepted his failure to pay as evidence of his "intent to injure or defraud." There were no niceties such as a "presumption of innocence." Labor contractors working out of New York, tricked many immigrants into veritable slavery under this statute. The law forced needed workers into the turpentine woods and phosphate pits and kept them there.
Peonage violated federal law, and when citizens asked the Florida Governor's office to investigate reported instances in the state, he deferred to the FBI. An FBI investigation brought several men to trial, but local juries found most of them innocent. Forced labor continued in Florida's forests, supported by disinterest or collusion on the part of local officials and lack of concern on the part of the people of Florida.
When the state officially abolished county convict lease in 1923, The Florida Department of Transportation took control of prisoners who then built Florida's roads. Reports indicate that the Department of Transportation's chain-gang system may have been as bad as the convict lease system in some ways.
Historian Alex Lichtenstein says reformers "claimed that convict labor on the state's highways should benefit all the people and in their view prisoners would find a kind master in the state." He argues however, that "when southern convicts left the coal mines and turpentine camps for the roads in the early part of this century, 90 percent of them were African-Americans." This system acted to support white supremacy because the image of "black men working in chains, overseen by poor whites holding shotguns and authorized to shoot to kill, sent an undeniable message."
Prisoners in Florida's chain-gangs, working on the state's highways should have been better off than the men women and children held in the convict lease camps where they were easily hidden in the woods, fields and phosphate pits. Evidence suggests however, that they were not. Groups of men may have been visible when working on the roads, but they lived in road camps hidden in the woods or moved from job to job in iron cages on wheels.
The cages were the same sort used to move circus animals that were described by Governor Gilchrist when he spoke in opposition to the idea of copying Georgia and working Florida's prisoners on the state's roads. The prisoners in the road gangs were finally the full responsibility of state employees, and under their complete control, but the record shows this change afforded them little protection against physical abuse.
Lichtenstein charges that in the chain-gang system "corporal punishment and outright torture, casual blows from rifle butts or clubs, whipping with a leather strap, confinement in a "sweat-box" under the southern sun, and hanging from stocks or bars followed from the most insignificant transgressions." He found also that only whites served as wardens in the Southern chain-gang systems. All of the literature and any statistics extant verify that the greater majority of the prisoners, in some cases as many as ninety percent of them, were black.
The convict lease system created significant impediments to penal reform. Selling the labor of prisoners resulted in profits for state and county governments, profits for the politically powerful firms who bought the prisoners' labor at bargain rates and profits for government officials the leasing business corrupted. The record illustrates that the firms, in addition to legally paying the state and counties, also paid sheriffs for each person they arrested who served time on the lease. The judges who sentenced prisoners also received kickbacks. These corrupting conflicts of interest resulted in incarcerations on trivial grounds, longer sentences than reasonable, and prisoners sometimes serving beyond the expiration of their sentences.
In addition, some key state legislators leased prisoners for their own businesses, while others received campaign support, directly or indirectly, from the leasing industries. Adding Florida's early financial problems and later reluctance of its citizens to pay taxes to support government services, helps explain this dismal history. The willingness of Florida's political elite to exploit the weak and helpless--children, economically deprived women and politically impotent black men that state political leaders had stripped of their right to vote--provides the final ingredient in this story of corruption, exploitation and greed.
Conversely, some Floridians, supported by much of the state's press, consistently demanded reform. Change occurred incrementally, always with exceptions and setbacks, especially as it affected African-Americans. Embarrassed by negative publicity stemming from the brutal killing of an out-of-state prisoner by a lessee's whipping boss, the Legislature finally abolished the lease system in 1923. The year 1923 was also the peak of Florida's first real estate boom. It is not coincidental that newspaper critics of leasing advocated using prison labor to build Florida roads. Real estate developers and the hotel and tourist industry--two new and powerful economic political forces in the state--would now be virtually subsidized by convict labor building their infrastructure.
The men who served on road gangs after 1923 still lived and worked under highly unpleasant conditions, but the corrupt incentives to incarcerate them largely ended, and women and children prisoners now received some protection.
Historian Edward L. Ayers argues that under Presidential Reconstruction, Congressional Reconstruction and Redemption, "every party that exercised power in the postwar South shared responsibility for the lease's birth and survival." Florida's state or county governments maintained a convict lease system from its territorial period to 1923. The chain-gangs of the state's Department of Transportation were not much of an improvement over the lease system, but they demonstrated that Florida citizens had finally assumed responsibility for the actions of their elected officials.
WhiteHouseBoys Timeline
The White House Boys Timeline
Timeline of Events Concerning the Meeting of the Original “White House Boys" and the political and legal campaign that brought about the official Florida investigation into the state sponsored child abuse that took place at the Florida School for Boys at Mariana, it predecessor, the Florida Industrial School for Boys and at other Florida reformatories throughout the state.This timeline accurately reflects those events and occasions where there is a public record or shared informational electronic correspondence.
Note: There were four original members that started this investigation, but at their own request two of their names have been removed. The two remaining are Robert Straley and Michael O’McCarthy, who are the Executive Members of the White House Boys Survivor’s Organization, NP.
1980 - 1981 - "Visit To The White House" - written by Michael O'McCarthyOriginally published by SOUTHERN EXPOSURE 1980 – anthologized in GROWING UP SOUTHERN, PANTHEON BOOKS, © 1981. This is the first known victim’s, published account of the beatings and torture that took place over the one hundred and nine years of state sponsored child abuse at the Florida Industrial School for Boys, the Florida School for Boys and now known as the Dozier School for Boys.
SEPTEMBER 2007 - Around the end of September 2007, Straley got a call from Monica who had worked for him. We talked that day and somehow the conversation came around to the Martin Anderson boy who had died in a Florida boot camp. Straley had seen a picture of him around age 12 and he was smiling so bright his eyes sparkled. Straley hadn't been able to get his face out of his mind for weeks. He told Monica that he had once been in a place like that where they beat kids with a whip and told her about Marianna. Straley thinks he had only mentioned it to one other person in his entire life. She was shocked and said he should do something about it, even if it had been fifty years ago.
To his surprise the next day there was a email link sent from Monica. She had Googled the Florida School for Boys and came up with (name is anonymous) a web site that was put up sometime in 2007.When Straley opened the web site there at the top was a picture of the "White House" punishment room, just as it had been years ago.Straley emailed (name anonymous) and they talked on the phone for the better part of a week. They decided to make one last stand against this evil, one hundred and eight year old stronghold of hate and misery, even if the men that had done these things to us were long dead. The world, at least, should know what happened there.
OCTOBER 2007 - Through the months of October to March of 2007 they spent every night, by phone and on the Internet, searching for evidence, and for every scrap of information they could find to expose this old nightmare. We searched the Florida Archives, the Florida Correctional Archives and law libraries.
MARCH 12-17 – 2008 - Straley Googled every newspaper, news source, reporters, anyone that he thought might be interested in the cause. Once he had the contact information he set out to emailing the release to every source. The release went out to a hundred and fifty sources as far north as North Carolina, Georgia, Mississippi, Alabama and all of Florida on the 12-17th of March. He immediately got the attention of Ms. Charlotte Frieson of the People's Voice Weekly News in Roanoke Alabama who published the article towards the end of March and from four reporters in Florida that were interested in the story.
April 4 – 2008: Straley received a call from Michael O'McCarthy, the free lance media journalist and producer who had several years earlier broken the Rosewood Story. This was a small black town in North Florida that had been burned to the ground by a rampaging mob of white people. After fifty years this was brought into the public eye and eventually reparations were made to the surviving families. Incredibly, Michael O'McCarthy had been incarcerated in the Florida School for Boys as a youth and had received one of the one hundred lash beatings for running away.Included in the email blast from Straley one had targeted O’McCarthy. In it he asked, “can you do for the White House victims what you did for those in Rosewood?When O’McCarthy responded with the information that he too had been in the White House, Straley knew he had found the needle in the haystack that was needed to break this story.
O’McCarthy was stunned when he read my press release and somewhat emotional. Straley asked him if he would do for the victims of the White House what he had done for the victims of Rosewood and he said he would do his best to help us.
APRIL 6, 2008: After discussions between ourselves and the aforementioned anonymous person the three of us agreed to form “THE WHITE HOUSE BOYS” and agreed to have Michael O’McCarthy take the lead in developing the overall campaign.April –
May, 2008 – After taking on the assignment to help the WHB O’McCarthy started the search for a legal entity by finding an agency in the state that helped kids. He came across the above named website (www.justiceforkids.org) and saw Gus Barreiro’s name and phone number. Not knowing he was with DJJ and thinking that he might be familiar with legal assistance for kids he called him. Barreiro did not identify himself as DJJ in the beginning of the conversation and O’McCarthy began to tell him the story of the horrors of the WH. His response was shock and horror at the information provided.He familiarized Barreiro with his work on Rosewood and the claims bill. Barreiro was familiar with that case.O’McCarthy directed him to the website Straley had helped to create and his piece, Visit to the White House.
By the end of the conversation Barreiro promised to do anything and everything he could to help. That would include both acting as liaison with DJJ and using his experience and contacts within the Florida legislature. He also offered to help find the proper attorney to facilitate the case. If O’McCarthy was Straley’s WHB’s angel, Gus was his and WHB’s next.As for the legislative claims bill process he asked that they be patient: they would have to wait until the coming November because the claims bill required the support of a newly elected senator.
Barreiro would talk to those legislatures whom he knew and would be sympathetic to our cause. In order to protect his anonymity O’McCarthy kept his name to himself.(As this process would continue throughout the summer O’McCarthy maintained a wall of anonymity between those contacts and the other WHB because they, (first Clay Townsend and Gus Barreiro,) insisted upon it. As Straley was on the road and unavailable, communications were brief and a matter of trust.In the interim, Gus would seek ways to help. He suggested Ben Crump, an African American attorney who had handled the infamous Martin Anderson killing at a DJJ book camp and got Martin’s family a compensatory $5M benefit.(Parenthetically, as noted, it was seeing the internet picture of Martin Anderson that sparked Straley’s memory.)O’McCarthy pursued Crump in April and after considerable tries managed a phone conference with him. He had perused the applicable law and had problems with the issue of statute of limitations; we did not discuss the Claims Bill. It became apparent then the Crump did not have the staff to pursue such a matter.
May 12, 2008 – Crump provides the three White House Boys with a courtesy letter of representation so that we might have legal representation in Florida if it was needed.May 15 2008 - September 2008 - Straley had to go out on the road. This ended Straley’s active involvement and the person who helped me with the research for a period of about five months.
During this period Michael O'McCarthy continued his campaign to bring this to national attention and to present a plea to the Governor and the DJJ Staff.By the time Straley returned five months later, Michael had engaged Carol Marbin Miller of the Miami Herald. It then went to their affiliate CBS4 who did their own very powerful video.
June, 2008 – O’McCarthy left for Costa Rica and upon returning continued contact with Barreiro. By then Barreiro had been promoted to a position overseeing all the residential facilities of DJJ. He went to Dozier where he then informed O’McCarthy that he had been to the WH, and further, that he had found a history of hand written records dating back to the 1920’s.Previously upon query in seeking a feature print reporter Barreiro referred O’McCarthy to Carol Marbin Miller of the Miami Herald. She showed early enthusiasm for the story, but there was a professional situation that prevented her from acting on the story immediately. O’McCarthy sought other reporters but couldn’t find one suitable to the task; unlike that which he had found for Rosewood.
June – July 2008 - Upon returning in late June Miller was ready to proceed and an exclusive print collaboration agreement was reached between the WHB and Miller. The WHB were still without an attorney however, but in that it had taken two years to find the right one for Rosewood, O’McCarthy knew that it would only be a matter of time or exposure. Barreiro and he talked about Miller and he and Miller held a series of conversations which buoyed up her insight into the story.August, 2008 – the O’McCarthy family made the decision to move to Costa Rica; O’McCarthy did a long print and TV interview with Miller. He stayed in touch with Gus and he asked for more time to position himself in order to help us.
September, 2008 – Barreiro put O’McCarthy in touch with a highly respected lobbyist, Keri Rayborn whose firm took on the case. She would venture to Mariana for the forthcoming memorial as a witness.September – October - 2008 - Barreiro informed O’McCarthy that he was talking with the head staff at DJJ to see if we could find a compromise between ourselves and the agency to “turn a negative into a positive.” At or around the same time a maintenance person came to Gus at Dozier and told him that he had orders to “tear down the WH.” Barreiro said that he then went to DJJ heads and told them that tearing the building down would appear as an admission of guilt and appear as if they were hiding the truth.DJJ then proposed to Barreiro that the WHB could participate in the building’s destruction and upon notification to the other WHB, we agreed.Then DJJ changed their mind and suggested that the building be turned into a “museum-memorial” with the front cell to memorialize the WHB and the other “rooms” to honor the good things done at the school.O’McCarthy told Barreiro in no uncertain terms that it was an unacceptable concept: that every boy, whether in the kitchen or on a winning football team was under the threat of the WH … that the labor there was essentially child slave labor. (*)
Barreiro reiterated the concerns to DJJ and the idea was scrapped. He told them what we wanted:A open press conference and memorial; no refutation of any of our allegations, whether about the beatings or the rape room; a forum to tell the press our stories (the original four White House Boys – though we would be joined at the occasion by Bill Hayes,); the right to “tour” the WH with the press; to be led by Straley to the “rape room,” the sight of his rape by Tidwell and one other. Lastly, to be taken to the “unmarked graves.” Gus had made known to us. We agreed.
October – 2008 - Barreiro called O’McCarthy and told him that the Chief of Staff of DJJ, Bonnie Rogers, and others wanted a conference call so that they could be assured that the event would be carried out responsibly by the WHB if they granted our requests.O’McCarthy participated in the conference with Gus, Bonnie Rogers, the assistant PR person, Samadhi Jones, Christy Dely, another DJJ official. It was clear that Bonnie was the lead person. O’McCarthy told them his WH story and reflected the cause of all those beaten and tortured and raped and again pressed our request as noted above. They agreed to all of the above.
Bonnie Rogers told O’McCarthy that the true reason for changing from the destruction of the WH to the idea of a memorial was because the state feared that other abused residents of state and private facilities would see this as precedent and would want the injurious edifice in their cases destroyed as well.She then made a point of pledging to him that the after a decent interval the WH would be demolished and the deal for the October 21 press conference and memorial was set with one caveat: DJJ pr would set the press conference.He objected and said that we were happy to cooperate with Frank Pinella (their PR head,) but we would issue a joint press release. She told me to work with Frank. He never heard from Frank until the day of the event.
October 20, 2008 - In checking with Barreiro en route to event from Miami to Dozier he informed O’McCarthy that DJJ had no intention of opening up the event as a full press conference; that they had only sent out an “event notice” later Friday or Saturday; that they wanted to limit it to the “workable” relationship they had established with Carol Marbin Miller of the Miami Herald.O’McCarthy notified Straley and the two began calling all their press contacts to make sure the conference would receive as much attention as possible, as would be the case with the national and international coverage given by Brendan Farrington of the AP.
October 20, 2008 - The four original White House Boys, Bill Haynes, plus, Gus and Keri,) all met for dinner at the local Mariana Mexican restaurant. Gus Barreiro and O’McCarthy finally met after months of phone communications… there were tears in both of their eyes. They greeted each other as “brother.” It was the first time Gus would meet all four of the founding members of the White House Boys Survivor’s Organization
October 21, 2008 – the WHB gathered together and were transported out to Dozier. White House Boys Survivor’s Organization held the memorial and press conference: in attendance and participating in the Memorial are, Roger Kiser, Robert Straley, Michael O’McCarthy, Dick Colon and Bill Haynes.All the WHB were more than thankful for his help: without Gus, the campaign would still be in search of a means for redress. Because of Gus’s undaunted belief in kids and in truth, (“the truth will always win out,” is his favorite saying,) the victims of the WH believed they would soon have their redress and their redemption.
In O’McCarthy’s discussions with Gus they had laid out the itinerary:The WHB (4 original and Bill Haynes) would follow an introduction by Gus who gave the introduction. (See Brendan Farrington, AP – Carol Marbin Miller, Miami Herald for full transcript of the event,)The order followed: Kiser, Straley, Colon, Haynes and O’McCarthy. We then took the “tour” of the WH with press. (See press links on this website for both print and electronic coverage of these events.)When we exited we went in search of the “rape” room, with Robert and Gus in the lead. We went first to the administration building and into a room in the far back of the underground which Robert identified that as the “rape” room. Robert was in a state of shock, non-emotive. (See Robert for this narrative.)
We then caravaned to the “colored boy’s side,” where Gus had previously told O’McCarthy the unidentified – but cross marked grave site had been found. After photo ops, we returned to the main premises. Gus led the principles to the record room which my records had previously been identified by CM Miller (See: 1st Herald story.)At that juncture we parted company; two of the four WHB envision a different agenda.When negotiations broke down with a prospective attorney (Clay Townsend, who was involved in behalf of Brittany Spears in LA) We sought another counsel and Gus parsed some for us.December – 2008 - a self-published book, The White House Boys would be published without the participation and permission of O’McCarthy and Straley. First copy of the book would come out on Jan 16, 2009. Colon and Kiser would act as an organization under the title, The White House Boys. Kiser and Colon would be represented by Masterson of St. Pete.
December 08, 2008 - In order to further pressure the state to begin to investigate the allegations of the horrific abuse that had taken place in the White House, and to force them to identify the bodies in the unidentified graves, and the allegations of the murder and disposal of a large number of other children, Michael O’McCarthy and Robert Straley of the White House Boys Survivor’s Organization, put together a press conference at the Federal Building in Tallahassee.
The request was that the Department of Justice and Governor of the State of Florida, Charlie Crist, order the state's Attorney General, the Florida Department of Law Enforcement and the Department of Juvenile Justice to immediately begin an investigation into the cause of death and identities of the remains believed to be covered in 31unidentified graves found on what the State called the colored boys side, of then the Florida School for Boys at Marianna, now known as the Dozier School for Boys.Attending are Roger Kiser and Dick Colon, along with Michael O’McCarthy, three of the four founding members of the “White House Boys.” Straley is absent due to illness and issued the press release to the newspaper and television media from his home in Clearwater, Florida.
Word of the press conference reached Florida Governor Charlie Crist that morning by Associated Press reporter Brendan Farrington, who having to see the Governor on another matter, brought the press conference and its purpose to the Governor's attention.
December 09, 2008 – Governor Crist calls for an immediate investigation into the allegations of the White House Boys Survivor’s Organization by the FloridaDepartment of Juvenile Justice and the Department Law Enforcement.
December 10, 2008 – Michael O’McCarthy is invited to the Governor’s office to meet with Executive Staff Counsel to the Governor, Rob Wheeler, and Assistant to the Governor, Lori Rowe to discuss the White House Boys cooperation with the investigation and to make known their list of grievances.
January – 2009 - After discussions with other law firms Straley and O’McCarthy would finally hire the firm of DeLeon and Chavez in Miami we would finally hire the firm of DeLeon and Chavez in Miami
Timeline of Events Concerning the Meeting of the Original “White House Boys" and the political and legal campaign that brought about the official Florida investigation into the state sponsored child abuse that took place at the Florida School for Boys at Mariana, it predecessor, the Florida Industrial School for Boys and at other Florida reformatories throughout the state.This timeline accurately reflects those events and occasions where there is a public record or shared informational electronic correspondence.
Note: There were four original members that started this investigation, but at their own request two of their names have been removed. The two remaining are Robert Straley and Michael O’McCarthy, who are the Executive Members of the White House Boys Survivor’s Organization, NP.
1980 - 1981 - "Visit To The White House" - written by Michael O'McCarthyOriginally published by SOUTHERN EXPOSURE 1980 – anthologized in GROWING UP SOUTHERN, PANTHEON BOOKS, © 1981. This is the first known victim’s, published account of the beatings and torture that took place over the one hundred and nine years of state sponsored child abuse at the Florida Industrial School for Boys, the Florida School for Boys and now known as the Dozier School for Boys.
SEPTEMBER 2007 - Around the end of September 2007, Straley got a call from Monica who had worked for him. We talked that day and somehow the conversation came around to the Martin Anderson boy who had died in a Florida boot camp. Straley had seen a picture of him around age 12 and he was smiling so bright his eyes sparkled. Straley hadn't been able to get his face out of his mind for weeks. He told Monica that he had once been in a place like that where they beat kids with a whip and told her about Marianna. Straley thinks he had only mentioned it to one other person in his entire life. She was shocked and said he should do something about it, even if it had been fifty years ago.
To his surprise the next day there was a email link sent from Monica. She had Googled the Florida School for Boys and came up with (name is anonymous) a web site that was put up sometime in 2007.When Straley opened the web site there at the top was a picture of the "White House" punishment room, just as it had been years ago.Straley emailed (name anonymous) and they talked on the phone for the better part of a week. They decided to make one last stand against this evil, one hundred and eight year old stronghold of hate and misery, even if the men that had done these things to us were long dead. The world, at least, should know what happened there.
OCTOBER 2007 - Through the months of October to March of 2007 they spent every night, by phone and on the Internet, searching for evidence, and for every scrap of information they could find to expose this old nightmare. We searched the Florida Archives, the Florida Correctional Archives and law libraries.
MARCH 12-17 – 2008 - Straley Googled every newspaper, news source, reporters, anyone that he thought might be interested in the cause. Once he had the contact information he set out to emailing the release to every source. The release went out to a hundred and fifty sources as far north as North Carolina, Georgia, Mississippi, Alabama and all of Florida on the 12-17th of March. He immediately got the attention of Ms. Charlotte Frieson of the People's Voice Weekly News in Roanoke Alabama who published the article towards the end of March and from four reporters in Florida that were interested in the story.
April 4 – 2008: Straley received a call from Michael O'McCarthy, the free lance media journalist and producer who had several years earlier broken the Rosewood Story. This was a small black town in North Florida that had been burned to the ground by a rampaging mob of white people. After fifty years this was brought into the public eye and eventually reparations were made to the surviving families. Incredibly, Michael O'McCarthy had been incarcerated in the Florida School for Boys as a youth and had received one of the one hundred lash beatings for running away.Included in the email blast from Straley one had targeted O’McCarthy. In it he asked, “can you do for the White House victims what you did for those in Rosewood?When O’McCarthy responded with the information that he too had been in the White House, Straley knew he had found the needle in the haystack that was needed to break this story.
O’McCarthy was stunned when he read my press release and somewhat emotional. Straley asked him if he would do for the victims of the White House what he had done for the victims of Rosewood and he said he would do his best to help us.
APRIL 6, 2008: After discussions between ourselves and the aforementioned anonymous person the three of us agreed to form “THE WHITE HOUSE BOYS” and agreed to have Michael O’McCarthy take the lead in developing the overall campaign.April –
May, 2008 – After taking on the assignment to help the WHB O’McCarthy started the search for a legal entity by finding an agency in the state that helped kids. He came across the above named website (www.justiceforkids.org) and saw Gus Barreiro’s name and phone number. Not knowing he was with DJJ and thinking that he might be familiar with legal assistance for kids he called him. Barreiro did not identify himself as DJJ in the beginning of the conversation and O’McCarthy began to tell him the story of the horrors of the WH. His response was shock and horror at the information provided.He familiarized Barreiro with his work on Rosewood and the claims bill. Barreiro was familiar with that case.O’McCarthy directed him to the website Straley had helped to create and his piece, Visit to the White House.
By the end of the conversation Barreiro promised to do anything and everything he could to help. That would include both acting as liaison with DJJ and using his experience and contacts within the Florida legislature. He also offered to help find the proper attorney to facilitate the case. If O’McCarthy was Straley’s WHB’s angel, Gus was his and WHB’s next.As for the legislative claims bill process he asked that they be patient: they would have to wait until the coming November because the claims bill required the support of a newly elected senator.
Barreiro would talk to those legislatures whom he knew and would be sympathetic to our cause. In order to protect his anonymity O’McCarthy kept his name to himself.(As this process would continue throughout the summer O’McCarthy maintained a wall of anonymity between those contacts and the other WHB because they, (first Clay Townsend and Gus Barreiro,) insisted upon it. As Straley was on the road and unavailable, communications were brief and a matter of trust.In the interim, Gus would seek ways to help. He suggested Ben Crump, an African American attorney who had handled the infamous Martin Anderson killing at a DJJ book camp and got Martin’s family a compensatory $5M benefit.(Parenthetically, as noted, it was seeing the internet picture of Martin Anderson that sparked Straley’s memory.)O’McCarthy pursued Crump in April and after considerable tries managed a phone conference with him. He had perused the applicable law and had problems with the issue of statute of limitations; we did not discuss the Claims Bill. It became apparent then the Crump did not have the staff to pursue such a matter.
May 12, 2008 – Crump provides the three White House Boys with a courtesy letter of representation so that we might have legal representation in Florida if it was needed.May 15 2008 - September 2008 - Straley had to go out on the road. This ended Straley’s active involvement and the person who helped me with the research for a period of about five months.
During this period Michael O'McCarthy continued his campaign to bring this to national attention and to present a plea to the Governor and the DJJ Staff.By the time Straley returned five months later, Michael had engaged Carol Marbin Miller of the Miami Herald. It then went to their affiliate CBS4 who did their own very powerful video.
June, 2008 – O’McCarthy left for Costa Rica and upon returning continued contact with Barreiro. By then Barreiro had been promoted to a position overseeing all the residential facilities of DJJ. He went to Dozier where he then informed O’McCarthy that he had been to the WH, and further, that he had found a history of hand written records dating back to the 1920’s.Previously upon query in seeking a feature print reporter Barreiro referred O’McCarthy to Carol Marbin Miller of the Miami Herald. She showed early enthusiasm for the story, but there was a professional situation that prevented her from acting on the story immediately. O’McCarthy sought other reporters but couldn’t find one suitable to the task; unlike that which he had found for Rosewood.
June – July 2008 - Upon returning in late June Miller was ready to proceed and an exclusive print collaboration agreement was reached between the WHB and Miller. The WHB were still without an attorney however, but in that it had taken two years to find the right one for Rosewood, O’McCarthy knew that it would only be a matter of time or exposure. Barreiro and he talked about Miller and he and Miller held a series of conversations which buoyed up her insight into the story.August, 2008 – the O’McCarthy family made the decision to move to Costa Rica; O’McCarthy did a long print and TV interview with Miller. He stayed in touch with Gus and he asked for more time to position himself in order to help us.
September, 2008 – Barreiro put O’McCarthy in touch with a highly respected lobbyist, Keri Rayborn whose firm took on the case. She would venture to Mariana for the forthcoming memorial as a witness.September – October - 2008 - Barreiro informed O’McCarthy that he was talking with the head staff at DJJ to see if we could find a compromise between ourselves and the agency to “turn a negative into a positive.” At or around the same time a maintenance person came to Gus at Dozier and told him that he had orders to “tear down the WH.” Barreiro said that he then went to DJJ heads and told them that tearing the building down would appear as an admission of guilt and appear as if they were hiding the truth.DJJ then proposed to Barreiro that the WHB could participate in the building’s destruction and upon notification to the other WHB, we agreed.Then DJJ changed their mind and suggested that the building be turned into a “museum-memorial” with the front cell to memorialize the WHB and the other “rooms” to honor the good things done at the school.O’McCarthy told Barreiro in no uncertain terms that it was an unacceptable concept: that every boy, whether in the kitchen or on a winning football team was under the threat of the WH … that the labor there was essentially child slave labor. (*)
Barreiro reiterated the concerns to DJJ and the idea was scrapped. He told them what we wanted:A open press conference and memorial; no refutation of any of our allegations, whether about the beatings or the rape room; a forum to tell the press our stories (the original four White House Boys – though we would be joined at the occasion by Bill Hayes,); the right to “tour” the WH with the press; to be led by Straley to the “rape room,” the sight of his rape by Tidwell and one other. Lastly, to be taken to the “unmarked graves.” Gus had made known to us. We agreed.
October – 2008 - Barreiro called O’McCarthy and told him that the Chief of Staff of DJJ, Bonnie Rogers, and others wanted a conference call so that they could be assured that the event would be carried out responsibly by the WHB if they granted our requests.O’McCarthy participated in the conference with Gus, Bonnie Rogers, the assistant PR person, Samadhi Jones, Christy Dely, another DJJ official. It was clear that Bonnie was the lead person. O’McCarthy told them his WH story and reflected the cause of all those beaten and tortured and raped and again pressed our request as noted above. They agreed to all of the above.
Bonnie Rogers told O’McCarthy that the true reason for changing from the destruction of the WH to the idea of a memorial was because the state feared that other abused residents of state and private facilities would see this as precedent and would want the injurious edifice in their cases destroyed as well.She then made a point of pledging to him that the after a decent interval the WH would be demolished and the deal for the October 21 press conference and memorial was set with one caveat: DJJ pr would set the press conference.He objected and said that we were happy to cooperate with Frank Pinella (their PR head,) but we would issue a joint press release. She told me to work with Frank. He never heard from Frank until the day of the event.
October 20, 2008 - In checking with Barreiro en route to event from Miami to Dozier he informed O’McCarthy that DJJ had no intention of opening up the event as a full press conference; that they had only sent out an “event notice” later Friday or Saturday; that they wanted to limit it to the “workable” relationship they had established with Carol Marbin Miller of the Miami Herald.O’McCarthy notified Straley and the two began calling all their press contacts to make sure the conference would receive as much attention as possible, as would be the case with the national and international coverage given by Brendan Farrington of the AP.
October 20, 2008 - The four original White House Boys, Bill Haynes, plus, Gus and Keri,) all met for dinner at the local Mariana Mexican restaurant. Gus Barreiro and O’McCarthy finally met after months of phone communications… there were tears in both of their eyes. They greeted each other as “brother.” It was the first time Gus would meet all four of the founding members of the White House Boys Survivor’s Organization
October 21, 2008 – the WHB gathered together and were transported out to Dozier. White House Boys Survivor’s Organization held the memorial and press conference: in attendance and participating in the Memorial are, Roger Kiser, Robert Straley, Michael O’McCarthy, Dick Colon and Bill Haynes.All the WHB were more than thankful for his help: without Gus, the campaign would still be in search of a means for redress. Because of Gus’s undaunted belief in kids and in truth, (“the truth will always win out,” is his favorite saying,) the victims of the WH believed they would soon have their redress and their redemption.
In O’McCarthy’s discussions with Gus they had laid out the itinerary:The WHB (4 original and Bill Haynes) would follow an introduction by Gus who gave the introduction. (See Brendan Farrington, AP – Carol Marbin Miller, Miami Herald for full transcript of the event,)The order followed: Kiser, Straley, Colon, Haynes and O’McCarthy. We then took the “tour” of the WH with press. (See press links on this website for both print and electronic coverage of these events.)When we exited we went in search of the “rape” room, with Robert and Gus in the lead. We went first to the administration building and into a room in the far back of the underground which Robert identified that as the “rape” room. Robert was in a state of shock, non-emotive. (See Robert for this narrative.)
We then caravaned to the “colored boy’s side,” where Gus had previously told O’McCarthy the unidentified – but cross marked grave site had been found. After photo ops, we returned to the main premises. Gus led the principles to the record room which my records had previously been identified by CM Miller (See: 1st Herald story.)At that juncture we parted company; two of the four WHB envision a different agenda.When negotiations broke down with a prospective attorney (Clay Townsend, who was involved in behalf of Brittany Spears in LA) We sought another counsel and Gus parsed some for us.December – 2008 - a self-published book, The White House Boys would be published without the participation and permission of O’McCarthy and Straley. First copy of the book would come out on Jan 16, 2009. Colon and Kiser would act as an organization under the title, The White House Boys. Kiser and Colon would be represented by Masterson of St. Pete.
December 08, 2008 - In order to further pressure the state to begin to investigate the allegations of the horrific abuse that had taken place in the White House, and to force them to identify the bodies in the unidentified graves, and the allegations of the murder and disposal of a large number of other children, Michael O’McCarthy and Robert Straley of the White House Boys Survivor’s Organization, put together a press conference at the Federal Building in Tallahassee.
The request was that the Department of Justice and Governor of the State of Florida, Charlie Crist, order the state's Attorney General, the Florida Department of Law Enforcement and the Department of Juvenile Justice to immediately begin an investigation into the cause of death and identities of the remains believed to be covered in 31unidentified graves found on what the State called the colored boys side, of then the Florida School for Boys at Marianna, now known as the Dozier School for Boys.Attending are Roger Kiser and Dick Colon, along with Michael O’McCarthy, three of the four founding members of the “White House Boys.” Straley is absent due to illness and issued the press release to the newspaper and television media from his home in Clearwater, Florida.
Word of the press conference reached Florida Governor Charlie Crist that morning by Associated Press reporter Brendan Farrington, who having to see the Governor on another matter, brought the press conference and its purpose to the Governor's attention.
December 09, 2008 – Governor Crist calls for an immediate investigation into the allegations of the White House Boys Survivor’s Organization by the FloridaDepartment of Juvenile Justice and the Department Law Enforcement.
December 10, 2008 – Michael O’McCarthy is invited to the Governor’s office to meet with Executive Staff Counsel to the Governor, Rob Wheeler, and Assistant to the Governor, Lori Rowe to discuss the White House Boys cooperation with the investigation and to make known their list of grievances.
January – 2009 - After discussions with other law firms Straley and O’McCarthy would finally hire the firm of DeLeon and Chavez in Miami we would finally hire the firm of DeLeon and Chavez in Miami
Investigation Not Over
TALLAHASSEE
Ovell Krell does not know what killed her brother Owen almost 70 years ago. Officials back then told her family he crawled under a house and died. She was only 12, but it sounded like lies. Her family has always believed Owen, 14, was killed by staff at the Florida School for Boys.
Now she's 80, and a state investigation and a glossy report offer no comfort and no new answers.
The Florida Department of Law Enforcement concluded an investigation Friday into a cemetery at the Marianna school, now called the Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys. Its report identifies 31 people buried beneath white metal crosses on the campus, and finds no evidence that the school or the staff contributed to their deaths.
But investigators also admit:
• They relied heavily — at times exclusively — on incomplete and deteriorated records kept by the school.
• They don't know the exact whereabouts of any of the remains because the graves were unmarked for years, until a superintendent ordered Boy Scouts to make markers. The same man supplied the number of graves — 31 — based on an educated guess. Some 20 years later, part of the cemetery was destroyed by prisoners farming the land. Another superintendent ordered pipe crosses erected, but workers had no reference point and placed them based on "how they thought they should be arranged."
• They did not exhume remains or use ground penetrating radar to determine how many bodies are in the ground or where they are placed.
Last month, the state-run reform school was the subject of a St. Petersburg Times special report, "For Their Own Good," about dozens of men who said they were severely beaten there as boys in the 1950s and '60s in a cinder block building called the White House.
In recent weeks the Times has also spoken with two men who say they were forced as boys to dig child-sized holes on the campus. These men, suspicious of authority, would not cooperate with investigators, fearing they would destroy evidence.
Mark Perez, FDLE chief of executive investigations, said "hundreds" of witnesses "did not provide any first-hand knowledge . . . that would refute the information provided in these records."
But investigators did not talk to several people who claim to have knowledge of suspicious deaths. They did not talk to Roger Kiser, a founder of the White House Boys, the group featured in the Times report. They didn't talk to Johnnie Walthour, a 73-year-old Jacksonville man who told the Florida Times-Union a friend died after a beating in the early 1950s.
And they did not talk to Ovell Krell.
• • •
Owen and Ovell. They weren't angels, but they sang like them. Brother and sister, listening through the scrub for the Saturday night sounds that wafted out of the juke joint. Singing, heads to the heavens, to the South Florida Ramblers.
Owen made his first guitar out of a cigar box because his daddy couldn't pack oranges fast enough to buy the real thing. The Depression strangled Central Florida, but Owen tried to sing it away.
He had a rambling spirit. He would split for Gasparilla Island, without telling a soul, and come back with stories about fishing the gulf with his grandpa.
Then, in 1940, when George Owen Smith was 14, he left and didn't come back.
His parents got word he was behind bars in Tavares. Auto theft, even if he didn't know how to drive. The sheriff shipped him off to the state's only reform school, a mean place called the Florida Industrial School for Boys.
Owen sent a letter home to let them know he was fine. Then the weeks went by with no word.
The next they heard he was in Bartow, not far from Auburndale, caught running from reform school. He had almost made it home.
Then came the letter from Marianna. "I got what was coming to me," the boy wrote.
After that, the letters stopped, no matter how many stamps his mother licked.
Frances Smith wrote to the school's superintendent, Millard Davidson, in December of 1940, asking about her son. Davidson wrote back saying no one knew where Owen was.
"So far we have been unable to get any information concerning his whereabouts,'' said his letter, dated Jan. 1, 1941.
She wrote back, telling him she would be at the school in two days to search for her son.
That letter apparently arrived in Marianna around Jan. 23, 1941. That's when the Smiths heard the news from an Episcopal priest in Auburndale. He was apologetic. Said the school had found Owen.
A friend drove them to Marianna. The school's superintendent told the family that Owen's remains were found under a house in Marianna. They identified him by his dental records and the markings on his laundry.
The superintendent led the family through the woods to a clearing, to a patch of fresh-turned earth.
Even at 12, Owen's sister knew something wasn't right. Her brother goes missing. Then just before the family arrives to help look, he's found under a house, and buried before his own parents can pay their respects?
The family met with another boy in the presence of the superintendent. The boy told them he and Owen had escaped. They were walking toward town when the headlights hit them. The boy stood still. Owen split. The last time the boy saw Owen, he told the family, he was running across an open field. Men were shooting at him.
• • •
Ovell Smith is Ovell Krell now. She was a Lakeland police officer for two decades, one of the first female officers in Florida.
She still doesn't understand what happened to her brother. Why would he crawl under a house? Why would he not come out, even if he were starving or ill? Why would a 14-year-old boy just lay down and die?
Maybe that's why she has kept those letters for all these years.
Her mother was never the same. For 40 years, she spent every day in bed, and every night on the porch, listening for Owen to come whistling home.
Early this month, Krell wrote a letter to the FDLE describing the family's account. She got no response.
"I think they should dig further," she said. "I stake my life that there was a conspiracy."
According to the report released Friday, George Owen Smith "escaped from the school in September of 1940 and his remains were found in January 1941 under the Marianna residence of Ms. Ella Pierce. After a coroner's inquest, no cause of death could be determined due to the extreme decomposition of the body."
The report says he is buried with 28 children who died from fire, pneumonia, drowning, acute nephritis, tuberculosis, a ruptured lung, homicide, all while in state custody. He is one of five children whose death certificate lists no known cause of death.
Case closed.
Times researcher Caryn Baird contributed to this report. Ben Montgomery can be reached at (727) 893-8650 or bmontgomery@sptimes.com. Waveney Ann Moore can be reached at (727) 892-2283 or wmoore@sptimes.com.
Sister still wants answers
At magazine.tampabay.com, you can:
• Read the entire FDLE report.
• See video of Ovell Krell talking about herbrother's death.
• Read "For Their Own Good," a special report on abuse at the Florida School for Boys.
Who is buried in the cemetery?
• Ten students and two staff members who died in a dormitory fire Nov. 18, 1914:
Bennett Evans, carpentry teacher; Charles Evans, guard; Joe Wetherbee, Walter Fisher, Clarence Parrott, Louis Fernandez, Harry Wells, Earl E. Morris, Waldo Drew, and Clifford Jeffords, 15, of Clearwater
• Leonard Simmons, May 9, 1919, no cause of death
• Nathaniel Sawyer, Dec. 12, 1920, no cause of death
• Arthur Williams, Feb. 26, 1921, no cause of death
• Schley Hunter, April 15, 1922, pneumonia
• Calvin Williams, Dec. 31, 1922, no cause of death
• Charlie Overstreet, Aug. 19, 1924, died during tonsillectomy
• Edward Fonders, May 18, 1925, drowned
• Walter Askew, Dec. 18, 1925
• Nollie Davis, Feb, 8, 1926, pneumonia
• Robert Rhoden, of St. Petersburg, May 8, 1929, pneumonia
• Samuel Bethel, Oct. 15, 1929, tuberculosis
• Lee Smith, Jan. 5, 1932, influenza
• Joe Stephens, May 9, 1932, fell from mule
• Thomas Varnadoe, Oct. 26, 1934, pneumonia
• Richard Nelson, Feb. 23, 1935, pneumonia
• Robert Cato, Feb. 24, 1935, pneumonia
• Grady Huff, March 4, 1935, acute nephritis (kidney disorder)
• James (Joseph) Hammond, May 2, 1936, tuberculosis
• George Owen Smith, Jan. 24, 1941. Runaway found under a house, death certificate indicates no cause
• Earl Wilson, Aug. 31, 1944, strangled and beaten by four fellow students
• Billey Jackson, Oct. 7, 1952, kidney infection
• Two dogs, details uncertain.
• Sue the peacock, Dec 27, 1947. According to her obituary: "An elaborate funeral service was held and several of the students were present to pay full respects to her remains."
Ovell Krell does not know what killed her brother Owen almost 70 years ago. Officials back then told her family he crawled under a house and died. She was only 12, but it sounded like lies. Her family has always believed Owen, 14, was killed by staff at the Florida School for Boys.
Now she's 80, and a state investigation and a glossy report offer no comfort and no new answers.
The Florida Department of Law Enforcement concluded an investigation Friday into a cemetery at the Marianna school, now called the Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys. Its report identifies 31 people buried beneath white metal crosses on the campus, and finds no evidence that the school or the staff contributed to their deaths.
But investigators also admit:
• They relied heavily — at times exclusively — on incomplete and deteriorated records kept by the school.
• They don't know the exact whereabouts of any of the remains because the graves were unmarked for years, until a superintendent ordered Boy Scouts to make markers. The same man supplied the number of graves — 31 — based on an educated guess. Some 20 years later, part of the cemetery was destroyed by prisoners farming the land. Another superintendent ordered pipe crosses erected, but workers had no reference point and placed them based on "how they thought they should be arranged."
• They did not exhume remains or use ground penetrating radar to determine how many bodies are in the ground or where they are placed.
Last month, the state-run reform school was the subject of a St. Petersburg Times special report, "For Their Own Good," about dozens of men who said they were severely beaten there as boys in the 1950s and '60s in a cinder block building called the White House.
In recent weeks the Times has also spoken with two men who say they were forced as boys to dig child-sized holes on the campus. These men, suspicious of authority, would not cooperate with investigators, fearing they would destroy evidence.
Mark Perez, FDLE chief of executive investigations, said "hundreds" of witnesses "did not provide any first-hand knowledge . . . that would refute the information provided in these records."
But investigators did not talk to several people who claim to have knowledge of suspicious deaths. They did not talk to Roger Kiser, a founder of the White House Boys, the group featured in the Times report. They didn't talk to Johnnie Walthour, a 73-year-old Jacksonville man who told the Florida Times-Union a friend died after a beating in the early 1950s.
And they did not talk to Ovell Krell.
• • •
Owen and Ovell. They weren't angels, but they sang like them. Brother and sister, listening through the scrub for the Saturday night sounds that wafted out of the juke joint. Singing, heads to the heavens, to the South Florida Ramblers.
Owen made his first guitar out of a cigar box because his daddy couldn't pack oranges fast enough to buy the real thing. The Depression strangled Central Florida, but Owen tried to sing it away.
He had a rambling spirit. He would split for Gasparilla Island, without telling a soul, and come back with stories about fishing the gulf with his grandpa.
Then, in 1940, when George Owen Smith was 14, he left and didn't come back.
His parents got word he was behind bars in Tavares. Auto theft, even if he didn't know how to drive. The sheriff shipped him off to the state's only reform school, a mean place called the Florida Industrial School for Boys.
Owen sent a letter home to let them know he was fine. Then the weeks went by with no word.
The next they heard he was in Bartow, not far from Auburndale, caught running from reform school. He had almost made it home.
Then came the letter from Marianna. "I got what was coming to me," the boy wrote.
After that, the letters stopped, no matter how many stamps his mother licked.
Frances Smith wrote to the school's superintendent, Millard Davidson, in December of 1940, asking about her son. Davidson wrote back saying no one knew where Owen was.
"So far we have been unable to get any information concerning his whereabouts,'' said his letter, dated Jan. 1, 1941.
She wrote back, telling him she would be at the school in two days to search for her son.
That letter apparently arrived in Marianna around Jan. 23, 1941. That's when the Smiths heard the news from an Episcopal priest in Auburndale. He was apologetic. Said the school had found Owen.
A friend drove them to Marianna. The school's superintendent told the family that Owen's remains were found under a house in Marianna. They identified him by his dental records and the markings on his laundry.
The superintendent led the family through the woods to a clearing, to a patch of fresh-turned earth.
Even at 12, Owen's sister knew something wasn't right. Her brother goes missing. Then just before the family arrives to help look, he's found under a house, and buried before his own parents can pay their respects?
The family met with another boy in the presence of the superintendent. The boy told them he and Owen had escaped. They were walking toward town when the headlights hit them. The boy stood still. Owen split. The last time the boy saw Owen, he told the family, he was running across an open field. Men were shooting at him.
• • •
Ovell Smith is Ovell Krell now. She was a Lakeland police officer for two decades, one of the first female officers in Florida.
She still doesn't understand what happened to her brother. Why would he crawl under a house? Why would he not come out, even if he were starving or ill? Why would a 14-year-old boy just lay down and die?
Maybe that's why she has kept those letters for all these years.
Her mother was never the same. For 40 years, she spent every day in bed, and every night on the porch, listening for Owen to come whistling home.
Early this month, Krell wrote a letter to the FDLE describing the family's account. She got no response.
"I think they should dig further," she said. "I stake my life that there was a conspiracy."
According to the report released Friday, George Owen Smith "escaped from the school in September of 1940 and his remains were found in January 1941 under the Marianna residence of Ms. Ella Pierce. After a coroner's inquest, no cause of death could be determined due to the extreme decomposition of the body."
The report says he is buried with 28 children who died from fire, pneumonia, drowning, acute nephritis, tuberculosis, a ruptured lung, homicide, all while in state custody. He is one of five children whose death certificate lists no known cause of death.
Case closed.
Times researcher Caryn Baird contributed to this report. Ben Montgomery can be reached at (727) 893-8650 or bmontgomery@sptimes.com. Waveney Ann Moore can be reached at (727) 892-2283 or wmoore@sptimes.com.
Sister still wants answers
At magazine.tampabay.com, you can:
• Read the entire FDLE report.
• See video of Ovell Krell talking about herbrother's death.
• Read "For Their Own Good," a special report on abuse at the Florida School for Boys.
Who is buried in the cemetery?
• Ten students and two staff members who died in a dormitory fire Nov. 18, 1914:
Bennett Evans, carpentry teacher; Charles Evans, guard; Joe Wetherbee, Walter Fisher, Clarence Parrott, Louis Fernandez, Harry Wells, Earl E. Morris, Waldo Drew, and Clifford Jeffords, 15, of Clearwater
• Leonard Simmons, May 9, 1919, no cause of death
• Nathaniel Sawyer, Dec. 12, 1920, no cause of death
• Arthur Williams, Feb. 26, 1921, no cause of death
• Schley Hunter, April 15, 1922, pneumonia
• Calvin Williams, Dec. 31, 1922, no cause of death
• Charlie Overstreet, Aug. 19, 1924, died during tonsillectomy
• Edward Fonders, May 18, 1925, drowned
• Walter Askew, Dec. 18, 1925
• Nollie Davis, Feb, 8, 1926, pneumonia
• Robert Rhoden, of St. Petersburg, May 8, 1929, pneumonia
• Samuel Bethel, Oct. 15, 1929, tuberculosis
• Lee Smith, Jan. 5, 1932, influenza
• Joe Stephens, May 9, 1932, fell from mule
• Thomas Varnadoe, Oct. 26, 1934, pneumonia
• Richard Nelson, Feb. 23, 1935, pneumonia
• Robert Cato, Feb. 24, 1935, pneumonia
• Grady Huff, March 4, 1935, acute nephritis (kidney disorder)
• James (Joseph) Hammond, May 2, 1936, tuberculosis
• George Owen Smith, Jan. 24, 1941. Runaway found under a house, death certificate indicates no cause
• Earl Wilson, Aug. 31, 1944, strangled and beaten by four fellow students
• Billey Jackson, Oct. 7, 1952, kidney infection
• Two dogs, details uncertain.
• Sue the peacock, Dec 27, 1947. According to her obituary: "An elaborate funeral service was held and several of the students were present to pay full respects to her remains."
Boy's Graves Identified
Boys Graves Identified at Florida School
SitePosted: May 15, 2009 12:46 PM
By Rich Phillips CNN Senior Producer
TALLAHASSEE, Florida (CNN) -- A Florida State investigation has determined that 31 unmarked graves, at the site of a former reform school, are the final resting place of teens and reform school workers, who, through the years, died in a fire, from an influenza epidemic, and even one student who was murdered by another student.
The five month investigation by the Florida Department of Law Enforcement has ruled out claims, by a group of reform school survivors, now in their 60s, that they witnessed murders, and that students suddenly disappeared after they suffered severe beatings at the school, in Marianna, Florida, in the 1950s and '60s.
The men believed the graves, marked only by white, steel crosses that are rusting with time, were those of the teens who were beaten and murdered by reform school workers and administrators.
"This is our conclusion, based on what we know today," said Mark Perez, the chief of investigations for the Florida Department of Law Enforcement, FDLE.
"Enough information has been corroborated on who is buried there. We went and identified all of the individuals who perished while in custody," he said.
FDLE released its results in an 18-page investigative report. It says that no information could be corroborated, that any of the administrators or workers, at the facility, contributed to the deaths of any of the students. Their investigation into the alleged charges of physical abuse, made by the former reform school students, continues.
However, the investigation has also found that claims by the former students, of alleged murders and disappearances of boys, could not be corroborated.
The report says, "None of the former students were able to provide any first hand information which would have identified any of these alleged victims, or the persons responsible for their purported demise."
Roger Kiser is one of the former students who pushed for the probe. He's written a book on the alleged abuse at the school, and says that FDLE has yet to contact him, despite claiming to have personally witnessed two deaths at the school.
"My personal feeling is that the State of Florida does not want to know the truth. It is just too horrible a tragedy for the general public to learn about," he wrote in an e-mail to CNN.
Florida's governor, Charlie Crist, had ordered an investigation to determine who is buried in the 31 unnamed graves.
The graves are located in a secluded area on the property of what was the Florida School for Boys, in Marianna, a town near the Georgia border. This particular land was known as "the colored side," of the reform school during segregation.
FDLE says that the records found have determined that the cemetery was known to everyone back in the early 1900s, and got lost in time.
"There was enough information available to establish their identities and the cause of death," said Mark Perez, of FDLE.
"It will help bring closure to some of the issues raised," he said. However, FDLE has not been able to determine why the graves are not marked with a headstone or any identifier.
"That's the million dollar question. We can't find any records why they weren't marked," said Perez.
But the records, that were found, have determined that the remains are those of boys who died in a fire that ravaged the reform school in 1914. Many of these victims were orphans, and indigents, whose families could not afford to have the bodies shipped home, so they were buried at the school, according to FDLE. Others, died in a flu epidemic, about 1918.
FDLE says that other remains are those of one reform school boy who was murdered by another student. Other graves are those of pets. The deaths were reported extensively in local news coverage, and even in a newsletter that was published, at the reform school, called "The Yellow Jacket."
The-CNN-Wire/Atlanta TM & © 2009 Cable News Network, Inc., a Time Warner Company.
SitePosted: May 15, 2009 12:46 PM
By Rich Phillips CNN Senior Producer
TALLAHASSEE, Florida (CNN) -- A Florida State investigation has determined that 31 unmarked graves, at the site of a former reform school, are the final resting place of teens and reform school workers, who, through the years, died in a fire, from an influenza epidemic, and even one student who was murdered by another student.
The five month investigation by the Florida Department of Law Enforcement has ruled out claims, by a group of reform school survivors, now in their 60s, that they witnessed murders, and that students suddenly disappeared after they suffered severe beatings at the school, in Marianna, Florida, in the 1950s and '60s.
The men believed the graves, marked only by white, steel crosses that are rusting with time, were those of the teens who were beaten and murdered by reform school workers and administrators.
"This is our conclusion, based on what we know today," said Mark Perez, the chief of investigations for the Florida Department of Law Enforcement, FDLE.
"Enough information has been corroborated on who is buried there. We went and identified all of the individuals who perished while in custody," he said.
FDLE released its results in an 18-page investigative report. It says that no information could be corroborated, that any of the administrators or workers, at the facility, contributed to the deaths of any of the students. Their investigation into the alleged charges of physical abuse, made by the former reform school students, continues.
However, the investigation has also found that claims by the former students, of alleged murders and disappearances of boys, could not be corroborated.
The report says, "None of the former students were able to provide any first hand information which would have identified any of these alleged victims, or the persons responsible for their purported demise."
Roger Kiser is one of the former students who pushed for the probe. He's written a book on the alleged abuse at the school, and says that FDLE has yet to contact him, despite claiming to have personally witnessed two deaths at the school.
"My personal feeling is that the State of Florida does not want to know the truth. It is just too horrible a tragedy for the general public to learn about," he wrote in an e-mail to CNN.
Florida's governor, Charlie Crist, had ordered an investigation to determine who is buried in the 31 unnamed graves.
The graves are located in a secluded area on the property of what was the Florida School for Boys, in Marianna, a town near the Georgia border. This particular land was known as "the colored side," of the reform school during segregation.
FDLE says that the records found have determined that the cemetery was known to everyone back in the early 1900s, and got lost in time.
"There was enough information available to establish their identities and the cause of death," said Mark Perez, of FDLE.
"It will help bring closure to some of the issues raised," he said. However, FDLE has not been able to determine why the graves are not marked with a headstone or any identifier.
"That's the million dollar question. We can't find any records why they weren't marked," said Perez.
But the records, that were found, have determined that the remains are those of boys who died in a fire that ravaged the reform school in 1914. Many of these victims were orphans, and indigents, whose families could not afford to have the bodies shipped home, so they were buried at the school, according to FDLE. Others, died in a flu epidemic, about 1918.
FDLE says that other remains are those of one reform school boy who was murdered by another student. Other graves are those of pets. The deaths were reported extensively in local news coverage, and even in a newsletter that was published, at the reform school, called "The Yellow Jacket."
The-CNN-Wire/Atlanta TM & © 2009 Cable News Network, Inc., a Time Warner Company.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
FOR THEIR OWN GOOD
http://www.tampabay.com/specials/2009/reports/marianna/
About this story:
This story is based on more than 100 hours of interviews with 27 men who were sent to the Florida School for Boys in the 1950s and '60s, and with current and former officials with the state, the school and the Department of Juvenile Justice. The interviews were supplemented with newspaper clippings, congressional and court testimony, archival photographs and other documents.
Over five months, the reporters traveled to Marianna four times. Since launching its investigation, the Florida Department of Law Enforcement has sealed access to the school, now called the Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys. Through his attorney, Troy Tidwell declined to be interviewed.
The Times plans continued coverage of the Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys. To talk to a reporter, call (727) 893-8650 (e-mail Ben Montgomery) or (727) 892-2283 (e-mail Waveney Ann Moore)
Credits:Story: Ben Montgomery and Waveney Ann Moore
Photos and video: Edmund D. Fountain
Editor: Kelley Benham
Photo editor: Patty Yablonski
Video editors: Edmund D. Fountain and Catriona Stuart
Multimedia design: Desiree Perry
Google map: Darla Cameron
Print design: Joshua Engleman
Research: Caryn Baird
About this story:
This story is based on more than 100 hours of interviews with 27 men who were sent to the Florida School for Boys in the 1950s and '60s, and with current and former officials with the state, the school and the Department of Juvenile Justice. The interviews were supplemented with newspaper clippings, congressional and court testimony, archival photographs and other documents.
Over five months, the reporters traveled to Marianna four times. Since launching its investigation, the Florida Department of Law Enforcement has sealed access to the school, now called the Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys. Through his attorney, Troy Tidwell declined to be interviewed.
The Times plans continued coverage of the Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys. To talk to a reporter, call (727) 893-8650 (e-mail Ben Montgomery) or (727) 892-2283 (e-mail Waveney Ann Moore)
Credits:Story: Ben Montgomery and Waveney Ann Moore
Photos and video: Edmund D. Fountain
Editor: Kelley Benham
Photo editor: Patty Yablonski
Video editors: Edmund D. Fountain and Catriona Stuart
Multimedia design: Desiree Perry
Google map: Darla Cameron
Print design: Joshua Engleman
Research: Caryn Baird
Saturday, March 1, 2008
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