GANGS: Machiavelli’s Descendants

CHICAGO — Street gangs, a fact of life in this city, don't forgive mis­takes easily. Losing even a $10 bag of dope can land a gang "brother" in the hospital.

Mama will listen to a sad story about anything. But the gang's en­forcer does not want excuses. No matter whether it was the police who took the dope or a holdup man, no­body messes with the gang's money, rules or reputation. Nobody. Neighborhood legend has it that one Black Disciples leader beat his own brother to the ground for violat­ing the rules.

It is a cold world, and most gangs whether the Black Disciples, Latin Kings or Simon City Royals, a white gang, live and die basically by the same set of do's and don't's, although enforcement takes many forms. For example, someone who wants to quit might be shot in the leg before being allowed to leave. Or be thrown out a 6th-floor window. Or receive a "pumpkin head," a beat­ing so bad the head swells to the size and shape of a jack-o'-lantern.

Bigger mistakes that really hurt business, like killing the wrong child and bringing too much police heat down on the organization, can push a gang member, no matter how young and foolish, right into his grave.

The police say 11-year-old Rob­ert Sandifer, a member of the Black Disciples, also known as the B.D.'s, was executed for just that reason. He killed the wrong kid.

The police say there are 2,000 to 10,000 B.D.'s in sets scattered throughout the South and West Sides of Chicago. On paper, at least, they are well organized, with flow charts of responsibility, rules, myths, prayers, secret handshakes, weekly meetings, dues and fancy titles for the leaders, many of whom are well into their 40's and celebrating birth­days in prison.

The B.D.'s are among the most notorious gang in the city, though their formula for success is that of all the other gangs: violence, threats, drugs and a sense of family and everlast­ing love for their members.

The gangs have little trouble recruiting members. Children join for a variety of reasons: fear, money, lack of jobs, protection, recreation, excitement or because a big sister or brother belongs.

For a lot of the older gang mem­bers — grown men and women long past their teen-age years — it is a matter of simple economics. They often cannot find legal work and certainly nothing that pays nearly as well as crime.

Gang members, young and old alike, lionize the dope dealer, the gang lord and the Wail Street crook who steals millions with a computer instead of a gun. They know the real money is being made by whoever is bringing the drugs into the country, and as з 15-year-old. B.D. said, "Mis­ter, it ain't us."

But gangs are not without their defenders. Hal Baskin, a former gang member who now works closely with the police, the gangs and the schools to curtail violence, said only a small percentage of gang members caused serious trouble. He said that the gangs could be used as a force for good and that in Englewood, his strug­gling South Side neighborhood, they helped keep the peace.

"They have captivated the minds of young people, "Mr.Baskin said. "Why reinvent the wheel? Let's work with the organizations and make them more positive."

"Kids and their families been kicked to the curb so many times by society, about ail they got left is the gangs.."

"People act like gang members are aliens from outer space. They're our family members, our sons and daughters, and they need help. Oth­erwise this is going to spread."

"What got me selling drugs," said a 16-year-old B.D. who calls himself Chill, "was the day I filled out 14 job applications and not one of them stores called me back. I said, "I got to make some money.' My mama was struggling. I let my mama keep her little money. This year, I didn't ask her for no school cloths, books, nothing. This year, I was a man."

Another 15-year-old Black Dis­ciple who called himself Will said that he was afraid of going to jail and of dying violently but he had no de­sire to leave the gang. "Being in an organization is like being in a big fam­ily," he said "They are always there for you when nobody else is."

Chill said the gang cared about its members like a family would and kept them in line: "They told us we can't even sell drugs around here if we don't go to school. I know one brother who was broke all summer because he messed up in school and couldn't sell."

Chill said the boy improved his school record and was back on the corner selling.

"It's no different than your mama making you go to school," Will said. "And anyway," Chill added, "a lot of mamas don't care if you go. The or­ganization does. It don't want no dum­mies. The organization ain't all nega­tive."

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