Inside the Wild Hundreds
An interview with Michael Broadway on the inspiration behind One Foot In, the sociological insights that shaped it, and the importance of urban realism.
By Dré Patterson
“Drizzee!” B-Way hollered up to me ecstatically. “I’m a published author, bro!”
“Congratulations, big bro — you did that. I’m proud of you.”
It was seven o’clock in the morning at Stateville Correctional Center, and the soundtrack of chaos that played on repeat to start each day was disrupted by this announcement. Michael Broadway, serving a de facto natural life sentence, has defied the status quo of stagnation that is the prison environment and published his first full-length novel, One Foot In.
I sat down with him later that night in NPEP’s education commons to discuss his accomplishments.
Responses have been lightly edited for length and clarity.
André (Dré) Patterson: I guess I’ll start at the beginning. What inspired you to write this book?
Michael Broadway: Honestly, it started off as a challenge. I actually wrote this book back in 2002 when I was stranded down in Menard Correctional Center. This guy hollered in the gallery: “Who got some urban novels I can check out?” I was like, “You still read that shit?”
“Y’all always criticizing ‘em — write something better,” he responded. And I thought to myself, “Bet.”
Dré: That’s funny that you had that attitude toward urban novels back then because now you find yourself defending this book against that label.
Michael: My main critique of the urban novel genre was how inauthentic and redundant they all were. I really lived that life — for real, for real — and I didn’t see my story in these books. I didn’t see my nuance in these stories; honestly, there was no vulnerability. You know what I’m saying? It can’t just be this Black kid who comes of age and decides he wants to be a kingpin. He didn’t pick up a gun and start blowing down people who look like him just out of the blue. Feel me?
Dré: Say more about that.
Michael: Take, for example, the controversial “strip club scene” in chapter nine. You have a grown man taking an adolescent boy, getting him inebriated, and paying two women to essentially sexually assault him.
Now, replace that boy with an adolescent girl — there’d be an uproar! Because of the toxically masculine society we live in, we never really talk about the hyper-sexual socialization of Black boys. It’s normalized in our communities and considered a perverted rite of passage. The point is that this sets up how Frank—and other people like Frank— view women as they get older and shapes how they understand intimate relationships. It’s a grooming process.
Dré: Right. There’s a psycho-social element behind these stories that isn’t being illuminated...
Michael: Exactly! Real sociology and psychology are being taught in all marginalized neighborhoods in our neighborhoods, and they are not any different from what’s being taught in these institutions of higher learning. Ours is not a “subculture.” We’re not “outlaws” and “anti- social” — all these terms are used to deem our behavior outside the norm of a mainstream, civilized society. No, I reject that misogyny, the victimization of women and girls, predatory capitalism, and making money by any means necessary, regardless of whether it destroys people and ecosystems.
This intertribal violence, where human beings murder each other over all types of created justifications—none of that is unique to our neighborhoods. We read about it throughout not only the country’s history but world history! Know what I’m saying? It’s playing out in our halls of government, boardrooms, and military operations. Those in power just get to decide what’s justifiable homicide or senseless murder, whether you’re defending your natural borders, fighting for your country, gang-banging, or committing terrorist acts.
Dré: I ain’t gonna lie, big bro, you’ve kind of changed my mind about urban novels...
Michael: That’s why I don’t consider my work that — it’s more like urban realism. I’m still working on that. I just don’t wanna be put in a box and be disconnected, feel me?
Dré: I definitely feel you. I also wanted to ask you about this part of the sociological analysis of the Wild Hundreds [areas within the 100th to 130th blocks in Chicago’s Roseland neighborhood] you give in the book’s opening. How much of that was influenced by the classes we took through NPEP?
Michael: When I wrote it, I didn’t have any concept of sociological terms like “disinvestment,” “deindustrialization,’ or Durkheim's functional analysis of crime.
Dré: (laughing) Bro, why did you just casually drop that sociology talk on me like that?
Michael: (smiling) You a social scientist like me. I knew you’d appreciate that. But I learned those concepts from [professors] Mary Pattillo and Megan Klein; because of those classes, I was able to name processes and effects that I was already being taught.
The old-timers always talked about the “good jobs” they had in the 60s and 70s. When I moved to Roseland from the Robert Taylor Homes, there were people living in all the houses.
They took pride in their lawns, there were businesses — it was like a whole, healthy socio-economic ecosystem going on. Then, the Jewel closed, the bank moved, and houses were just left abandoned. The Aquaseal factory, the junkyard I mention in chapter 39, that the police chase the hustlers into? That closed, and people just started dumping junk back there: boats, cars, dead animals, even human beings. Drugs and crime got crazy. I was a witness to these things, and even though I didn’t have the academic jargon to describe it, I felt it—it was happening in me and around me. I knew something wasn’t right.
Dré: Alright, bro, I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask you about the character of Frank. You did a great job of capturing the anxiety of his lifestyle and the different situations he found himself in. That resonated with me. Who was your inspiration for Frank?
Michael: Parts of Frank are me: the vulnerable parts, like wanting to hang out with the older guys and finding myself in situations like that robbery in the first chapter. It was like, do I freeze up or let on that I don’t really want to be involved? I really was concerned about disappointing my mom and old man, but also about risking being outcast—not being included or invited to anything in the neighborhood anymore.
Michael (con’t): Initially, I was affiliated by just living in the neighborhood, so I really wanted to capture and convey the reality that, even if a Black boy doesn’t necessarily come from the harshest, most neglectful, depraved circumstances, he could still be drawn to that because he doesn’t have the maturity to get himself out of those situations.
Dré: Man, I feel like you're writing my life, so I know this book will resonate with so many different people. Are there any special shoutouts that you want to give?
Michael: First, thank you for being that springboard I could bounce ideas off of. It’s no secret why I chose you to do a review. You’re ethical, honest, and analytical. I didn’t want a pat on the back for writing One Foot In. I wanted critical analysis and I knew I would get that from you.
Secondly, I want to acknowledge my friend, Ramona Perkins. She was the first to believe in my writing and put up the money to have it typed.
And this project would have looked so different without Shawn. She took the reins and didn’t drop them.
I’m in their debt and will be forever grateful to these women.
