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Woodberry proved to be a natural entrepreneur: he outsold other dealers by offering their clients free samples and running Sunday two-for-one sales on vials of crack. Says Woodberry: "I always believed in serving the customer good." With success came new risks. He began toting automatic pistols and a sawed-off shotgun for protection. At his peak, Woodberry estimates, he made $200,000 a year, until one day he dipped into his supply. Before long, he was smoking up all his profits. He began to deteriorate physically, losing 25 lbs. in six weeks.
Today Woodberry is a member of J-CAP, a rigorous two-year rehabilitation program. He sounds down to earth when he talks about earning his graduate- equivalency diploma and getting a job as a computer technician. But it soon becomes clear that Woodberry is still far removed from the mainstream, workaday world. When asked his minimum salary requirement, he replies, "At least $100,000." He shrugs. "Hey, that's comfortable."
THE BULK OF THE CRACK earnings goes to conspicuous consumption. Some dealers show up at school solely to flaunt their wealth. "Every day you can go to a high school and see new Mercedes and Jeeps and Cadillacs and Volvos," says Detroit Narcotics Officer Robert Jones. "These cars belong to the kids, not the parents." Dealers who are too young to get behind the wheel legally sometimes hire drivers; others -- like Frog -- take their chances. "Whenever they get in an accident, they have to get out and run away," says Los Angeles Juvenile Probation Officer John Copley. "They paid cash for the cars, but they don't have driver's licenses or insurance. Look in the police tow yards in central Los Angeles. They are full of new Trans Ams, Blazers and Cadillacs that have been in minor accidents and the drivers just got out and ran."
Clothing and jewelry are other signs of status. Designer sports coats, Rolex watches and $150 Bally shoes are popularized by dealers, then taken up by any other youngster who can afford to match them. Says Elena Anderson, a guidance counselor at Pershing High School in Detroit: "Students wear outfits on any given day that may be worth $2,000." Christina Louria, a health and physical- education teacher at Detroit's Cooley High, is struck by the fashion plates who show up at basketball games. "You see a lot of young people in fur coats and the thick gold chains," she says.
Gold, in fact, is a widespread obsession with inner-city youngsters. Heavy gold cables that cost up to $20,000 are all the rage, as well as chunky three- fingered rings resembling brass knuckles. Even gold dental caps are considered chic. These styles are so widely associated with drug trafficking that school principals are banning them. In New York City, the principals of three high schools have forbidden the wearing of gold jewelry. Detroit's Mumford High School next year will ban fur coats, designer gym shoes and gold accessories. In Baltimore, elementary-school principals have had to outlaw the fake beepers that youngsters wear to imitate the local drug lords.