Ron (Dave) Hoyt - My Stay at the Lark Ellen Home for Boys - 1958-1961- Page 1

I was around 8 years old when my brother and I were sent to a boarding school in northern California. Neither of us liked it, and I ran away. Our parents' divorce had changed everything. Next stop was Lark Ellen Home for Boys, a better place than most. I learned the ropes, made some friends and enjoyed the support of caring house parents and staff. I liked the summer arts and ceramic classes, swimming, track, dances and outings, but I also liked the thrill of stealing and getting-high.

Lark Ellen Friends and those I remember: Earl Mikel (aka) 'Smiley', Richard LaPage (aka) Dick Klingelhoffer 'Dink', Steve Lunsford 'Porky', Paul Cavanaugh, Larry Lindsley, Tim and Larry Bradenner, Clyde Burt, Larry Luby, Don Padgett, Steve Mumsford. Also, Gary Miller, who finally found me after a long and persistent search. Some said I was dead. Thanks Gary, for disproving this!

Lark Ellen House Parents and Staff I remember: Caddie Goodman, C.J. Miller, Laura Miller / Cooks: Gilbert, Irma & Julie / Bus and Truck driver - Pops Boyer

Institutions Living: Getting high was my down fall, which put me back in the court system and set me on a course of being locked-up for years. During these teen years I toured Kenyon Scudder Forestry Camp, California Youth Authority placements at Whittier, Paso Robles and Preston School of Industry. I felt isolated, in survival mode, with a growing bad attitude. Being busted was the pits but I was blinded by the rush of it all, not thinking about the future. Lock-up, trips to the hole, and a psych unit pushed me inward, with anger and hate tightening their grip. When I was eighteen, a wild idea led me to the worst bust of my life. At a hot Mexican border I was arrested for smuggling drugs.

The Joint: On sentencing day the judge looked over my long juvenile record and adult jail time, and barked a sentence of six years in prison, followed by, "If you straighten out, you can lead a productive life, or you can spend the rest of your life behind bars and freedom will always be a stranger to you! It's your choice." This was a bad day for me. Prison was a grey monster of stone and cement, hedged in by gun towers and fences topped with razor wire - a sobering sight for a hard-nosed youth, or anybody going to the "joint" for the first time. I decided to stay away from gang activity in prison. I'd lived it in Youth Corrections. I knew what I had to do, mind my own business, never pay for protection, or be intimidated by threats. Be strong, guard my soul, and be ready to die to defend my honor.

My search was to find God and get out of the loop of being "locked up." I started by checking out library books on world religions, and reading authors who talked about their journeys to find 'truth, or God'. One day the thought hit me, If there was a God who created me, He should be able to fix my screwed up life! With this in mind, I kept on.

Family ties grew weak during my years of incarceration. I'd learned not to depend on anyone. Then one day an unexpected letter came in the prison mail-call. My Grandma had died. For the first time in years I was sad. She'd been a friend, always accepting and believing in me even when I was in trouble. When I was a kid she took me to church and told me about Jesus Christ. I'd planned on visiting her when I got out. I wanted to ask her what she knew about God. Too late.

Contact: Ron Hoyt at: dhoyt777@comcast.net