Surviving Straight Inc ®

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St. Petersburg, FL Straight Survivor Stories

Casey Smith - St. Petersburg, FL Straight, 1980-1982

One Blue Chair 

Listen closely to a story

That took place as I declare,

'Bout some children in a warehouse

And the staff that held them there;

In the warehouse, souls were slaughtered

Carried out by chief decree,

All to make the captive children

Lose their self--- identity---------;

Go ahead and dole out torture,

Go ahead and murder a mind;

Do it in the name of treatment,

You can leave your conscience far behind;

There won't be any motivating,

Come the Great Review;

In the blazing everlasting---------

One blue chair’ll be there for you.

So the leaders of the warehouse

Made the rules, quite cunningly,

Like the one recited daily,

“Never speak of what you see!”

Over time, the helpless children

Gave their minds and lost their will,

To the rulers of the warehouse

Giving them---- more chairs to fill-----------

Go ahead and dole out torture,

Go ahead and murder a mind;

Do it in the name of treatment,

You can leave your conscience far behind;

There won't be any motivating,

Come the Great Review;

In the blazing everlasting---------

One blue chair’ll be there for you.

Came, at last, the Day of Judgment

“Started Over!” cried the Lord,

So the leaders of the warehouse

Got their well-deserved reward;

Then they sat and stared forever,

At a wall, where overhead,

Printed boldly was a message,

“Honesty”---- was all it said---------

Go ahead and dole out torture,

Go ahead and murder a mind;

Do it in the name of treatment,

You can leave your conscience far behind;

There won't be any motivating,

Come the Great Review;

In the blazing everlasting---------

One blue chair’ll be there for you.

Christmas In Straight, Inc.

Butts on blue plastic, and arms flailing madly,

Startovers issued for behaving badly,

Torture cries drowned out as everyone sings,

These are not some of my favorite things…

Peeing twice daily, and supervised showers,

Lying on concrete ‘neath fat guys for hours,

All the while, happy songs, everyone sings,

These are not some of my favorite things…

When the rap starts,

When the chairs shake,

When the arms go wild----

I secretly wish, for the sake of my mind,

I was somebody else’s child.

Staffers on rap stools with ultimate power,

Feeling my soul be destroyed by the hour,

Thirty years later, the mem’ry still stings,

These are not some of my favorite things…

When the night falls,

When the tears roll,

After counting sheep----

I simply remember the day I escaped,

And suddenly I’m---- asleep.

Jessica, Straight St. Petersburg FL 1982

My name is Jessica. I was put in Straight in 1982, I think. It’s a bit hazy now. I spent nearly 9 months on 1^st phase, which is typically to be a 30 day phase. When I got there, I was pregnant. I told them I had missed my period, and they said that no one had their periods in the program and it was normal. When I got morning sickness, the staff said they would take my urine for a test. Then they said that and a subsequent test were both negative. So I just went along with the program. I reached 3^rd phase and was to go shopping with my dad. Before we could leave the parking lot, I was taken from the car and put in a room where I was stripped naked and searched. My dad had given me a Robinsons card to put in my little purse, and that somehow became a Visa card, as I was taken into group and confronted harshly for hours. Meanwhile my dad was sitting in the parking lot still waiting for me to come out again. After 3 hours of waiting, he went in and finally got someone to talk to him, and they told him I had been started over, but would not say why. They told him he would have to wait until I earned ‘talk’ to find out. Later my mom said that was one of the only times she ever saw my dad cry. In fact I was told that I was not allowed to call my Poppy that. I had called him Poppy since I was 5 years old, but Straight said I was calling him that to play head games! And I had to call him ‘dad’ like everyone else in group from now on, which totally confused them at parent night. But since I once again didn’t earn ‘talk’, I was unable to explain it to them. I had 3 talks in about 6 months. The 3 hours he waited, I was being screamed at, humiliated, told I was mistreating my dad. I had forgotten to sign out on clip board by the door. Nobody told me to do this. During the confrontation, I discovered that was the reason I was pulled in from the parking lot. The group was told I had stolen my dad’s Visa, and planned to run away from the mall with it. This sent the group into a frenzy. I was not allowed to tell my side, or answer any of the yelling questions, or comments. I was pushed, spat at, poked in the chest, and ultimately ‘started over’. A few weeks later, I was put on peanut butter and water for 25 days. That was all I was to eat, with bread. I jumped in the old comers van one evening after a ‘bust ass’ rap, handed a cup of kool-aid, and after I took a sip, I was confronted about only having water, and made to sleep on the floor at home for the duration of my time at that house.

Months later, still on first phase, I was stood up and confronted for ‘not changing’. It seemed to last hours. My punishment would be to have 3 days of 12 hour exercising in the ladies room. And every girl in there had to have her hand up waving fanatically to be the ones to watch and promote my penalty. I don’t know how I made it through. But I did, pregnant and sick.

Switched from house to house for another couple of months, then at one house, the old comer said “IF you’re not pregnant, what is that?” pointing to my very protruded tummy as I was lying down on the floor, (rarely slept on even a mat for a year)and I told her, surprised myself by now, that I had thought I was but no one believed me and they said I wasn’t. My belly probably would have been bigger if it weren’t for the PB&J diet and the exercise marathons. This spurred having the group confront me for hours about having hid it to get out of the program, and how I would be on the streets, on drugs, and kill my baby. And many other cruel and vicious things were said. I was forced to have an abortion at five and a half months pregnant with no sedation or anesthesia of any kind. I can still remember seeing the baby on the ultrasound before the procedure. And I still remember wishing I would die during the procedure. Afterwards, I was made to exercise, and do all that group does, with no down time, unbelievable cramps, that got me yelled at; a 5 day in a row cluster headache, and severe bleeding that stained all my pants. I was not allowed to go to the bathroom to change pads. And I was forced to wear stained pants in the weeks following. I also remember peeing my pants after parent night while I was pregnant. Which of course gave them something to yell about for hours. I begged to go to the potty but they wouldn’t let me. I was so brainwashed and out of touch with reality that I believed I would kill my own baby if I left. I had no sense of self left and was only interested in making the group happy with me somehow, someway. It was surreal, like a fog. Nothing I did helped me progress. I felt singled out to be picked on and good days were when it was someone else’s turn to be yelled at all day. My anger and fear had me willing to hurt others if I were called on to do so. If you were one of them, I give my sincerest apologies now. It was kill or be killed, ya know? All the lies, and all the pressure to conform was overwhelming. It’s strange that when I finally gave up, that is when the staff said they saw me changing. WFT?

I finally reached second phase again, and was still not permitted to go home. I hadn’t seen my parents in 6 months. Except for the tiny bit of time I was allowed to see my mom during the day at the clinic. I felt angry when I was pulled. Staff reassured me that I would probably die in the streets on drugs because of my parents taking me out. I signed umpteen confidentiality forms, left with my parents, and got to go to McDonalds before being placed in the LIFE program in Sarasota. There I was deprogrammed from Straight, treated like a human being, and graduated with the shortest program on record up to that date.

I spent 11 months at Straight, and all the harsh treatment, details, and situations are not in this story. I only listed the 2 most horrific things that happened to me. And as the days go by, now all these years later, I still think of things that happened. I feel like I was forced to commit murder. And it’s taken many years to get over the whole terrible ordeal. The friends I have that were in my group, are like fellow POW’s. We still need to get together and vent about Straight once in awhile. We have a bond that is hard to shake. I went to a reunion a few years ago, and I wanted to tell my story but I couldn’t. I still felt criminally negligent, I guess. I regret not having sued for my abuses, and if the statutes on murder apply here, I would still like the opportunity. I pray that everything Miller Newton touches turns to crap, and that he reaps what he has sown—just like the rest of us. My parents nick-named him Lucifer during a parent rap one night, when it was apparent no one was going home until they could hear the backward satanic messages in the music!!! And he is just that! Walking the earth looking for whom he can devour. Rotting in hell, I hope! And his cruel son Mark too. That was NOT a visa card Mark!

DAWN - Straight St. Petersburg FL and Atlanta, GA., 1990-1993

My Name is Dawn and I was in Straight for about 3.5 years. I went in at 12 and came out at 15 1/2. I was in Saint Pete Straight from 1990 through 1993 until they closed their doors then I was sent to Atlanta Straight. In 1993 about 6 months after I was transferred to Atlanta I got kicked out. I finally snapped on a girl who yelled and spit in my face. That was the happiest day of my life. During my years in I was told that I was a slut, and a drug addict. We had these weekly meetings called OMAR and CMAR. This is when they stood you up and yelled at you, made you feel low and made you admit things that were not true. Once my Dad wanted to pull me out of there and they stood him up in CMAR and told him that because of him I was going to grow up to be nothing but a slut and a junkie. Before I went into Straight I was taken away by HRS for child abuse. I had a very low self esteem and I was a scared lonely little girl. I had no drug problem. Straight would make me make up lies and make me say I did all kinds of drugs which was false. They would also make me admit that I had sex which was false. I was a true virgin. If I did not admit these things they would yell at me, spit in my face, call me a liar and set me back to 1st phase. I tried to commit suicide while in and after I got out. I used to self mutilate my body so that I could deal with the pain I was in. I coped out quit a few times but was always found and brought back. I really HATE that place. I still have not fully forgiven my parents for putting me in there. I was so brain washed when I got out that I actually went to AA. It wasn't until I was 21 until I really saw the real me. I hate drugs and I do not drink. I was not able to go to school while I was in there. This resulted in me being 4 years behind so I dropped out. I did however last year get my diploma. It agers me knowing that the president put in a good word for that place. Maybe he should have been in there. I and like many others are permently scared for life. It hits me more today because I have a 12 year old and I was his age when I went in. I look at him and I say, "how could, how could could someone do that to their child"?

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