J Street Waterland

J Street Waterland

By

David Hammock III

SMASHWORD EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

David Hammock IIII on Smashwords

J Street Waterland

Copyright © 2010 by David Hammock III

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Back in The Day

Chapter 2 Money To Be Made

Chapter 3 Drama on the 7

Chapter 4 Tommy the Tool

Chapter 5 Connections Are Made

Chapter 6 It’s a Go Ahead

Chapter 7 We Rolling Nice

Chapter 8 Moose on Tilt

Chapter 9 Party, Sex and More Connects

Chapter 10 Not Far From Legal

Chapter 11 Reunited And It Feels So Freaky

Chapter 12 We Up All Crazy

Chapter 13 Pressure Bust Pipes

Chapter 14 Confessions to A Killer

Chapter 15 Han Gets Shocked

Chapter 16 Cops Get Street Justice

Chapter 17 Dreams Materialize on 17th & Jefferson

Chapter 18 Spend Some Money

Chapter 19 In The Rap Game

Chapter 20 Real Estate 101

Chapter 21 Fight for Philly -

Chapter 1

1978 – 1979

Back in the Day

The fire alarm rung like crazy, it’s early Saturday morning, Lil’ Lem, that’s me, and Han my little cousin are playing in the hallway downstairs. Han was four years old, I was eight. Aunt Donna woke up out of her sleep on tilt, Han’s father Pep, jumped up and grabbed under the pillow for his .38 snub nose. It was only one alarm lever in the building, located on the first floor, so Aunt Donna ran downstairs to see what was going on. I was steady trying to fix the switch but it was too late, nothing could be done; the landlord had to be called early Saturday morning. Somebody was getting their ass kicked.

As Aunt Donna approached, Han just stood there quiet looking like he was innocent. I, on the other hand, looked worried.

Who pulled the God damn alarm? I knew Han didn’t get whippings cause he was the youngest and the heart of Aunt Donna, so I tapped him trying to get him to fess up. Han is young but very ahead of his time, almost like a little man. He took the blame, but I knew Aunt Donna would get to the bottom of it, so she said,

Both of you put your arms up in the air, which we both complied, and move over to the alarm. Han’s arms were a half a foot too short to reach the alarm. I tried to bend my knees on some slick shit when it was my turn to measure up. On the spot she pulled down my pants and whipped my ass. I was crying cause it hurt, but most of all because I lied to my favorite Aunt and knew that I wouldn’t be able to come visit next weekend.

Pep was trying unsuccessfully to wedge a piece of cardboard in between the little hammer and the bell, but it just kept ringing. Soon everybody was up and in the hallway. Aunt Donna hauled me up the steps and tossed me on the couch and screamed don’t move. I sat there looking crazy at all the confusion I had caused. All my cousins and my brother came upstairs asking me what I did now. Redds was grinding me up, talking about you always getting in trouble, what you doing up anyway?

While everybody was asleep I got dressed, woke Han up and dressed him also. Aunt D was on the phone cursing at the landlord, finally, after a few threats, the landlord said he’d be there in a half hour. In the meantime Aunt D grabbed a dish rag and put it in between the hammer and the bell, the silence brought relief to everyone but me, I was still on blast.

Vince, my next to the oldest cousin was laughing at me cause he knew I was stuck in the house all day long. I have five cousins, all boys from my Aunt Donna, my Father Earl’s older sister. My oldest cousin, Moose, then Vince, Redds, Dale, and Han. Then it was me, Lem, and my brother Reese, we stayed with Aunt D on the weekends and sometimes permanently when my Mom and Pops were in their bag, which was quite often.

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The landlord came over with some lady who looked like she was prepared to party, all made up. I knew it wasn’t his wife cause she only came to collect rent. He reset the alarm then came upstairs with the lady. The lady said, hey Moms, that’s what everybody called my Aunt. Mr. Stan owned like 10 -15 three story apartment buildings all around North Philly, most of them below standard, he eventually sold out to Section 8.

Aunt D told me to take my ass upstairs to the room and remain there until she said so. I was glad to be out. Everybody was getting ready for the day ahead, which meant fun and games all up and down 17th & Jefferson. Mr. Stan used the excuse to get away from his uptight wife and them loud ass poodles, to come cut the alarm off and swing by Broad and Poplar to pick up Lisa, the young trick with the fat ass and juicy, thick lips.

Come on and get what you getting Stan, my kids ain’t ate yet. Pep came out the bedroom which was next to the front door with that thing on his waist. Stan was scared to death of Pep. Pep is from down South, no nonsense type dude who could gamble anybody and win.

Hey Pep, Stan said, looking timid.

What’s up Stan? Lisa spoke to Pep also and my Aunt cut her eye at Lisa so sharp and swift, tension was instant. Aunt D was barking now.

What will it be Stan? I don’t need your wife calling here looking for you. He ordered two double shots of moonshine and a bag of sess (Good weed). Him and Lisa drank up and started on their way to the park, no doubt for his weekend blow job.

My Aunt D is a natural born hustler, she sold corn liquor and weed, and homemade platters on the weekend. Pep got his gamble on so money was no real issue, but we were still trapped in the ghetto.

Soon as the door shut, my Aunt called for Redds, he came down stairs. She gave him a book of food stamps and told him to go to the corner store owned by Roc, an old numbers writer who bought property in the hood, much like Mr. Stan. He never was fully stocked of course, and roaches posted up on the shelves like security. Redds got the usual for Saturday, five boxes of cereal, two gallons of milk, and two cartoons of orange juice, Aunt D made sure her boys ate good at all times.

Just from watching her you could learn so much, she is very disciplined and sure of herself. My Grandfather and Grandmother I never met, but from what I’m told they died young, so my Aunt being the oldest female was left to raise my Father and my Uncle Donald, who is older than my Aunt. Uncle Donald went into the military at a young age leaving my Aunt and my Pop. My father did good at school and music until he got drafted, went off to the Vietnam war and came back hooked on dope, seen too much too soon I guess. He married my Mom and moved out West Philly to try and make it happen, but the street played tag and Mom and Pop were always it. So they moved back to North Philly on Hollywood Street.

Me and my brother Reese would listen to my Mom and Pop argue all night about nothing so we were glad to go over Aunt D’s. She got her sip on also but it didn’t affect her like Mom and Pep, she would turn into more of a gangstress. I remember it used to be a bar on 17th and Master and one on 18th and Jefferson. The one on 17th and Master was off the hook, it had an entrance on 17th Street and one on Master Street. It would always be packed day and night with old heads selling dope, weed, ritz and T’s (Combination of pills that got you high) and a couple of whores selling pussy. Then you had the local people who would stop by for a drink. Gambling was going down on the outside of the bar.

Well, this one night, it had to be about 10:30-11:00, we were still outside running in and out of alley ways and hallways playing hiding go seek. We heard all this hollering and gun shots, you know the hood, we was on the scene almost a hundred deep on 17th Street. It’s the middle of July so everybody is outside. Come to find out my Aunt was ordering a drink for her and Uncle Pep when some lady named Rose, from across the tracks was being rude, trying to bust in front of my Aunt. Well by this time her and Uncle Pep were feeling it and sober or not, if you disrespect either one of them, you was ass out!

My Aunt hit the lady with a right hook like a boxer, straight bust her shit wide open, the Bar became focused on the event of the night. So Rose crawled back up from the ground and pulled out her razor, before she could even swing it, my Aunt was poking her in the neck repeatedly with a steak knife. Rose had a sister there with her and her boyfriend Slim, a fake ass broke pimp.

Her sister tried to swing a bottle at my Aunt, she slipped that and my Aunt started poking her in the chest, she screamed at the top of her lungs. Rose and her sister were on the floor, clutching their wounds in total shock. Now the whole bar looking at the fake pimp to step up and play his part. He scared but his pride gassing him up. My Uncle Pep peeping the whole situation, he right beside Slim. Ed the bartender gave my Aunt the look like you better roll before the police come. At that moment the pimp made his move, he reached down like he was attending to his woman but slid the razor out her hand, then tried to come up in one motion to slice Aunt D. Pep stepped up and put the barrel of the .38 snub to Slim’s rib cage and squeezed three times. He flew against the bar and hit the floor with a thump. Uncle Pep grabbed Aunt D and rolled out.

As they made their way back to the crib Aunt D hollered, Everyone in the fucking house now! That order was not to be second guessed. You could hear in her voice she was angry plus juiced up. Everybody scrambled inside except Moose, he is my Aunt Donna’s oldest boy, 16 at the time so he was almost grown, but he still caught the wrath of Aunt D if he went against the grain. He watched and listened to make sure nobody snitched. The cops came with the ambulance, they took everybody to St. Joe’s Hospital, everybody made it except the pimp, he checked out on the spot. Two bullets went through his heart. The two bitches remained silent, they knew they crossed the wrong path and was grateful to be living and grateful to be rid of their pimp, hoes up, pimps down on that episode.

Two years later me and my cousin Dale aka The Chemist, were on a mission at the corner of 17th and Master. It used to be a pharmacy owned by a black doctor, he was vital to the whole hood. Of course he filled scripts and owned some houses along Master Street. Rent was cheap and the apartments were in good shape, good man he was.

Doctor Davis would put the almost empty glass gallons of Anne in the back yard until trash day. Anne is a very strong syrup; people in Philly were drinking this like Kool-Aid to get high. They would take this with V’s (Valium) and Cakes, a Codeine pill a little bigger than Tylenol 4’s, 529 Durtan, and Syrup. The combination is crazy, it will have you feeling relaxed and extra smooth, and you could still function. It’s not like dope, you didn’t withdraw until years into your addiction. Now with dope, within a couple of months you were no doubt addicted which eventually lead to shooting dope in your arm, so this was not looked down upon. In fact, it was a high of players and young hustlers, wine was playing out. So when Doc Davis would put these empty gallons in the trash it would be four in the box and like three to four boxes out back. So you figure sixteen almost empty gallons would be there.

Now, we would climb over the 6 foot wall with the cheap barbed wire by placing an old winter coat over the wire. Dale would pass them over to me, I would grab them one by one and take them into the abandoned building next door. Then we would search through the vacant lots for 16 ounce bottles and 8 ounce bottles that the syrup was distributed in and wash them out nice and clean with dish washing liquid, peal the label off to just a tinted bottle. While we was doing this we had the lid screwed on tight with the almost empty gallons turned upside down so the thick substance could all go into the neck of the bottles.

The Chemist is a smart dude, he wore glasses and was always thinking he could fix almost anything if he had enough time. After the gallon’s drained we would get 8 ounces out of each one. So 16 times 8 would give us 128 ounces, at $3 an ounce that would give us $384 to split. We would take all of our product around the corner to 18th and Jefferson to the bar and sell to the young and upcoming hustlers in the hood. Everybody knew my family so nobody would dare try to jerk us, plus most likely Moose was in the back shooting dice or playing pool. We would jet to Hollywood’s Sneaker store on Columbia Ave. and grab some Pro Keds or Nikes. Life was sweet, no stress, the block was like a circus. Non-stop gambling and people hanging around busing on each other, fights would jump off every day, a couple of times a day on the weekend. Everybody still had love, the basement of the apartments buildings were our club houses.

Chapter 2

Mid ‘80

Money to be Made

Moose was in and out of the Heights Juvenile Detention and then jail. He could have been a professional boxer but the lure of the fast money to be made threw him and many others off the legal track. Now Moose and his team got shit on smash. This is the mid 80’s, The Chemist and me doing our thing, my other cousins are hustling also except Han. He is still young and focused on school. My Aunt D is selling syrup and pills now and things are jumping crazy. It’s like 30 different people or more getting money on 17th Street. Everybody happy, police don’t really care about pills and syrup. At this time they mainly focused on the crack that hit like a tidal wave. Violence is crazy, people was getting kill’t like every day from every angle.

Its coke on the block now, crack houses are in almost every apartment building, that’s where my cousin Dale made his mark. He was the cook up man for some major dudes in Philly. He had an apartment hooked up like some shit you would see on TV. He would cut coke with meth, Bolive and some other shit he kept secret. Dudes was pulling up in Benzes, trucks and Caddys, dropping off four and five bricks at a time. He would cook them and bring it to damn near double, he even put the coke in caps. He would cap up 60-65 thousand off one brick, and for cooking up a brick and capping it up, he would charge 5 stacks. Needless to say, business was booming.

Me, Redds, and Vince, and some neighborhood chicks named BG and Henny would fill trash cans full of caps and we even bagged up weed. We did all this