Part #2: Lost Valley — Lost Innocence

When I was 10 years old my mom was not able to walk without assistance due to Multiple Sclerosis. My emotionally and physically abusive alcoholic step-father, Bill, was out of town every week from Sunday afternoon to Thursday night, supposedly for work. I learned later, after Bill drove his car drunk into a Pizza Hut with a female passenger, that Bill stayed with his female “drinking buddy” on the weekends. I had to take care of everything with help from my sister Cheryl who was two years younger than me. All I knew about my real father was that he lived in El Paso and was a motorcycle cop. I didn’t meet him, my three younger brothers, or my older brother and sister, until after my high school graduation.

My mom and I were remarkably close, a family unit of our own. I went with her when she played Bingo at the local VFW, bowled on a team, and did volunteer work through various churches and other civic organizations.

When she became ill, my world collapsed.  As the sickness progressed my mom became mentally unstable and would lash out in disgustingly vile insults. I had to endure the revolting task of taking care of my mother’s personal hygiene several times a day after she shit and pissed herself. Being able to clean her genital folds and crevices was nearly impossible. I would gag myself to near unconsciousness as my mother flailed her arms about, hitting me. She would also curse and spit on me as I removed her soiled sheets. The only escape from my personal hell was the Boy Scouts.

My best friend since age five was Greg Connor. We were in the same kindergarten class when some older kids were trying to make me jump over a large mud puddle. When I wouldn’t jump over the mud I was pushed in by one of the older kids. Greg stepped in to save me by forcefully raising his right leg and planted his foot squarely into the balls of my bully. When the bully opened his mouth to scream, Greg spit directly into his mouth and pushed the tormentor into the mud where he puked his guts out. Greg became the talk of the playground and no one messed with me or Greg ever again.

Greg and I grew up in Scouting together as Cub Scouts with my mom as our Den Mother and Greg’s mom as the assistant Den Mother. Later we joined the Boy Scouts at the St. Charles, MO Boys Club, and in the late 1980s I became a Scoutmaster for my son Paul in St. Peters, MO. I would follow Greg anywhere and he always had my back. I was a small skinny kid with extremely low self-esteem and even lower physical ability, last to be picked for sports if even picked at all. Greg always made sure I was included and if anyone gave me any shit, they would have to answer to him.  

Greg’s nickname for me was “Skinken” which was short for skinny Kenny. There were so many times Greg protected me. Once, we were looking for arrowheads on a bluff in north St. Charles that for thousands of years had been a large Indian village. Over a hundred feet below the bluff was an old quarry. When a group of well-known bullies lead by Gary Alsop saw us, the harassment began. After the initial verbal abuse, Gary grabbed me and threatened to throw me over the bluff. Greg jumped right into his face even though Gary had at least 40 pounds on him and was much taller. Greg acted quickly using his tried and true technique for dealing with bullies. He kicked Gary in the nuts as hard as he could. When Gary bent over forward and opened his mouth to scream, Greg cleared his sinuses in one quick suction and spit a thick disgusting wad of snot directly into the Gary’s mouth. Everyone was shocked as Gary puked his guts out and several others puked due to the noxious vomit being sprayed everywhere.

Greg grabbed me and off we ran with the gang after us. It was hard to run due to the steep angle of the bluff along with the rocky terrain which made us slip, often forcing us to grab onto small trees to get more traction. One of Gary’s toadies grabbed me by the foot and dragged me toward the edge of the bluff with me screaming my lungs out. Greg fought off two bullies while Gary caught up and began to beat me. Gary lost his footing and we both were headed over the bluff. Gary finally grabbed an exposed tree root and I grabbed Gary’s ankle. Greg was hustling down the bluff to save me, but it was too late. Gary kicked me hard in the forehead and I slid down the bluff on my belly with rocks cutting into me as my speed increased down the bluff. Everything went into slow motion as I flew backwards over the bluff. It was very surreal because I could feel myself screaming but couldn’t hear anything except my breathing and my heartbeat. The last thing I saw before hitting the water and blacking out was Greg following my same trajectory as he hurled himself over the bluff, arms and legs flailing for balance.

I have no idea of how much time had passed before I became conscious. I coughed up water through my mouth and nose as Greg gave me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. We had both been trained for this situation at the Lost Valley Boy Scout camp when our Scout troop practiced lifesaving in the swimming hole next to the Lost Valley Lodge. Greg took me to his house and my step-father picked me up. On the entire ride home Bill berated me for being near the bluff or the quarry. At home Bill tended to my cuts and scraps with a rough rag drenched in isopropyl alcohol. I screamed while he chastised me for being a “pussy”. Greg’s step-father, Clair Connor, reported what happened to Sheriff Guy Koester and the bullies were reprimanded. I wished that Clair hadn’t done anything because the abuse from Gary Alsop just got worse and more frequent when Greg wasn’t around.

Greg was my best pal, my hero, my protector, and I was a very faithful and thankful Tonto to his Lone Ranger. Greg was also the one who recruited me into having sex with our Scoutmaster, Don Roach.

One of the perks of being a Boy Scout at the St. Charles Boys Club was that the first Friday of each month our troop got to spend the night having a blast. Friday, November 6, 1964 changed my life forever. I had turned 12 a few weeks earlier on October 23 and Greg turned 12 on October 17. I had injured my testicles at home and Greg found me crying in the bathroom. Greg took me to see our Scoutmaster, Don Roach, who was doing some paperwork in the office of the Boys Club director, Chuck Thorn.

When it comes to ways an adolescent boy finds to masturbate, their creativity is multiplied by their stupidity. In September 1964 I had my first wet dream, or should I say, wet nap because it happened during a nap in my 6th grade class. For weeks I explored personal masturbation as often as possible. One day I was vacuum cleaning my little sister’s bedrooms because they were deemed to young to clean by my step-father. I would make as much fun of the chore as possible and took the revolving brush-head off so I could lay on the floor and reach under the beds sucking up anything that would fit through the nozzle from dust bunnies to stale cereal, Lincoln logs, and small metal jacks my sisters played with. I then stood up and vacuumed the dirt off that I had picked up by laying on the floor. As the suctioning nozzle was pulled across my groin a tingle shot through my body. I continued to stimulate the area with the powerful vacuum hose which was rewarded with a quality erection. I locked the door to explore my new sexual experience. At the age of 12, my penis lacked any significant length or girth. I gingerly placed it into the nozzle and the suction vibrated the head of my penis rapidly back and forth producing a truly magnificent orgasm in seconds with no mess to clean because the ejaculated fluid had been sucked into the vacuum. I took a few minutes to rest and bask in my new found sensual pleasure before going for seconds, thirds, and many more before finally taking the nap of the century.

Upon awakening I took a shower and found that I had a very serious problem. I was missing a testicle. I frantically massaged my nut sack but there was only one ball. There was no way I could tell my step-father what I had done and I was certain that if I went to church confession that this massive sin would prompt the priest to make me say a million Hail Mary’s, Our Father’s, and tons of acts of contrition, which would also earn me a special place in Hell due to the church’s ridiculous stand against masturbation. My brain exploded with thoughts of how the hell one of my balls was sucked out through my penis and I desperately emptied the vacuum bag onto my bed. I sifted quickly through the debris and found a small squishy purple ball covered with dirt and dust. Crying my ass off, I gingerly picked up the precious sphere and placed it into a handkerchief. I was looking at it when Greg found me crying in the bathroom and he took me to see our Scoutmaster.

Scoutmaster Don Roach gave me a long hug until I stopped crying. He asked what was wrong and I pulled out the handkerchief which I carefully unfolded on the desk. I pointed to the small dirty purple ball and said that it was one of my balls that had been sucked out with a vacuum cleaner. Don and Greg both had a look of utter bewilderment as I explained what had happened. Don then picked up a pencil and started to poke the ball with the point, I gasped loudly and covered the fragile ball with my hands. Don backed off, spun the pencil around to the eraser, and I said it was “OK” to explore the ball. For several minutes Don closely examined my lost testicle without ever blinking. Then, ever so gently he picked up the ball and gave it a closer look. He rolled it around his fingers before smelling it. I assumed it would smell salty and asked, but Don shook his head and said that it smelled “sweet”. Then a wry smile came upon Don’s face and in one quick motion, he squished the ball between his fingers squirting juice everywhere. I screamed in horror.

The ball turned out to be an old Concord grape that had been lost under one of my sisters’ beds. Greg settled me down and we all began to laugh. I wasn’t in pain, but I still knew that something was wrong “down there”. Don asked if he could look at my groin and I glanced at Greg who gave me a slight smile with a nod of “OK”. What I already knew and was verified by Don’s inspection was that I was truly missing a testicle. Don called Dr. Vince Schneider who said that most likely the testicle had been drawn back up inside my abdominal cavity and if it didn’t drop back down in a few days, then I should come see him. I felt better and Don asked if he could inspect one more time and I agreed.

Don was much more exploratory this time, lightly stroking my scrotum and penis which produced an erection. Don asked if my mom ever kissed my boo-boos to make them better and I nodded “yes”. Don then asked if he could kiss my penis and I looked at Greg who said, “It’s OK. It feels really good, I promise.”  I was very scared and thrilled at the same time as my Scoutmaster fellated me to orgasm. I thought the pleasure I had experienced enjoying the vacuum cleaner would be the pinnacle of sexual delight never to be equaled, Don proved that wrong. Don then performed oral sex on Greg as I uneasily enjoyed watching what they did. A few days later my lost testicle returned.

Talking to Greg later I found that he had been sexually active with Don for about five months. He was trading sex for merit badges and other Scouting perks. Greg asked if I wanted to earn badges and other stuff by sex playing with him and Scoutmaster Don and I agreed. Greg and I had sex with Don each time we stayed overnight at the Boys Club and also at Don’s apartment near Blanchette Park where the Boys Club was located. We knew it was wrong, but it really didn’t seem that bad. It felt fantastic and there was lots of tickling, giggling, and gifts.

Don tried anal penetration with both of us first by licking our anus and then using Pond’s hand cream as lubrication, but his large penis created excruciating pain and bleeding to our tiny butts. Don then taught us about what he called “Catholic” sex. We would lie on our belly with our legs together while Don applied hand cream to the junction of our legs under our scrotum. Don would then slide his penis through the junction while his thighs held our legs together tightly. We would reach under and fondle Don’s penis as it slid through our legs, bumping our scrotum. It was very exciting and rewarding to feel Don’s explosive orgasm into our hands. After Don climaxed, he would cry which was unsettling at first. He said to ignore him because he was crying due to happiness. Looking back I doubt that was the reason. Most likely it was Don’s Catholic guilt. Then it would be our turn and Don would perform oral sex on both of us.

One night Don’s wife came home sick from work to find us all naked in bed. I really thought she was going to kill us. Don quit Scouting after he went through a very nasty divorce. Don asked if we still wanted to trade sex for merit badges and other stuff. We said we did, and he took us to the Lost Valley Boy Scout Camp, 25 miles from downtown St. Louis. Lost Valley was very remote and isolated, the perfect place to hide what we were doing.

The Lost Valley Boy Scout Camp was run by Elra E. Green, who we called Johnnie. Johnnie was a retired Army officer who at that time worked at the uranium processing plant next to Lost Valley. The Lost Valley lodge was once a vacation home for a wealthy St. Louis businessman. When the property for the uranium plant was purchased by the government, so was the lodge and other smaller cabins. The lodge was once used as the Officer’s Club for the military attached to the uranium plant.

In the late 1950s the land was donated to the University of Missouri for a conservation preserve. Johnnie was a Scoutmaster in Wentzville, MO and made an offer to the University that he would establish and run a top-notch Boy Scout camp as an unpaid caretaker if he could live there for the rest of his life. They agreed and Johnnie invested over $80K during the next twenty years creating a premier Scout camp. His real intention was to build a remote and isolated place where he could run a pedophile ring using an abundant supply of fresh new Boy Scouts to abuse.

Johnnie made lots of money allowing pedophiles to come to Lost Valley from across the country where their sexual fantasies with young boys could be satisfied in complete privacy. These men were introduced to us as "buddies" such as "This is buddy Bob from Fort Wayne". These buddies came from all over the United States and were either involved with Scouting in some form or part of an underground man-boy-love club which later evolved into NAMBLA, the North American Man/Boy/Love Association. www.nambla.org

Greg and I had been to Lost Valley many times and our troop had a 2-acre plot for our own use, as did many other St. Louis area Boy Scout troops. We knew and liked Johnnie, who was small in stature with a very pleasing personality. Whenever any Scouts spent the night at the Lodge the highlight of the evening would be wrestling and jumping on a full-sized trampoline inside the main room of the lodge. The one condition was that we all had to strip down to our underwear. Every single Scout who ever came to Lost Valley knew two things: where Beulah the Witch was buried, and that something weird was going on in the Lost Valley lodge.

My first abuser, now former Scoutmaster Don Roach, sold us to Johnnie for $300 because Don knew Johnnie would be pimping us out to pedophiles from across the country for cash. That is how Johnnie maintained the Lost Valley buildings and property. Don had paid Johnnie in the past to have sex with other Scouts at Lost Valley but they had aged out of interest and moved on. Johnnie needed new sex toys and he got a bargain with Greg and me.

Johnnie was very up front with us about what he was doing, and that Greg and I were very important to keeping Lost Valley going for the benefit of all Scouts from the funds generated by us sexually servicing men. However, Johnnie did not agree with Don Roach about giving away merit badges in exchange for sex and made us earn each badge on our Scout sash. Johnnie asked our stepfathers if we could become paid camp counselors which was approved. This allowed us to spend a lot of time at Lost Valley without our parents worrying where we were. Johnnie made me feel incredibly special and I grew to love him. Johnnie had a very positive and up-beat outlook on things. In his world the cup was always half-full of whatever your favorite imaginary beverage was. He was loving, nurturing, and he listened when I had an opinion. Johnnie would buy Heathkit electronic projects and I would help him build them. That experience with resistors, capacitors, and diodes served me well when I tested high for electronics training in the Air Force. I went from working on electronic airborne navigation equipment to computers at IBM later. I truly thought Johnnie loved me, but it was all part of his predator charade.

Over the three-plus years I was active at Lost Valley, Greg and I were taught how to recruit other Scouts and we were forced to seduce more than 30 Scouts into sex play. Johnny was kicked out of the Boy Scouts in 1966 by the St. Louis Boy Scouts Council for molesting a Scout that Greg and I had recruited. Even though Johnnie had been kicked out of Scouts, he was still allowed to continue as the Lost Valley Boy Scout camp caretaker by the St. Louis Boy Scout Council because he had dirt on some of the council members. Johnnie had plenty of cash from running his pedophile ring and he gave personal loans to St. Louis Boy Scout Council members including the top brass. One council member borrowed money to pay for an abortion after he impregnated his own step-daughter. Another used his loan from Johnnie to pay for damages caused by him driving drunk through a cemetery knocking down many grave markers. The St. Louis Scout Council’s files linking Johnnie Green to the molestation of Scouts at Lost Valley mysteriously disappeared.

Greg and I were sexually active at Lost Valley (St. Louis) and many other cities such as Kansas City, St. Joseph, and Columbia, MO, Kansas City, Lawrence, and Topeka, KS, Chicago and Peoria, IL, Cleveland, Nashville, and New Orleans. While Lost Valley was our home base, we actually had more sex with more men when we went to New Orleans. None of the Scouting pedophile rings were discovered except the New Orleans Boy Scout Troop 137 sex ring which was brought down in the 1970’s. Ironically, the detective who ran the Child Sex Abuse unit of the New Orleans police was also a pedophile and active in Scouting. NOTE: The New Orleans prosecutor who broke up the New Orleans Boy Scout child sex ring was Harry Connick Sr. (father of singer/actor Harry Connick Jr.) Connick Sr. is 95 and agreed to be interviewed about this case. With the help of his wife, Londa, Connick Sr. was supplied a list of questions and the interview was very interesting. Harry’s mind was sharp and he suggested we contact the New Orleans D.A.’s office for help in getting the case files. That is in work to be updated later.

Greg and I were rewarded for our sex play in many ways which started with candy, comic books, Scouting equipment, but not merit badges. As we grew older the rewards increased, including a new Sting-Ray bike, a go-cart, a motor scooter, a motorcycle, and lots of money. Many times, I made over $500 a month when the minimum wage at that time was $1.25 per hour. I used my money to help at home and also to pay for my mom’s annulment. She truly believed she was going to burn in Hell because she was divorced. My asshole step-father wouldn’t pay for her annulment, so I gave a priest the $600 he requested.

During the three plus years I was sexually active with Johnnie and his friends, I had sex with hundreds of men, most were in Scouts in some fashion. I won’t go into great detail here about the tons of sex we had. That will be described in my book. I will say that having adult penises shoved down my throat or up my ass was monumentally painful both physically and mentally. I never got used to the pain. I just dealt with it because I felt like I was part of an entrepreneurial enterprise that was extremely important because it allowed Scouts from across the country to come and experience all that Lost Valley had to offer. It also pleased Johnnie and I grew to crave his love and attention.

When we traveled we went in Scout uniforms which allowed us the freedom to move about without raising any concerns. As long as everyone played their part, no one would ever find out what was really going on. The very first trip that Greg and I took with Johnnie Green was to Chicago and Johnnie got me a great gift. Johnnie knew that I was a big-time movie geek so he bought me a new Kodak 8mm movie camera. I would document our travels and then the camera was used to film us having sex. There are over 100 ten- to fifteen-minute child porn movies where Greg and I are the featured participants. Most of the men that we had sex with, but not all, worn simple masks when the camera was in use. However, if you knew these men you could easily recognize who was who. I loved shooting the movies and as time went on I became good at deciding when to cut and pick up the action so it looked like the footage was edited.

Most of the pedophiles we had sex with were involved with Scouting in some form, which included a 24-year-old high school teacher and wrestling coach named Denny Hastert in Chicago. Dennis grew up to become the Speaker of the House of Representatives and second in line to the Presidency. Others were friends of Johnny's from when he was in the Army. The men were well educated, and many were powerful with very good jobs. Some were in politics, the military, or other government work. It was extremely rare, but we had relations with three female pedophiles during that time. After a few years things changed. Greg had basically taken over who we would have sex with and how much they would be charged. Johnnie handled the when and where.

The problem I had was that things were getting rougher, dirtier, and more demeaning. We had used amyl nitrate poppers many times and because I had asthma, Johnnie would make chocolate chip cookies with marijuana in them for me since I couldn’t smoke. The Scouting buddies introduced us to magic mushrooms and LSD. I had only one LSD trip and swore to never try it again. It was absolutely terrifying. However, the mushrooms were fun and beautifully psychedelic. The sex was even better, but very weird sometimes.

Golden showers and poop play was not uncommon. I tried my best to not deal with that level of sexual dysfunction, but I was still forced into participating in some of the sickest sex games imaginable especially when we went to New Orleans. Some of the men like to choke us during sex and that scared the shit out of me. Although I had not changed much physically, I did grow and learn that what I was doing was not good. I was being used by everyone, including Johnnie, who would pit Greg and me against each other. There was much arguing and fighting until Greg finally kicked me out of our sex club. I begged Greg to stop the sex and drugs, but he was now the king of the castle with all of the spoils to himself. Greg refused to talk or see me for years. Then in high school I saw him driving a convertible that had belonged to one of our more popular sex buddies who we called “Mr. Saturday Night”. Greg gave me the finger as he drove by. Within another year Greg would become a mental vegetable due to a drug overdose. His parents had to take care of him until he died at age 66 in a group home for mentally challenged people.

After I left the sex play, Johnnie continued to abuse Scouts until he was convicted of molestation in 1978 and was forced to leave Lost Valley. Everything at Lost Valley was destroyed in 1981 except the chimney of the old lodge when the land was donated to the state for hiking trails and other conservation projects. Johnnie died soon after. I didn’t see or hear anything about Greg for a long time and then found out that he had fried his brain using drugs supplied by the men Greg had sex with. Greg Connor, my best friend, had to be institutionalized and taken care of by his parents for the rest of his life. The guilt I carry for not getting Greg out or at least telling someone what was going on at Lost Valley is extremely heavy, and I hope by telling my story to achieve some level of closure as well as give information to young people in hope that this never happens again.

Greg and I had a small yellow Samsonite suitcase that we called “The Banana”. We used to steal souvenirs from the buddies we had sex with, especially the buddies who traveled to Lost Valley from out of town. We used the Banana to hide our stolen treasures such as Playboy Club Keys, luggage tags, business cards, tie clasps, and even library cards. We kept all the goodies, including Greg’s detailed journal with info on every person we had sex with as well as several reels of our 8mm child pornography films, in the suitcase and kept it hidden in the summer house across the road from the main lodge. In 1996, my son Paul and I visited Greg in a group home for mentally disabled people. Greg told us he had buried the “Banana” suitcase at Lost Valley because Mr. Saturday Night, a sex customer of ours, had found it and went ballistic. Greg said he buried the suitcase at Lost Valley but he couldn’t give me much detail on where. When Mr. Saturday Night found the suitcase gone he was ready to beat the crap out of Greg until he convinced him that as long as he was safe, the information would be safe. Mr. Saturday Night had no choice but to back off. Greg confessed that it was Mr. Saturday Night that had given the overdose to him. The area has now become massively overgrown and hopefully the suitcase can be found using metal detectors in the future. That scene will be the first scene in the LOST VALLEY movie.

On the BSA Claim form it asks what long term damage or effects I have had to deal with. My past abuse has created massive personal guilt for recruiting over 30 Scouts for sex and especially for leaving Greg behind. I knew Greg was being hurt sexually, mentally, and physically. But at the time I was mad about being kicked out and I didn’t care until I found out that Greg had lost his mind. I was the only person who could have saved him, and I failed him miserably.

When the relationship I had with Johnnie was at its best, he would give me great advice on how to deal with personal problems at home as well as life in general. Even though Johnnie was a sexual deviant, he still had a great positive outlook on life and turned out to be my first mentor. He helped boost my self-confidence and I vowed not to let the bad shit in my childhood to be used as an excuse for future failure. Some of Johnnie’s sayings I still use today such as “work smarter, not harder”, or “love means putting someone else’s wants, needs, dreams, desires, and aspirations before your own”. Johnnie gave me the best advice possible that I still use today. He called it TBRIS which stands for “the best revenge is success”. Today, I have it on my car license plate.

I have failed many, many, times and handled these setbacks as adventures in learning as I moved forward with many other successes. One of Johnnie’s favorite sayings was, “It is better to try and fail than to never know what could have been if only you had tried.”  I even used the line in the award-winning movie I made called “Heart of the Beholder”.

Therapy in the Air Force and later was used to try and help me deal with the guilt, but nothing really worked. The Boy Scouts of America is currently paying for the only treatment that has worked, Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation, through the medical facilities of UCLA. No more drugs that never worked anyway, and that even made things worse sometimes. Just an eight-minute session twice a week using a magnetic pulse aimed at the section of my brain that harbors my guilt.

There are two other aspects of my life from Lost Valley that I have suffered and continue to deal with, although I don’t consider them life altering, just something to be dealt with. The first is that I can’t reach an orgasm unless a finger or a dildo is repeatedly inserted into my ass. Both my ex-wife and current wife were aware of this problem and why I have it. They have been extremely accommodating in helping me deal with this sexual dysfunction.

The other problem is totally in my head I have not been able to control it. I CAN NOT eat food that has a warm, white sauce because it reminds me of the copious amounts of semen I swallowed servicing men sexually as a boy. Just writing about this makes me sick. My current wife is a gourmet cook and the first time she made me a dish with a white sauce, I tried my best to keep it down but lost it running to the toilet to puke. She is so understanding and found a workaround. She now turns all white sauces brown using a cooking and seasoning agent called Kitchen Bouquet.   

I used to carry a palm-sized note pad with me to make notes about the buddies I had sex with. Greg was much more meticulous. He kept a detailed journal with information on all the men we had sex with, where, what was done, etc. The reason Greg wanted so much info was that he had realized that the buddies preferred me over him by my looks. At age 12-15, my looks didn’t change much, and I always looked like a skinny, boyish Scout that the pedophiles preferred. Greg was bulking up and his facial hair became more manly. He knew he would age out of interest to these men soon, so he had a plan to blackmail them all at some point for cash. He thought that they would easily pay to not risk being outed to wives, families, and Scouting officials.

Both Greg and I carried small hand notebooks called our "Buddy Book" with names, places, what they liked or didn't, were they nice or not, etc. I had over 20 old Buddy Books left at Lost Valley lodge when I was kicked out. I had a full Buddy Book in my back left jeans pocket and a partial book in my shirt pocket when I left. In 2009, I visited my old house at 574 Glenco Drive in St. Charles, MO. Lindenwood College bought the house for graduate students. I asked the current students if I could tour my old house and they were happy to let me. My old room was in the basement and had a "hiding hole" I had put things in over the years. When I check the hole there were many old things I had hidden including two old Buddy Books.

The list of names below is a partial list of buddies I had sex with. Most of the men that came to Lost Valley in St. Louis came from other states.

***

Missouri - Don Roach (Ken’s first Scoutmaster abuser), Elra E. “Johnnie” Green (Ken’s long-term abuser), Steve Kendricks, Mike Allen, Carl Beckman, Terry Triplett, Bob Burnette, Ernie Macha, Henry Bayer, Leroy Davis, Leonard Cromer, Bob Wantuck, Chuck Witherspoon, Ralph Bailey, Stewart Sullivan, Dave Dobsen, James Spenser, John Musser, Don Penn, Larry Strain, Bill Secklor

Kansas - Jack Godard, Bob Hillard, Jerry Ashworth, Fred Phelps, Morgan Delay, Justin Daniels, Mark Roberson

Illinois - Gil Baker, Michael Williams, Jack Baxter, Jimmy Littleton, Jimmie Bishoff, Ken Tavel, Bob Burns, Joe Wishnie, Bruce Henderson, Glen Findlan, Dennis Hastert, John Tillman, Al Hill, Hank Rodgers, Howard Miller, Roy Philips, Jerry Varner, Jackie Harris, Steve Stephenson, Frank Miller, Willie Clayton

Ohio - Jimmie Wellborn, Donald Bemiston, Billie Steuart, Paulie Poorman, David Benoist, Guy Collins, Larry Burgess, Kenny Cordes, Lee Dalton, Dick Gruber, Maurice Temple, Claude Hawks, Bobby Weniger, Steven Willis, Larry McGowan, Ronnie Kidd, Neal Roberts, William Myers, Henry Boschert, Paul Unklesbay, John Denton

Tennessee — Jimmy Mather, Bob Turner, Danny Macready, Steve Weber, John Sellars, Matt Franklin

Louisiana — Ronnie Benoit, James Harvey, Harry Cramer, Denny Statler, Dr. Trois Johnson, Peter Bradford, Tommy Young, Michael Manning, Lewis Sialle, Leonard Wilson, Frankie Tinker, Jimmy Morris, David Ferrie, Dick Jacobs, Allen Wilcox, Donnie Sullivan, Benjamin Geller, Danny Young, Billy Gent, Bob Maller, David Cook, Corneliuis O'Donnell, John Guillet

What does Ken want to achieve and get from the Boy Scouts of America?

Ken and his wife Darlene believe in Karma, defined as the non-religious concept of “what goes around, comes around.” Take personal responsibility by owning your actions, make amends, then move ahead. Here is what Ken wants to achieve and get from the Boy Scouts of America:

• Closure: Ken wants to be able to forgive himself for being instrumental in recruiting over 30 fellow Scouts who were sexually abused by Elra E. “Johnnie” Green and to forgive himself for not helping his best friend, Greg Connor, get away from the sex, money, and drugs that ruined Greg’s life at Lost Valley.

• Merge the Boys and Girls Scouts: For many years Ken belonged to two separate acting unions, the Screen Actors Guild and the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists. A few years ago they merged into SAG/AFTRA and became much more effective in representing those who work in professional entertainment. Ken would like to see the Boy and Girl Scouts, along with Brownies and Cub Scouts, come together under the name of “Scouts” and ”Scouting” to continue the tradition of giving young people the opportunity to thrive personally, spiritually, and socially.

• Diversity: Under the new “Scout” brand, diversity would become a normal part of life. The Boy Scouts currently allows openly gay boys to participate but they don’t allow openly gay Scoutmasters or assistant Scoutmasters. Through Ken’s personal experience in having sex with hundreds of men he found that the men he engaged with were pedophiles, not homosexuals. That stigma must change. Diversity in religious and political beliefs must also become common normal acceptance. With that in mind, he suggests a new oath for the new “Scouts”:

  On my honor I will do my best for my family, my community, my country, and myself, and to treat all others with respect and courtesy regardless of race, gender, sexual identity, religion, political beliefs, or economic status. This oath I do swear.

• Scout Center: Ken wants the new Scout organization to build a Scout center in St. Charles, MO to be used by all Scouts in the St. Charles county area. No more renting church property.

• Personal Settlement: Ken wants a personal financial settlement that will allow him to buy, develop, and donate, the property where he was saved from drowning in 1962 by his best friend, Greg Connor. The area would be named “Camp Connor”.

• Produce a Movie: Ken has no doubt that programs are now in place, or will be, to educate young Scouts about sexual abuse from predators. However, a feature film based on his experiences that shows the stark reality of what can happen, how to avoid it, and how to report sexual deviants would reinforce what is taught through other programs.

• And finally, Ken wants all of the records held by local Boy Scout Councils, as well as the national Boy Scouts of America, of the men listed above and the men in Greg Connor’s journal once it is recovered from Lost Valley where Greg buried it over fifty years ago. Those files should be released to the public on a website as part of the BSA accepting responsibility for hiding this information for so many years and allowing tens of thousands of innocent boys to suffer both physically and mentally.

  Update from Darlene Tipton - Executive Producer - November 2021: I average over 500 emails a week.  The vast majority of these emails are from current and former abused Scouts telling me their story. Each one breaks my heart and I respond to each individually. There are also many emails expressing concern about what kind of movie we will be making, or that we are out to destroy the Boy Scouts. So, I will address that now.

  LOST VALLEY WILL NOT be an anti-Scouting movie. On the contrary, we believe that the concept of the Boy and Girl Scouts is an immensely positive experience for all. Scouting helps youth develop academic skills, self-confidence, ethics, leadership skills, and citizenship skills that influence their entire adult lives. Where the Boy Scouts of America (BSA) has failed is in its paid administrative staff. These people have enabled and ignored the heinous element within the volunteer Scout ranks, much like the Catholic Church has done for centuries with pedophile priests.

  The BSA has admitted that they kept files on pedophiles but still they did nothing to stop the sexual abuse of hundreds of thousands of boys for over 100 years. That is why they filed bankruptcy. Appallingly, the BSA is taking the position that if a Scout was sodomized in a state that has a statute of limitations, then they have no legal liability for monetary damages and are offering a token settlement of $3,500, of which the Scout would receive only $2,100 after attorneys’ fees, even though the BSA has the cash and insurance – if not the decency -- to make appropriate settlements.

  Soon, we will asking famous Boy Scouts such as Steven Spielberg, Harrison Ford, Jack Black, Jimmy Buffet, John Tesh, Bill Gates, Jack Black, Michael Bloomberg, and many others to make a short personal video asking viewers to contact their state legislators to abolish all sex abuse statutes of limitations and also sign a petition for the same. The petition is at the link: PETITION

  We will also ask that each famous Boy Scout tell us more in their video about their personal experiences in the Boy Scouts, good or bad. FAMOUS BOY SCOUTS

  There are many emails that are concerned about how graphic the movie will be and could it be used by pedophiles as a form of erotic entertainment. The short answer is NO.

  The primary purpose of the LOST VALLEY movie is to educate through entertainment. It will be a PG-13 rated movie and the sex scenes will be shot so things will be left to the viewer’s imagination. What WILL be shown is how pedophiles target, choose, and groom their victims for sexual abuse. No Scout meetings about sex abuse will ever have the same lasting effect as our movie.

  The LOST VALLEY movie will be available forever by streaming and, hopefully, be used in sex education classes, Scout training, and especially at home where parents can watch with their young sons and daughters and open a dialogue to better prepare them for the real world. Sexual abuse counselors will be utilized during the screenwriting to make the movie as authentic and educational as possible.