Flashback Friday

In combing through the boxes that have never been unpacked, I came across this one page memento that was kept (purloined) purely for sentimental reasons.  I imagine the statute of limitations for documentation purposes has long expired.  We kept all the old logs and on a day when we had permission to burn all the old records, I had a chance to find my first log entry.

"10-31-77 (3-11)
Special commendation to Mike Blythe for surviving the first night! My impression was that all or most enjoyed the party.  As yet, they have not confided in me, so I cannot report any undercurrent feeling.  
KK same - Mike."

My first shift on my first day at the Mary Davis Home was on Halloween night.  Imagine my surprise when shortly after it started pumpkins were placed on the dining room tables and our clients were issued carving knives in order to better decorate their pumpkins.  My buddy Jeff, who would sign on as a fellow MDH'er in just a few short weeks,  always liked to hear my story about Halloween night, October 31, 1977.

It was, of course a different place back then, with different kids.  From the information above, we know that on this night there were 13 kids in our care.  Six boys and seven girls.  Back then you could be sent to The Mary for any number of reasons, but for the most part it was for stealing cigarettes, or a car.  Maybe there was a domestic problem in the house and you were sent as a place to insure your safety.  Small stuff like that.  The murderers would come later.  The hardened thugs would slowly take over later.  But here, in this bubble of time, in Galesburg, Illinois, it was kind of OK to hand out knives so these kids, kids, could enjoy a Halloween party.  

The place would slowly lose the screened windows for bars, and the days of sending everyone outside in an un-fenced back yard to play ball would end.  They kids got tougher, our mandate became stronger security-wise, the crimes became more hardened, and the days of Halloween parties would end.  

This is the party referred to on the above, lame, first-log-ever comment by fresh-faced, just out of grad school new Knox County employee, me.*

Apparently I learned in school that one must toot one's own horn when one can't find any relevant information to to exchange, thus the special commendation reference. 

The KK refers to Kid Kount.  I have no idea why it was like that but it was unchanged all the way through my time there and I suppose, may even be used today.  When I left the staff still had to write in a journal because the courts demanded hard copies of documents.

Also, how uniquely naive to imagine my job would be some sort of listening post for the clients to share undercurrents.  As a Counselor we would learn the art and techniques of Glasser's Reality Therapy.  We would become so well-versed in watching our charges actions that sometimes we would know what they were about to do before they even knew.  Every once in a while you'd get a kid to tell us what was happening behind the scenes, but for the most part, it was up to us to peel away the layers like an onion.  Some shifts you just knew something was going on, the air had a feeling about it, there was a bit of unease rustling about the kids, and we could sense it. 

Bon (Bonnie) and Michael were our two 3rd shift workers.  I remember thinking Bonnie was strikingly good-looking but I am afraid Michael has been erased from the mental archives.  Don't have a clue as to who he was.  

Flo, our cook, also wrote a note when she came in that morning to save the potato salad for tacos that next evening.  Flo was one of the most fun people I've ever been around.  She would fix lunch, then retire to the counselor's lounge and hold court.  She would get quite an audience, too.  Funny,  profane, and drove a new Lincoln Continental while the rest of us were driving beaters.

From this page also, I see that Dennis must have had too much partying as he was placed in Lock-up because he was throwing up. Lock ups were a good place to put sick kids because these rooms had a toilet water and sink.  Everyone else back in those days slept in dormitory-style rooms.  If a kid needed to go to the bathroom you had to open the door and let him walk down the hallway to go.  Obviously, this was a good way to escape for some kids.  Knock, then overpower or just run down the hall, kick out the screen window in the living area, and you were gone.  A couple kids did this once in February.  All they had on were their skivvies, and they got out OK, but forgot it was cold.  Once out they just walked around to the front door and we let them back in. 

Kids used fire extinguishers to escape along with pool balls, chairs and, of course, youthful acrobatics.  Back in those early days, our philosophy was, if they wanted out that bad, let them go instead of hurting staff, themselves or other kids.  Naturally that philosophy would change when our mandate wasn't just to house, but to securely house as well.  That mandate would usher in state funds and state criteria.  We would grow, and eventually would have contracts with 30 other county's to take their kids, along with Knox.   We would also build a newer place complete with a gym, individual cells, computers that opened the doors, a fancy alarm system and razor wire. 

But on one chilly night back in 1977, a new staff member walked in for 2nd shift duties, with 2 other staff members, 13 kids and had a Halloween party.  Why not hand out knives?  We and they were just kids.