This is one of the best, albeit heartbreaking novels I've read in a long time. The most horrifying realization, however, is that it isn't entirely fiction. Almost all the events described herein were based on the real-life experiences of thousands of children incarcerated at the real-life Arthur G. Dozier School for Boys, which was nothing less than a concentration camp for troubled kids.
Despite an untold number of complaints and failed inspections, beginning as early as 1903 (the "school" was investigated six times during its first thirteen years in operation due to allegations of abuse, poor living conditions and the poor welfare of its child inmates), it continued in operation in the state of Florida for 111 years before it was finally shut down after DECADES of repeated reports of exploitation, rape, torture and murder.
In what could certainly feature as a future iteration of "American Horror Story," The Dozier School for Boys was located in the idyllic town of Marianna, Florida, which was known as The City of Southern Charm. The "school" formally opened on Jan. 1, 1900, and was operated by the state until its closure, which occurred only in 2011, when the Civil Rights division of the Department of Justice finally stepped in after the facility failed inspection, again, in 2009, even after some high-profile exposure of the living condition and treatment of the child inmates. In some cases, however, the children incarcerated there had committed no actual crimes: not infrequently, the boys were simply runaways, often from abusive foster homes and other juvenile group homes.
As described in the novel, many of the actual survivors described a beautiful, manicured and landscaped setting, which, like the "showpiece" Nazi concentration camp Theresienstadt, belied the horrors within. What was revealed by the subsequent federal investigation, however, was unspeakable. Over its 111-year history, rape, torture and murder were routinely committed by staff, despite periodic investigations - and despite an untold number of abuse reports, even of missing children whose bodies just seemed to have disappeared. Even after numerous highly-publicized incidents and deaths, including (as in the novel) a fire which killed six children and two staff, the abuse continued for decades. The "Reformatory" in the novel was thus heavily inspired, if one can use that term, by one of the most notorious facilities in US history.
The impetus for this book was to shed light on the atrocities committed at this facility, including against one of the author's family members, a great-uncle, after whom she named the main character. Unfortunately, the real-life Robert Stephens was one of its many casualties: he died at the Dozier school in 1937, at the age of fifteen, reportedly due to a stabbing, as one of the other main characters. It also poignantly and respectfully serves as something of a memorial to the many other survivors and victims, some of whose names are still unknown, who perished there over the facility's century-long history. And the crimes committed there are only now increasingly coming to light.
Although reports of unspeakable atrocities on par with Nazi concentration camps emerged almost from the facility's earliest days, almost nothing was done to stop it. Numerous survivors have now come forward to tell their stories of the torture they were subjected to, the excruciating details of which are recounted in horrific detail in the novel. Much of the content, in fact, seems to have been drawn from the experiences of the survivors, now known as "The White House Boys," a reference to "The White House," a torture chamber almost exactly like the "Funhouse" referred to in the novel.
One of the Dozier survivors described this structure as a long, narrow building equipped with a large industrial fan, which was turned on to create white noise to drown out the screams of the children being tortured inside. In keeping with segregation practices in the South, some survivors reported that one room was used for beating white boys and another for black boys, as the facility remained fully segregated until 1968. As in the novel, many described being beaten by guards until they bled, with a three-foot-long strap made of leather and metal. As also referenced in the novel, some reported being struck with such force that their underwear became embedded in their skin. They also described it as sounding "like a shotgun" when they were repeatedly struck.
Perhaps the most shocking crimes which occurred at this facility involved the numerous suspicious deaths and unauthorized, and, apparently frequently clandestine interments on the grounds of the school - dozens of children simply went missing. The state apparently intended to keep it that way, and for years thwarted the efforts of victims' relatives to find their missing loved ones. When the state expressed an intent to sell some of the land, a family member of one of the many victims who died at the school in 1934, who wanted to re-inter his remains elsewhere, sued the state to gain an injunction to prevent it from selling any of the property before the remains could be exhumed and identified.
Although initially claiming that it lacked the jurisdiction to allow the exhumation of human remains on the site, the state of Florida finally authorized a forensic anthropology survey under the direction of the University of South Florida in 2012, which identified 55 burials on the grounds, most outside the cemetery in a wooded area. Many of the missing children were simply buried in the woods - but there was never any list or plot map, no records of what happened to these children in custody at a state institution.
In 2019, another 27 suspected graves were identified by ground penetrating radar during a survey project. However, a 2009 report by the state claimed that there had been at least 81 school-related deaths, from 1911 to 1973, with only 31 burials on school grounds. The other bodies were reportedly returned to the families or buried in "unknown locations," many of which apparently turned out to also be on school grounds... but not in the cemetery. Thirty-one simple crosses serve as grave markers at the cemetery, which were reportedly installed from the 1960s through the 1990s, but these have been found not to correspond to specific burials.
A later report in 2012 by the University of South Florida team then determined that, in fact, there were actually at least 98 documented deaths at the school from 1914 to 1973, which included the six children and two staff members killed in a 1914 dormitory fire. In January 2016, the USF team issued its final report, having made 7 DNA matches and 14 presumptive identifications of remains, but the search continues. In many cases, because there are no living relatives, or distant descendants are unaware that their relatives perished at the school (with some children only appearing in census records, if at all, depending on how long ago they died), it is likely that many of the remains will remain unidentified and unclaimed, their memories lost to time.
As the novel tragically brings to light, there was a significant racial component to the conditions these kids endured: it has been determined that 75% of the children who died there were black.
Other commonalities with the novel: they were likewise subjected to unspeakable physical abuse, which persisted for decades. Young children were reportedly kept in shackles and leg irons, revealed by inspection reports as early as 1903. Although "corporal" punishment was supposed to have been banned in 1968... it wasn't. The cemetery at Dozier really was called "Boot Hill," where burials occurred officially from 1914 to 1952... but the real number is still unknown. It is highly likely that they occurred well before and after those official dates. And, of course, there was the fire, but the actual one was in a dormitory rather than a shed where children were locked inside and the fire deliberately set by a psychopathic warden, as in the novel.
In both the actual and fictional setting, however, it's simply impossible to state that no one knew what was going on. In 1968, the Florida governor stated after a visit, when he personally noted the appalling living conditions that young children were being subjected to, that "somebody should have blown the whistle a long time ago," ... but someone HAD. MANY someones. No one cared, certainly not enough to do anything about it.
And the hits just kept coming: in 1982, another inspection revealed that child inmates were routinely being hogtied and kept in solitary confinement for WEEKS at a time, a revelation which resulted in the ACLU filing a lawsuit. But the facility continued to operate. After the GOVERNOR of the state of Florida himself noted the conditions, in 1968 - this children's concentration camp continued to operate FOR ANOTHER FORTY-THREE YEARS. It finally closed its doors in 2011, but not voluntarily.
It is almost unthinkable, but this facility is certainly not the only one of its kind: in recent years, similar atrocities have come to light regarding so-called "Indian Residential Schools," which were a type of re-education/concentration camp for indigenous children, where similar crimes were committed. They also demonstrate that neither is this a strictly American phenomenon: the most notorious was the Marieval Indian Residential School in Canada, where 751 unmarked graves were discovered in June, 2021. And 800 children were recently discovered to have been buried in unmarked graves at the Bon Secours Mother and Baby Home, a maternity home in Ireland.
As technology improves, it is likely that an increasing number of similar incidents will be discovered at other institutions, which were all too common in past decades. And, it's important not to overlook the so-called "brat camps" and other residential facilities, especially in Utah, which continue to abuse children, according to recent reports, most notably by celebrities such as Paris Hilton.
The novel is more a supernatural tale (I shudder to think of what paranormal activity may be going on at the Dozier site, where some of the worst atrocities against children in US history clearly occurred on the regular), which adds yet another terrifying dimension to what is already a tragic but important story. The novel essentially tells the story of a 12-year-old boy in the Jim-Crow-era South (Florida), who has recently lost his mother to cancer and his father to a false SA charge against a white woman, which required him to flee for his life, leaving his children in the custody of an elderly woman. When young Robert defends his sister against the advances of an entitled son of a rich, white landowner, he is sentenced to six months at the Reformatory.
I don't want to give too many spoilers, but the ending is far happier than what actually happened to the author's relative. As stated, much of the content was drawn from the real-life experiences and reports of the "White House Boys," the survivors of the Dozier school who lived to tell the horrific tales. In the novel, the child serial killer warden also gets his just desserts, which is unfortunately fiction also: very few ever paid the penalty for their actions at Dozier. The full scale of the horrors that occurred at that site will probably never be fully known.
The novel is important simply because it brings attention to a taboo subject. There have, in recent years, been a number of "memorials" erected on the Dozier site... but it just seems too little, too late. It is unthinkable that so many reports of misconduct were made, yet no action was taken, and no amount of compensation can restore the lives of those children whose futures were denied to them when their lives were cut so tragically short, many of whom were guilty of no real wrongdoing. Hopefully, telling their stories and in some cases speaking their names will allow them and their family members to at long last rest in peace.
Despite an untold number of complaints and failed inspections, beginning as early as 1903 (the "school" was investigated six times during its first thirteen years in operation due to allegations of abuse, poor living conditions and the poor welfare of its child inmates), it continued in operation in the state of Florida for 111 years before it was finally shut down after DECADES of repeated reports of exploitation, rape, torture and murder.
In what could certainly feature as a future iteration of "American Horror Story," The Dozier School for Boys was located in the idyllic town of Marianna, Florida, which was known as The City of Southern Charm. The "school" formally opened on Jan. 1, 1900, and was operated by the state until its closure, which occurred only in 2011, when the Civil Rights division of the Department of Justice finally stepped in after the facility failed inspection, again, in 2009, even after some high-profile exposure of the living condition and treatment of the child inmates. In some cases, however, the children incarcerated there had committed no actual crimes: not infrequently, the boys were simply runaways, often from abusive foster homes and other juvenile group homes.
As described in the novel, many of the actual survivors described a beautiful, manicured and landscaped setting, which, like the "showpiece" Nazi concentration camp Theresienstadt, belied the horrors within. What was revealed by the subsequent federal investigation, however, was unspeakable. Over its 111-year history, rape, torture and murder were routinely committed by staff, despite periodic investigations - and despite an untold number of abuse reports, even of missing children whose bodies just seemed to have disappeared. Even after numerous highly-publicized incidents and deaths, including (as in the novel) a fire which killed six children and two staff, the abuse continued for decades. The "Reformatory" in the novel was thus heavily inspired, if one can use that term, by one of the most notorious facilities in US history.
The impetus for this book was to shed light on the atrocities committed at this facility, including against one of the author's family members, a great-uncle, after whom she named the main character. Unfortunately, the real-life Robert Stephens was one of its many casualties: he died at the Dozier school in 1937, at the age of fifteen, reportedly due to a stabbing, as one of the other main characters. It also poignantly and respectfully serves as something of a memorial to the many other survivors and victims, some of whose names are still unknown, who perished there over the facility's century-long history. And the crimes committed there are only now increasingly coming to light.
Although reports of unspeakable atrocities on par with Nazi concentration camps emerged almost from the facility's earliest days, almost nothing was done to stop it. Numerous survivors have now come forward to tell their stories of the torture they were subjected to, the excruciating details of which are recounted in horrific detail in the novel. Much of the content, in fact, seems to have been drawn from the experiences of the survivors, now known as "The White House Boys," a reference to "The White House," a torture chamber almost exactly like the "Funhouse" referred to in the novel.
One of the Dozier survivors described this structure as a long, narrow building equipped with a large industrial fan, which was turned on to create white noise to drown out the screams of the children being tortured inside. In keeping with segregation practices in the South, some survivors reported that one room was used for beating white boys and another for black boys, as the facility remained fully segregated until 1968. As in the novel, many described being beaten by guards until they bled, with a three-foot-long strap made of leather and metal. As also referenced in the novel, some reported being struck with such force that their underwear became embedded in their skin. They also described it as sounding "like a shotgun" when they were repeatedly struck.
Perhaps the most shocking crimes which occurred at this facility involved the numerous suspicious deaths and unauthorized, and, apparently frequently clandestine interments on the grounds of the school - dozens of children simply went missing. The state apparently intended to keep it that way, and for years thwarted the efforts of victims' relatives to find their missing loved ones. When the state expressed an intent to sell some of the land, a family member of one of the many victims who died at the school in 1934, who wanted to re-inter his remains elsewhere, sued the state to gain an injunction to prevent it from selling any of the property before the remains could be exhumed and identified.
Although initially claiming that it lacked the jurisdiction to allow the exhumation of human remains on the site, the state of Florida finally authorized a forensic anthropology survey under the direction of the University of South Florida in 2012, which identified 55 burials on the grounds, most outside the cemetery in a wooded area. Many of the missing children were simply buried in the woods - but there was never any list or plot map, no records of what happened to these children in custody at a state institution.
In 2019, another 27 suspected graves were identified by ground penetrating radar during a survey project. However, a 2009 report by the state claimed that there had been at least 81 school-related deaths, from 1911 to 1973, with only 31 burials on school grounds. The other bodies were reportedly returned to the families or buried in "unknown locations," many of which apparently turned out to also be on school grounds... but not in the cemetery. Thirty-one simple crosses serve as grave markers at the cemetery, which were reportedly installed from the 1960s through the 1990s, but these have been found not to correspond to specific burials.
A later report in 2012 by the University of South Florida team then determined that, in fact, there were actually at least 98 documented deaths at the school from 1914 to 1973, which included the six children and two staff members killed in a 1914 dormitory fire. In January 2016, the USF team issued its final report, having made 7 DNA matches and 14 presumptive identifications of remains, but the search continues. In many cases, because there are no living relatives, or distant descendants are unaware that their relatives perished at the school (with some children only appearing in census records, if at all, depending on how long ago they died), it is likely that many of the remains will remain unidentified and unclaimed, their memories lost to time.
As the novel tragically brings to light, there was a significant racial component to the conditions these kids endured: it has been determined that 75% of the children who died there were black.
Other commonalities with the novel: they were likewise subjected to unspeakable physical abuse, which persisted for decades. Young children were reportedly kept in shackles and leg irons, revealed by inspection reports as early as 1903. Although "corporal" punishment was supposed to have been banned in 1968... it wasn't. The cemetery at Dozier really was called "Boot Hill," where burials occurred officially from 1914 to 1952... but the real number is still unknown. It is highly likely that they occurred well before and after those official dates. And, of course, there was the fire, but the actual one was in a dormitory rather than a shed where children were locked inside and the fire deliberately set by a psychopathic warden, as in the novel.
In both the actual and fictional setting, however, it's simply impossible to state that no one knew what was going on. In 1968, the Florida governor stated after a visit, when he personally noted the appalling living conditions that young children were being subjected to, that "somebody should have blown the whistle a long time ago," ... but someone HAD. MANY someones. No one cared, certainly not enough to do anything about it.
And the hits just kept coming: in 1982, another inspection revealed that child inmates were routinely being hogtied and kept in solitary confinement for WEEKS at a time, a revelation which resulted in the ACLU filing a lawsuit. But the facility continued to operate. After the GOVERNOR of the state of Florida himself noted the conditions, in 1968 - this children's concentration camp continued to operate FOR ANOTHER FORTY-THREE YEARS. It finally closed its doors in 2011, but not voluntarily.
It is almost unthinkable, but this facility is certainly not the only one of its kind: in recent years, similar atrocities have come to light regarding so-called "Indian Residential Schools," which were a type of re-education/concentration camp for indigenous children, where similar crimes were committed. They also demonstrate that neither is this a strictly American phenomenon: the most notorious was the Marieval Indian Residential School in Canada, where 751 unmarked graves were discovered in June, 2021. And 800 children were recently discovered to have been buried in unmarked graves at the Bon Secours Mother and Baby Home, a maternity home in Ireland.
As technology improves, it is likely that an increasing number of similar incidents will be discovered at other institutions, which were all too common in past decades. And, it's important not to overlook the so-called "brat camps" and other residential facilities, especially in Utah, which continue to abuse children, according to recent reports, most notably by celebrities such as Paris Hilton.
The novel is more a supernatural tale (I shudder to think of what paranormal activity may be going on at the Dozier site, where some of the worst atrocities against children in US history clearly occurred on the regular), which adds yet another terrifying dimension to what is already a tragic but important story. The novel essentially tells the story of a 12-year-old boy in the Jim-Crow-era South (Florida), who has recently lost his mother to cancer and his father to a false SA charge against a white woman, which required him to flee for his life, leaving his children in the custody of an elderly woman. When young Robert defends his sister against the advances of an entitled son of a rich, white landowner, he is sentenced to six months at the Reformatory.
I don't want to give too many spoilers, but the ending is far happier than what actually happened to the author's relative. As stated, much of the content was drawn from the real-life experiences and reports of the "White House Boys," the survivors of the Dozier school who lived to tell the horrific tales. In the novel, the child serial killer warden also gets his just desserts, which is unfortunately fiction also: very few ever paid the penalty for their actions at Dozier. The full scale of the horrors that occurred at that site will probably never be fully known.
The novel is important simply because it brings attention to a taboo subject. There have, in recent years, been a number of "memorials" erected on the Dozier site... but it just seems too little, too late. It is unthinkable that so many reports of misconduct were made, yet no action was taken, and no amount of compensation can restore the lives of those children whose futures were denied to them when their lives were cut so tragically short, many of whom were guilty of no real wrongdoing. Hopefully, telling their stories and in some cases speaking their names will allow them and their family members to at long last rest in peace.
