A little boy was born on November 12,1934 to a mother who was not married who was a prostitute as well as an alcoholic.She was only 16 years old.This child was never acknowledged by his father,and was given a last name chosen by his mother from one of her many lover’s.His first day’s in the nursery he was refered to as no name Maddox.
He was neglected and abused from the beginning by a mother who never really wanted him in the first place,as well as by other family members.Later on when he was asked about memories of his mother,one particular memory stood out for him,it was the first time he ever remembered being hugged by his mother.This was upon her release from prison.
His mother if you could call her that went to prison for five years for robbery when he was only five years old.He was sent to live with his aunt who was strictly religious,and her husband was a sadistic,cruel man.He would constantly belittle this little boy,he would call him a sissy.His first day of school he was sent dressed as a little girl.We can only imagine how unwanted,and unloved he felt.How degrading that was.How would he of felt around his peers dressed as a little girl.How hurtful and sad that there was no one there to protect him.We can only imagine the abuse he suffered at the hands of these people who were suppose to love,and care for him.
In 1942 his mom was released from prison,and she took the little boy back to live with her.This should have been the best day of this little boy’s life,but she was not fit to be a mother.Things just got worse for him.
She would bring men,or women lovers one after the other into her home with no thought as to what her little boy was witnessing,compounded by drugs and alcohol which only made the situation worse.Most of us can’t even fathom how this all must of affected such a young innocent child.We will never know exactly what went on around him.
His mother did not care who she left him with,she would have neighbors watch over him.It was suppose to be only an hour,but it would end up being days,and even weeks at a time that she would leave him with strangers.
Imagine how confused,rejected,and unloved he felt.One day in a bar as he sat on his mother’s drunken lap,she wanted another pitcher of beer,but no money to buy it.So th waitress who longed for a child of her own agreed to give it to her for her son.It was a done deal.A few days later his uncle went to get him back from the waitress.If only they had of left him with that woman who wanted a child to love so badly.Perhaps we would have never heard this man’s name.
By the time he was twelve years old his mother no longer wanted him around,if she ever really did.So she tried to put him into foster care,but there was none available.Somehow he ended up at the Gibault school for boys.After 10 months he ran away,back to his mother,and she did not want him.He would just be in her way,what a mean cruel piece of humanity.
So he lived on the streets.Rejected again,alone to fend for himself probably like most of his life had been from the beginning.He had to start stealing to survive.
Eventually he ended up in reform school after reform school.He would steal a car,robbing places on his way to visit relatives.He was only 13.
Then when he was caught they put him in reform school for three years this time.He was only abused more by the guards,and other prisoners.At some point he was even raped.
His only crime thus far was stealing to survive,because of his rejection by his own mother.What chance did he ever have? Imagine the hurt,the rejection,imagine how he felt.Then the hurt reaches a boiling point,and life just keeps chipping away at him.The hurt eventually turns to anger,and anger finally to rage.He was taught at a young age to fend for himself,that there was no where to turn,no one he could trust.No father,no mother to come to his rescue not ever.
Then in 1951 he escaped,and crossed state lines in a stolen car,and that’s when he graduated from reform school to prison.
He was paroled in 1954 after committing more crimes,he was sent to prison over, and over again.
When he was paroled in 1967 he did not want to leave,he told the parole board that jail was the only home he had ever known.How sad.He had spent so much time in jail that he did not want to leave.Prison was his home,but against his wishes he was let go.
What else could we have expected? In no way do I condone his crimes,but until we’ve walked in this mans shoes,who are we to judge him?
Had he been loved, cared for and not rejected by his mother as a child perhaps we would have never heard of the name Charles Mills Manson.