“Kim" is not his real name, but this is the first of his important secrets he must keep to himself as he runs away following the death of his parents in an auto accident. At the age 15 he naively enters a difficult search on his own for a new identity and new family. Supported by his strong religious and moral convictions, he struggles to survive as he encounters many serious crises. Can he not only survive but achieve his goals and eventually prevail? This is an authentic, semi-autobiographical coming of age story set in the post WWII era but still highly relevant for the 21st century.
I really was having fun! I kept the job the whole ten days of the Fair. Kaba, the Equator Boy became well-known. Some guys came back again and again to try to dunk me in the ice water. They could see the ice and knew it was really cold despite my protests that it was too warm. In addition, I became something of an attraction for a lot of girls who didn’t get to see a boy like me in a brief leopard skin very often. I must confess that I enjoyed being ogled by some of the good-looking girls. Sometimes I wished I could trade places with them so I could enjoy them in a leopard skin.
In the evenings as the sun began to sink in the sky, the water got truly cold, and I quit challenging people to put in more ice. Some of the toughs, sensing how it was, redoubled their efforts, so the tank really was ice cold.
At the close of the first day the owner finally asked me my name. I told him. He didn’t ask any other questions which was characteristic of carnies as I found out during my ten days working there. Carnies don’t like to ask too many questions or answer less than that. My Boss, Mr. Crane, invited me to sleep in his tent, and I used the public restrooms, some of which also included showers. But, in my line of work, I had plenty of baths during the day. I was making good money since I was good at getting people to spend money to dunk me or ice the tank. I was paid an average of $15.00 per day, so I was OK even with buying some food. Carnies, of which I was now a member, also got food at lower prices (or even free) from some of the vendors. One waitress in particular took good care of me.
Everything went well until the final night of the Fair. After the booths closed there was a band concert and a huge fireworks show. The grounds were packed. I walked around to enjoy the atmosphere with a boy who was also alone. I had never met him. We just accidentally fell in together. I kept my backpack on my back at all times, especially in crowds, so I had it on then.
There were a lot of police on hand to keep things under control, but they didn’t seem to be bothering anyone. Suddenly, before I could do anything to stop him, my new pal picked up a rock and threw it hard at a policeman. As soon as the rock left his hand, he turned and ran into the crowd. I stood there paralyzed and watched the arc of the rock as it sailed toward its target. The rock hit the Officer squarely in his face. He immediately looked in my direction – the direction the rock had come from, and I could see that he assumed I had thrown the rock. Stupidly, I turned and ran, but the cop was tall and long - legged and caught me before I gotten very far. He grabbed my backpack first, then my shoulders, turned me around to face him and then shook me so hard I thought he would break my neck. I was scared to death.
“Think you’re a smart guy, eh kid?” he started, not even asking me if I threw the rock. He was so angry and yelling at me that I didn’t even try to explain what had really happened. I knew he wouldn’t believe me anyway. The next thing I knew he had my hands behind my back and was putting me in handcuffs. The handcuffs hurt. He pushed me toward the gate to the Fair and his waiting police car.
“Kid,” he said, “we’re not going to put up with this kind of behavior, which is why I cuffed you. I’m taking you in and I don’t want you to think you can escape.”
He placed me in the back seat of his car and locked me in. He spent the next few minutes filling in some forms. All I could see were the words, “Assaulting a Police Officer.”
“What’s your name, Kid?”
“Kim.”
“Kim who?” he yelled.
“Just Kim.”
“Hey, aren’t you the kid who was called ‘Kaba the Equator Boy’ all week?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Where are you from? South America?”
“No, Sir.”
“Where, then?”
“Nowhere, Sir. I’m just a throwaway orphan kid. I don’t have a home.”
“How old are you?”
“Around 14 or 15.”
“How did you become Kaba the Equator Boy?”
“I asked for the job and got it.”
“Kim, I’ve got to take you to the Juvenile Detention Center to hold you since you have a serious charge. You’ll go before a judge on Monday morning to face the charges.” Driving on in the car, he asked, “Have you ever been to a juvie before?”
“No, Sir. I haven’t.”
“Well, you’ll find it a pretty tough place, but you’ll be OK if you do as you’re told and keep your mouth shut. There’ll be some older and tougher kids there than you are, so watch out. I’ll see you in court.”
William C. Prentiss is a veteran worker with troubled boys. He spent ten years as Dean of the Florida Military School and later taught Adolescent Psychology and Juvenile Delinquency at the college level.
In 1976, he founded an outstanding program for youths referred by the Juvenile Court in Orange County, Florida. This program, called Operation Comeback, was selected by President Reagan in 1988 to receive the coveted Volunteer Action Award which was presented at a White House Luncheon.
Dr. Prentiss and his wife, Sallie, have three children. They have also opened their home at various times to seven troubled adolescent boys who lived with them for various periods of time (from four months to three years). All of these experiences, plus many of his personal experiences as a 15-18 year old boy, led to the creation of Secrets of a Boy, Lost, an authentic, semi-autobiographical novel.