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I recently heard about the story of the "White House Boys" through my Sgt. I'm a D.O.T. Compliance Officer/Weight Inspector (non-sworn).
A friend of mine for over 40 years (whom also has a story in this book) was a resident of the Dozier School in Marianna for about a year and a half, and told me many horror stories about it. About how the guards use to fight the boys like cocks in the shower room.
In Okeechobee we were also made to fight from time to time for the enjoyment of some of the crew bosses, one particular sick bastard ran the plumbing crew, some of the weaker boys were posted near by to “catch the ding.” My friend told me those horror stories about Marianna while we were both residents of the Florida School for Boys at Okeechobee. He was there (Marianna) in about 1967 or early 1968. We met in Okeechobee in about 1968 or early 1969. He left Marianna and went to Okeechobee where we met; we were from the same town but never knew each other until he arrived in "Chobee". Like Marianna, we who were at "Chobee” were also abused, mentally, physically and many, many were abused sexually. Myself and two other residents were in the orientation cottage "Polk" when we decided that we had had enough (after only three weeks) and decided to run. We made it as far as the bowling alley when we were caught and brought back to campus to Mr. Gilford’s office where I was handcuffed to his desk and told in no uncertain terms that I was about to get my ass whipped unless I sucked his dick, he then said that I was going to get my ass whipped anyway but it would be easier if I complied, so being a self described bad ass (or so I thought) I told him to go fuck himself, that’s when the good times began, while still handcuffed he beat me with a Billy club until I had gashes in my head, two swollen eyes that eventually turned black , bloody nose ,etc. then made me eat a brand new pack of cigarettes that I had just bought from the bowling alley, he said that if they were good enough to smoke then they were good enough to eat, I ate about half a pack before I started puking. My mother and sister wasn’t allowed to see me for three months until I recovered, the school citing that I had some discipline problems. My two accomplices were also kicked and beaten. After arriving at my permanent cottage Booker T. Washington it got a little better, we went from being beat with a billy club and leather strap to rubber hoses and combat boots. One of our Cottage Fathers was a little short dumpy bastard that had been in some branch of the military. He loved wearing his shiny combat boots. He would call you over to where he was sitting and kick you in the shin and giggle like a little girl. Another was 6’8” and about 285 lbs., known as “The Geezmo,” when he was on duty no one would dare come around and mess with you, he would kick the shit out of us but no one else was allowed to include Home Life (campus police). I remember on one occasion he chased a teacher around our Cottage because the teacher roughed up one of the boys in our cottage. He hit me so hard one night with a rubber hose as I was coming out of the showers; the force slid me all the way across the locker room and head first into the locker. I could tell you many stories about my friend and myself in the 18 months that I was there.
Like how Home Life would come to our cottage at night just looking for a fight.
My story is only one of many, I saw many good boys being humiliated and beaten sometimes for no more than popping a pimple on their face. Thank you for your time.
Lonnie Hunter / Vice president
Hunters Run Investment Properties LLC
North Florida / South Georgia