With telling my story I would like to show how fast things happen before anyone has a chance to react. I would hope it's different today than it was in '65 and kids would be a little more street smart. That they would do something instead of just being led away.
My story takes place around 1965, when I was 14 years old. My parents lived in Long Island NY but since my mother was always in Florida for the winter when I was 13 (8 month winter!!! Cool.) I was left at home all alone when my father left Thursday to fly down. So I basically didn't see him either from Wednesday night until Monday night when he returned from Florida in the morning and came home that evening after work. From the time I was 13 I lived in the city 5 days a week with one of my gymnastic coaches . He became my surrogate father and who I considered my father. I went to gymnastic school in Long Island but with the offer to go to the big city I grabbed it. I got to love him very much and I think he loved me. Yes, we had relations.
Abusers like the men I was pimped to liked fresh clean meat without feathers and I was a late bloomer. Aside from my head I didn't have a hair on me until I was around 14-15. Didn't see a hair on my face until 23. My physical features were very Athletic. I think I was around 5'2” tall and maybe 100lbs. My hair was dirty blond. I was also very, very naive even though I had been pimped since I was 13. I didn't have street smarts which is a prerequisite in my world. My surrogate father took care or that. But without him around I made a perfect target.
This just might be the most terrifying thing that ever happened to me as a kid. It happened very quickly and I was off the street in a matter of minutes. One morning when I was walking in the Village (NYC, I lived in an apartment with 3 other kids) I was approached by some guy who just gently grabbed my arm and then squeezed it very tight. My surrogate father said I was naive but I wasn't that naive to realize I had a problem. He whispered to me that if I didn't go with him I would have my privates cut off. I was always a little foggy when I was in the city because I was always smoking, sniffing or consuming some form of drugs. I went with him to an apartment somewhere near where he stopped me. When we got inside he told me to get undressed and I complied without a fuss. He took out his knife and put it to my chest and slid it down to my privates where he picked them up and down with the knife telling me to do as he says or he would cut them off. He kept playing with my privates with his knife until I got an erection (of all places and all times to be able to get an erection). He then told me to go to the toilet and make sure I pee and take a shit. He came to make sure I did as he told me after I had finished. He then sat me down in the living room and gave me a P&J sandwich and some soda to drink. But he first gave me something else that I had to drink before that. I wasn't very hungry so I didn't really eat much of anything. I still didn't know what he wanted from me but I was extremely uncomfortable and scared. I don't know what it was I drank but after 10-15 minutes I was a limp rag doll on the floor. I could hear and see but I couldn't talk, move or focus. I remember a very relaxed feeling coming over me and I was peeing on myself and whatever I didn't do in the toilet was now coming out also. He cursed at me a little but then cleaned me up and sprayed me with something. I remember a few other men coming in. I was lifted, turned, poked and had my legs spread all the while like I was being inspected. I felt being moved and I heard pretty well but I didn't really understand what they were saying.
Finally the moment came when I was picked up and I was laid down on my back on a bed. Somebody stuck his erection in my mouth while he held my legs up and somebody else was going at me from behind. I felt that thing being shoved down my throat where I couldn't breath but I could do absolutely nothing to help myself. I would start to pass out and he would remove his thing from my mouth. As I would catch my breath he would stick it down my throat again. All the while the other's were taking turns doing me from the other end. I felt something warm being poured on my chest and stomach. I found out later that they had jacked off on me. I don't know how long this went on but in the end they stood over me and peed on me, in my face and in my mouth. It became quiet and I was still laying on the floor unable to move and unable to cry except inside me. Somebody came back in and tied my hands to a railing or something and told me that if I try and get away he would cut my privates off. He said he would be right back. He asked me if I understood. I guess he saw in my eyes that I understood.
I don't know how long I laid there but it was night time when he came back. I was totally exhausted but I was able to move around. I was also now in terrible pain. I finally asked him what he was going to do with me, if he was going to kill me. He said no because he'll want me to come back another day. That scared me but I was too exhausted and in pain to say anything. He took me once more and laid me on the bed on my back. He pulled his pants down and nailed me again but this time I was in tremendous pain and crying. He covered my mouth with his hand and told me to shut up or he wouldn't take his hand off my mouth – I couldn't breath. Afterwards he told me to get dressed and put me into his car and drove me over a bridge to what I thought was Brooklyn (I didn't know of any other boroughs) so I assume it was Brooklyn but it could have been Queens or the Bronx. It didn't really matter.
It was night but I don't know what time. He drove up to a corner and I was by that time hysterical and crying and he just told me to get out. When I opened the door he just pushed me out and drove off. I couldn't control my crying, I was terrified and I couldn't stop shaking. I always had change in my pocket given to me by my surrogate father to make a collect call to him if need be. He showed me how a few times. I called him and he had me read him the signs on a couple of the streets until he figured out where I was and that he'll be right over. I was waiting there by the phone booth when some lady saw me hysterically crying. She started to come over to me and I just backed up into the phone booth and closed the door. She went and found a cop and he also came over but I wouldn't open the door. I knew that if I saw a cop I had to run away but I couldn't because I couldn't move or spread my legs to run the pain was so great. I told the cop I was lost but that I called my father and he was coming to get me.
My surrogate father came and I stayed in the phone booth until he walked up to it and only then did I make a dash into his arms. We hugged and kissed and he put me into his car while he spoke with the cop and thanked the lady. The cop finally went away and we went back to the Village. I was afraid I would be arrested if I opened the door to the phone booth. I was told many times by my friends that if a cop came to me I should run away because he will put me into a home.
When my my surrogate father asked me in the car what happened I didn't answer. The one life saving thing for me was that he knew exactly what had happened to me as soon as he drove up. It took a few days but I finally calmed down. Two weeks later I was being pimped again.
There could be many reasons for this story happening. Such as a some other pimp was shopping for merchandise. Maybe they let me go to see who picked me up and where I went, they could always get me again, they knew my neighborhood. It could also be that I was never picked up again because they knew I belonged to my surrogate father. This scenario was mentioned to me by one of the other kids I stayed with. He told me that's probably why I didn't end up by some other pimp or in a garbage can. Scary. Bottom line was I could have turned up dead. Another reason I didn't end up in a garbage can could be that they new I wasn't talking.
I don't know if any of my bad habits (drugs, pissing school, etc) was only attributed to this incident or my whole 8 years from 10 to 17-1/2. I know of stories where kids were so traumatized that they couldn't talk for long periods of time after a traumatic episode. For me it really didn't matter since by the time I went into the USAF at 18 I was really f**kd up.
This story brings back issues I've had over the years and what made me behave like I did. I was not able to horse around on the floor with my kids. I have problems talking to kids or teenagers. I still cringe when somebody greets me with a hand on my shoulder. While I was 14 I attempted suicide twice. Until recently I didn't know why I tried either time. I found out the reason for the first attempt only a month ago but the second is still forgotten. Maybe this story could be the reason. Both were traumatic episodes. Anyway it's something I have to look into.
We must all stick together and help one another. I would never have gotten as far as I have if not from my 2 dear friends here in my neighborhood, for this site and the terrific people in it. I owe you all more than my life. I owe you my happiness and my sanity. My grandchildren might yet have a grandfather to beat up, tickle and kiss without me freaking out one day.
Thanks from the bottom of my heart.
Depression Feels Like Home, and Happiness is Just a Place You Visit
It will get better....