The past few days have been emotional, taxing, and incredibly powerful. Like most people who hear the word Baltimore, the association with HBO’s groundbreaking drama ‘The Wire’ are interconnected and drive many people I know to develop a thirst for the show. Like most people I have consumed the series and wondered if my time here would enable me to see if Art did imitated life in Baltimore. What happened at this point could not be scripted, made up, or even planned for.
Life in the game – Melvin Williams AKA Little Melvin
I’m with Dr Phil on my way to met Melvin Williams aka ‘Little Melvin’. Melvin was described as Baltimore’s drug King Pin during the 70’s and 80’s, did a long prison sentence, and starred in the ‘Wire’ as the wise Deacon. Although Melvin’s reputation preceded him I had no expectations other than a chance to meet someone who had contribution to crime, making and losing a fortune, as well as becoming the stuff of legend. As we approached I saw a tall, slim, elderly looking man posing for a photograph. Somehow I felt it was him. I was correct. This guy who I had watched on the ‘Wire’ was standing in front of me. After a brief introduction I was taken into a facility he had developed to help the community’s children. A large complex, boasting a basketball court, weights gym, boxing ring, a karate dojo, plus a huge second hand furniture warehouse gives you a sense off the scale of the space.
Melvin’s greeting, charm, wit, extreme fitness and wisdom was staggering as it was insightful. At the height of his empire Melvin had amassed a fortune of over half a billion dollars. As I listened to him I was amazed as his power of recollection, ability to critique his past, as well as providing me with a history lesson on crime. Melvin did not glorify, celebrate, or make excuses for his past. His time in prison, witnessing and participating in crime, combined with lessons learned reminded me of the importance of understanding those who have committed crime, as a way of drawing new meanings and insights into a world that gets people a degree, enables scholars to write books, and documentary makers, films. It was hard to believe that that this small man had done what he had done, and was comfortable with sharing his stories as opposed to a prison cell. In talking to him I discovered that in the ‘Wire’ Melvin was the inspiration behind the character Avon Barksdale.
Exciting as that was it was more significant to hear from the man himself about his life and times that consuming the mythology that surrounds him. Historically Melvin was dangerous, a true leader of gangland Baltimore, who at the age of 15 was a pool hustler, card and dice player, and rich. His graduation into a life of crime and subsequent incarceration is truly remarkable. Melvin’s sharp thinking and ability to share his wisdom with the community he has helped, in spite of his past, reminds me of something very special. He is a wise elder, a reformed criminal, and has served both as a demon and a hero to many. As I leave Melvin I can’t help but wonder if it was all worth it. To have so much wealth and lose it, would have deeply affected most people in Melvin’s position. However, he casually accepts he got into crime, and more importantly he got out of it. The need to both understand and learn about Melvin burned deep inside, as a lot of the young men I saw running up and down the streets of Baltimore are Melvin’s in the making. I couldn’t help but wonder if they knew his story intimately whether that choice would still be an option?
Ted
As we are about to leave Doctor Phil hands me the phone and I’m talking to Ted Sutton. His greeting is warm and the offer of a meeting is made. Phil says Ted is someone who I should meet and spend time with. I was curious as to what would lie in store for me. I agree to meet up and wait for a call. The following day I’m picked up by a large car by Ted. Ted, a huge man, with an even bigger smile, greets me in a friendly and caring manner. As we drove off Ted begins to share his narrative, and reveals Melvin to be his mentor and close friend. I learn that Ted is an ex-strong arm man (Enforcer), who has participated in many acts of violence and crime, and like Melvin works on behalf of the community, as a gang mediator, mentor, and has a serious mission to save the lives of the hardest to access young men in Baltimore. Ted breaks it down in detail, from street warfare, gangs, crime, and more importantly how he found God. Ted talks about his family consisting of Civil rights activists, members of the Black Panther party, and an array of powerful elders in his life all connected for changing people’s lives. Ted tells me that being the middle child with an older and younger sibling pushed him into a life of darkness and crime. The multiple deaths of his friends, constant street battles, and fear of incarceration culminated in being acquitted in a profiled court case and undergoing a faith based conversion all at the same time.
The conversation is broken as we end up at a small apartment block. Ted tells me here is a young gang member who is in trouble and is looking to get out of the lifestyle. A young black emerges, climbs onto the van and exhales loudly as if deep pain. A phone call brings bad news. This young man was not happy, but also suffering from a deeper sense of insecurity, as he feels that no-one care for him. Being face to face with this young gang member was at first quite frightening. Not because he was a gang member, but a young man who was in a volatile state of mind. Ted spoke to him for a while, calming him down with reassuring words and a soothing tone. It was then Ted handed over to me and I began to engage him in conversation and anecdotes. In spite of numerous phone calls coming through, this young man listened and reciprocated with his own stories and testimony. I saw someone who was my daughter’s age caught in an impossible situation.
A gang member, with no health insurance, money, job, or available means of support trying to do what society wants. To be compliant, law abiding, and trying to embrace a new lifestyle. What wasn’t happening is that same society being able to show him a way of achieving it. I discover he can draw. I give him a copy of my new children’s book. He is amazed that someone has given him something. For a brief minute he is no longer a menace to society, but someone in desperate need of love, and was given something unconditionally. Researchers and community people alike all want to gain insights and understandings as to why young men join gangs and how can we change their fortunes and make the community a safer place. I looked at Ted and saw the answer. Access is via skilled mediators who the hard to access both trust and love. In Ted I saw a powerful advocate for street brokers, in the young man I saw extreme loss and a need to be welcomed back into a community he has terrorised. We embraced, I said goodbye and wished him well. We were off again. Ted tells me it’s all in a day’s work.
Ted shows me a new facility he has created that will act as a half way home, therapy centre, and safe space for gang members trying to get out of the chaotic lifestyles they are leading. It is truly impressive and a testimony to another individual who has turned his back on crime and uses his real lived experience as a conduit for changing other people’s lives. Ted’s own story is tinged with loss, sadness, and a search for identity. Luckily he found one, others don’t. The conversation moves backwards and forwards like a piston. Never playing the victim, Ted recounts losing friends, hurting people, and how his change has given him purpose. At that moment we became real friends and not just professionals engaged in sharing techniques and methods. Ted suggests we go for something to eat. A short while later, we are at a large complex referred to as ‘The Black Mall’. Namely, because the clientele, owners of the stores, and the general ethos is purely African American.
First sight, 4 police cars attending a crime scene at a school nearby reminded me that this space has a history of conflict. Being surrounded purely by black people is at times a strange feeling compared to the UK. Unless you’re in the Caribbean it is highly unlikely to experience the density of non white people in such a concentrated space. I enjoyed it, but couldn’t help thinking about the young guy I had just met. In this Mall people had money, were eating, and generally there was a thriving economy. On the other hand there were so many people who were excluded or couldn’t be included here, that I wondered what it would be like to come here and have no money. This was both and affluent and economically driven environment that would send shockwaves to poor people, who I can imagine would be driven to despair if they couldn’t access the goods and services on offer. I thought of young black people in the UK walking up and down shopping centres in the same way, window shopping, walking with a swagger, and trying to cope with all the pressures of a society that excludes them so much. Once again legions of young people acknowledge Ted, as someone who comes into their school, homes, community, in fact any space where his services are required. He shares a story of entering a burning building to rescue people. A remarkable feat by a remarkable man. After a meal of chicken and fries, we’re off again on another mission, to go and see someone in an area called Park Heights.
Park Heights is a typical inner city area full of deprivation, despair, and hopelessness. As Ted drives me around the community, there is an uneasy air of tension. People sitting outside their houses talking, children on bikes, and other getting on with life. So why should it feel so fearful? Ted tells me the history of the area, what goes on, and says that this area is his patch. His description of the violence in the area manifests in me meeting with one of his young mentees. A young man who in attempt to get out the gang had been beaten up, shot, and left him a worse state. Glazed eyes, slurred speech, and a slight limp, shows me this young guy is in severe pain both physically and emotionally. Initially, he is quite distant as he doesn’t know me. Ted vouches for me and he begins to talk freely and smile. I realise that access to these young men in granted, not based on your status, money, or education. It is based on connecting to their pain and the world in which they occupy. Ted spends a while talking to this young guy about his well-being and how he is coping. Internally I’m feeling sad, upset, and impacted by a young guy who has done what society asks, come out the gang, but have been left with nothing. Like an abandoned child with no mother. He may be law abiding, but like the previous young gang member, he has no money, no job, little education, a prison record and a difficult future to face. A few moments later, we’re off on another mission. Leaving Park Heights I ask a difficult question ‘How did people get to this state? And how does one of the world’s richest places create the conditions for people to merely exists and survive?
Blood
Night has descended, me and Ted are in a car park, face to face with a man sporting a red bandana. My first encounter with a member of the ‘Bloods’ gang is surreal, challenging, and insightful. Being granted an audience with him, followed by a meeting I will never forget was one of the most powerful experiences of my life. He was charismatic, intelligent, and truly a leader. The conversation did not focus on gangs, but more on fatherhood and society in general. The mixture of fear and exhilaration ran through my veins. This was no film set, it was real. 30 minutes later I was sitting in Ted’s car, whilst he and ‘the blood’ talked. I observed Ted brokering, negotiating, and mediating with skill and commitment. I was truly impressed not only by Ted’s unswerving commitment to trying to make Baltimore a better place, but the gang member’s openness to reasoning and dialogue. Be under no illusion, any US gang member affiliated to the Crips and the Bloods is not a saint. However, they are men and fathers, who have made a choice that many find offensive, scary, and wrong.
Be that as it may, they exist alongside us, occupying the same space, going to the same shops, taking their kids to school, and trying to survive in their own way. We can all have an opinion, view or judgement as to what is right and wrong. What I would say until you have stood face to face with someone like the guy I have just met, we will continue to believe the hype and moral panic that surrounds gang culture. Yes they are menacing individuals that have done all sorts of stuff. The truth is the solution for changing them will not be found in more incarceration, biased media coverage, or ignoring their existence. Gangs are a complex social phenomenon that requires more than just rhetorical posturing to sort it out. I don’t have the solution, but what I did learn today, it starts with dialogue. But first you have to gain access. That access was created by Ted. The sad fact remains there are many guys like Ted, who don’t get paid, supported, and validated for what they do. Yet he saves as many lives as any paramedic or surgeon.
After 12 hours on the road Ted says his will drop me home. Suddenly 5 White police officers arresting a young black women forces Ted to stop, pull over, take out a video camera and record what they’re doing. Ted archives stuff that happens on the streets as his want to make a documentary on the abuses that take place on a regular basis. Low and behold it is taking place opposite Little Melvin’s shop front. We stop off and talk with Little Melvin for about an hour before making our way home. I am thoroughly exhausted and take several hours to reground myself. What a day.
Education
Saturday morning. I’m with Dr Phil and Jonathan Byrce, the Executive Director of the Office of Student Support and safety for the Baltimore City Public schools system. We discuss the issues surrounding student’s safety, violence, bullying, and a raft of other issues that affect the pupils in Baltimore. The sheer scale of the problem is highlighted when Jonathan informs me about the array of assaults, weapons, and conflicts that have taken place in the city’s schools in the first few days of pupils returning back to schools. Our conversation goes backwards and forwards, centring on the problems, possible solutions, barriers, fears, and a whole host of issues. I find myself being emotional and responding both as a father and academic. It is clear that there are gaps to be filled in making the system better. I’m just not clear who is best placed to undertake such a task or whether the commitment to such an operation is viable bearing in mind the complexities of providing a balanced education for all young people.
Deprivation, crime, assaults, children with multiple problems, were at the core of the problems, but the desire to get children educated seemed to outweigh the common sense principle of ensuring the well-being of children came first. I found myself back in the UK in my head. The same problem, approached in the same way with the same outcome. I walked away from the meeting clear that an educational solution would not solve this educational problem. It was deeper than that. This wasn’t about education. It was about the child who is scared to walk to school, the child who has had no breakfast, the child who’s fathers in prison and mother’s on drugs, the child with a gun or knife, the child who is dyslexic, the child who taking care of their family by having to work at nights, more importantly it’s about expectations and who manages them. As a researcher I felt good knowing there were issues I could investigate, as a father I felt empty. I shook hands with Jonathan and wished him luck with his future work. Myself and Phil were off to a funeral.
Funeral
A young man lies in an open casket, legions of his friends cry, holding their pain in whilst family members go through the motions of losing a loved one. What made this funeral different was not the ritual send off which is at the core of black funerals. This funeral was that of a murder victim, murdered at a school reunion the week before. I learn it was gang related. Hence the legion of young men sporting blue standing outside. The young man was associated with the Crips, the rival gang to the bloods. The members of his crew were connected to him, not his immediate family. A sad fact but true. This funeral was no ordinary funeral. It was one of many that happened so frequently, that it was a mere formality. Everyone paid their last respects, but expressed outrage as to the way in which his demise took place. I look around at the young men wearing blue, possibly armed, and in a stage of rage and revenge. The energy doesn’t feel good. I thought about Ted and all the young people I’d met the previous day. I reflected on Melvin and how a lot of these guys wanted to be like him. I then thought of my own children and grandchildren and felt despondent. This funeral was less of a send off and more of a celebration of a young man who made it into the dark side of immortality. Someone who will be remembered not for raising his children, getting a degree, or changing the lives of young people. He will be remembered for being murdered. I felt upset and left feeling worse than I did before I arrived.
Pit Bull
At home I get a call from Ted who swings around to come and see me. A young man hobbles out of his car and is introduced to me. This young man was shot in the neck, paralysed from the neck downwards, and miraculously made a full recovery. However, this young man is emotionally scarred by the experience, in turmoil, and barely functioning. Unable to cope with having a discussion he retreats the safety of Ted’s car. Ted recounts the young man’s history of crime and how he is has become yet another casualty of the social breakdown in Baltimore. I felt sad and impacted by the plight of this young man felt compelled to connect to him. A few moments later we were laughing and joking, sharing stories of Star Trek, and engaging in some uplifting dialogue. However, I could see in this guys eyes the kind of pain and terror that I had no connection to. Seeing him was the culmination of 48 hours of the most exacting period of my life. A relentless amount of interactions with extreme stories of powerless and loss. I didn’t feel good or take any comfort about being a criminologist who could shed some light on these matters. What really happened is I was confronted with an ugly truth; we are either part of the problem or part of the solution. Today I reframed my purpose in life and reaffirmed my commitment to being part of the solution. I thank my deceased mother for making me compassionate. Thanks mum.
Peace.
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