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Frank Richard Wells







In June of 1958 I was sent to FSB until I turned 21.Luckly it wasn't that long, it only lasted 13 months.

From my first day there to my last I was looking over my shoulder to protect myself. I felt like everyone was after me, both students and instructors.

I worked on the plumbing crew for 3 months then in the kitchen for 10 months. The kitchen was hell hole to work in. We had very long days, from 5:00 in the morning till 1:00 in the afternoon, and then the next day 1:00 pm until after supper at 7-8. These days rotated with another crew that worked when we did not when not in the kitchen we went to school. I think the term school has never of been more incorrectly applied at any time to anything. What a joke, sitting in a room copying from a book to a piece of paper. No learning here just warehousing to pass time. My instructor at school was a man named “Meyer.” To this day my anger rises with the thought of him. He approached me one day asking if I wanted to become one of "HIS BOYS". He had been coming up to me in class and putting his hands on my shoulders and pretending to look at my work for weeks, he scared the shit out of me. I did not know what being one of "HIS BOYS" meant but I didn't want anything to do with him so I said no. After that things went from bad to worse. He down graded me every other week and would knock me back a grade. I've come to understand that he was a predator and I/ we were the prey. I'm sure some fell for his line and school went easy for them, but not me.

My one trip to THE WHITE HOUSE was for talking about it! The sad part is that I didn't do it. Someone wanted to get at me and this was the way to do it. I was taken to the main office one evening just at dark and set on the wooden bench with another boy who I did not know. They told us we had been talking about running together even though we tried to tell them we had never talked about running away. We were taken to THE WHITE HOUSE after it was pretty dark. I do not remember any smells, as others have said, but I still remember the bare bunk with the mattress and metal rails. I told them I wanted to go first because I didn't want to sit there and hear the other boy getting it first. I'm afraid I would of run!!!

Mr. Tidwell was to have the HONORS!

He told me to lay face down and hold tight to the hear rail. I held on and the first blow startled me more than hurt, but the others made up for it. At the 18th blow I let go of the rail and was told right away “HOLD ON BOY THERES MORE TO COME"! I did and there were a total of 31 licks. You could tighten up your butt cheeks but when I did he would hit me lower on the back of my legs which hurt much more than the butt.

After he was done I was told to wait until they were done. The other boy had a bad time and had to be held down. I still remember his crying! They dropped us off at our cottages and said nothing. I went to the locker room to change and that’s when I found out how bad underwear and STATE PANTS were stuck to my ass with dry blood. I sat there and cried and even the cottage father, who was there to watch over me, had to turn his head. That time with my cottage father was the closest I'd come to feeling any compassion during my 13 month stay.

All this happened 50 years ago but much of it seems like yesterday. I still have dreams (nightmares) of being back there. I've spent many years in and out of therapy trying to undo what happened to me and now at 66 years old reading the stories of others I understand, we were FUCKED OVER by a system that did not care for us as it should have.

We are not VICTIMS but we were VICTOMIZED by the system

Frank Richard Wells frank.wells@att.net