Can Anything Good Come From Englewood?
By
Hannah Faye
Copyright © 2011 by Hannah Faye
All rights reserved under Copyright laws. This book was published in the United States of America and no copies or distribution shall be made without the written consent of the author or William Estese. Some names of persons and places have been changed for the sake of privacy.
FROM THE AUTHOR
I met William Estese on the evening of February 27, 2011, the day after his birthday in Soul Vegetarian Restaurant located in Chicago, Illinois. My father and I stopped in to have dinner that evening. William walked by just as I wiped the tasty cucumber dressing from my mouth. Just then my father introduced us. Before leaving the restaurant William and I briefly discussed his deliverance from Englewood, a well-known dangerous area in Chicago, where in 1991 88 people were killed within a period of four months. To this day, it carries a bad rapport. It may leave a person asking a question similar to the one Nathaniel asked Phillip of Jesus in John 1:46: Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth? Or in William's case: Can anything good come from Englewood? I was immediately interested in hearing more about his story and before I knew it I was embarking upon creating this biography.
You may have never heard of William Estese and after reading this book you may never hear or think of him again. But it is my hope that through his story you will walk away feeling encouraged, understanding that no matter what situation you find yourself in it is never too late to make a change for the better.
--Hannah Faye
INTRODUCTION
In 1974 I was born with asthma. I spent nearly my entire adolescent life in Labraida Hospital located in Chicago, Illinois receiving treatment for it. To scan my lungs they inserted a tube down my nostrils and into my lungs. By the time I was eight years old, I was used to having this procedure done. One particular day I took it upon myself to insert the tube. I pushed the tube into my nostrils and down the back of my own throat. I then drank water to flush it down even further. When the doctor came in he was astounded at what I'd done. Talk about fearless. When I wasn't in the hospital I was on the streets of Englewood, Chicago learning the tricks of street trades, mastering the rules and laws that governed them. By the time I was a teenager, I was well on my way to becoming one of the chief distributors of drugs in the area. My sharp thinking skills and outgoing personality earned me respect amongst all my clientele. But my hustle was interrupted. Things are much different now. My name is William Estese and this is my story.
1
Before I go any further with things I feel you should know how I got here. Now, I know you've heard it many times and you may not want to hear it again, but I must get a little Martin Luther King up in here because if we don't remember the past our future will not last. So, here's the only spill on history in this book your eyes will feel, because I know how much young folks like you tend to forget there was no ill.
Like many African-Americans' ancestors, mines were stripped from their villages in Africa and brought to America during the Atlantic Slave Trade. Somewhere between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries they were taken to the areas now known as Mississippi and Kentucky. After the Emancipation Proclamation was signed by Abraham Lincoln in1865 freeing the slaves, my ancestors were amongst many to migrate north for better opportunities. This migration continued into the 20th century and between 1910 and 1940 my grandparents found themselves settling in Chicago, Illinois.
Fast forward. The year is 1968. It is a hot evening on the Westside. My father, 33 year old, Kenneth Estese Sr., just made it onto his shift as a bartender. He considers himself lucky to have landed the job during so much unrest in Chicago's streets due to the Civil Rights Movement and the assassination of Martin Luther King. My mother, 31 year old, Diane, is a nurse. She just ended her shift at the hospital. She comes in the bar looking for a nice, cold drink after a long, busy day. She sits at the bar. Pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. They don't expect each other but when their eyes meet, there is a connection made that would last a lifetime. Out of this union, came the three of us: Kenneth, Kimberly, and myself. I am the youngest of my parents and they call me "Billy" Estese.
My parents were expecting me to come into this world on February 26, 1974, however, the precise time was not known. All day long I was moving around inside my mother's stomach. I didn't begin to really move around until what would later be known as my bedtime. Around 8:40 p.m. mama went into labor with me and had to be rushed to the hospital.