The story of a young black boy growing up in a small southern town, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. in the mid-50s, early 60s including the adventures in the segregated deep south with one singular thought... to get the hell out. Not due to any racism, my parents shielded me from that madness, thank god. I wanted to escape the ultimate cardinal sin... BOREDOM.

Baton Rouge was and is a wonderful place to have been raised; however, by the time I was old enough to pee I knew I had to get out.

This is a story of dreams, raw ambition, and nerve. I wanted what I saw on TV and in movies. I wanted that exotic world of glamour, sophistication, power and wealth. I could taste it... I could smell it. I had no idea what it was or why I even wanted it, but I felt compelled to have it and I set out to get it by any means necessary.

At age 11, in 1964 my parents brought me and my sister to NYC, we were staying in the Hilton on 54th and 6th Ave. I was hooked. I saw the Beatles arrive in America before most of the country even knew them. They were across the street at the Warwick Hotel. I told my father that when I get 19, I was moving to NYC. He laughed and said OK son, now go to bed. At 19, I moved to NYC to East 85th St and my neighbor was Jackie Kennedy.

This is a story of how I met, wined and dined, and sexed with the rich and famous all over the world. I was living the life of a jetsetter until years of drugs and alcohol took control of my mind and I ended up in a straitjacket in a mental ward.

It's a horror story of being falsely accused of a horrible crime and thrown in prison. Yet a story full of laughter, love, tears, friendships, hope, redemption, and gratitude.

I had to learn that everything I was chasing, was a meaningless dream. Yet I got everything I wanted. I had to surrender and live my purpose. Now the world is mine. I had to go to hell to get this deep happiness that money can't buy. Don't block the blessings.