If you’ve ever driven on Ferry Street at the corner of Lentz Avenue in Newark, you’ve seen the hustler with one leg, in his wheelchair, begging for money. He’s content, with a smile on his face, waving his cup in his hand as he rolls by cars stopped at the red light. Terik Graves is out there every day—no fail. He’ll even stand up on his one leg and dance just to get some spare change from you. The liquor store is on one side of the street and a hotdog stand on the other. The guy at the hotdog stand seems to be very friendly with him.
Local residents seem to know him and like him very much. “What’s up, Man?” a young man walking into the liquor store shouts to him. Terik looks as though he’s in high spirits, but you can tell by his sodden look that it’s probably the alcohol that keeps the smile on his face.
Substance abuse, including alcohol, cocaine, heroin, marijuana and other drugs, is a problem that intensely affects Newark. According to the Geostatistical and Data Center, as of the year 2000, Newarkers make up a little over a third of the Essex County population but more than half of the people in the county admitted for treatment for drug abuse. The great majority of these admissions are heroin users.
Terik, 42, moved to Newark from Richmond, Va., when he was only 6 years old. Surprisingly, he is very open to talking about his life, yet he seems anxious to get back on the street, hoping not to miss too many cars that pass by. To him, this is his job.
“I hustle,” he says, referring to his begging for money on the streets, “and I’m HIV-positive since 1984. I don’t take no medicine. I feel great.” He can’t seem to keep still as he speaks. Terik, who lost his leg in a car chase in 1997, says he’s an ex-crack/cocaine dealer and user. “I don’t do drugs anymore. I just drink,” he says laughing.
Looking at him, it’s almost hard to believe he doesn’t do any drugs. Despite his smile, you can see in his face that he’s been through a lot and lived a very rough life. He has three cigarettes in his hand. A guy in a passing car donated them instead of handing some change over to him.
Terik is a hustler, but he isn’t homeless. He lives on Riverview Court with his “baby mother,” he says. When he talks about his daughters, he stands up from his wheelchair excitedly and leans on a car. “I have three girls—Jamila, Latoya and Sherri. They’re 19, 20 and 8.” His smile grows larger as he mentions them. When he’s out hustling for money, his daughters’ mother is out working. His sister lives on Riverview Court too. “She does drugs,” he adds.
Drugs seem to be the focus of his conversation, partially because they’re all around him within Newark and partially because he was once an addict too. He says he served 17 years in prison for both using and selling illicit drugs.
Terik thinks Newark is an alright place to live, but there’s too much crime. He doesn’t seem to see his role in the community as being unlawful in any sense.
Terik would like to see “people stop selling drugs,” and he thinks Cory Booker can help accomplish this. He says gangs are a rising problem, too. “We have the Bloods and the Crips—and the Latin Kings down there,” he says pointing toward the downtown area and laughing. “You know what I’m talking about.”
His eyes light up when he speaks. You can’t help but laugh with him. He seems satisfied, content, yet completely astray from anything outside of life in Newark. If he used to sell drugs, you can’t help but wonder why he stopped and why he feels people selling is the biggest problem Newark faces. “I stopped selling drugs,” he says, “because I was tired of going to prison.”
Michele Ippolito is a Rutgers-Newark student. Posted July 2006.
