a story I rarely tell

Yesterday, Jerry Sandusky was convicted on 45 of 48 counts of sexual abuse of boys.  There is no question the jury made the right decision.

Kids (and I include teens) are naïve.  They are vulnerable, in particular, to adults in authority whom they trust.  A couple of weeks ago, a story broke about sexual abuse that happened over a 15-year period, ending in 1994, at the prestigious Horace Mann School in New York.  It’s also the school Alexander attended from 2004 (grade six) until he graduated in 2011.  Fortunately, he experienced no abuse while there, and his memories of the school are mostly good ones.

When I was a freshman in college (way back in1970), I did some modeling, nothing big.  Freshman year, I worked as a waitress in Boston at my friend’s father’s restaurant called La Crepe.  One night, I waited on a guy who said, “I’m in town casting for a panty hose commercial, and I think you’d be perfect.  Today was our last day of casting and I leave tomorrow to go back to New York.  Are you by chance free after work to come interview?  I think you are exactly what we are looking for.”  I couldn’t believe my luck.  Without hesitation, I said I was free.  I got off work at midnight.  He told me to come to his room at the Parker Hotel.  I told him I might be a little late as I wanted to return to my dorm to change out of my French waitress outfit.

I raced back to my dorm and excitedly told my roommates of my evening’s good fortune.  No one suggested that going to a stranger’s hotel room at one in the morning might be a bad idea.    I remember exactly what I wore.  Black velvet hotpants.  A lavender-colored ribbed turtleneck by Settebello (the store is still in Cambridge).  Black sheer hose, and skin tight black patent leather go-go boots.  And I was a smart kid!

I get to the hotel in Copley Square, go to the room of the "casting director,” and knock on his door.  He must be stunned I've shown up.  He asks me to walk around so he can look at my legs.  He then picks up the phone and makes a call.  “We don’t have to look further.  I’ve found the perfect girl.”  I couldn’t believe my good luck.  He then asks me to take off my top.  I ask him why and he provides a plausible explanation.  “Well, when you model, there are all sorts of people everywhere and you need to make quick clothing changes.  I need to make sure you are comfortable doing this around strangers.”  This makes sense to me so I take off my sweater.

Then he does the next reasonable thing and tries to kiss me.  NOW I am suspicious.  None of his explanations for the kiss make sense to me.  I grab my clothes and leave, saying, “I don’t want to be in your commercial anyway!”  Hah!  I show him.

He was probably some guy with no intention of hurting me and couldn’t believe he had  found someone as willing and naive as I was.

I was lucky.  The boys molested by Jerry Sandusky and at Horace Mann were not.