Here is some interesting reading for our members. Certainly there are some lessons to be learned from these true accounts of CP in the US.
An excerpt...
THE PADDLE. An innocuous schoolroom term given it by the director. The Paddle. Two strips of quarter-inch
polished leather, two feet long, over two inches wide, separated by a sixteenth-inch piece of taut, pliant sheet metal.
Attached to a four-inch round hand grip, the leather was perforated on either side midway down, with one-eighth-
inch holes, ending in a half-inch long taper. The effect brought the whipping weapon down in a cracking slap that
drove through the thinness of the cotton shorts, into the upper tissues of the skin. Halfway through the beating, the
holes were filled with blood-covered flesh.
The boys were led into a dank. whitewashed corridor six feet wide, eight feet high. The aged walls were lit only by a
single wire-encased bulb glaring against the musty ceiling.
Three quarters of the way down the corridor were two identical rooms, one on either side, both lit with bulbs
encased in the rusty wire mesh. The boys were directed to the one on the left-the Colored Boys room it was called-
equal and identical, separate by law. Word had it the only difference was in the number of strokes given blacks.
The room held nothing but a rusting, GI-green army cot, with an uncovered, striped mattress and pillow, dark with
the liquid stains of human misery. The two runaways were uncuffed and ordered to sit on the cot. The two
Statesmen stood over them, silent, watching as the terror began to tremble their bodies. A third state man stood
waiting in the corridor. The director began to question them:
Why did you boys run? Dont you know you cant get away from here? You boys are lucky; farmers hereabouts
shoot runaways. Either that or the swamps get them. Whats your excuse? if youve got one, I want to hear it.
Woody began to cry softly, the directors voice signaling the inevitable emotional buildup to the beating.
Mike crying too, tried to speak: I dont know I could take anymore I just wanted to get away I
Dennis said nothing; the director slowly tapped his game right foot. Finally, Mike gave up, his head bowed.
All right, the director said.
Which of you will go first?
Neither answered. The director pointed to Mike.
http://www.thewhitehouseboysonline.com/LONG-ROAD-WHITEHOUSE.html