Pelzer - A Man Named Dave
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- Book:A Man Named Dave
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- Year:1969
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A Man Named Dave, which has sold over 1 million copies, is the gripping conclusion to Dave Pelzers inspirational and New York Times bestselling trilogy that began with A Child Called It and The Lost Boy.
All those years you tried your best to break me, and Im still here. One day youll see, Im going to make something of myself. These words were Dave Pelzers declaration of independence to his mother, and they represented the ultimate act of self-reliance. Daves father never intervened as his mother abused him with shocking brutality, denying him food and clothing, torturing him in any way she could imagine. This was the woman who told her son she could kill him any time she wanted toand nearly did. The more than two million readers of Pelzers New York Times and international bestselling memoirs know that he lived to tell his courageous story. With stunning generosity of spirit, Dave Pelzer invites readers on his journey to discover how he...
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DUTTON
Published by the Penguin Group,
Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.
Penguin Books Ltd, 27 Wrights Lane, London W8 5TZ, England
Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood, Victoria, Australia
Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2
Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, 182-190 Wairau Road, Auckland 10, New Zealand
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices:
Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England
First published by Dutton, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc.
Copyright Dave Pelzer, 1999
All rights reserved
Pelzer, David J.
A man named Dave : a story of triumph and forgiveness / Dave Pelzer.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-1012-1309-4
PUBLISHERS NOTE:
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.
First edition (electronic): September 2001
A LSO BY D AVE P ELZER
A Child Called It
The Lost Boy
To the lady who gave her all to make me the man I am today, my lovely bride, my best friend, Mrs. Marsha Pelzer. You make me whole and will forever be my Princess.
To my son, Stephen, I can never tell you how precious you are and how much you have changed my life for the better. Everything I do, I do for you.
Since this has been my most arduous project, it is only prudent I pay respect to those who made this book possible:
With all respect, I bid adieu to my former publisher. I wish to convey my deepest thanks to Irene Xanthos, Lori Golden, Ronnie OBrien, Jane Barone, Joy Fauver, Doreen Hess, and the small band of others who truly believed in my works before their commercial success.Also, to Peter, Terri, Kim, and Bob: against all odds, thank you for allowing me to become a New York Times best-selling author.
To my dear friend Youngsuk Chi, The Book Expert, for his excitability, mentoring, and for believing, just as I do, in maintaining the uncompromising standard of excellence. With dignity and honor!
A special thank-you to the owners and staff of Sonoma Countys finest coffee establishment, Coffee Bazaar, for again allowing me and Marsha to plug in, take over, and wreak havoc at all hours, while maintaining the maximum level of mocha-ness that is still keeping us up at nights.
To Cathy Lewis and Nancy Graves of Carmels Carriage House Innmy home away from hometaking me in from the cold and putting me up in my room.
A special thank-you to the institution formerly known as The Hogs Breath Inn of Carmel, where Law, Order, and Ice Cream still prevail. My gratitude to Tim, Joyce, Lana, and the entire crew for granting me space so to slave away at all hours among the beauty of your serene town.
To the musician Pat Metheny, who unknowingly provided haunting yet soul-stirring theme music to all three tomes. With A Child Called It it was Farmers Trust, for The Lost Boy, If I Could, now with A Man Named Dave, the incredibly moving music of The Bat, Part II. Spending endless hours listening to these tracks made me draw from the recesses of my soul.
To Marsha, editor extraordinaire, of Donohoe Publishing Projects for her absolute devotion to every word of every page. This is only one of the many reasons why I love you. For Marsha, it was a matter of... The Bat, Part II.
To the staff of Dutton Plume for their overwhelming professionalism and sincere kindness, as well as believing that I was indeed worthy of being a hardcover author. To Brian Tart, editor-in-chief, for his trust, genuine sincerity, and meticulous attention to detail as well as for his patience when it counted the most. I also wish to thank Mary Ellen OBoyle for an inspiring and majestic cover to the book. To everyone at Dutton Plume, thank you for making me a member of your family.
Finally, to the millions of readers who took A Child Called It and The Lost Boy into their hearts: I am forever grateful. You may not realize, but your actions have made the world a better place.
Some of the names in this book have been changed in order to protect the dignity and privacy of others.
As with the first two installments of the trilogy, this third part depicts the language and wisdom that was solely developed from my viewpoint as well as that particular time period.
This book is not under any circumstances meant to be used as a reprisal or an opportunity to be vindictive, but rather to serve a purpose of what transpires in my life and the valuable lessons learned.
MARCH 4, 1973
DALY CITY, CALIFORNIA
I m scared. My feet are cold and my stomach cries for food. From the darkness of the garage I strain my ears to pick up the slightest sound of Mothers bed creaking as she rolls over in the bedroom upstairs. I can also tell by the range of Mothers hacking cough if shes still asleep or about to get up. I pray Mother doesnt cough herself awake. I pray I still have more time. Just a few more minutes before another day in hell begins. I close my eyes as tightly as I can and mumble a quick prayer, even though I know God hates me.
Because I am not worthy enough to be a member of The Family, I lie on top of an old, worn-out army cot without a blanket. I curl up into a tight ball to keep as warm as possible. I use the top of my shirt as a tent to cover my head, imagining my exhaled air will somehow keep my face and ears warm. I bury my hands either between my legs or into my armpits. Whenever I feel brave enough, and only after Im certain that Mother has passed out, I steal a rag from the top of a dirty pile and wrap it tightly around my feet. Ill do anything to stay warm.
To stay warm is to stay alive.
Im mentally and physically exhausted. Its been months since Ive been able to escape through my dreams. As hard as I try, I cannot go back to sleep. Im too cold. I cannot stop my knees from shaking. I cautiously rub my feet together because I somehow feel if I make any quick movements, The Mother will hear me. I am not allowed to do anything without The Mothers direct authority. Even though I know she has returned to sleep in the bottom bunk bed of my brothers bedroom, I sense that she still has control over me.
The Mother always has.
My mind begins to spin as I fight to remember my past. I know that to somehow survive, my answers are in my past. Besides food, heat, and staying alive, learning why Mother treats me the way she does dominates my life.
My first memories of Mother were caution and fear. As a four-year-old child, I knew by the sound of Mothers voice what type of day was in store for me. Whenever Mother was patient and kind, she was my Mommy. But whenever Mother became crossed and snapped at everything, Mommy transformed into The Mothera cold, evil person capable of unexpected violent attacks. I soon became so scared of setting The Mother off, I didnt even go to the bathroom without first asking permission.
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