For What It's Worth: A East Baltimore Memoir

By Corey Brown

My intention in writing this book is to give the reader a brief summary of the street life I was living and the consequences that came from it, good and bad.
The thought came to me December ‘06 when I was placed on lockup for having a cellphone inside the prison. On lockdown, where I was around a few men I knew while being confined to a cell 23 hours out a day, conversation of our past life on the street were discussed. Asked by my neighbor whose name was E.B., a Westside cat, to write a book from the stories I dwelt on, I sat back and contemplated what could I really write about? What lesson or message could I give to the readers that was worth talking about? The answer to my question arrived along with the title of the book: For What It’s Worth, An East Baltimore Memoir.
The book is based on my transition into the street life and being able to accept the consequences of my lifestyle. For those who are fascinated with the street life, I hope as I take you through my journey you will see the untold stories of this life that are not always told.
This memoir is not an encyclopedia collection of every aspect of my life. Rather, it is a remembrance of highlights that stood out to me. In this book I take you through the typical stages many youth grow up seeing on a daily basis and the pressure of wanting the fame and glory. Unlike most urban real life stories where you have the writer glorifying the sex, money and murder game, but failing to point out that with the fame and glory come great consequences that can have the most richest man standing on his own. For those who are fascinated with this life, I hope my story give you a second though. Enjoy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Corey Brown
• Release date: Jul 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370498598

Book preview

FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH

A

East Baltimore Memoir

By

Corey Brown

For What It’s Worth, A East Baltimore Memoir

Copyright 2010 by Corey Brown

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information from storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the publisher.

ISBN:

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: TXu 1-735-995

Cover Design:

Typesetter: Jane Eichwald, Ambler Document Processing

Printed in the United States of America

Published by Stackin Paper Publishing

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my daughters Shacorya, Delnay, Daikeara and the rest of my family and everyone else that is still standing by my side through this madness I am faced with each day. To my mother and brothers, Sean and Brain, I want to thank you for still putting up with my stubborn ways and never flipping on me like the rest. To my late grandfather, Walter Davis, you are deeply missed everyday and you were the true definition of what a grandfather is. To my late friend, Leonard. Your passing is a great loss to the world. In your death you left me with the true definition of what real friendship is, and that helps me watch out for the fakes and snakes. I appreciate you homie.

table of contents

introduction 5

for what it’s worth 8

chapter 1

coming of age 9

chapter 2

just how it was 11

chapter 3

back to school 14

chapter 4

first crush 20

chapter 5

quick flip 25

chapter 6

caught slipping 43

chapter 7

getting it how you live 52

chapter 8

relationship 81

chapter 9

gone too soon 115

introduction

My intention in writing this book is to give the reader a brief summary of the street life I was living and the consequences that came from it, good and bad.

The thought came to me December ‘06 when I was placed on lockup for having a cellphone inside the prison. On lockdown, where I was around a few men I knew while being confined to a cell 23 hours out a day, conversation of our past life on the street were discussed. Asked by my neighbor whose name was E.B., a Westside cat, to write a book from the stories I dwelt on, I sat back and contemplated what could I really write about? What lesson or message could I give to the readers that was worth talking about? The answer to my question arrived along with the title of the book: For What It’s Worth, An East Baltimore Memoir.

The book is based on my transition into the street life and being able to accept the consequences of my lifestyle. For those who are fascinated with the street life, I hope as I take you through my journey you will see the untold stories of this life that are not always told.

This memoir is not an encyclopedia collection of every aspect of my life. Rather, it is a remembrance of highlights that stood out to me. In this book I take you through the typical stages many youth grow up seeing on a daily basis and the pressure of wanting the fame and glory. Unlike most urban real life stories where you have the writer glorifying the sex, money and murder game, but failing to point out that with the fame and glory come great consequences that can have the most richest man standing on his own. For those who are fascinated with this life, I hope my story give you a second though. Enjoy.

for what it’s worth

It is said by many people in the game, Men sharpen men, like steel sharpen steel, only to find out with these chosen words my shape was ready to take its form.

Yo L., I got something I want to show you. Follow me.

Corey man, L. said, this better be good.

Oh, it’s going to be better than that, I responded anxiously.

Check this out!

Man, where did you get that gun? L. asked, astonished.

If I tell you L. I would have to shoot you. I then joked in a menacing manner.

I’m leaving then, L. retorted, causing me to quickly respond. Sike L. I continued. You won’t believe where I found it.

Where man? L. questioned.

Inside that lode beat-up box when I was looking for the patches and glue for my bike.

Man, L. said, you should put it back where you found it.

The gun is not going to bite you dummy, I shot back while pulling back the revolver’s hammer, unsure as to how to operate it. I carelessly waved the gun in L.’s direction, sparking the fear of God in his eyes. Continuing to try and press the hammer with my thumb, the gun unexpectedly erupted in a thunderous boom, causing my ears to ring from the sheer force of the blast, scaring the shit out of me. I looked and saw L. grabbing his leg but that would be a mystery of its own.

chapter 1

coming of age

It was 1987, I was 11 years old and in the beginning stages of my transition. Just like any other East Baltimore child coming up inside the slums of the inner city, I was rapidly learning the credo of the streets you get it how you live it. With each passing day these ghetto streets were teaching me the basic survival skills that are required to make it in this sinful world. The concepts of school and respect for elders made the list, but in no way topped it. The list was topped by principles that not served as rites of passage of every black boy from the hood: never snitch and never back down from no one.

Growing up with five brothers, two sisters, and no father, my mother was faced with the difficult responsibility of fulfilling both roles: mother and father. Originally from Ellicott City, she became pregnant at an early age. She migrated slightly north to Baltimore where she gave birth to my older sister, Cookie. But shortly after that, my sister’s father abandoned her and my mother was forced to continue on as a single mother. A few years later after my mother divorced my older sister’s father, she met another man by the name of James. Briefly sharing a life with him she gave birth to me and my other four brothers and sisters before they too separated. He, being the coward that he was, took flight back to South Carolina and she stayed to shoulder the heavy load of rearing all of us alone.

It didn’t take long for my mother to begin dating again and this time around things would be much better. It was around ‘81 when she met Melvin, a well-known hustler known for doing big things in the city during that time. Their relationship became serious and he eventually embraced us as if we were his own. Living on Fulton Avenue for one year before my mother decided it was time to relocate. This was the beginning of the temporary urban nomadic lifestyle that we experienced over the next several years. Moving from place to place we finally ended up on the Eastside of Baltimore in the 500 block of Chester Street, right down the street from my Grandmother, Ms. Sue house. This new location also placed us right next door to a convenience store named Mr. Frank’s. The owner was a fifty year old man with a fetish for younger women. This was his primary reason for hiring them. He eventually ended up hiring my mother as a cashier which was a good thing for us. Each morning as my mother reported to work, me and my little sister and brother would find ourselves in tow, snatching up as much free candy our little hands could muster without fear of repercussion from the adults. This was a good time in our lives, but of course it would not last. My dream life was shattered by my mother’s decision to relocate again. This time to the 1100 block of Barclay street. This devastated me and I cried for the life and free candy that I knew while living up on Chester Street.

chapter 2

just how it was

It was July, which it was a usual humid scorching Baltimore day. To me, while watching the increasing amount of police cars roving throughout the black community through my still earning eyes, it also meant something else: another summer of record-breaking homicides.

On any given day you could catch some sight of the finest bitches East Baltimore had to offer up on Greenmount Avenue. They would be flopping up and down the avenue in some of the tightest Jordache cut-offs that they were able to slip their asses into just to turn a trick. This was a sight that I had seen all to often, I thought, as I watched tricks asses jiggle while switching away to their next job. Although I was young in age, my experiences had made me much wiser beyond my years. Further up Greenmount towards 20th Street, I could see niggas slinging dope in all directions. It was the mecca era for those in the freelance pharmaceutical business, where I could witness the competition that thrived between the dope hustlers at their greatest. In one place, there would be niggas usually engaged in the actual hand-to-hand action, while another dude would be nearby yelling in his attempt to hustle up some sales. Everybody in the hole, No change, no shorts," was constant calls that rang out on these blocks, everyone trying to meet that daily quota. There were even females out there in the mix getting it in, hustling that Shirley, or what’s commonly known as cocaine.

Pulling open the door to a corner store I heard a familiar voice rapidly barking out orders to someone, turning to see that it was Man-Man discussing B.I., so I waited before I approached him, not wanting to interfere. As soon as the conversation between Man-Man and the other person concluded, I ran up to Man-Man intending to ask for some candy money. What’s up, Man-Man? I said.

Man-Man looked over and responded to me, Little Pumpkin, what’s up? Calling me the name used for my older brother, I favored.

Nothing, I answered.

As if reading my mind, Man-Man asked me, How much do I need?

Five dollars.

Within seconds, Man-Man hand emerged from his pocket clutching a roll of bills comprised of tens, twenties, and ones. As usual, he was dressed to impress, clad in the latest gear. He was sporting a pair of black biker shorts with a matching short sleeve B.V.D. shirt, patent leather Adidas, and a 300-gauge twisted rope that nearly made me blind every time Man-Man moved. Life seemed to be showing him much love. He handed me a few bills that he peeled off and I snatched them and began running back towards the store, tightly holding more spending money then planned. Just as I yanked open the door I was stopped by Man-Man’s voice from behind, Little pumpkin, don’t think that you’re pulling a fast one over on me. I know that your brother would whoop your ass if he found out you been up here. So here’s the deal, let this be the last time I see you.

Alright, man, I shot back, just wanting to get to my next destination. Inside the store where I intended to grab the three bags of Cheese Doddle and two Huggie Juices I had been craving for all day. Now satisfied with my recent score I headed back home Seeing Man-Man jetting down Greenmount Avenue on a black Honda Elite scooter, making me think about the lecture that he’d given me for being too far out the neighborhood. The idea of the lecture coming from Man-Man Jive threw me since he was breaking law himself. But I figured that maybe Man-Man was just trying to look out for me and protect me from the unseen hands of the game.

chapter 3

back to school

Heading back to school for me was always a win-win situation. With my mother working a new Job at the Belvedere Hotel, slaving in order to earn enough money to buy me the best possible gear, I ended up starting the school year off right, with six Lacoste shirts, five pair of Lee jeans and Nike and Puma tennis shoes to finish it all. I couldn’t be told nothing.

Stepping on the scene of Johnson Square Elementary School #16 the first day was always a fashion show. The youngin’ congregated with the rest of the fellas that we missed over the summer to quickly run through the particulars that normal teens discuss when we reach puberty. Creasing the crowded halls of children, the principle made a announcement to all that could and would listen.

Welcome back to Johnson Square Elementary, he began. I want 1st, 2nd, 3th, 4th, and 5th graders to step forward. While the children began to gather he continued. Your teachers is holding name tags. Please go with your respective teacher. Thank you."

My first class I had Ms. English a math instructor and Mr. Brian for second period reading. These two classes are where I would end up meeting two of my best friends; Rickey, a brown skinned buck-tooth cat and Leonard, a skinny light-skinned cat. This school year at Johnson Square Elementary would be a different one from the previous year. The school was involved in a program called Project Raise. The program was designed to take inner city 5th graders from around Baltimore City and give us a chance at a higher education, which we hoped would carry over into our high school and college years. This program was the shit, in my mind. Through this program I was given the opportunity to experience meeting different people, playing sports, and traveling. I was even assigned a mentor, Aaron Starke, a black banker from the National Bank of America. Judging the mentors that me and my friends had, Leonard had the best one. He was assigned an albino attorney named Mr. Tumberland who worked out of the law offices on Calvert Street. With so many opportunities afforded to us in a world where you aren’t promised tomorrow, things were pretty good. It will be the choices that me and my friends made over the next few years that would lead street law to judge the path we will follow.

* * * * *

Every day in school became a repetition of the day before. Class work was boring and nothing special was going on. The only thing that would come along and break up the monotony was spring. The arrival of the new season brought forth a new direction among the males to explore their new found curiosity with the young ladies. Meeting up with Rickey and Leonard, the three of us usually sat at the table during lunch time and checked out the diverse groups of females prospects that were either standing or sitting around giggling in small groups. We were physically fascinated and attracted by the girls. But the sweet scents of bubblicious bubble gum and blow pops that wafted off of their skin to our horny noses drove our hormones into overdrive. Rising from the table with a slight smirk on his face and a gleam in his eye, Leonard said I’II talk to y’all later. I’m on a mission, Jerking his head in the direction of a group of girls sitting at a lunch table.

After lunch we went to our second period class. Listening to Mr. Brian teach his lesson on verbs and nouns seemed to take forever. I couldn’t hardly wait for the class to end, looking around the class to see Rickey’s head down on the desk catching some z’s. I tapped the student beside him and asked Can you wake him up for me? gesturing towards Rickey. Rickey awoke, and I said, We got a few minutes until class ends, so get your buck-teeth ass up. At the same time I was wondering what Leonard’s sneaky ass had planned for us to get into later. When the bell rang to signal the end of class, me and Rickey rushed out to meet up with Leonard in the hall.

What’s up, Leonard? I said cutting to the chase.

Yo, mission completed, said Leonard.

What you mean? Rickey shot