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Gary, Indiana:
City of Steel December 2007
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"And it's a rule of the thumb,
"People die," says Ryan Lewis. He takes a long slow pull on a Newport menthol cigarette and pauses before considering his hometown of Gary, Indiana. "I just got to get away, dog," he says to me. "'Cause there's nothing really here. All there is is the steel mill. I don't want to go work at the steel mill. It's good money but then I'm stuck here for 30 years."
People die.
Ryan Lewis checks his handgun before leaving his home to buy cigarettes in Gary, Indiana, Aug. 3, 2007. Ryan works as a teller in a local bank and mows lawns and recently bought his home from his grandmother for $40,000.
While some may point an accusing finger at Gary's drug trade, Brian, sitting on the front steps of his home on a hot August morning, says otherwise:
Arnita Rudder, left, looks at her daughter Latoya after Latoya recently learned a friend of her son's was gunned down in Gary, Indiana, Aug. 2, 2007. The city of 100,000 was founded in 1906 by the U.S. Steel Corporation as the home for its new plant. But in the 1960s Gary's fortunes took a downturn. Businesses closed and the crime rate spiraled, earning Gary the infamous distinction of "Murder Capital of America." African-Americans, who make up 85% of Gary's population, face high rates of joblessness with the unemployment rate for black males at 18%.
But business is good. At least according to the brushed steel briefcase that's whisked out of the room when I arrive at the B-House a little after midnight. It reads "B.I.G. Business Is Good," and that's the last I see of it.
I've been invited to the B-House on terms that I can only identify its residents by their noms de guerre. Big Rickie, who left the drug trade to pursue a career as a rap artist but is still friends with the B-House crew, rolls cannabis into a Backwoods cigar while Black Freestyle's over the sound system blaring Young Buck's "Get Your Murder On." Black, leader of the B-House, a .44 Magnum resting beside him, bangs his skull-tipped cane to the beat, "Get your murder on, cock it back and let it go." The joint and a large bottle of 1800 Tequila start to make the rounds.
B-Bogus is more philosophical. When asked about making it in Gary and the morality of the crime game, he replies, "God only spares so many."
Ryan Lewis keeps his handgun on his lap while driving through Gary, Indiana, Aug. 4, 2007. Ryan works as a teller in a local bank and mows lawns and recently bought his home from his grandmother for $40,000.
Back out on the street the next day, Tug-O-War takes a different approach. "Gary, Indiana, is the murder capital for good reason. In my personal opinion--and it don't mean shit---but I got one: The way to survive in this city is to be humble," he says. "When you get to thinking you're the shit and walking with your chest too far out...you know, rollin' on rims. Even if your girl is too pretty, when you get to drawing too much attention to yourself somebody's gonna hate." Tug-O-War stresses they "ain't gonna box you ... it's gonna get to gunplay. The only way to get things done around here is with gunplay." Big Rickie and Ryan both nod and look to the floor.
Caged dogs are pictured in the basement of the B-House during an all-night party in Gary, Indiana, early Sunday morning, Aug., 5, 2007. Members of the B-House deal in narcotics and prostitution.
The owners of L.L.'s Coney Island restaurant are also looking to leave. "This place has been here for 30 years," Arnita Rudder says shaking her head and smoking a menthol. A friend of her daughter was fatally shot yesterday: "We're going to Atlanta."
"How come we don't see the Red Sea being parted?" Ryan asks me. "How come we don't see the homeless being fed? Like ... five loaves of bread turning into 5,000? Is that for real?" he asks me. "Or is that just a real good story?"
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