This was a crazy place, the wild frontier of the gangsta life. You'd never know it now, staring at this empty slab of weathered concrete, overgrown with grass and barely visible from the street. A few people can still tell you what happened here; the rest would probably just as soon forget the sight of skinny boys with darting eyes, 15 to 20 at a time standing like pickets at every bend and corner, beckoning to the cars slowly winding through, like a graveside procession. In the cars are the hardworking men and women of black Dallas--laborers, teachers, nurses, even preachers--exchanging Friday's pay for $10 rocks... More >>>