I grew up lower middle class and went from there to drugs, theft, and general poverty - which at the time - did not bother me. I was more concerned with partying and getting laid.
By the time I was 29 and living in KCK I was becoming a real problem for the police. It had come to the point where they would stop my friends and tell them they had a shot to kill on sight concerning me. I had several warrants on both sides of the state lines, Missouri and Kansas.
I had always made my income from selling pot, buying and selling cars, and taking advantage of the system where ever I could. I did have a moral compass however. From a very early age, about 5, I remember a conversation with my mother. I asked her if it were possible to become rich without devaluing those around me. I gave examples like: I liked the idea of building houses but if I became very successful I would find myself in a position of taking land from people who did not want to sell or I would contribute to urban sprawl. This was an example for a reason. I loved my grandfather's "farm". I hated the new houses being built near it and had a fear it would be lost. It was 20 acres with 1/2 old growth woods and 1/2 pasture (created by my grandfather when he was very young and his father). There was a hand dug pond and a live creek that ran through the place. The 20 acres was the remainder of 160 acres left to a direct ancestor in our family who got the property in a land grant from President Buccannan.
I could not think of any business where through either competition with others would bring them down if I went up or enterprises where, if grown to no end in sight, would become bad outcomes. These were the thoughts of a child but they followed me through my life and I could never find a job that satisfied my hidden drive to succeed. The longest job I kept in KC was digging ditches for a cable company. I made crew chief but only took advantage of it. It only paid a little more money and I totally undermined the job.
I had to leave town or get killed by the police. I had outran them twice and one had been blinded in one eye from a thorn bush.
I took a 1965 Buick Wilcat, in 1980 at the age of 22, for a move to the Northwest. The car cost me 25.00 and I had bought it for parts to be used on a 1965 Riviera - of which I had two. I pulled the good tires and wheels off the Rivieras and put them in the trunk of the Wildcat. I had three prostitutes living with me at the time, of which I protected but took no money from, just sex and cleaning. I took one with me along with a total, after I had sold everything, about 300.00.
We blew out tires all the way out west. I ran out of fuel at the exits of Salt Lake City and coasted down to a Hardees restaurant. We walked, with everything we had brought with us, to a pawn shop. We sold everything for 65.00. I looked through a newspaper for a job and found an opening for apartment manager. When we found the place it was a row of houses, big old houses, along 2nd street. I talked to the owner and he told me they had once belonged to the wives of Brigham Young - the Mormon who traveled from KC (Independence) to find the promised land, which turned out to be SLC. My theory was that he saw the lake and thought it was the ocean, then pronounced that this was the place.
The job was filled but I was able to get a room for 15.00/week. It was a walk in closet with a fridge and a stove with a shared bath down the hall. I soon found a job in Draper Utah about 40 miles south installing cable again. This company, which moved around putting in underground cable, paid everyone minimum wage except that the crew leaders got paid extra for every foot put in.
I found my nitch and for the first time fully applied myself. I soon became a crew leader and the best one at that. Instead of operating the equipment, a cable plow which had one speed, I put the slowest guy in my crew on it. I worked a shovel and dug around the other utilities drop lines. The other two guys I had work close to me digging their ditches up to the chain link fences and similar jobs. I gave them a small part of my extra earnings, which were substantial. I would smoke a joint with them if we finished a set amount of work. I was soon making more than the other 3 crew leaders put together - about 600 - 800 a week - which was great in 1981. I reinvested this money into old muscle cars which I would flip for a profit. Everything I spent for needs usually had an additional way of making money or saving money.
The job ended and the company was sold. The guy who ran the underground department came to me and wanted to make me a partner in another like venture in Las Vegas. It sounded great. He said he would call me in a couple of weeks. Earlier during that year my grandfather died. He had left the farm and the old house and barn to his 3 daughters, one of whom was my mother. They all lived in different cities, not in NW Arkansas where the farm was. They couldnt maintain the place and were talking about selling it. The bothered me considerably.
I had a dream the night before the cable guy called. I dreamed I was walking up the hill from the road in front of the farm towards the top, where it was flat and the house and barn stood. It was a warm spring day and I remember thinking it was the spring of my life. The grass was so green and there was a thrill in my heart, an anticipation. As I reached the top of the hill, where it was flat, the land went back downhill to where the woods spread out to the right and the large flat pasture was down the slope and in front of me. The grass was so green, unbelievable green. I walked towards it with a solid sense of purpose. The grass became greener and I awoke with my future laid out in front of me. I didnt yet know what it was but I knew I was moving to Arkansas. My girlfriend though I was crazy giving up Las Vegas and a thousand a week job. I had my doubts but the dream had been so strong.... I felt I had something to prove to myself and my dead ancestors.
I had no idea what I was going to do there. I thought I might start a cable company or a salvage yard on the 20 acres.
They had turned down my unemployment, reduced me to minimum wage, minus the incentive pay, and made me climb poles - which I hated. I fought them and won. I remember the heavy clunk in the mailbox next to the front door. It was filled with 26 envelopes with 26 checks for 298.00 each. I had several cars then. Mostly muscle cars. I sold them all; the 64 GTO's, the Rivieras, the several Lemans transaxles, and many more. I took all the money I had and bought a one ton 1957 IHC flatbed truck. I also bought a 66 IHC Travellall. I had a friend who had moved out to SLC during the time I lived there and he helped me load up what I had, which was little, and drive to Arkansas.
When I got there I did not know what to do. The place was overgrown and it became just a huge lawn mowing job. I was renting the place for 150.00/mo. from my aunts. My mother stayed out of it. I tried to get a job installing cable but the work was sparse, as the town was very small at the time, and there were no jobs. I paid my rent one year in advance with what was left of my money. I tried picking up pallets which is what we all did for drug and drink money back in KC. I went to the local pallet recycler and tried to sell the pallets. Now this town was behind. This guy had never heard of buying pallets. He told me that he got all his free from Wal-Mart and Tyson Foods. He told me he just went through them, sold the fixed ones back, and burned the rest. He had 4,500 broken pallets on his place. I asked him for them and he said those beautiful words," take one take them all". In just a few days I found a pallet company, just 30 miles away, who would buy them for 2 bucks each.
No one was picking up pallets in the several small cities in NW Arkansas. I began collecting them. I collected as many as 900/day. I called old friends in KC and asked them if they wanted to move out to Arkansas with me and have a job repairing pallets. This became a business which grossed nearly a half million the first year. I paid piece work. It was not until several years later I learned what the dream meant. The green was money and recycling, and yes it was the spring of my life.
By the year 2000 I was grossing 10 million a year and had 150+ employees. I paid all my taxes.
This was the land boom. My property was singled out, as many other small business' were, as valuable properties. I could not sell my property as commercial but as soon as they bought it they could make 10 times by selling it as such.
The county planning board tried to shut me down. They built a neighborhood next to me. The new Interstate 49 went right by my property. I had 1/3 of the Sam's clubs in the country and 9 Wal-Mart Distribution Centers. I had over 60 semi-tractors and 300 semi-trailers. I had nearly 100 semi loads of pallets a day coming into my three plants. I had the one on the 20 acres, a warehouse a couple of cities over, and a one million sq. ft. warehouse in KC to handle the Sams Clubs.
I was constantly fighting the planning board. There was no zoning and I had always paid my county taxes and held a business license. They had a blue book of rules and had actually put a cover from a 1982 book on a newly written 1997 book. I uncovered this at appeal and I won. They even gave me approval for a new landscape supply business on property I had purchased nearby. I was making colored mulch with the final scrap and was trading a useless plywood pallet to a native stone quarry in Oklahoma. I put over a million over the years in the infrastructure at the 20 acres and that last year put over 100,000 in the landscape supply business. I was ready to go when the city of Rogers annexed me and brought me in as a non-complying business. I was told to die and that I could not grow nor even change a light bulb. Nothing was grandfathered in. The pawns for the big land developers had beat me. I could not even borrow money on my property to move my business. The banks were in on it. My land was appraised not as commercial but as agricultural. With this low amount the deducted 500,000 to raze all I had built. There was no business to sell. Just a bunch of customers built up over 25 years. My wife had a breakdown and developed the schitzophrenia that runs in her family. I just broke down and quit. We were embezzled over a million dollars. I developed a drug habit after being clean for 25 years. I became an opiate addict and a coke addict. I just left 500k in AR. I sold most my equipment for scrap iron. I committed business suicide. I tried to get clean but I just could not. I finally forced myself to go through a 77 day treatment program. I could not come out of withdraw. I lost 50 lbs. They finally had to give me an opiate a day so I could go to their damn brainwashing classes. I left the program completed but with a determination to kill myself.
A year later I took 150 10mg methadone, 50 80mg oxy by needle, and two Xanax. If I had more Xanax I would of died. I had such a huge tolerance I lived through it and never had my stomach pumped. I did finally catch the dragon and nodded for 6 days in intensive care.
I lost everything. My son developed schizophrenia. My daughter and son both hate me. My wife is still with me and we have both accepted the chemical changes in our brains from the 10 years of opiate abuse. We live off disability and since we paid so much in taxes we get 3k a month. We own a house and live in the country. We have no friends but are slowly coming back. I want to write and hope to take some classes.
I see this country for what it is now. The money never meant much to me but the ability to make a small fortune from what went to the landfill did. Several companies now use my ideas to recycle cardboard, pallets, and other materials. I have done good for the planet and for lots of people - even though most I tried to help became a disappointment.
This species of human will never survive if we continue to grow under the concept of short term profits and continued growth.
The destruction of diversity will be our downfall. I was destroyed by a system that eats it's own. I could of played, and won, but had destroyed myself too much in my pain to do so, plus my heart would of never been in it. Too much fight prior to fight a new fight. If I live through the abuse I have done to my body as I am now 57, you will see a book titled something like the American Nightmare.
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