A Series of Unfortunate Events

When I was a little girl I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wanted to be a writer, baker, and hairstylist. I also wanted to own a very large home so that people could stay a few days with me, I would feed them, tell them a story and they would go on about their business. I wanted to be a bartender and I wanted help the poor.  By the time I reached 52 there were only two things left on my list. I hadn't become a hair stylist and I hadn't gotten the large house where I could entertain people. By now I knew that was called a Bed & Breakfast. So, I started cosmetology school. I had a goal and that was to finish my 1500 required hours in nine months. I took my state boards and got licensed.

In April of 2012 I opened a hair salon in West Salem Square. There were other salons in the building, but it wasn't even a deterrent for me. This was the perfect location. It was located within a 1 mile radius of Winston Salem state University, Salem College, Salem Academy, North Carolina School of the Art, The Gateway Y and all of downtown. I knew it would be a successful place to open a business. 

I purchased top of the line equipment - $6,178 worth of equipment. I invested another $19,000 in supplies, tools, artwork, paint, computer, etc. I was so excited! My hair salon was called Zuri Hair Studio. Zuri is Swahili for beauty or beautiful. I contacted the Boys and Girls Club manager and offered free hair care services to the young ladies that went there. I also contacted the director of Dress for Success to offer hair care services to the ladies that signed up with them. I signed up with a company called Merchant Services, Inc. to process my merchant account. It would take 3-6 weeks before I got the equipment. Who knew that when I wrote the checks for my rent and salon furniture in May that my world would never be the same.

My checks bounced because Merchant Services, Inc. had taken all my money! Every single dime I owned. They would take small amounts like .99 or $1.10 and then make a huge withdrawal until they had wiped me out. I asked members of my family to help me and it was easier for them to talk about me like I had a tail than to help me. Finally, I asked the right family member and he gave me the money to get caught up on the rent.  A friend of mine loaned me the money for July's rent. In June I applied for a loan with a microloan company here and was told I would have an answer in 2-6 weeks. My landlord and the company I got my furniture from were very patient and understanding. 

Each day I worked and had a good day, I would leave some money with the landlord to help towards my rent because I didn't want it to get too far behind. As the 6 weeks ended, I still had not heard anything about my loan. I started calling the loan officer and leaving him messages. I left him email messages, Facebook messages, and text messages. On November 13th I was on my way to a conference when the manager of my building where I had my salon called to tell me she was going to change the locks on my salon. I told her that I was on my way out of town, I would call her when I returned. I added, that hopefully I would be able to sell some books and make enough money to get back in the space and all would be good. A few minutes later the loan officer send me a text to say that his program had limited funds, and they decided to give it to another applicant that they felt had a better business deal.

I called Margaret on Monday to let her know that I thought it best to get my things out of the space and try it again later. Margaret told me that she would hold my items until I had paid my bill in full. I told her that I would feel better if I had them, and she insisted that they would be safe. In December I was talking to a friend of mine that works at the Forsyth County Attorney's office. I told her what happened to me and she informed me that the landlord cannot hold my items in lieu of the rent. She has to let me get them. I called Margaret back to let her know what I had learned and told her I wanted to come by on Saturday and get my things. She told me that they could hold my items, that I should read page three of my lease. On page 3 there is a sentence that says, "if the tenant is 30 days late on the rent, the landlord has the right to take possession of the space and all that is contained therein, i.e. computers, phones, etc." I called my friend back and read her this statement in the lease, to which she said, "It doesn't matter what she put in the lease, the law is the law and she has violated the law. She needs to let you get your stuff!" I called Margaret back and told her what I had been told by the County Attorney's office. She told me that this has been in their lease for over twenty years and they had never had any problems. She told me she was tired of discussing this with me and told me the next time for me to call and talk to Johnna. I told her to transfer me to her. I was put into her voicemail. I left her a message. Two days  later Johnna called me to see what it is I wanted. I told her that she cannot hold my items in lieu of the rent. She told me this was her business and she could do whatever she wanted to do. 

I called the Legal Shield, who was previously Prepaid Legal Services and spoke to an attorney. Her name was Shana. She could not believe this had happened to me and was going to take my case. I felt so relieved. The very next day, Shana called me to say that I didn't have a case and that I should just forget it. I wanted a second opinion and she gave me the number to dial to request one. I spoke to Mike a couple of days later.I told him what was going on and he asked me what did I expect to happen, what would I like the final outcome to be. I told this idiot I had invested over $25,000 into my business. I wanted to get my items back. I only owed the landlord $2,100. I asked him did he think that sounded fair. He said, "Do you have the money to pay her?" I told him I didn't. But I had $1,000 and wanted to make that offer. He called her and she told him I owed her $4,000 and she would not settled for less than $3,000. He called to tell me this. I asked him to see if she would take it in three payments, because I had $1,000 I could give her at the time.

I waited to hear from him again and finally after a week I called him. He seemed aggravated, "What is it now?" "You were supposed to get back with me to tell me what Johnna said," I said. "Said about what?" he asked. It seems our memory of what took place in our last conversation was different. He told me that I was supposed to call Johnna Hewitt, not him. When I called her, she had a yard sale and sold all of my items! "I'm not a hair stylist. But I do have a building full of them and they needed hair supplies and I had  some so I sold it! What?" she says. I told her that I would come by and get the pictures of my grand child. I had an entire wall with pictures of my 5 year old grandbaby wearing different hairstyles. She informed me that she had sold everything, except a chair.

I was sick! I thought I was having a heart attack. I spent the night in the ER and a few nights later I was back there again! I made an appointment with my regular doctor and was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. 

I started doing research and decided to call my friend back at the county attorney's office. I wanted to know the exact statute that tells how to do a commercial eviction. With that information I contacted NOLO. I explained to the attorney what had happened to me. She referred me to three different attorneys. I contacted each of them. They listened, shocked and decided that they would definitely help me out, but I first needed to give them a $10,000 retainer or more! I didn't have that kind of money!

One day I got dressed and went to the courthouse. I was desperate! I walked all over that courthouse speaking to every attorney I saw that was not busy. I was there four hours before I met an attorney named Melanie. She told me to contact Wake Forest School of Law that she knows that some former students had started a law practice that was taking clients pro bono! I called them right in front of her. I hugged that lady and was so glad to have met her. I made an appointment to speak with Earnest Bailey the next week. I took all of my paperwork - my lease, the letter from the collection company wanting me to pay them $4300 for back rent, the letters the NC Attorney General's Office wrote to Merchant Services, Inc., all of my text messages from Margaret, the manager of West Salem Square, pictures of my salon, my inventory and prices of all of the items I had in my salon, what few receipts I had in my possession. His office was not pro bono, but they had deeply discounted fees. He took my case and their fees are just $80 an hour.

He showed me there are two ways to evict a commercial tenant. One way is called self-help. With self-help, the landlord sends the tenant a certified letter stating that they are default of the rent and if not paid in full within a "reasonable" time - usually 30 days, the landlord will then take possession of the space. If the tenant has not paid the rent, the landlord then must send another certified letter stating that he has taken possession of his space. The tenant now has 30 days to remove all of his items and leave the space clean and in the same condition that it was in when they moved in.

The other way is by filing the paperwork with the courts and having the paperwork served to the tenant. If the rent is not paid before the court day, a Magistrate will determine whether the tenant is in breach of the leasing agreement. The tenant is given thirty days to remove their items from the space and leave it in the same condition it was in when they moved in. That is the law, there is no gray area where the landlord can interject their own brand of handling things. 

I have looked at pictures of the other salons in that building - pictures they post on Facebook, Instagram and youtube and I see my items in their salons and it angers me! My items meant nothing to Johnna Hewitt! I can't even wrap my mind around how she can even think this is acceptable. Just because her father put that clause in his lease twenty years ago or so, doesn't mean it was right. All it meant is that no one had ever spoke up for themselves, no one ever challenged their actions. It is wrong on so many levels and I cannot sit back and do nothing. This is about more than just me - it is about every single tenant, African American and White that has taken a space in that building with high hopes of having a successful business, but may face an unforeseen situation (like mine) and get behind in rent. Will Johnna Hewitt decide to liquidate their business? Will she sell everything you worked hard to establish or stick it in the basement to sell later, not taking in account how hard you may have worked to make your dream a reality? She has received a grant from the City of Winston Salem. They are actively promoting her place of business as the place to start up a a new business for entrepreneurs. So is Forsyth Tech's Small Business Association. But, it is not a good place to start if she has the power to take over your business inventory and sale it. 

I will contact every organization I can think of to prevent this from happening to anyone else.

My First Love

 My name is Darby West and I am a Daddy’s girl. From the moment that he saw me I was his Tootsie roll. I have been carrying that name for ever and will carry it forever more. My Daddy was not a perfect man, but he was perfect for me. He had a very tumultuous relationship and moved out to find peace. That search led him to a peaceful woman and the two of them had a son. He used to come to the Bronx on Fridays to drop off money and to see his babies. Whenever he entered the building he would sing out and in our building – a tenement on 245^th Street and Bruckner Blvd, the acoustics were so strong that it would carry him up to the fourth floor where we lived. “Daddy! Daddy!” we would all call out and run to the door. He always came with penny candy in his pockets. We would run straight for those pockets. He would hug us, kiss us and love us up! Because of the tension in the house, he would just drop the money off, spend a few minutes with us and leave, promising to come back on Friday. We would all run to the living room and look out the window as he walked across the street. He would wave at us and blow us a kiss before going up the block to the train station. We would look out that window until he was out of sight and beyond that.

At five my baby brother, Ron and I went to live with him in Queens. When I started first grade I went to live with my auntie Sugar Prune. She was So prissy! I was only five, but she was trying to teach me how to be a lady. When I sat down, if I were wearing a dress, I was to take my hands and smooth down the back of my dress, before I sat down, then I had to cross my legs at that ankles so no  one could see my underwear. My hands were supposed to be placed in my lap. When my favorite boy cousins came by I could not play in the yard with them because I could hurt myself, skin my knees, break a nail or sweat out my press and curl. My Daddy took me from there and I went to live with him again.

It is said that most little girls marry a man like their father. I didn’t do that. Both of my husbands were the exact opposite of my Daddy. I did meet a man that was like him, though. The first time I saw him he was coming to visit my cousin one Friday evening. They were going out to a disco that night. When I opened the door to let him in, he didn’t even look at me.  I was invisible to him. I had my hair tied up, and wore an old pair of shorts and a too big t-shirt. My aunt told me that if I wanted to get his attention to fix myself up. The next Friday night when he came by I was ready for him. My curly afro was hooked up nicely. I had on my halter top, patched jeans, and my Buffalo shoes. Gold hoops were in my ears. He looked at me that time, but kept walking to the back. Soon my cousin called me, “Yo! Tootsie, c’mere!” He introduced me to his friend, “This is my boy, Charlie.” He didn’t even have to tell me his name because ever since I met him I had been writing in my notebook – Charles loves Tootsie. Tootsie loves Charles.

Charles and I got to know one another and one of the things that I didn’t like about him is that he didn’t know when to stop drinking. It was a shame too, because I really cared about him. However, I knew how difficult like could be with an alcoholic and I wasn’t going to put myself in that position.  I went on about my life, marrying a man that shared his name, but nothing else.

When I got divorced and returned to New York it was Charles that met me at the airport.  I wasn’t ready for a relationship at the time; I just wanted to wallow in misery. That winter he and my cousin came by the house. “Get up, get dressed!” my cousin ordered. I didn’t want to go, but I got dressed and joined them. Charles’ mother was having a party. There was about three feet of snow piled up beside her gate where they had cleared the sidewalk. The party was going strong when we arrived. There was plenty of food, cake, and liquor. Charles took that first drink and we danced. By midnight the red Solo cup appeared to be glued to his hand. Every time I saw him he was sipping from it. I knew that five years had passed, but he was the same old person. Around four my cousin came looking for Charles. I hadn’t seen him in a while. His sister told us she saw him go outside, but she thought he must have come back in because his coat was still on the bed. We got his coat and went out to look for him. There he was lying face down in that pile of snow, drunk as Cootie Brown. We struggled to help him up, and there was a yellow stain in the snow. My cousin was furious! He was going on and on about his Norvegese shoes. “Every time we go somewhere this is the crap that happens! Yo, man! I am sick of this!” he fumed.

We helped him put on his coat. “I’m sorry man! I know I promised you I wasn’t going to drink. But I saw Tootsie, and she was looking so good!” My cousin slapped him across the cheek. “Shut up! You ain’t good enough for my cousin!” he shouted at him. We tried to get him to walk, but he was too drunk. Charles and I waited for my cousin to show up with the car. He was leaning against the gate of someone’s house, still mumbling about how fine I looked, and he was sorry. Just as we got ready to help him to the car, this dude threw up on us! My legs and the front of my coat were covered in huge chunks of whatever food this fool had eaten. I was so disgusted I nearly threw up. We had to go back inside and clean the mess off. My cousin fussed at him all the way back to Brooklyn.

No, I never married a man like my father. My Daddy liked liquor too. He did stop drinking though in his later years. He mellowed out and became deep. It wasn’t a deepness that entirely with old age. Sometimes after taking a toke or three of gunja, anybody can get deep and start philosophising.  When I was getting married for the second time he came to NC to give me away, along with my auntie and one of her friends. After everybody had gone to bed we were up talking. “Why are you getting married this late in the game? How old are you now, forty or forty-five?” he asked. “Forty-five? Come on, Daddy! You know I ain’t forty-five. Try thirty-five!” I said, laughing. “How long have you known this cat?” he asked. “Six months,” I replied. He shook his head. “Six months? Naw! You don’t know this dude. And he doesn’t know you. You need to put that on ice. Why can’t you just live with him for a while, see what he is really about. Don’t rush into this,” he said.

We never had a really deep conversation like that in a long time, a long time. The last deep conversation we had was when I was feeling my friend Kevin in Hampton, VA. I was trying to decide should I return to Virginia and give him a chance even though I wasn’t in love, but he appeared to be. My daddy looked me in the eye and said, “Love? Who said anything about love? Did I say anything about you falling in love? What I said is…and you need to listen because I usually sell this advice. For you, I’ll give it to you free. Love is like a boil It rises on your behind and busts in your heart. Don’t fall in love with these cats out here. Let them fall in love with you! And that my dear is the truth and the whole truth!” “Daddy, are you sober?” I asked. “I ain’t had nothing to drink today,” he replied. “But are you sober?” “Nope! But I know what I’m talking about,” he smiled.

I miss my pops. I don’t need a certain date of the month to honor my Daddy. I can do that any time I want to. I can close my eyes and remember what his hair feels like, soft like cotton. I can smell the Old Spice he used too much of. I can see his smiling face and that twinkle in his eye. Each time…every single time I think of him, I feel blessed that I was given to him, my first love – Walter Lee Greene.