When they see Garvey’s car round the corner from Ash Street onto 27th I imagine that I can hear them: "Here he comes. Heeere hee cooomes." They are all standing in front of the 27th Street doors to St. Johns. Huddled outside, waiting for basketball practice. Waiting for Garvey. When he arrives, late as usual, I am with him, sitting in the passenger seat of his gold Ford Torino. Through the car window I look at the faces of my teammates and the alums that have come to play against us. As we get out of the car, their eyes are on me. I feel every thought, question, side-long glance, and innuendo, racing through their minds and fired out of their eyes. Every comment muttered under their breath. They have no idea how petty and insignificant their jealousies and machinations are. Or the price I pay for my proximity to the king.
As is customary, as we walk up to the front steps, the the sea parts, and Garvey pulls out his keys. He makes a jocular comment or two directed at one or another of those assembled, and as he does so, unlocks the doors to the school and lets us all inside. Garvey makes no attempt to explain my accompanying him to practice this day, or any other day. There is no sign of the intimacy of the activities of just an hour or so ago. He leaves me to my own devices to fend off their stares. I keep my head down and try to avoid eye contact. The scrutiny I feel at this moment is blistering. Noone says anything to me and I don't say anything to any of them. What would I say to them? "I just had treatment. And you know how I always seem to play my best right after treatment. Nothing like a little hip-unlocking, knee-massaging, sinus-draining, strength-building, flexibility-enhancing bedroom session of treatment to bring out the best in my game." Garvey said I played better after treatment. I assumed that I did.
Once or twice I made the mistake of answering a barbed question from one of my teammates by telling him that Garvey was working on my knees or draining my sinuses. When this got around to the rest of the team, older players, or other hangers-on (one in particular), the comments started. The verbal arrows that I was "Garvey’s pet". I was aware of the glances, the nods, the looks; heard the murmurs and the taunts. This one particularly annoying ass would bait me: "You stink anyhow, even if you are Garvey’s pet. So-and-so’s better than you anyway." Kid stuff, but I was a kid. Nevermind that this jerk would never be good enough to play. It still hurt. Wrapped in my secret, I was defenseless. I was literally Garvey's "pet".
Should I tell them Garvey was a family friend? That he came to dinner at our house? That he attended family celebrations like birthdays and graduations? That he gave me a Timex watch with a gold-rimmed face and a black leather band? That for my First Holy Communion he gave me $50.00, far more money than I ever could have imagined? Should I tell them about the clothes? Going to Isaac Baker’s mens’ store? The books and shopping at the The Erie Bookstore? (I remember the titles to this day.) How about the milkshakes and pretzels at Fred’s on 27th and Parade Streets? The roast beef sandwiches at Arby’s? Burgers at McDonald’s? The time he let me sit on his lap and steer his car while he worked the pedals? Or when he was giving me a ride home and we stopped to pick up his "date"? (This was a Mercyhurst woman who it seems, in hindsight, was merely a useful Garvey feint at normalcy, knowingly or not, enabling Garvey to disguise his pedophile activities. And this same woman penned a letter, defending Garvey, to the editor of The Erie Daily Times-News days after the accusations hit the paper.)
Of course I shouldn’t say anything. Or more accurately, couldn't say anything. Not and survive in that environment. And Garvey knew I couldn’t. He had the skills of a practiced hunter and a predator. I was neither the first nor the last, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought this was just "treatment". But Garvey knew. He knew the value of stalking his prey, luring it in, and isolating it from the herd. Well, he certainly had ingratiated himself into my world, successfully lured me in, and isolated me from my friends and family. While I seemingly reaped the benefits, I certainly was paying the price. As I have said before, I was easy prey.
A serial pedophile’s mastery is in negotiating, manipulating, your silence. Your compliance. Garvey cannot continue to abuse without the help of his victims. He needs and operates under the shroud of silence of his victims. Silenced by Garvey's authority, our own confusion, and the taunts of peer pressure when we are young. And now that we are older, silenced with an added measure of humiliation and embarrassment that we were somehow duped, complicit in our own abuse because we were too trusting and naïve to know better. I have said this before: Garvey has shamed us to silence and shamed us into keeping his dastardly secret. Our continued silence only serves his interests and puts others at risk. Pedophiles are predators. They hunt, feast, and move on. Move on to whom? Some other intimidated young boy. Here he comes.
predafile@hotmail.com
4 comments:
Jack, this was an excellent and moving piece of writing. I'm particularly struck by the last paragraph - it should be made clear, again and again, that the continued silence and denials that come from Garvey's victims, his supporters, and the community at large is quite simply an abdication of moral responsibility. Why? Because William Garvey is - not was, but IS! - a pedophile. Pedophiles do not stop being pedophiles. Does anyone doubt that these activities are continuing with new victims? Does anyone care, other than those anonymous and pseudonymous people who post on these forums?
In a comment below, Matt mentions that people within the city of Erie may have a hard time grasping just how deeply disturbing this whole scenario is. To me, this is an inarguable point. A college president was accused of being a serial child molester and sexual predator by a dozen men. A book was written and national and local newspaper articles were released that carried these allegations. If this situation had broken at any other college, in any other city, do you think the reaction would have been similar? If the president of Clarion, Kent State, Kenyon, or the University of Buffalo had been accused of sexual predation, do you think the faculty of those colleges would have rolled over and played dead? Would community members have continued to blindly embrace and support the accused, based solely on second- and third-hand reputation? Would the student papers of these colleges have published astonishingly wrongheaded ass-kissing editorials that toed the line of denial? Would the college's "presidential search" be allowed to proceed with zero transparency whatsoever? Would one of the candidates be a former social worker who had dealt with abused children and who had now apparently decided to sell his soul for prestige and power? Would the excuse be given that "this was all a long time ago," or would those concerned be encouraged to focus instead on "all the good s/he has done for the community"?
Of course not. But that's what happened here. Why? Because Erie's social, political, and business structure - much of which was shaped and formed by Garvey himself - not only allowed, but encouraged such a reaction.
People, WAKE UP. Look what this man has done to us. He's destroyed hundreds of lives. He's caused death, suicide, divorce, alcoholism, and mental illness. He's hijacked our colleges, institutions, and civic bodies so that, as Jack said, he could get into the pants of little boys.
How clearly does this need to be laid out for people so that they can grasp the enormity of the situation? FOR FIFTY YEARS, A PEDOPHILE WAS SHELTERED, ENCOURAGED, AND CONTINUALLY GIVEN POSITIONS OF AUTHORITY THAT ENABLED ACCESS TO CHILDREN BY THE POWER STRUCTURE OF AN ENTIRE CITY.
Why? Because he won ball games, got people elected, and bestowed status on others while keeping their own secrets safely hidden. This is not a high school science teacher playing grab-ass in a boiler room. This is an astonishingly complex half-century long excursion into corruption, sadism, brainwashing, mental captivity, and abuse of authority.
In other words, THIS IS NOT NORMAL - in fact, as Matt has said, it's the stuff of which true crime paperbacks, book-length exposes, and investigative news stories are made - and, furthermore, the reaction to it is, if understandable in retrospect, jaw-droppingly bizarre. It's time to destroy the walls that Garvey and his associates - nuns, bishops, priests, police officers, mayors, bank presidents, and so on - have built around our minds and our city. Speak up. Speak out. Get angry. THIS IS NOT NORMAL.
Jack, Anon. and Matt: Amen, Amen, Amen, to everything you've said.
Have you tried suggesting such a story to these programs? There are usually phone numbers and e-mail links on the appropriate websites.
Dear Anon: I am already working on one contact...But more people need to do so...to get involved...
Margot
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