Innerviews: Hell's Kitchen vagabond rebuilds his life in Charleston
He grew up in Hell's Kitchen in New York City, dropped out of school in the ninth grade, joined a gang and sold heroin and cocaine with his brothers. Two brothers were murdered. Fed up with the violence, Raymond Vargas hit the road to anywhere else. Homeless for more than 30 years, he hitchhiked across the country, surviving on odd jobs. Eventually, he reached Charleston. He liked it here. Someday, he vowed, when he wanted to stop moving, Charleston would be his last stop.
He grew up in Hell's Kitchen in New York City, dropped out of school in the ninth grade, joined a gang and sold heroin and cocaine with his brothers. Two brothers were murdered.
Fed up with the violence, Raymond Vargas hit the road to anywhere else. Homeless for more than 30 years, he hitchhiked across the country, surviving on odd jobs.
Eventually, he reached Charleston. He liked it here. Someday, he vowed, when he wanted to stop moving, Charleston would be his last stop.
Longtime drifter Raymond Vargas makes his way to the Sojourners Job Readiness Center, where he’s polishing the skills he needs “to get back into society.” The former drug dealer grew up in New York’s Hell’s Kitchen and was homeless for three decades before landing in Charleston to start over.
He's back. And homeless no more. He cried when he crossed the threshold of his apartment on Renaissance Circle.
He takes classes at Garnet Career Center and the YWCA's Job Readiness Center. He wants to be an automotive technician, maybe even get a college degree in mechanical engineering, the dream his grandmother had for him.
He's soft-spoken and earnest, focused totally on rectifying his mistakes. At 54, he's rebuilding his life.
"I'm from a Puerto Rican background. We were raised in Hell's Kitchen in New York City. I was 6 or 7 when my dad ran away. And my mom ended up leaving, and there were six of us in the little brownstone apartment for four or five days by ourselves.
"My stepsister watched over us, an 8-year-old taking care of five other kids. Finally, my grandmother came to check on her daughter, and she took care of us after that.
"Every now and then, my mother would pop into the picture, and my dad, too, asking for forgiveness. When I was younger, I thought it was a real rough way to grow up, nobody there for you. But as I got older, I finally forgave them. I could see how poverty in America works into the family lifestyle.
"I went to Catholic school until the ninth grade and dropped out. After that, it was all downhill. I was pretty smart in school, but you get to your teenage years, and you get rebellious and hang out with the wrong people. I was affiliated with a gang, the Savage Nomads. I was president, warlord, vice president on different occasions.
"I wanted to get away from the neighborhood, so I joined the Army. I stayed at Fort Dix the whole time. Once I got out, I had my GI benefits and applied to computer school, but I found out the kids at home were starving. My grandmother wasn't physically able to maintain the same level as when we were young.
"I went back to work in the garment district for minimum wage. My brothers and I went into dealing heroin and cocaine to make money for the family. We had our corner and we had to stay on the corner until we sold out.
"My younger brother, Frankie, was like the leader. Joseph was the oldest. I was second, and Hector was right under me. Frankie knew where to get everything. He paid us. We could each make anywhere from $300 to $500 a day.
"There was a lot of competitiveness in the gangs. They found Hector dead, shot in the back. Two years later, Frankie got killed, hit in the head with a baseball bat. I just said, 'I'm not dying in New York. I'm going anywhere else but here.' So I headed out west, hitchhiked.
"I worked in different jobs from one town to the next. Some places had labor housing. Or I would stay in a tent. If I didn't have a place, I would sleep under a bridge. You learn to survive out there. I did that about 30 years.
"I was always on the streets. I always had a job, just never had a place I could call my own. If I had a place, I would lose it because of bad decisions. Go partying or pay the rent? You go partying, and you know the landlord is going to be knocking the next morning for rent money, and you get evicted.
"I was here six or seven years ago, passing through. Guy picked me up west of here and said he knew this wonderful place with a good homeless shelter, the Union Mission. He dropped me off right in front. That was my first encounter with Crossroads.
"I stayed eight months. I worked at the Gazette inserting stuff in the mailroom. Then I got the itch. It was getting cold, time to head south for the winter.
"I always enjoyed Charleston. Beautiful place. The shelter, St. John's, Garnet School and Covenant House, all centrally located. Everything picture perfect. Nice people. I made a promise. When I decided to settle down, I would come back.
He grew up in Hell's Kitchen in New York City, dropped out of school in the ninth grade, joined a gang and sold heroin and cocaine with his brothers. Two brothers were murdered.
Fed up with the violence, Raymond Vargas hit the road to anywhere else. Homeless for more than 30 years, he hitchhiked across the country, surviving on odd jobs.
Eventually, he reached Charleston. He liked it here. Someday, he vowed, when he wanted to stop moving, Charleston would be his last stop.
He's back. And homeless no more. He cried when he crossed the threshold of his apartment on Renaissance Circle.
He takes classes at Garnet Career Center and the YWCA's Job Readiness Center. He wants to be an automotive technician, maybe even get a college degree in mechanical engineering, the dream his grandmother had for him.
He's soft-spoken and earnest, focused totally on rectifying his mistakes. At 54, he's rebuilding his life.
"I'm from a Puerto Rican background. We were raised in Hell's Kitchen in New York City. I was 6 or 7 when my dad ran away. And my mom ended up leaving, and there were six of us in the little brownstone apartment for four or five days by ourselves.
"My stepsister watched over us, an 8-year-old taking care of five other kids. Finally, my grandmother came to check on her daughter, and she took care of us after that.
"Every now and then, my mother would pop into the picture, and my dad, too, asking for forgiveness. When I was younger, I thought it was a real rough way to grow up, nobody there for you. But as I got older, I finally forgave them. I could see how poverty in America works into the family lifestyle.
"I went to Catholic school until the ninth grade and dropped out. After that, it was all downhill. I was pretty smart in school, but you get to your teenage years, and you get rebellious and hang out with the wrong people. I was affiliated with a gang, the Savage Nomads. I was president, warlord, vice president on different occasions.
"I wanted to get away from the neighborhood, so I joined the Army. I stayed at Fort Dix the whole time. Once I got out, I had my GI benefits and applied to computer school, but I found out the kids at home were starving. My grandmother wasn't physically able to maintain the same level as when we were young.
"I went back to work in the garment district for minimum wage. My brothers and I went into dealing heroin and cocaine to make money for the family. We had our corner and we had to stay on the corner until we sold out.
"My younger brother, Frankie, was like the leader. Joseph was the oldest. I was second, and Hector was right under me. Frankie knew where to get everything. He paid us. We could each make anywhere from $300 to $500 a day.
"There was a lot of competitiveness in the gangs. They found Hector dead, shot in the back. Two years later, Frankie got killed, hit in the head with a baseball bat. I just said, 'I'm not dying in New York. I'm going anywhere else but here.' So I headed out west, hitchhiked.
"I worked in different jobs from one town to the next. Some places had labor housing. Or I would stay in a tent. If I didn't have a place, I would sleep under a bridge. You learn to survive out there. I did that about 30 years.
"I was always on the streets. I always had a job, just never had a place I could call my own. If I had a place, I would lose it because of bad decisions. Go partying or pay the rent? You go partying, and you know the landlord is going to be knocking the next morning for rent money, and you get evicted.
"I was here six or seven years ago, passing through. Guy picked me up west of here and said he knew this wonderful place with a good homeless shelter, the Union Mission. He dropped me off right in front. That was my first encounter with Crossroads.
"I stayed eight months. I worked at the Gazette inserting stuff in the mailroom. Then I got the itch. It was getting cold, time to head south for the winter.
"I always enjoyed Charleston. Beautiful place. The shelter, St. John's, Garnet School and Covenant House, all centrally located. Everything picture perfect. Nice people. I made a promise. When I decided to settle down, I would come back.
"I went to Miami and had my best job in the whole wide world working as a towel boy at the Ritz Carlton in Key Biscayne. Nice, clean uniform every day, locker for your clothes, showers after you got off work, breakfast, lunch and dinner provided.
"I could make anywhere from $80 to $100 a day on tips, just handing people towels. I would sleep on the bus, four hours going and four coming back.
"I left Miami and went to the West Coast. Sometimes you could get a ride clear across the country. Sometimes it would take forever. It could take you six months or 18 hours, depending how lucky you were.
"I worked one place at night where they cooked eggs. I was sitting on a stoop and saw this guy walking. A car ran him over, flipped him over the car just like in the movies, and the driver kept on driving.
"From that day, I decided I wasn't going to hang out in the streets anymore. Too dangerous. So I decided to head to Charleston again and try my best to get it right this time and get back into society.
"I went back to Garnet Career Center. I'd gotten my GED back in New York in 1977. Now I'm trying to go to Garnet's automotive school.
"I haven't been to school since ninth grade. Some of that stuff I know, and some I can't remember. The only thing I have left is my street smarts, which has helped me throughout the years.
"That automotive school at Garnet involves writing and reading and special courses, so you have to do your ABCs before you can do the automotive part.
"The Sojourners Job Readiness Center operated by the YWCA and the Garnet Career Center are wonderful places where individuals like myself can further their education.
"This is a stepping-stone, like a junior college for poor people where you can learn about computers and how to write. I want to be a mechanical engineer. That's my grandmother's dream. I was 7 or 8 when she told me that. It always stuck with me.
"Being in the cocaine gangs, I got sidetracked. Instead of staying in school, I messed myself up. I'm not blaming it on my mom and dad not being at home. It was a personal decision. I want to see if I can redo that mistake and go back to school.
"At the shelter, someone mentioned the Vista View Apartments up at City Park by the cemetery. I paid a deposit and gave them the application. They called in February 2007. My apartment was ready. I remember closing the door, and I literally cried. It was such a wonderful feeling, being in a place with a roof over your head.
"I was there about eight months without furniture, sleeping on the rug. I finally gave in and went to Union Mission over by South Park. They gave me a table, four chairs, a sofa and a comfortable chair. Slowly I began finding other stuff.
"I'm between jobs again. All I can find are jobs for teenagers. I haven't been able to drive. In New York, I had a car I was trying to sell. I was 22. I told a guy to take it for a test drive. He never came back. He wrecked the car, and I'm held responsible for it.
"I went to renew my license in South Dakota about 12 years ago, and they said New York has a hold on it. I can get it if I pay New York. I don't want to pay them because it wasn't my fault, and yet if I don't pay them, I'm not going to be able to get a good job.
"I don't know how far I'd be if I'd stayed in school. This is really hard, trying to redo a mistake you made. I know I can do it. It's just a matter of putting in a lot of effort into my obsession with going to school, and trying to relearn everything in society.
"I want to go to college. I'll probably have to go a year and work a year, and I might be 79 when I get my degree, but as long as I did it, who cares?"
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Posted By: rawhide(9:48am 06-30-2008)
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this is a great story to make one feel good about their accomplishments however i think there are many parts of the story that is contrary to the american way. How can a man be homeless and get a job when he desiress and quit because of the weather. The confession of a drug dealer should be offensive to any parent trying to raise a teenage in todays world. Great teestimonial for church but not the newspaper.
Posted By: Techgrad2008(8:08am 06-30-2008)
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Kudos to this guy for having the heart to follow @&@ dream. it was 29 years from my high school graduation to my college one. I don't have a great deal of money, but I made my dream happen too.
Posted By: foxcpa(1:35am 06-30-2008)
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An EXTREMELY interesting and touching story. Many of the people in Charleston...such as Danny Jones...and others who have had everything handed to you...on a silver platter...should cut this article out and read it EVERY day!
I grew up DIRT POOR. Getting to be a CPA was a long and very hard journey. After doing so I quickly saw that my wealthy clients usually spoiled their kids by giving them everything for nothing. In turn those same spoiled brats seemed to accomplish one thing...NOTHING!
The individual discussed in this story WILL make it. He has already been through HELL and back...like so many others you will never know.
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I grew up DIRT POOR. Getting to be a CPA was a long and very hard journey. After doing so I quickly saw that my wealthy clients usually spoiled their kids by giving them everything for nothing. In turn those same spoiled brats seemed to accomplish one thing...NOTHING!
The individual discussed in this story WILL make it. He has already been through HELL and back...like so many others you will never know.