Re: Stack's Story

[RTP2003]

:tup:

[cmack]

The following is the author’s personal account of spending one year in a now defunct experimental drug treatment program that operated in south Florida. The program was called The Seed, and founded by Art Barker, the “father” of The Seed.

Art Barker, a self-proclaimed war hero, who in reality was a felon convicted of armed robbery, and a homeless drunkard from New York. Barker didn’t like winters huddled in vacant doorways of the big city, so he slithered his way south to the shores of Miami, Florida. For a bum like Barker, sleeping on the warm beaches was a superior alternative to the cold nights he spent huddled in a vacant doorway in the Bowery. Having no formal education, or any prior experience working with children, Barker hatched a plan that would become a cult organization known as The Seed.

The Seed incorporated fear, and control as the weapon of choice to convince parents that a heroin epidemic was on its way to south Florida (from New York). He convinced parents that if they didn’t turn their kids over to him, their kids were going to end up hooked on heroin, and be dead, in jail, or insane.

The pandemic caused mass hysteria throughout the state of Florida and parents, en masse, turned their children over to Barker and his egregious experiment. Soon Barker had 24/7 custody of children ranging nine to seventeen-years-old. The courts suddenly began to sentence droves of teenagers, and young adults to Barker program as an alternative to incarceration. After spending only a short time at The Seed many gladly opted for incarceration over the brutal psychological and physical torture they received at the hand of Barker and his untrained and unskilled staff.

The first facility The Seed used to warehouse the “kids” was an abandoned building near the Everglade swamps in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. The program tactics were intentionally kept a secret from the judges and prosecutors that mandated children into the program. Parents that voluntarily handed their children over to Barker were kept in the dark as well regarding the “techniques” the program rigorously enforced. These parents had not known that Barker was a convicted felon, an alcoholic and a pedophile who preferred underage teenage girls.

The well hidden secrets The Seed used were in reality fear, intimidation, brainwashing, rape, violence, imprisonment, confinement, ratting on peers for reward, and kidnapping. This was the daily life of anyone unfortunate to have been forced into Barker’s web of deceit.

Unfortunately, the author of this article’s mother was one of the parents that attended a Seed parent indoctrination. “My mother had done no research, or investigation into what the program was really all about. Parents that attended these meetings were given license plates to put on their cars to show their support for a program they actually knew nothing about. They were also expected to turn over their wallets. Those that couldn’t afford to pay large “donations” spent their time making hundreds of peanut butter sandwiches, and gallons of Kool Aid, which was the program’s main source of nutrition.”

“I was fourteen-years-old and oddly my mother volunteered to give me a ride to the beach so I could go surfing. This would be the first, and only time my mother ever offered me a ride to the beach. Instead of going to the beach, I was taken to an old abandoned blimp hangar that The Seed now called its home. This was to be an initial stop under the pretenses of paying a visit to my sisters, who had disappeared only a few days earlier. My mother drove into a well guarded gate and stopped as the barricades were removed. The guards waved my mothers car into the compound. These “guards” didn’t look like your typical security guard, they looked instead like low-level body building thugs. Once inside the gate, I was informed that I would not be going anywhere. That night would begin my indoctrination were I would spend twelve hours a day confined to a single chair, and then turned over to a complete stranger where I would spend the nights intentionally being deprived of sleep. Welcome to The Seed.”

“During the entire year I was forced to remain at The Seed, I wasn’t allowed to attend school, or to socialize with any of my friends. If one did so, they did it at their own peril, as this meant starting the entire program over from day one.”

“Earlier that same week my thirteen year old sister was removed from her junior high class by complete strangers, and dragged to a awaiting car where she would be rolled up in an old rug, thrown into the trunk, and ushered off to what would become a nightmare that stole a full year from her life. My older sister, who was sixteen at the time, had also been duped into the program.”

Having never used drugs or alcohol — a popular kid that loved to surf, play sports, run track, play music, and bike ride to the beach was suddenly forced to spend full days, day after day, after day listening to “druggies” tell horror stories of how drugs had turned them into sex slaves to obtain the cash they needed to get their next high. “My father who had no idea what was happening to his kids, was out of town in the northeast, and to make matters worse my parents were in the throws of a nasty divorce.”

Hollywood writers of psychological horrors couldn’t create a fiction as terribly demonic as The Seed. It’s absolutely true when they say truth is more terrible than fiction. The kids in that farce were subjected to physical, emotional, mental and sexual abuse by that monstrous for-profit regime. They used twisted logic in an attempt to get a child to conform to their demands. “If you were a musician, you were no longer allowed to be a musician. If you were a surfer, you could no longer go to the beach. If you were into sports, you were not allowed to be an athlete. In fact, we weren’t even allowed to go to school.”

“If you had any property like record albums, or fashionable clothing they took them from you.” One former victim stated that a Seed staffer had taken his entire album collection, and was told that the albums were memories from his druggie past. When that staffer was transferred to a new Seed location in Ohio, the staffer filled the trunk of his car with those albums. When the victim confronted the staffer about his albums, and that they were druggie items, the staffer said, “They were druggie items for you, not for me.” The staffer drove off with hundreds of dollars worth of recordings.

“Seedlings is what those in the program were called. A Seedling wasn’t allowed to talk, live at home, and was forced to live with complete strangers who had no professional training or experience. There were no criminal background checks done and even if there were, nearly all of the staffers were felons who had been hardcore drug abusers.”

The U.S. government funded The Seed without researching any of the programs activities, or having any oversight, or checks and balances. Day after, day after day, the “newcomers” were forced to sit in metal chairs for twelve hours or longer. They were forced to listen to 12 hours of endless “rap sessions that covered a limited amount of topics. Most of the topics were related to how newcomers were the absolute dregs of society. Young girls were called dick sucking whores, and much worse, who would do anything for a fix. Most of the girls (9-16 in age) had probably not even kissed a boy. Newcomers couldn’t use the restroom without permission, and even then were escorted by guards who watched every move they made.

Newcomers were not allowed to talk to, or even look at other newcomers, or any member of the opposite sex except staff members. Males and females sat in large groups opposite each other, in rows of about twenty long and perhaps one hundred or more deep. There was a corridor that ran down the middle between the boys and girls sections where staff members walked up and down glaring at the children with fierce, deriding and intimidating stares.

At night when it was time for “oldtimers” to take the newcomers to their homes, they left that dirty, rundown structure, completely exhausted by the barrage they had to suffer through. Newcomers would be taken to these strangers homes, but not given the chance to rest, instead they were forced to write a statement called a moral inventory, which would then be subjected to interrogation. These interrogation sessions would often last until the sun came up.  After writing those “moral inventories” newcomers were subjected to a barrage of questioning that attacked and mocked what they had written. The cruelest part of the interrogation was when a newcomer would be asked the question, why. Simply, why they had done something that day, or why they had written down a certain passage. The question would be answered, and then a new, “why” question would be invoked. This went on until there was no way the question why could be asked.

Deprived of food, drink, showers, and sleep newcomers would then be taken back to The Seed by force, many in shackles, and subjected to the same routine, again, day after day, after day, and for months with no break in the routine. The blimp hangar was tightly monitored and under lock and key. There was no hope. Only dread and despair for every child that was unfortunate to have been put in that place by parents that took no time to investigate. Newcomers collectively dreamed about escape, while nearly all pretended to go along with the programs scheme. Unfortunately, being mere children, many were brainwashed into believing this cruel farce was to be the salvation to their soul. Many actually believed Barker to be a god, or godlike. In truth, Barker was never present. The Seedlings would sing songs of worship to their Seed deity.

“Art Barker, father of The Seed he’s my best friend. Whenever we go out, the people always shout there goes Art Barker father of The Seed. La la la la la la la. (Sung to the tune of John Jacob Jingle Heimer Schmidt). Seedlings sang Jingle Bells everyday, because “being off drugs” made it Christmas everyday. Seedlings anthem was to the melody of Greensleeves.

“The Seed indeed is all you need, to stay off the junk and the pills and the weed. You come each day from ten to ten and if you screw up then you start again. Junkies and thieves throughout the land, join our family hand in hand. Working together from morning to night, to help each other see the light.”

Escape is the only thing that was on everybody’s mind. If someone did manage to escape, they were tracked down like a fox being chased by a pack of wild dogs, and returned in chains. One of their favorite tactics was to roll people up in old rugs and duct tape then inside, throw them in the trunk of a car, and escort them back to the program, where the “escapee” would be stood up in front of the entire group, and screamed at until late at night. No words, no deeds were spared on those helpless souls. No matter the age, they would be called eveyr name in the book and reviled in every manner. Words that would break down the hardest adult soldier were not spared on these kids. Once the runaway was completely broken down they would be ushered to an open seat in the front row, and be forced to start the program all over again, from day one, only this time under much tighter security and much tougher scrutiny. When somebody had enough and would attempt to escape from their seats, racing toward and exit from the blimp hangar, they would be tackled and beaten down by guards before they even reached one of the doorways, which were usually far off in the distance. One of the cruelest things was the large blimp hangar doors would be left open on the far end of the hangar, giving the trapped children a view of the world that now was far, far away.

When Barker lost his lease at the blimp hangar, in Opa Locka, Florida. The Seed was moved to Tropical Park in south Miami, a defunct and decaying horse racing facility that had been used as a swap meet for several years. One day a young man tried to escape by jumping through a huge plate glass window of the race track. He fell two stories below, and was a bloodied mess by the time the ambulance had come to carry him away. Maybe he was one of the lucky ones as he was never seen again, and nobody dared ask about his condition. Those that joined the program voluntarily, were lead to believe they could leave at any time they wanted, only to learn that if they did want to leave, there was no way that was going to happen. They would be forcibly tied  up, held down, and turned over to a more secure “home” environment.

Barker destroyed countless lives. It is well known that he was sexually molesting teenage girls, but nobody ever brought charges against him. He had a special apartment complex set up for certain teenage girls he fancied. He’d rape them, and let them know they were not going to return home until he said so. It was more cruel for the teenage girls that were unfortunate enough to be both attractive and court ordered. Many children were led around in chains and handcuffs, their hair would be cut in a humiliating manner, and their fashionable clothes and personal property confiscated (stolen) and used by Barker’s untrained, unskilled, unlicensed, ungodly and immoral staff, who were in reality, the worst convicted criminal elements of society that chose to join The Seed instead of facing long harsh prison sentences. As a result of being psychologically pushed to their limit, some teens ended up murdering their parents, while many others committed suicide. Many left The Seed and never maintained any kind of relationship with their families. Especially their parents.

The Mayor of Hialeah was one of the first government officials to see through Barker’s guise. He removed The Seed from Tropical Park. Barker was ordered to take his program, and leave the city of Miami as well. Newspaper writers that got wind of some of the program issues began to call him more dangerous than Adolf Hitler.

Congress finally did a full investigation of The Seed and stopped funding the program. The state of Florida then permanently revoked Barker’s license to operate a drug program, when Congress’ investigation determined The Seed was using the same brainwashing tactics on teenagers that North Korea was using on American prisoners of war. Both, the United Nations and the Geneva Convention condemned those tactics as war crimes. Unfortunately, it was too little, too late for the hundreds of victims whose youths were destroyed and who never received any compensation for the cruel, and unusual treatment they suffered at the hands of Barker, his staff and the insane criminal experiment.

The heroin epidemic, of course, never came, but then Barker also claimed to have had a mail in degree in psychology, which nobody ever saw either. Reminds me of a line from John Steinbeck’s Grapes Of Wrath, “Send in your ten dollars and you’re a radio expert.”

The media began to attack Barker as a delusional lunatic who lived in fear. They continued to call him more dangerous than Hitler, and constantly questioned his lack of education and phony credentials. Barker became extremely paranoid and began to make public claims that the government had hired hit men to murder him. He used staffers to phone in bomb threats aimed at The Seed facility. “There are two incidents I personally can recall where we were ushered out of the facility, for our own “safety.” At The Seed’s peak, Barker tried to get the state of Florida to give him a huge tract of land in central Florida to build a Seed City. All of this was happening around the same time Jim Jones forced The People’s Temple cult members to subject themselves to a volatile cocktail of strychnine and Kool Aid.

Barker often proclaimed his goal was a Seed CIty in every city in the nation, and then the world. Instead the mayor of Hialeah and other officials publicly called Barker delusional and took away The Seed’s lease at Tropical Park, and forced Barker, and his criminal miscreant staffers to leave the city of Miami all together, and never to return. Barker found his cult falling apart and returned to the abandoned facility in Fort Lauderdale where it all began. Eventually, the program would finally be dismantled by infighting within Barker’s core group.

Unfortunately, no formal charges were ever brought against Barker, because too many judges, prosecutors, city officials and high-profile residents with deep pockets and political connections had colluded with him and his failed experiment. No doubt the judges and prosecutors that were responsible for sending hundreds and hundreds of kids to The Seed were getting paid under the table. If you think that’s not possible you need look no further than the following two links:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kids_for_cash_scandal.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PA_Child_Care.

My story

Unlike most when I was incarcerated/imprisoned at The Seed, I refused to conform. I never participated in any of the mandatory “rap sessions,” instead I remained silent and oppositional. If they sat facing North, I sat facing South. If they stood up, I sat down. When they put their arms around each other singing stupid songs in praise of Barker, I would push their arms off of me. When they shouted “I love you, Jack.” I shook my head in disgust. When they kicked me and yelled at me, I refused to show any signs of fear. And to think I was merely fourteen years old at the time. I spent countless hours watching spiders make webs up in the rafters.

After about six months of being in that mess, The Seed staff decided to send me to a psychiatrist to find out how they could “reach” me. After being kicked, beaten, starved, deprived of sleep, and screamed at for months they couldn’t figure it out? Really? They were never going to “reach” me.

Upon entering the psychiatrist’s office I told him, “Lay down (on his sofa) and tell me your problems.” This surprised him; he asked me why I didn’t like The Seed. I said, “They force me to lie, and say I used drugs when I hadn’t. They told me if I don’t admit to using drugs, I’d never be allowed to go home or school again.” I told the “doctor, “I wanted to go to school, and I wanted to go surfing, but they wouldn’t let me.” I left the appointment with a letter from the doctor giving me “life-long” permission to surf. Wasn’t that very nice of him?

When it was someone’s birthday, they’d force us to stand, hold hands and sing happy birthday. On my fifteenth birthday, they sang, “Hit the road Jack and don’t you come back no more, no more. Hit the road Jack and don’t you come back no more.” I stood up and defiantly proclaimed that I had had enough and I was never going to come back ever again. Ever again! They had a good laugh about that, but, I had decided that I was never going back to that place and I didn’t. That was the best birthday gift I ever received and I gave it to myself. In reality, my mother probably couldn’t afford the long drives to south Miami, and then Fort Lauderdale, and probably lost interest. I’m sure the staff was equally as tired of a kid that they knew was not going to conform. After all, what did I have to lose as I was already not allowed to attend school for an entire year.

I stayed true to my word, and like nearly ever child that left The Seed voluntarily or throught the “graduation” process, never returned. Like most kids that left The Seed, I never returned to live with his family either.

I will never stop hating that pedophile known as Art Barker, and his demonic staff of criminals who thrived on causing pain and anguish to countless children. To this day, I can still see several of those constantly crying faces, and the stream of tears that often flowed down their faces, out of sheer helplessness.

Ironically, Debbie Del Bueno, a staffer that had been extremely cruel to my two sisters, was one of Barkers most proud “success stories.” Del Bueno was court ordered into the program and had been a prostitute, thief, and hardcore drug addict. She was one of the 99 percent success rate that Barker often boasted about. She was a program graduate, and one of Barker’s most trusted and seemingly devoted staff members. Looking back much of the jargon children were forced to emulate was in reality banter that originated from addicts like Del Bueno, who the program was originally designed for. Ironically, Del Bueno left The Seed as fast as the court lifted her sentence. It wasn’t long before I personally witnessed Del Bueno at the old Castaways docks on Miami Beach, where my father docked his boat, and where I washed boats for pocket money. Del Bueno, was stoned out of her mind. I was only fifteen, but I had never witnessed someone that completely out of it. She was trying to sell her body, or perform sex acts to get money for drugs. She was with a real degenerate lowlife, who was equally as stoned. They tried to talk to me. I wanted no part of her and doused them good with the hose. The Del Bueno I knew would have torn me apart. Here, she just stumbled to the ground and was ran off by other dock workers. Sadly, she didn’t heed her own words – words were forced into the minds of so many susceptible children. Del Bueno was found dead of a drug overdose shortly thereafter. Seems a fitting end to the worst crime ever committed in south Florida. In my opinion, Barker should have been tortured and executed for the crimes that he committed under the guise of treatment.

Unfortunately, it never happened. Barker lived his last days in a Fort Lauderdale waterfront condo and died on May 9th, 2010. There was no obituary in any Florida paper. Not a one! Ironic, for a tiny little man who had a tumor called an ego the size of the state where he resided. He had always done everything he could to manipulate the media, but the media wasn’t interested in him any longer. Not even enough to write an entry into an obit column.

Arthur R. Barker

Probate Case No.: PRC 100002513

Date of death 5/9/10.

If Dante’s Inferno became a reality, no doubt Barker would face the gallows one day, a firing squad, lethal injection, and the electric chair in following succession. In a more humane hell, Barker deserves to be beaten to death, again and again by the scores of children that he physically, psychologically and emotionally raped in that experiment that had gone bad. But, then again… Who am I to judge? It’s not like after 35+ years that my time spent in that grotesque experiment had any long lasting and lingering affect on me. Right?

WoW!!!! What an amazing story, Stack. I admire your courage and resolve in resisting the program.

[none-ya]

No, no - Stack is a delusional, paranoid, sexually-dysfunctional hater.  Simple as that! :twofinger:

Look you don't want to tell your seed story. But you want to attack somebody who is no longer here? And you say this place is goin' to hell? Well you ain't helping. You say you're well adjusted  and that may be so. So why then are you here?

[Antigen]

Terry! It's been so long. How good of you to stop by! And thank you for bumping a great topic. Honestly, Stack has a few of the founding details wrong. But it looks like he's only going on the fictional legend Art told us all. The truth is, Art didn't come up with the concept all by himself. He was a hireling, just like Elan's Joe Ricci, Synanon's Chuck Dietrich et. al. His personal perceptions are so similar to so many who have gone through this same coercive thought reform experiment that it's extremely difficult for any objective reader to discount them. You, on the other hand, just throw empty insults without any backing what so ever.

What's your gripe, really? The Seed is dead. Art is dead. Lybbi, last I heard, is working the Program on dogs these days. Why does it so enrage you for others to tell their stories?

[none-ya]

BTW - I like your avatar.  All it needs is a doob hanging out of his mouth.

Dude, Don't you see the bowl in my mouth?

[none-ya]

Oops, my bad - yep, I see you're still a stoner.

AND??

[none-ya]

wrote;
Why does it so enrage you for others to tell their stories?"

But you haven't said anything yet.

now YOU are going to tell ME what my motives are.

No! why don't YOU tell us what your motives are?
If not then STFU!