A Soldier's Redemption: Life of a Gangster (Shorty G)

By Lorenzo Louden

A Soldier's Redemption is a true, candid, no-holds-barred story of infamous former gangster disciple Lorenzo Louden, a.k.a. "Shorty G." His story immerses you in the notorious world of gangs, taking you on a bone-chilling ride through the streets of 1970s Chicago. While serving 17 years behind bars, his militant rule of the underworld expanded from the streets to the prisons until a spiritual encounter directed his journey out of the darkness onto a miraculous path of purpose and possibility.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jun 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9780228896340

Lorenzo Louden

Lorenzo Louden was born in Little Rock, Arkansas, but grew up on the notorious streets of the West Side of Chicago, Illinois, an area known as K-Town. He was raised in the foster care system until he was 14 years old. Lorenzo grew up on the streets and endured a lot of hardship as a young teenager. As an adult, he believed that his past did not have to dictate his future, so he strived to be the best he could be. During a 17-year stay, from 1977 to1994, courtesy of the Illinois prison system, he gained 4 degrees, including a bachelor's degree in business. In 2005 Lorenzo started a non-profit organization called Tower of Refuge, dedicated to aiding and assisting returning citizens. For the 10 years following, he and his team worked diligently to ensure that these individuals had the services and support they needed to make a smooth transition back to society. The organization had a 96% success rating over that 10-year period. Lorenzo, a noted motivational speaker, who has positively influenced the lives of hundreds of detainees, is also the published author of "A Soldier's Redemption: The Life of Gangster Shorty G," an autobiographical account of his life as a gangster.CEO of Black Chamber of Commerce of Illinois in Bloomington, IL; granted a contractual employee position for the Illinois Department of Corrections for mentoring and educating individuals incarcerated prior to their release; current owner of Illini Construction & Waterproofing, LLC; a father to three wonderful young adults that are contributing hugely to the societies that they are currently residing; loving brother, uncle, and friend to all who he has encountered.

Book preview

A Soldier’s Redemption

Life of a Gangster (Shorty G)

Lorenzo Louden

A Soldier’s Redemption

Copyright © 2023 by Lorenzo Louden

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-0-2288-9633-3 (Hardcover)

978-0-2288-9632-6 (Paperback)

978-0-2288-9634-0 (eBook)

This book is dedicated to my Godparents,

the late Elder Walter Leroy Jones and Mother Erma Jones,

and to my Godsister, Ladia…

for believing in me when no one else would,

sacrificing your time and effort to come visit me in prison,

and opening up your home to me when I got out.

"I feared no man, but we often fear the unknown.

The truth in a man comes out when he is faced with the unknown—the fear.

For that brief second, the truth came out: I was only human."

~ Lorenzo Louden

Note: Many names have been changed to protect the innocent—and the guilty!

Contents

Foreword

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

A Few Words from Bevey Louden…

Afterword

About the Author

Acknowledgments

Foreword

There are major barriers faced by ex-offenders who are trying to transition back into the community, and these barriers create feelings of ambivalence.

On the one hand, the ex-offender wants to stay out of prison, get a job, and possibly get enrolled in school. But, someone who has been convicted on a state charge, and served time in state prison ends up penalized on a federal level, thanks to the collateral consequences bills passed by Congress. For example, there are certain licenses that ex-offenders can’t obtain. And ex-offenders may be denied subsidized housing or financial aid for school.

The Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States reads as follows:

"Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction." [Emphasis added.]

Because of that, it is considered acceptable to discriminate against anyone convicted of a crime. If I walked into an establishment and applied for a job, they couldn’t say, No, we can’t hire you because you’re black or because you’re gay. And if they did try to discriminate against me like that, I could sue them. But, if I’m released from prison and I walk into a local establishment and apply for a job, they could say to me, No, we can’t hire you because you’re a convicted felon. The Thirteenth Amendment supports that kind of discrimination.

The last time I came out of state prison, I was court-mandated into a long-term drug rehabilitation program. I became a member of Narcotics Anonymous (N.A.), and to this day, I still work the steps, go to meetings, and have a sponsor. The sponsor I found was also a convicted felon and a former gang chief.

When I would get frustrated because I was a thirty-two-year-old man trying to get my GED, my sponsor would normalize my experience, saying, Hey, I went through that, too. When I was trying to put together a resume for the first time, and I had nothing to list on it in terms of job experience, my sponsor was able to say, Yeah, I felt like that, too. That kind of support helped me to stay in school and get my GED.

When I went on my job search, I was uncomfortable sitting at a bus stop, dressed like the kind of guys I used to victimize. I wanted to give up. When I felt incompetent because I would hear others using all this terminology while I was using a lot of slang, my sponsor and my N.A. brothers talked me through it by sharing with me how they got through it. They helped and encouraged me every step of the way, and taught me to hang in there. Eventually, I got comfortable.

When I finally finished with rehab, I went to see my longtime friend, Bobby Gore* (Conservative Vice Lords, Inc.). He was serving as the director of the Safer Foundation, an organization helping ex-offenders get jobs. I asked him how he’d been able to separate from his street organization and do the good work he was currently doing. (*Bobby Gore, God rest his soul, was laid to rest on February 19th, 2013.)

He shared with me how he did it, and suggested some first steps I might take—like getting enrolled in school, becoming employed, and refraining from going around the street corners and neighborhood blocks where my former gang hung out. He said, What will happen is that guys will hear you’re home, and hear what you’re doing with your life, and learn to respect you in a different light.

By the time I’d been home about seven years, I had earned an Associate’s Degree in Mental Health and Substance Abuse, and become a certified drug abuse counselor. I’d already been helping a lot of people, and as a result, people who were still in prison would reach out to me by phone and letters, asking me to help them stay out of prison. I’d also get calls from gang leaders saying, Hey, man, this guy’s coming home. Can you help him? I was even getting requests from gang chiefs of organizations that were in opposition to my former street organization!

After receiving so many calls and letters, I decided to call a meeting on the streets. I put out the word to every guy I could think of who had managed to stay out of prison for at least five years. These guys were all formerly gang-affiliated recovering addicts or alcoholics. They were all working jobs and/or going to school. And, many were working in the substance abuse field.

I appealed to them, saying, We need to create a re-entry circle—a support network for people transitioning back into the community.

A lot of guys I tried to help by opening the door to N.A. or A.A. felt they didn’t fit because of their gang affiliation and their background as an ex-offender. There was also the issue that the N.A. and A.A. traditions prevent us from displaying outside literature on the literature tables. I wanted an organization where we could bring in speakers, talk about services available to ex-offenders, and display resource literature geared towards ex-offenders.

This is how the National Alliance for the Empowerment of the Formerly Incarcerated (NAEFI) was founded.

Lorenzo Louden founded his organization, Tower of Refuge, in Springfield, Illinois, and I founded my organization, National Alliance for the Empowerment of the Formerly Incarcerated, in mine and Lorenzo’s old ‘hood on the Westside of Chicago. In the world of our old street organizations, we were rivals—a Gangster Disciple and a Vice Lord do not mix.

But, in this re-entry network, we are brothers. He and I share the same experiences and the same background. We are both ex-offenders, and we faced the same re-entry barriers when we came home from prison. Even years later, while we’re doing our work through our respective organizations, we sometimes feel alone. But then we remember that we have each other to help us stay on track. When we run into a barrier, we can bounce things off each other.

We’re there for each other during those times when we’re tempted to resort to our former street ways as a means of dealing with our frustrations. Organizations like Lorenzo’s Tower of Refuge and my nonprofit organization, NAEFI, offer critically needed services. Formerly incarcerated and convicted people are faced with invisible punishment and collateral consequences, and in order to navigate through those barriers and protect themselves from recidivism, they need people like Lorenzo Louden, and the services offered through the re-entry network.

~ Benny Lee, former Vice Lords gang leader; co-founder of National Alliance for the Empowerment of the Formerly Incarcerated (NAEFI), Community Liaison for Illinois D.O.C. through T.A.S.C.; Professor, Northeastern University; featured in Black Gangsters of Chicago, Chicken Soup for the Recovery Soul, and other books; consultant for B.E.T. series, American Gangster and the History Channel series, Gang Land.

One

For a long time, I figured any book I ever wrote about my life would have to be written from my cell. In those days, I was known to the State of Illinois by a number, and to Folks in the Family as Shorty G. Plenty of the Folks are still doing their time. Plenty of them are still out there in their madness. Some of them are dead. Thanks to God’s grace and forgiveness, I was given a second chance.

Life sure does take unexpected turns sometimes, and that’s how I come to be telling you my story as a free man. And, when I talk about being free, I’m not just talking about being free from state prison. There are all kinds of ways for a man to be locked up in chains. But, I don’t want to get ahead of myself here…

I was born in Little Rock, Arkansas, but my story really starts when I was a four-year-old kid, living in Chicago with my mother and my baby sister, Grenada Janelle (Jan). My mother was an elegant, petite lady, who stood about five-foot-two or three. Her style was real flashy and she liked nice things.

I never knew my father at all. I was told he was in the military, but older people kept secrets in those days, so I never knew anything more than that. Mom never married the man, and had no contact with him. Looking back on my like a kid, it’s easy to understand how I ended up where I did.

The building where we lived was real noisy, and there were always people running up and down the hallways. Day and night, you could hear them fighting, hollering, and carrying on. I don’t remember other kids being around—just a lot of grownups and a lot of chaos. There was no way to feel safe.

We had an itty-bitty efficiency apartment. It was one big room with a kitchenette, a couch, and a bed that folded into the wall. I slept on the couch, and my sister slept with Mom in the bed. We lived above a tavern on a busy street, so there was always traffic. At nighttime, I liked to stand at the window, listening to the car horns and looking at the lights and the people down below. People would be having fun—drinking, laughing and telling stories. That looked to me like a good time.

Mom was always on the go—and too busy to do much loving on us. I had no sense of her having an actual job. I didn’t know how we were surviving without a dad. Whenever Mom would leave, she’d say, Now, don’t open the door for anyone! I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I fixed some bottles for your sister, Ardie. You make sure she eats. And there’s food in the fridge if you get hungry. (My name is Lorenzo, but people called me Ardie.)

She had already shown me how to put the bottle in Jan’s mouth, and how to change her cloth diapers carefully so I wouldn’t stick her with the safety pins.

One day, my Uncle Bubba, who was twenty-six, and my Uncle Leodis, who was twenty-four, were beating on the door, hollering for me to open it. (Mom was their baby sister, born in 1939.) There was no one home but me and Jan. I knew it was my uncles at the door, not strangers, so I would have opened the door. But the door had a double-sided lock that required a key.

I kept hollering through the door, I can’t open it! I can’t open it! I don’t have the key!

My uncles went looking for the maintenance guy. Next thing I heard was the sound of keys jangling. Then the door opened and my uncles came inside. They had this look of shock on their faces when they realized there was no one home but me and my sister. There was usually some lady or another that showed up to sit with us when my mom took off. That one time when my uncles came by, we were there by ourselves.

Uncle Bubba and Uncle Leodis had their hands up over their noses and mouths. I’d been changing diapers and it was stinky in there. My uncles glanced at the roaches running around. There were always mice and roaches.

One of my uncles scooped me up in his arms, and the other one wrapped a sheet around Jan and then picked her up. They carried us downstairs into the hot summer air, and we all got into Uncle Leodis’s car. It was a black 1950’s Chevy, with a hard top and a big nose on the front. I always felt safe with them, so I was happy to be in the car with them.

I don’t remember where they took us but I do remember Mom showing up, all angry. She had some man with her. She started screaming at her brothers for taking us out of the apartment without calling to let her know where we’d gone. She was claiming that she’d only left us alone for a couple of hours. My uncles answered back that someone had contacted them, saying they believed Mom had left us in the apartment for a couple of days.

I was looking at the man who was with my mother. He had light skin and slick hair, and he was dressed real nice. I’d never seen him before.

My uncles didn’t want to give us back to my mother, and they argued a little bit. In the end, Mom won out. I loved my mom, and I wanted to be with her, but I didn’t want to go back to that place. I started crying and crying. My tears did me no good. My uncles gave us back to Mom.

She took Jan and me back to the apartment, and started cleaning up. The light-skinned guy with the slick hair hung around for a while and eventually he took off.

A few days later, we had visitors again. This time, a couple of official looking people showed up at the apartment—a man and a lady. They were around my mom’s age, and they were white. That was an unusual sight in our neighborhood. I didn’t get a good feeling from the way Mom was interacting with these people. I knew that whatever was going down, it wasn’t good, and I was scared.

Mom was holding Jan tightly to her chest, and she had me tucked back behind her. She was saying, NO!

There were also two police officers standing by. One stepped in and tried to grab us kids. Mom was crying and yelling and trying to keep us away from them, so the other one grabbed Mom. It was terrible, having those people pull us away from Mom.

They took Jan and me to a big place—some kind of house. There were other kids there, too. Suddenly I didn’t see my infant sister. They had separated us.

I wanted to know, Where’s my sister?

All they said was, Go back over there!

I cried, But, I want to see her!

They didn’t pay me any attention.

It seemed like I was in that place forever, but it was probably only a couple of months. That’s when an older couple came and got me. This time, the people were black. I was told that someone else had come and taken Jan away.

Suddenly, I was living with these strangers. They told me to call them Auntie Florence and Uncle Rich. The lady kept telling me, See, honey, I am your great aunt. Your granny on your mother’s side was my sister. You understand?

They lived on the top level of a two-flat house. I was told that the people living on the first floor were my cousins—but they were Uncle Rich’s family, so they weren’t my blood relatives. There were the older cousins—R. L. and Jeanette—who seemed more like an aunt and uncle. Then there were their children—one boy and two girls, who were around my age or a year or two older.

Our home was beautiful, but I wanted my mother. I asked, Where’s my mom?

Auntie said, Don’t worry about your mom. She’s fine. Someday you’ll see her again.

I didn’t know what to think about what she was telling me, but she told me everything was going to be okay, and I believed her.

Uncle Rich was a really tall guy with a very deep voice. He was demanding and authoritative and didn’t smile much. Auntie Florence did most of the talking, which was fine with me. Uncle Rich didn’t strike me as very nice. He was lurking around in the background, staying mostly silent. He gave me the impression I’d better not cross him.

I wanted to know, Where’s my sister?

Auntie said, I don’t know.

I started crying, and saying, I want to see my sister! I want to see my sister!

Now, now… she said, wrapping me up in her arms and trying to comfort me. Everything will be okay…you’ll see.

Now it was summertime on the Westside of Chicago, and I was in this big, beautiful upstairs home that belonged to Auntie and Uncle. I had my own room, which was a first for me. This was all very cool but also very strange. I had no idea that this was how life was supposed to be. I thought normal life was the way I’d been living with Mom.

I attended church with Auntie and Uncle Rich, who were Southern Baptists. The music was real fired up—not that bland contemporary Christian music you hear on the radio. I would see people clapping and rocking back and forth, and women catching the Holy Spirit, then screaming and falling backwards. That scared me.

At Easter, we kids (me and the downstairs cousins) would dress up, and then stand in front of the congregation and say our Easter speeches. The memory of standing on that stage in my little suit, delivering a speech I’d memorized, stayed with me throughout my life.

After I’d been with Auntie and Uncle for about a year, Auntie got very, very sick. She was always going to see doctors, and got diagnosed with cancer. In 1966, when I was nine, she died. I was over at the home of Auntie Florence’s sister, Aunt Dolie, when Auntie Florence died, right there on the couch.

I remember Auntie’s sister saying, God took her. She’s not sick anymore.

Auntie just went to sleep and didn’t wake back up again. I didn’t really understand what was happening. I had no idea where my sister could be, I hadn’t seen my mother in over a year, and now Auntie was dead.

In the winter before Auntie died, she and Uncle Rich adopted me. They talked to me about the adoption in a serious way that let me know that it was important to them, but I didn’t get it. Nothing had changed. I still lived with them like always, so what was the big deal?

After Auntie died, Uncle Rich took me back home to live with him. The house felt very different with just the two of us in it. With Auntie gone, Uncle Rich was being especially nice to me. He was suddenly willing to spend time with me. He worked at a book binding company, but he was a mechanic on the side. He would let me sit outside with him, or keep him supplied with water while he worked on cars in the garage. He still had a threatening demeanor, but for the most part, he was good to me.

At Auntie’s funeral, I saw Uncle Bubba and Uncle Leodis. I was so happy to see them, I ran over and jumped up at Uncle Leodis. He said, Well, look at you! Look how big you’ve gotten! As Uncle Bubba was making his way over to say hello, I could see my mother walking behind him.

She came over to me and bent down. I started crying, wanting to go with her. I clung to her tightly, not wanting to take my arms from around her. I told her I missed her and wanted to go with her. I didn’t even care where she’d been—she was here now, and that was all that mattered to me.

Aw, Ardie… she said, hugging me, you can’t come with me right now. But, I’ll be coming to get you pretty soon. For now, you got to go on home with Uncle Rich. I’ll come by and see you in a few days. We’ll sit down and talk then and get everything straight. Now, you just go on. Then, to calm me down, she stuffed a dollar in my pocket.

I had no choice but to believe what she was saying, so I did.

While I was at the funeral, I met my mom’s sister, Aunt Louise, and her kids. I also met Aunt Dolie’s kids. All these kids were my blood cousins, and meeting them made me realize, Wow, this is my family! I’ve got a real family! If I had blood family, why was everyone leaving me with Uncle Rich?

Before they started moving me around from place to place, I had known only one family structure—my mom, my sister, my uncles Bubba and Leodis, and me. That was it. That was my family. Even though I’d accepted Auntie, Uncle, and my downstairs cousins as family, they were not my blood relatives, and I never for one second forgot that my real family was missing.

My mother didn’t come back when she promised she would. I was in no way reconciled to being away from her.

When I asked Uncle Rich why my mom hadn’t come back for me, he said, I’ll get in contact with her, but for now, you need to know this is your life. This is where you live, and you need to obey me. We’re your family—me and your cousins downstairs. I hated it when he told me that.

Around Christmas, my mother finally showed up, bringing gifts like Santa Claus. This time, there was a different man with her. It didn’t matter to me who he was—I was just happy to see my mom. I loved her so much and my love was unconditional.

I asked her when I would be able to go home with her. She explained, I’m just not in the right place for you to come live with me right now. But, don’t worry, baby, everything will be okay. I will always come over here to visit you until the time I can make that happen.

I had faith in what she was saying. Before she left, she gave me a phone number where I could reach her, so we could talk from time to time.

One day, I called the number she gave me. When I asked for my mom, some man said, This is a pay phone. Then the phone got handed off to someone in charge, and I heard them calling, Fannie! Fannie! When they got no reply from her, they told me she would have to call me back. I could hear loud noise and music in the background.

When she called me back, I asked her, Where are you, Mom?

She said, I’m working, Ardie. I’m at my job.

With Auntie gone, Uncle Rich started changing on me. He would be gone for eight to ten hours at the book binding company, and then come home and start working on someone’s car in the garage—and drinking.

When I got out of school in the afternoon, first thing I did was stop downstairs and check in with my cousins. I stayed down there to do my homework with the other kids. If there was anything I had to do upstairs, I was allowed to go up there for a little bit. But, I always went back downstairs to wait for Uncle Rich to get home from work.

He came in from work around four-thirty or five o’clock, and I would go upstairs with him. I would have already eaten downstairs, so he’d fix some food for himself. Then he poured himself a drink. At first, this was out of character for him, so it caught my attention. After a while, I just figured, Drinking must be what grownups do, and I accepted it.

Whenever Uncle Rich had been drinking, he got grumpy. Usually he would just go into the bedroom and fall asleep in his clothes. I would sit up and watch TV in the kitchen for a while (the big TV in the living room was off limits to me). Then I’d go into Uncle Rich’s room, pull off his shoes for him, and try to wake him up so he could get his clothes off.

Then I got my clothes ready for school the next day and had my nightly bath. I felt like a big boy for being able to get myself ready for bed and school, and also help look after Uncle Rich.

During the time I was with Uncle Rich, he whooped me a couple of times for not doing what I was supposed to do. So, I knew he had it in him to be mean. He would smack me on the bottom with his big, rough mechanic hands. Or, he would hit me with the belt. During those whoopings, I didn’t feel like Uncle Rich was acting out of turn. I figured I deserved what I got because I hadn’t done what I was supposed to do.

But, I didn’t like the things he’d say to me after the whoopings. He made it clear if I did not get myself right, he’d give me away. I never forgot that he was a very strong, heavy-handed person, who could really hurt me. And, I never forgot that he could give me away. Those two threats were always there.

Two

One day in the summer of 1968, Uncle Rich left me with specific orders to slow-cook a pot of ham hocks and beans. All I had to do was keep adding water to the pot when the water level got low. But, I was a kid and I was busy doing other things. I went out into the backyard