And now:Ish <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> writes: Date: Sat, 10 Jul 1999 13:47:49 -0400 To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] From: Lynne Moss-Sharman <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> Subject: Reunion: St. Mary's Residential School Nova Scotia First Nation bringing its lost children home St. Mary's is reuniting the survivors of abuse at a residential school with their community By ALAN WHITE - New Brunswick Telegraph Journal July 10, 1999 They are the lost children of St. Mary's. For much of this century, they were herded to Shubenacadie, N.S., to the federally funded, Catholic-run residential school where they, and children from other New Brunswick and Nova Scotia native communities, were to be educated, assimilated and "civilized." Instead, the Micmacs and Maliseets as young as seven years old were beaten, starved, sexually abused and terrorized. When they reached 16 and their time at the school was finished, some returned home. Others drifted to places far away from the scene of their haunting childhood memories. Now, the St. Mary's First Nation is bringing its lost children home. The community has identified 26 survivors of Shubenacadie - now ranging in age from about 40 to almost 80 - from throughout North America. They're bringing any of those who wish to come home to the community Aug. 21-23 in an effort to reunite the lost survivors with their community and families. While some of the survivors are in the area today, others have been located in Maine, Texas, Ohio and British Columbia. "To bury all those things and get as far away they could to forget - that's why they left," says Candace Paul, a St. Mary's councillor and the administrator of the St. Mary's Health Centre. "It was drilled into their heads when they were there - forget that you're Indian. Forget that you have that language. You can't speak your native tongue, you have to speak English. "They lost any sort of identity, so they don't feel they belong," said Ms. Paul. "These kids grew up and they didn't fit in anywhere," says Alma Brooks, a program development officer for the community who is one of the main organizers of the community healing effort planned for next month. "When they were 16, the door was opened and they were sent outside the door and they were never able to reconnect," says Ms. Brooks. "Who would you know in the community? That's a long time to be locked up. "They didn't feel comfortable going back to the community. They didn't feel they belonged." Ms. Brooks refuses to talk in detail about her community's survivors and their post-school life. While some have done well for themselves despite the experience of their early years, others live in poverty or struggle with alcoholism or drug abuse. "DEFINITELY WHAT HAPPENED IS NO DIFFERENT THAN WHAT HAPPENED IN THE DAYS OF HITLER AND THE JEWS," says Ms. Brooks. "IT WAS GENOCIDE. THEY TRIED TO KILL US OFF AT THE SAME TIME THEY WERE STEALING OUR LAND." The reunion effort is part of the attempt by St. Mary's at healing the wounds inflicted upon its members by the residential school system, with the community receiving a $123,000 grant from the Aboriginal Healing Foundation. In January 1998, the federal government committed $350-million to support community-based healing initiatives for aboriginal people who have been affected by the legacy of abuse in the residential schools and the Aboriginal Healing Foundation was established to manage those funds. The foundation issued the first 35 such grants to native communities across the country recently, with the total funding awarded topping $2-million. St. Mary's was the only native community in New Brunswick to receive any funding. The reunion for survivors is but one facet of the St. Mary's project, which is also to provide community-based training to develop a healing program in the community as well as address the specific needs of the survivors. The community will takes its cue from its survivors next month, waiting to hear what they feel they need, rather than tell them what they need. "We can't assume what the impact is of Shubie," says Ms. Brooks. "Poverty is a big thing. Maybe they would need a house more than they need counselling. "It will be a gathering of respect," she says. "We'll respect whatever they want. It's a beginning. It's a first step. "I'm sure there will be mixed emotions," she says. "There will be happiness. There will be sadness. There will be support." Despite the distance, in both miles and years, between the residential school survivors and St. Mary's, Ms. Brooks didn't find it difficult to track down the survivors. "We know who our people are. They are our families." She believes the 26 represent are all who remain from St. Mary's who attended the residential school in Shubenacadie. "Many more took it to their graves." ~~~FOLLOWING, ARTICLE RE: ABUSE BY CATHOLIC PRIEST $128 Million lawsuit, four non-Native brothers in London, Ontario~~~~~~ July 10, 1999 Catholic church has tightened rules on dealing with abuse By Roxanne Beaubien -- Free Press Crime Reporter The days of hushing up accusations of sexual improprieties and moving an accused Roman Catholic priest to another diocese under a veil of secrecy are gone, says a spokesperson for the Diocese of London. "If we discover that, in fact, this person has transgressed the boundaries, then we will not put them back in ministry again, unless we can be absolutely certain that what has happened will never happen again -- and that certainty is very difficult to come by," said vicar-general Rev. Tony Daniels. In the late 1980s, the London diocese created a committee from various professions to probe any claims of abuse. By June 1993, a year after the publication of From Pain to Hope, a report from the Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops, these committees had been set up in three-quarters of Canada's 75 Catholic dioceses. The conference report's 50 recommendations are aimed at helping victims and perpetrators to recover. It lays out the responsibility of bishops, priests, seminary staff and parishioners to prevent recurrences of sexual abuse. As society's knowledge of sexual abuse has grown, so has the church's, said Daniels. "If we knew 20 or 30 years ago what we know today, we would have dealt with these things differently. "But I know that the way we dealt with it then is similar to the way that many many professions dealt with it; and none of it was intended to deliberately put people in harm's way -- it was just a lack of understanding." But because of the closed nature of church organizations, it's impossible to know if the policy is being followed or not, said the head of an Ottawa-based victims' advocacy and lobby group. "It's difficult to assess because it's a closed organization," said Steve Sullivan, executive director of the Canadian Resource Centre for Victims of Crime. Rev. Barry Glendinning, convicted of gross indecency involving six London youths between 11 and 16 years old in 1974, ended up helping out in a rural Alberta parish and admitted to sexual improprieties with young boys there. Glendinning was transferred to Toronto in 1983. Six years later a superior clergyman said he didn't know Glendinning had twice been treated for pedophilia. Daniels believes the now-retired priest wouldn't have been allowed contact with youth at other parishes after the conviction if the incidents had occurred today. Now, any priest or church worker accused of abuse is immediately pulled from active duty and either sent to Southdown Institute, a Toronto-area treatment centre, or a similar centre for psychological assessment, Daniels said. Treatment is based on the assessment findings. But if it's determined an assault occurred, the perpetrator would most likely end up with an administrative job. "That has not always been the way that we operated," Daniels said. "I don't want to judge too harshly how things happened in the past because it's kind of easy for us to sit with a 1999 understanding of this disorder and judge how things were handled 30 years ago when there was no understanding of this disorder." Sullivan, however, would like to see an independent watchdog with access to church records to ensure "they are doing what they say they are doing." "They may very well be. Public scrutiny may reveal that," he said. July 10, 1999 'The more you get better . . . the more you feel the shame' By Roxanne Beaubien -- Free Press Crime Reporter It was a decade ago when news emerged that a Roman Catholic priest -- who twice admitted to sexual involvement with children -- had been quietly transferred to a Toronto parish. Rev. Barry Glendinning, a former liturgy teacher at London's St. Peter's Seminary, was convicted in 1974 of six counts of gross indecency involving five boys and one girl. When parishioners in Toronto learned he'd also admitted to sexual improprieties with several young boys at a rural parish in northern Alberta, he talked to an Edmonton Journal reporter. Attempts to contact Glendinning, now 66 and retired, failed for this report. But following are some of his comments from the 1989 newspaper story: Of his sexual attraction to young boys: "Surely it has to do with a very inhibited and underdeveloped sexuality in the early years," he was quoted as saying. "This is an area where there hasn't always been 100 per cent success," he said of treatment for pedophiles. "It's been a bedevilling problem for people and I count myself among the fortunate, the blessed, that somehow therapy has finally taken hold and worked," he said, noting he was still seeing a therapist, six years after the Alberta revelations. He said he struggled daily with knowing he left victims in his wake. "There's a flood of remorse. The more you get better and establish a kind of sound sexuality, the more you feel the shame. It's just a terrible thing you have to carry." Of his hope to continue his work, he was quoted as saying: "I want to make a genuine contribution. That's the best way for me to make up and redress, to give 100 per cent . . . I recognize now that I have an increased capacity for people who are suffering, and have compassion." July 10, 1999 Haunted by dark secrets By Roxanne Beaubien -- Free Press Crime Reporter They were young boys with hopes and dreams for the future when it all began in 1968. When it was over in 1974, they say they were left confused, hurt and destined for lives of drug and alcohol abuse, dysfunctional relationships and dead-end jobs. They are three of four London brothers speaking out for the first time about years of sexual abuse they claim was suffered at the hands of Rev. Barry Glendinning, then a teacher at St. Peter's Seminary in London and a trusted family friend. Jake, Gerry, Eric and a fourth brother have launched a lawsuit against Glendinning, the Roman Catholic Diocese of London and others, claiming $32 million in damages each. Real names aren't used to protect the identity of the fourth brother, who didn't want to go public. Glendinning pleaded guilty in 1974 to six counts of gross indecency involving the four brothers, another boy and a girl -- all between the ages of 11 and 16. The brothers, whose stories are told in this exclusive report, say St. Peter's Seminary, an imposing regal-like complex in London where men prepare to become priests, was the site of much of the abuse. Their allegations include countless sessions of naked body painting, full-body massages, oral sex and the flash of a camera documenting the lurid and sexual poses orchestrated by the priest in the privacy of his apartment at the seminary. The crux of the lawsuit, one of several filed recently by London lawyer Ted Madison against the diocese and other priests on behalf of different clients, is that the priest's superiors either knew or ought to have known about the abuse and failed to take steps to stop it. It's a claim that still has to be proven in court. It was over a cup of coffee about a year ago that four brothers dared to first speak aloud of the secret they blame for devastating their lives. The oldest, who will be called Jake here, told his brothers he wanted to sue the Roman Catholic diocese of London and the priest who, cloaked in a robe of trust and salvation, molested him and his siblings more than 25 years ago. Sitting this week at a boardroom table in the offices of London lawyer Ted Madison, who has filed a lawsuit on their behalf, two of the brothers, Jake, 40, and the youngest victim, who will be called Eric, 36, recounted those memories. Thirty-eight-year-old Gerry (also not his real name) spoke out separately. Their story is one of fluorescent body painting, baby oil massages, oral sex and Polaroids -- details Madison said would be evidence in the civil trial where the brothers' allegations must yet be proved. Their voices fluctuated from barely audible whispers to ones backed by the strength of their belief that speaking out is the right thing to do. Interviews with the trio lasted nearly six hours. All spoke of the abuse they endured for nearly five years and of their lives since -- lives filled with booze, drugs, brushes with the law, failed relationships and dead-end jobs. All three explained how they and their parents were duped by Rev. Barry Glendinning and why the three, with a fourth brother who didn't want to speak, are now each seeking damages of $32 million. The statement of claim filed by Madison alleges the four brothers were sexually assaulted by Glendinning between 1968 and 1974. The suit is filed against the priest, the diocese of London, Gerald Emmett Carter, who was diocese bishop from 1964 to 1978, and the London District Catholic school board. It claims Glendinning, now 66 and living in Toronto, inflicted physical pain on the plaintiffs, humiliated them, left them emotionally scarred and interfered with normal development and enjoyment of life. The suit, which still hasn't been heard in court, also claims an undisclosed amount for their parents. A recent Supreme Court of Canada ruling that employers can be held responsible for incidents of sexual abuse strengthens the brothers' position, said Madison. Even if not directly at fault, an employer can be "vicariously liable" if the work environment made it easier for its employees to commit crimes. Glendinning, ordained in 1964, was an assistant pastor in Windsor before going to study in Europe. In the late 1960s, he became a professor of liturgy at St. Peter's Seminary, an awe-inspiring brick facility nestled in London's well-heeled Old North neighbourhood. The Waterloo Street complex, surrounded by lush lawns, a wrought-iron fence and backed by a wooded area perfect for nature walks, is one Eric said he still can't pass without being overwhelmed by memories. It's the place where Glendinning took the boys for many weekend getaways -- a break for their parents. But it's also the place where they claim they were turned into sexual toys by a man they trusted. In 1974, Glendinning pleaded guilty to six counts of gross indecency involving the four brothers, another boy and one girl between the ages of 11 and 16, after police were tipped off by a family member of one of the other victims. Glendinning was sentenced to three years probation and sent to Southdown Institute, an Aurora centre that treats clergy and other church workers with mental health problems and addictions. London diocese vicar-general Rev. Tony Daniels said he hasn't seen the statement of claim, spoken to Glendinning or those in charge at the seminary at the time and therefore, isn't prepared to discuss the allegations. While a statement of defence hasn't been filed yet, he said one will be. While he doesn't dispute Glendinning molested the boys -- as evidenced by the 1974 criminal convictions -- he does dispute allegations others within the seminary knew what was going on. And he spoke generally of the type of abuse. "The very nature of these types of acts is that they are kept secret. "The perpetrators make it a point to insist that these things remain secret." Daniels insists the church is looking for truth behind allegations made against priests across the country. "We're not trying to hide from all this; we're really trying to deal with it." At least one of Glendinning's victims -- Jake -- cried the day the priest was arrested for molesting him. Trying to think back how he thought of the priest then, the eldest brother and the one who, according to his brothers, suffered the most abuse, described Glendinning as kind, warm and spiritual. "I was a priest lover -- it wasn't just sexual abuse. I was seduced by this man. When he was arrested, I cried and I've been crying in some . . . capacity for 30 years," Jake said. The brothers grew up in east London in a large working-class family that struggled to pay the bills. That didn't leave much for extras, something Glendinning capitalized on, said the men. Their mother was a devout Catholic, and even though their father wasn't, the children were raised in the church. Jake and Eric don't remember if they met Glendinning through a school-supported summer camp or at the family's parish, St. Mary's Church. Gerry remembers Glendinning visiting classes at their school -- St. Mary's Catholic school on Lyle Street -- and delivering masses to the pupils. They recall their mother reaching out to the priest for help with the four boys. Jake, who was about 10 at the time and an altar boy, recalled needing some direction. Gerry, who estimates he was about 9, was also an altar boy. At about 6, Eric was the youngest of the four and the only one who wasn't an altar boy. "This wasn't just something that started in the bedroom. It started at home. Your parents were seduced into believing this man was there for the good -- for the good of God, the good of your children," Eric said. Glendinning was a regular visitor to the family's home, so respected a baby boy born during the period the four older boys were being assaulted was named in honour of the reverend. Madison said the brothers would paint a very different picture of the priest -- well-regarded in the community as a gifted and talented spiritual leader -- in their evidence in any civil trial over the lawsuit. There were drives in Glendinning's car, long talks, dinners out and movies. Then there were overnight weekend visits to St. Peter's Seminary where Glendinning taught and lived. Gerry, Eric and Jake said they were allowed to do whatever they wanted -- including smoking and drinking booze. But as time passed and their trust grew, there was also body painting with fluorescent paints, posing and pictures, full body massages with oil and sexual acts at the direction of Glendinning, the brothers said. "He would narrate what was to happen and who was to do what" for the poses, said Eric. "If he turned around and said, 'OK you lie down and . . . you do this and you do that,' that's what you would do." The brothers tell of camping trips to Lake Huron, of hiking, skinny dipping, dancing naked around a campfire. "He'd get you to secluded places where he'd get you alone," Gerry said. "It started out with body painting and massages and then it turned into him performing oral sex on you, lying on top of you, rubbing himself against you, getting you to play with him, stuff like that," he said. "You're so young you don't even have a clue of what the hell it is that you're doing." Repeated attempts to reach Glendinning at his Toronto home and through the Toronto archdiocese, from which he retired, were unsuccessful. All three brothers said they're convinced someone at the seminary knew what was going on and are angry steps to end it weren't taken earlier. Jake's face is etched and toughened by the more than a dozen years he spent drunk and high after dropping out of school in Grade 9. He gestures with his hands and tattoo-laden arms as he speaks of things usually unspoken. He's quick to offer encouragement to Eric, who has never before told his big brother of some of the incidents he speaks of on this day. Eric has four children between five and 16, the youngest one with his current wife of six years. He married for the first time at 19. With an education that didn't go much beyond Grade 8 -- when he first remembers taking drugs and drinking booze "whenever you could steal it" -- Eric found himself bouncing from job to job. Jake took a similar but more extreme route. He soon learned he didn't have to have a job to keep himself high on his drug of choice -- speed, the street name for methamphetamine. All he had to do was sell his body to men in London's Victoria Park. Jake moved from place to place, leaving when things got rough. He ended up in Toronto with the third of a string of "sugar daddies" who supported and spoiled him in return for sex. "I was very pretty and young, a salable commodity," Jake said of his teens and early 20s. Later, he married a woman and made a failed try at tackling his addictions. The marriage broke up after 12 years and a subsequent relationship fell apart. Then Jake went over the edge. "It's called bottom." It was a drug and booze haze he ended up in about seven-years ago. Jake eventually joined a self-help group, quit drinking and reclaimed a sense of spirituality -- something he said he lost after the sexual abuse. Gerry has been diagnosed with hepatitis B and Jake with hepatitis C from years of intravenous drug use. Now off drugs and sober, Gerry is a high-school dropout who was in and out of jail in his youth. He's separated from his second wife and is the father of an 18-month-old daughter. "I know it has screwed me up," he said. Counselling has helped him make sense of his chaotic life. "I have all of the characteristics of what an abused person goes through." David Wolfe, a University of Western Ontario professor and expert on childhood sexual abuse treatment, said falling into a downward spiral of drugs, booze and failed relationships is one of the classic profiles of abuse victims. As victims age, they can follow a variety of paths, Wolfe said, speaking generally about abuse victims and not about this particular case. While the paths can be different at the core, being sexually abused in childhood -- particularly continued abuse by a trusted adult -- causes "a very devastating or evil effect on their sense of self; basically their ability to relate to others," he said. A 1984 federal study on child sexual abuse overwhelmingly found that assailants -- five out of every six -- were either family members or people in a position of trust such as a teacher, a scout leader or a priest. The ground-breaking study was the first to document the prevalence of the sexual abuse in Canada. Commonly called the Badgley Report after committee chairperson Robin Badgley, the study found one in every two women and one in every three men reported being victims of unwanted sexual acts when they were children or youths. In the 15 years Wolfe has studied sexual abuse, the literature on it and understanding of its causes and effects have ballooned. "The analogy that I use is that it's not like a hammer blow that leaves the same mark on everything it hits . . . Sexual abuse doesn't lead to certain outcomes. It's more accurate to say that it increases the likelihood for interpersonal difficulties." And how far reaching the impact is seems to depend on how those around then deal with disclosures, he said. For the brothers, the subject was never discussed -- at home or among themselves. Gerry recalled his fear that everyone at school knew because they were pulled out of class to be interviewed by police. Eric and Gerry now shun any formal religion. They say they believe in God but will never again have any connection to a religious organization. And while Jake still describes himself as Catholic, he doesn't go to church. A year after quitting drinking, Jake dropped the drugs and said he's been clean ever since. "That process has brought me here." The 1974 criminal case against Glendinning received little media coverage. But in the years since, the now-retired priest has received more attention. In 1976, he was transferred to Edmonton where he joined the teaching staff at Newman Theological College and was expected to be closely monitored. But after two years, he began helping another priest at a small country parish outside the city. In 1983, he admitted to superiors of sexual improprieties with boys there. He was never charged, the Edmonton Journal reported in 1989. Glendinning was sent back to the Toronto-area treatment centre where he received counselling after the London convictions. In 1989, when parishioners at a Toronto church where he was posted learned of his past, the sordid saga hit the headlines. Some parents of the Alberta victims sent a note to the Toronto parish, saying he molested at least 15 boys between the ages of 12 and 17, the Journal reported. A friend of one Edmonton-area victim told the newspaper an eerily similar story: the Journal quoted her as saying Glendinning would ply the boys with liquor and dirty songs on camping trips before sexually abusing them. The London brothers' lawsuit is one of several filed recently by Madison against the London diocese and other priests on behalf of different clients. The other priests named in the lawsuits are: Rev. John Stock, 70, who twice pleaded guilty in London to indecently assaulting altar boys and pleaded guilty in Stratford to 34 charges over 22 years, and Rev. Cameron J. MacLean, 56, of Strathroy, who pleaded guilty in Windsor last year to sexually abusing four boys in London and Windsor parishes. MacLean still faces additional charges in Windsor. For Jake, Eric and Gerry, not identified by their real names because the fourth brother doesn't want to go public, just telling their story is a first step. "I've done many things in my life but in this situation my hands are clean," said Jake. "The people who should carry shame are the people who perpetrated these heinous acts on young boys. And further to that, the hierarchy of the Catholic church that suppressed this information and sheltered their own . . . It's their shame, not mine." "Let Us Consider The Human Brain As A Very Complex Photographic Plate" 1957 G.H. Estabrooks www.angelfire.com/mn/mcap/bc.html FOR K A R E N #01182 who died fighting 4/23/99 [EMAIL PROTECTED] www.aches-mc.org 807-622-5407 Reprinted under the fair use http://www4.law.cornell.edu/uscode/17/107.html doctrine of international copyright law. &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& Tsonkwadiyonrat (We are ONE Spirit) Unenh onhwa' Awayaton http://www.tdi.net/ishgooda/ &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&