15 years was a long stretch for distributing poison, never planned to go that long it just happened that way. The taste of layoffs, downsizing, and criminalization at the workplace encouraged this extraordinary but deadly business venture. At the age of nine, I was formally introduced to cocaine by my uncle who was one of the main distributors to the mid-Atlantic region. The summer of '86... I will never forget "Cruel Summer" was at the top of the charts, what a cruel summer it was. He summoned me from the backroom room where my younger brother, cousin and I spent the majority of the summer. As I walked into the well-lit room I witnessed a mountain of cocaine wrapped in plastic covering the entire table. Beside it was the most beautiful piece of iron my young eyes have ever witnessed—a gold plated 357 magnum with a pearl handle. It had me in a trance until my uncle nudged me with his elbow while separating a few lines for testers, "You want some of this?"
My Uncle Big L was one you didn't say no to. Although I was afraid of him, there was always an inner being that would not allow me to display it. I politely declined, when asked why not? I stated my mother said it's not good for you (we never had that discussion), plus I saw enough Miami Vice to know exactly what damage it would cause. I was just praying he didn't ask my brother or my cousin both four years younger than me.
Summer of 1986 in Baltimore left a lasting impression on me. After witnessing the amount of narcotics in mounds being transformed into mountains of cash, filling trash bags to capacity and placing them in any open space until you had none was like a never-ending Christmas in a child's eyes. All that I witnessed before was only on television. This was Scarface for real.
It was the beginning of the crack era, the great transformation or shall I say the great transgression of an entire people of all complexions, was set out to be the destruction of a black race—cheap and easily accessible. During this time, I went to live with my grandmother in Norfolk, VA. After my mother and father divorced, here is where I learned the trade. In my heart I was and I am still to this day, an artist, but in my pocket was lint. My cousin (we will call him Slick) and I started a business airbrushing on clothes for everybody in the neighborhood including the drug dealers. One, in particular, being Slicks older brother E who was, shall I say, the H.N.I.C who used to pay for our supplies—the ones we didn't steal anyway and send business our way. Eventually, we would start doing other things to help E. This would be my introduction to the game.
Memoirs of a Dopeman Episode 2: The Corner
The second installment to the Memoir of a Dopeman series revisits the foundation of how it all began. Giving intricate details of transactions, dramatic situations, and the transition from a boy to a man.