HOME * Introduction * Financial Page * About Us * Board And Committee Members * Our Purpose * Contact Us * Victims Stories * Donate * Videos-Articles * White House Boys Song By "Dhallium" * Employee Photos * White House Photos * Results of Florida Department Of Law Enforcement investigation * Sam Moles Photo Page * Doctor Byrd's Statement * Photo Gallery * Special Links * Jerry Cooper's Lie Detector * Tidwell Deposition Segments * Success Stories * Heartfelt Stories * Reunion Prayer * The Billy Bryant Story * Florida House & Senators e-mail addresses * Get a copy of your records * Masterson's letter to Senate * The Murder of Michael Smelly? * View Third Reunion Photos * Intergration report Okeechobee * Yellow Jacket Articles Untitled

Ellis Edward, Adams Sr.

It seemed as though I was at the mercy of everyone and anyone. This was around 1961 or so. I remember something terrible, very terrible happened there. It was the most horrible night of my life. I canít forget that night, it has become engraved in my mind, and I have become a very angry man and am tortured with this memory.

The first time I remember the name or title ĎThe White Houseí, I was around 11 years old.

I was placed in a reform school, namely a place called Marianna School for Boys. I was sent there for skipping school, by Judge Howell in Tampa, Florida. It was a place of inhumane torture and corporal punishment! I remember one night a man came into the cottage I was in, Number eight (8) Polk Cottage. I was awakened, I guess around midnight by a Mr. Sealander, he drove an Austin Healey or MG convertible, I believe it was green or black. He was a small framed man, dark hair with a mustache. He seemed like he was possibly from an English Heritage.

He awakened me; I was sleeping soundly, in hospital pajamas. They were light blue, very thin.

When he awakened me, he took me to his personal car and drove to a building behind the kitchen, named "The White House"! There was one door in the front, facing, I think east. It was a small building. I remember this big door opening with a key and a corridor, very narrow, and on each side of this hallway there was a small room on either side without doors. The rooms only had a small bed in it. It seems all the rooms looked to be the same size. I asked him why I was there, but he didnít answer me, he was waiting for someone else to arrive there.

Right inside the door, there was a small bed, I think; I sat there waiting and very scared. I looked above my head on the wall, or the wall behind me and above me, at first I thought they were going to just lock me up. But after I saw those straps, long ones, thick ones, short ones! They reminded me of razor straps on the side of a barberís chair.

Two more men arrived; one only had one arm, Mr. Tidwell and Mr. Walter. After seeing those straps I knew something horrible was going to happen to me! It just seems to fall into place.

I was taken into a room and placed on a small bed about 3 ft. wide, maybe 5 or 6 feet long. The bed was near the floor and had a filthy mattress on it. I was told to hold on to the end of the bed and not to move or cry out. I then remember the sound of something cutting the air, followed by a pain I canít describe! The most horrible pain a human being can imagine! It hurt so terribly bad! I would try and move to get up off the bed.

ďGOD, please make them stop beating me!!" But they beat me and beat me, so bad. I canít write anymore about this...

"GOD, make them stop!"

I have to leave before my kids get here. I donít want them to see me this way! I didnít think such pain existed, but it was very real! I can never forget the pain and fright I felt. Today I really believe no one, not even a POW anywhere, ever felt such pain, physical and mental pain. The thought that bothers me the most today is why did they name it The White House, #16 behind the kitchen?

The smell of sweat and blood on the bed, the sound of the large fan, that somewhat drowned out the sound of the screams. My only thought was ďGod please make them stop beating me!"

I canít imagine how I survived that pain, physical, mental and emotionally! "God please stop this! PLEASE!!" I get very angry when I think of what they did to my body, only ten or eleven years old.

I can still smell the inside of that small building and the very small bed with those little bodies with blood sweat, and the stench in those rooms. They werenít sick "they" enjoyed what they did! And I only wish that I could kill those bastards! No one can even imagine the pain I endured.

Ellis Edward, Adams Sr. Monica and son-eadams32@hotmail.com