I never realized until I went to my 40th class reunion that people were upset that Knoxville Catholic High School had moved to a new location and sold the old school. Without going into details, I know that the sentimentality of the old school is very great, and people are loathe to turn loose of those things that matter to them. KCHS matters to many of us. Rich and fond memories for most; pain, humiliation, and horror for some.
It's really all about that little house behind the school.
Old KCHS on Magnolia had become a rather dangerous place because of its location in the city. Drug dealers on the streets were far too frequent. Staying late at school for extracurricular activities had become a security nightmare. It was really necessary to move, but before all that came about, there was a danger far more sinister and more perverse than most could imagine. And it all came about in that little house behind the school.
It was the priest's house. That's what we called it anyway. If the principal of the high school were a priest, he lived there. So it was when Father Frank Richards was principal of KCHS in the mid 80s. And Frank Richards is a pedophile who preys on teenage boys.
He would ask unwitting parents to let their son come to spend the night. There were several who were going to come there, he said, and there was work to be done and fun to be had. All too soon, the fun ceased, and the shame and horror began.
It was the alcohol or the drugs or the pornography or any combination of these that started it all. Father Richards gave it to the boys so what could they say. He was cool. He let them taste the wilder side of their approaching manhood, so why not participate. "Father said it's okay" is a strong argument to the teen brought up in the strict Catholic homes of yesteryear.
And then he abused them. Frequently they were dazed with alcohol. Sometimes not dazed enough, but the results were always the same. Shame. Guilt. Pain. Despair.
"I don't think your parents would want to hear what you did." And now, years later, the horror of that little house behind the school still haunts these once-innocent boys, now men. Still brings chills and nausea and sometimes the desire to recreate those alcohol and drug-induced, mind-numbed moments so they don't have to remember.
And Frank Richards is a free man. Ex-priest. Not prosecutable because of statutes of limitations. Murderer of souls. One time occupant of that little house behind the school.
It was time to move KCHS away from the pain.
Monday, September 15, 2008
The pedophile priest and the toy train
I saw an advertisement on TV today for an upcoming toy train exhibit at the Knoxville Expo Center. Huge displays of trains with long winding tracks, landscapes, villages, imitation ponds and lakes. It looked so idealic. Like a Norman Rockwell painting. Families will go there and enjoy the day. Dads and Moms will laugh and smile as they watch their sons and daughters enjoy the meanderings of the toy trains.
Then I remembered the boys. The 11-year-old olds. The 10-year-old olds. The 12-year-olds. The ones whose parents dropped them off at Father Edward McKeown's house, the rectory where he had a huge train set up in the basement. The house where he gathered boys for sleepovers to play with the toy train set. To have innocent fun. Or so the parents thought.
But Father McKeown never had enough room for the boys to sleep. Seems like one boy always found himself sharing the bed with McKeown. And the stage for McKeown to molest was set, organized every bit as meticulously as his elaborate train set and fake landscape and sleepovers. Arranged to feed his evil predilection for these boys, whose parents trusted him. The rape of childhood had begun.
I know so many men, once happy children in small Tennessee towns, who will not attend a toy train show this weekend. They can't. The very sights and sounds of those trains will nauseate them and fill them with revulsion and despair. Their childhood was robbed from them by McKeown. The church officials knew. They did nothing.
McKeown was put in jail years and years later by an irate non-Catholic mother whose son was molested by the wicked ex-priest McKeown. In a trailer park where he lived. Long after the diocese of Nashville turned the monster loose to abuse where they could turn their shameful faces away and not see.
Clergy sexual abuse ruins lives in so many ways, hidden dreadful ways. The toy trains are dust-covered and put away in attics as grown men weep for their childhood lost.
Keep Edward McKeown in prison. Away from his toy train set. Away from the young boys. Your sons. Your neighbors.
Ask your bishop to tell us the names of all of these evil clergy predators. It's the least they could do.
Then I remembered the boys. The 11-year-old olds. The 10-year-old olds. The 12-year-olds. The ones whose parents dropped them off at Father Edward McKeown's house, the rectory where he had a huge train set up in the basement. The house where he gathered boys for sleepovers to play with the toy train set. To have innocent fun. Or so the parents thought.
But Father McKeown never had enough room for the boys to sleep. Seems like one boy always found himself sharing the bed with McKeown. And the stage for McKeown to molest was set, organized every bit as meticulously as his elaborate train set and fake landscape and sleepovers. Arranged to feed his evil predilection for these boys, whose parents trusted him. The rape of childhood had begun.
I know so many men, once happy children in small Tennessee towns, who will not attend a toy train show this weekend. They can't. The very sights and sounds of those trains will nauseate them and fill them with revulsion and despair. Their childhood was robbed from them by McKeown. The church officials knew. They did nothing.
McKeown was put in jail years and years later by an irate non-Catholic mother whose son was molested by the wicked ex-priest McKeown. In a trailer park where he lived. Long after the diocese of Nashville turned the monster loose to abuse where they could turn their shameful faces away and not see.
Clergy sexual abuse ruins lives in so many ways, hidden dreadful ways. The toy trains are dust-covered and put away in attics as grown men weep for their childhood lost.
Keep Edward McKeown in prison. Away from his toy train set. Away from the young boys. Your sons. Your neighbors.
Ask your bishop to tell us the names of all of these evil clergy predators. It's the least they could do.
Abusing a teenager
There are people out there who simply do not believe that it is possible to abuse a teenager. I've talked to them, and their logic, or lack thereof, is amazing. Their ignorance of abuse and how is occurs is even more astounding.
Apparently, when you are a teenager, you are supposed to be equipped with all the tools in a human being's arsenal to thwart any intrusion into your life. Never mind that the teenage years, as I recall, are times of great uncertainty, lack of confidence, fumbling social steps forward . . . and steps backward. Never mind that there are dozens of frightening and confusing events facing the teenager almost daily, almost hourly. Never mind that you feel ugly, fat, awkward, insignificant and a hundred other negative things.
But to this group of observers, a teenager should repel the spiritual leader who controls his or her sphere of reference, the person in charge of his or her school, church, or diocese. A teenager should readily stand up and stop abuse by his or her mentor, the person who comes to dinner, the cleric whose virtues his or her parents extol on every possible occasion so that their children will love the church, the priest who everyone says is such a holy man.
The absolute certainty that these people have that it is just that easy . . . say "No" to an authority figure of the highest spiritual stature in your life at that time. It's easy, they say. Just say "No." Just push him down and run. Just tell your parents.
The utter naivete of this view takes my breath away.
After you are plied with alcohol, drugs, and pornography or any combination thereof, the abuser will have his or her way, and you are powerless whether you are 5 or 15 or 25 or . . . whatever.
When the perpetrator says, "It's okay. This is how you receive a special communion from me." You lose faith.
When the perpetrator says, "Your mother would be so ashamed of you if I told them what you did." You keep silent.
When the perpetrator says, "It's our special secret. It's how I show you I love you." You are emotionally bereft of future certitude in relationships.
When the perpetrator says, "Now go to confession and confess to God the sin you just did and the sin YOU made me do." You leave the church or attend wounded for the rest of your life.
Now self-righteous people, is it so clear-cut now? Or have you lost all perspective on life itself that you would blame a teenager for abuse rather than the twisted pervert who is raping, sodomizing, humiliating, destroying. . . .
People get a grip. A teenager is so much a child in formation. They need our protection as children in progress.
As for the pedophile who would do this to a teenager, I cannot write what I truly think should happen to this priest, nun, brother, minister, rabbi, etc.
Read my mind.
Apparently, when you are a teenager, you are supposed to be equipped with all the tools in a human being's arsenal to thwart any intrusion into your life. Never mind that the teenage years, as I recall, are times of great uncertainty, lack of confidence, fumbling social steps forward . . . and steps backward. Never mind that there are dozens of frightening and confusing events facing the teenager almost daily, almost hourly. Never mind that you feel ugly, fat, awkward, insignificant and a hundred other negative things.
But to this group of observers, a teenager should repel the spiritual leader who controls his or her sphere of reference, the person in charge of his or her school, church, or diocese. A teenager should readily stand up and stop abuse by his or her mentor, the person who comes to dinner, the cleric whose virtues his or her parents extol on every possible occasion so that their children will love the church, the priest who everyone says is such a holy man.
The absolute certainty that these people have that it is just that easy . . . say "No" to an authority figure of the highest spiritual stature in your life at that time. It's easy, they say. Just say "No." Just push him down and run. Just tell your parents.
The utter naivete of this view takes my breath away.
After you are plied with alcohol, drugs, and pornography or any combination thereof, the abuser will have his or her way, and you are powerless whether you are 5 or 15 or 25 or . . . whatever.
When the perpetrator says, "It's okay. This is how you receive a special communion from me." You lose faith.
When the perpetrator says, "Your mother would be so ashamed of you if I told them what you did." You keep silent.
When the perpetrator says, "It's our special secret. It's how I show you I love you." You are emotionally bereft of future certitude in relationships.
When the perpetrator says, "Now go to confession and confess to God the sin you just did and the sin YOU made me do." You leave the church or attend wounded for the rest of your life.
Now self-righteous people, is it so clear-cut now? Or have you lost all perspective on life itself that you would blame a teenager for abuse rather than the twisted pervert who is raping, sodomizing, humiliating, destroying. . . .
People get a grip. A teenager is so much a child in formation. They need our protection as children in progress.
As for the pedophile who would do this to a teenager, I cannot write what I truly think should happen to this priest, nun, brother, minister, rabbi, etc.
Read my mind.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Paul St. Charles, the PPP
By the way, does this look like a bishop who gets it? Bishop Choby is awarding St. Charles the "Golden Grad Award" from Father Ryan. Sure, you get it for just being alive, but how many boys has he killed in his life? Killing their souls, killing their futures, killing their dreams, wounding their psyches, mangling their hope for a peaceful life.
Looks to me like they would have given him a jail sentence after what he has done to youth. After all, that is what your ordinary, run-of-the-mill pedophile gets. Ask Bishop Steib of Memphis what the files says about the abuse by the PPP. Ask the courts who are still hearing his abuse cases if he is innocent as his legion of followers say.
Bishop Choby, you deserve an award. Let's see . . what should we call that award? Something with alliteration. Well, maybe we can come up with this soon in another post. I'll try to think of some words that I could actually post without having my blog removed for "ugly words" (if you know what I mean.)
Crumbs of cooperation
The Catholic church is so fond of saying that they are now fully cooperative and transparent. Funny thing, transparency. It's hard to attain when you won't release the names of the pedophile priests who have been assigned in your diocese. This is a brick wall if anything, and is just about as transparent as a dark starless night in the dessert.
Names of 18 priests across Tennessee were turned into the now famous John Jay Study at the turn of the millennium. Someone please comment to this post and send me the names. I have asked for 7 years and have never gotten them. (The pathetic excuses the church has given me is the subject of a future blog.)
Do you know who these pedophiles are? Do you know where they were assigned?
Me either. . . except what victims have told me. My mental list is lengthy, and the details gruesome.
But officially, no one knows, and clearly, that is wrong. The church would be guilty of malfeasance and obstruction of justice if it were a secular institution. But since it is "the church" it gets a pass on the truth. Even the justice system seems reluctant to hold it to the same standards as the rest of us.
Crumbs of cooperation. That's what we get. Nothing more. Nothing to sustain our lives, these crumbs that so many accept as enough.
Make a difference. Tell your pastor that you will not give a dime to the collection basket until you get full accountability about these pedophiles. That's what will work. Withhold the money; get the information. Good clear-cut plan. . . if we could only get together and execute the plan.
Names of 18 priests across Tennessee were turned into the now famous John Jay Study at the turn of the millennium. Someone please comment to this post and send me the names. I have asked for 7 years and have never gotten them. (The pathetic excuses the church has given me is the subject of a future blog.)
Do you know who these pedophiles are? Do you know where they were assigned?
Me either. . . except what victims have told me. My mental list is lengthy, and the details gruesome.
But officially, no one knows, and clearly, that is wrong. The church would be guilty of malfeasance and obstruction of justice if it were a secular institution. But since it is "the church" it gets a pass on the truth. Even the justice system seems reluctant to hold it to the same standards as the rest of us.
Crumbs of cooperation. That's what we get. Nothing more. Nothing to sustain our lives, these crumbs that so many accept as enough.
Make a difference. Tell your pastor that you will not give a dime to the collection basket until you get full accountability about these pedophiles. That's what will work. Withhold the money; get the information. Good clear-cut plan. . . if we could only get together and execute the plan.
Question - did Paul St. Charles abuse at SHC?
I have one question that needs to be asked . . . and answered.
Did Father Paul St. Charles spend a year at Sacred Heart Cathedral in Knoxville, Tennessee? Public records say that he was there around 1967-1968.
Do the people of Sacred Heart Cathedral (and the rest of the diocese of Knoxville) know that Paul St. Charles is a pedophile priest? That he has been credibly accused by the diocese of Memphis? That he still lives in Nashville after his early retirement from the priesthood in the 1970s? That multiple lawsuits have been filed against him? That more and more men tell one horrific story after another about the hideous abuse by Paul St. Charles? That Bishop Choby of Nashville protects Paul St. Charles from the truth?
What does Paul St. Charles know that he is being protected by the THREE dioceses from exposure of his crimes?
Oops. That was more than one question. Well one question about the perverse secrets in the diocese of Knoxville leads to another. . . and another . . . and another.
Did Father Paul St. Charles spend a year at Sacred Heart Cathedral in Knoxville, Tennessee? Public records say that he was there around 1967-1968.
Do the people of Sacred Heart Cathedral (and the rest of the diocese of Knoxville) know that Paul St. Charles is a pedophile priest? That he has been credibly accused by the diocese of Memphis? That he still lives in Nashville after his early retirement from the priesthood in the 1970s? That multiple lawsuits have been filed against him? That more and more men tell one horrific story after another about the hideous abuse by Paul St. Charles? That Bishop Choby of Nashville protects Paul St. Charles from the truth?
What does Paul St. Charles know that he is being protected by the THREE dioceses from exposure of his crimes?
Oops. That was more than one question. Well one question about the perverse secrets in the diocese of Knoxville leads to another. . . and another . . . and another.
KCHS class of 1968 - a get-together
I just had my 40th class reunion at Knoxville Catholic High School in Knoxville, Tennessee. It was a wonderful experience. After 40 years, some of the pretensions that we all had have dropped away, and we find ourselves surprisingly more in tune with each other than we ever were 40 years ago.
I was happy to see so much happiness and genuine care among my classmates and friends. It has warmed my heart like nothing else in a long time.
I wish everyone could have this experience. Sadly, too many who went to KCHS have to contend with the damaging, devastating effects of clergy sexual abuse.
Many of my classmates know that I have worked with clergy sexual abuse victims. I had decided to be candid about it with them, since I also think frankness and candor are benefits of the 40 years after high school!
Many of them had the usual reaction that it happened to someone else and not to those who went to KCHS. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I only had to point to the yearbooks on display from our four years at Catholic. There are pictures of at least two serial child molesters in those pages. TWO pedophile priests that I am aware of, and there are most likely more.
Not pictured in the books are two other priest predators who were assigned to churches where our classmates came from to go to KCHS. All of us were exposed to these predators in some way and did not know it. Or are there classmates of mine and students from other classes who were abused by these priests?
I suspect the answer is yes given all that I do know about the clergy sexual abuse crisis in East Tennessee, a crisis yet to fully erupt, but one that some of us know to be horrific.
Thanks, class of 1968. I love all of you, and I fervently hope we will meet again before too many years go by. By then, I hope the entire Diocese of Knoxville is exposed for the cover-up and corruption that it has perpetrated on too many of the innocents.
I was happy to see so much happiness and genuine care among my classmates and friends. It has warmed my heart like nothing else in a long time.
I wish everyone could have this experience. Sadly, too many who went to KCHS have to contend with the damaging, devastating effects of clergy sexual abuse.
Many of my classmates know that I have worked with clergy sexual abuse victims. I had decided to be candid about it with them, since I also think frankness and candor are benefits of the 40 years after high school!
Many of them had the usual reaction that it happened to someone else and not to those who went to KCHS. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I only had to point to the yearbooks on display from our four years at Catholic. There are pictures of at least two serial child molesters in those pages. TWO pedophile priests that I am aware of, and there are most likely more.
Not pictured in the books are two other priest predators who were assigned to churches where our classmates came from to go to KCHS. All of us were exposed to these predators in some way and did not know it. Or are there classmates of mine and students from other classes who were abused by these priests?
I suspect the answer is yes given all that I do know about the clergy sexual abuse crisis in East Tennessee, a crisis yet to fully erupt, but one that some of us know to be horrific.
Thanks, class of 1968. I love all of you, and I fervently hope we will meet again before too many years go by. By then, I hope the entire Diocese of Knoxville is exposed for the cover-up and corruption that it has perpetrated on too many of the innocents.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)