The Christmas season offers little cheer for Eileen Dunlop, an unassuming yet disturbed young woman trapped between her role as her alcoholic father’s caretaker in a home whose squalor is the talk of the neighborhood and a day job as a secretary at the boys’ prison, filled with its own quotidian horrors. In a week, I would run away from home and never go back. Delvin Moorehead was a terrible landlord I had years later, and so to use his name for such a place feels appropriate. I think of it now as what it really was for all intents and purposes-a prison for boys. I was twenty-four years old then, and had a job that paid fifty-seven dollars a week as a kind of secretary at a private juvenile correctional facility for teenage boys.
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