CRENSHAW : Ex-Drug Dealer Out to Stage Turnaround

Standing on the bare stage of the cavernous Adams Street Theatre, his arms spread wide as if receiving a benediction, Ricky Ross speaks fervently of the second chance in life he never thought he would get.

“When I was in jail, I felt good about being recognized by kids, but not because the recognition was due to the fact I dealt drugs,” said Ross, 33. “I always had a desire to give back something positive to young people. Now I can.”

Once the head of one of Los Angeles’ most notorious cocaine rings that did business nationwide, Ross has embarked on a venture that he is determined will be just as big: helping youths. He is attempting to transform the vacant theater, one of several properties he bought before going to prison, into a youth center.

Called Freeway Academy, the center would house various programs, with a particular emphasis on arts and music.

With some work done but about $18.5 million to go in renovations and property acquisitions, Ross is undaunted. Leading a tour through the 40,000-square-foot theater, Ross pointed out where he intends to set up dressing rooms, recording studios, and rows of seats in the massive main theater where youths can mount productions.

Ross said he used profits from his old drug business to launch the venture, and has garnered about $30,000 in private donations. A cadre of rappers, including Ice-T, Ice Cube and D.J. Pooh are recording an album, due out in January, that will benefit the center.

Soft-spoken, dressed in sweats and sporting shoulder-length dreadlocks, Ross hardly seems like a man who spent about fours years in prison for drug trafficking. But the man known as “Freeway Rick” when he peddled cocaine in the late ‘70s and ‘80s, said he always has had a different style.

“Even when he made money, he was helping people out financially, gave them food,” agreed Cornell West, Ross’ cousin and partner in the youth center. “He was sort of like a Robin Hood. He was never flashy. The underprivileged kids looked up to him.”

Ross’ high-roller days--he would net about $800,000 on a good one, he said--came to an abrupt end in 1989, when he was arrested and later convicted on federal drug-trafficking charges.

His 10-year sentence was halved when he agreed to testify against narcotics officers who faced charges of planting drugs on suspects and skimming money from drug cash and filing falsified search warrants.

After he testified, prosecutors made no attempt to seize his assets, which at one time included dozens of homes and apartment buildings throughout the city, a motor inn and several businesses.

Ross said he has learned his lesson.

While serving time in Ohio, he began planning a recording and rehearsal studio for fledgling musicians and actors at the theater. After last year’s riots, he widened the scope to include athletic, tutorial and computer services for youths.

“Young people have no safety valve these days that allows them to express themselves, develop their talents,” said Ross, who grew up in South-Central. “Look at what happened to me. I had a lot of talent, but I never even read a book until I got to jail. I don’t want other kids to end up there before they’ve even gotten a chance to do something.”

The Rev. Kenneth Flowers recalled being impressed by Ross’ vision and confidence when Ross spoke at his church last month. “It’s a blessing that he wants to turn over a new leaf,” said Flowers, pastor of the Missionary Baptist Church on Adams Boulevard, a block west of the theater.

The front offices of the theater are now painted and outfitted with furniture donated by individuals, companies, community-based groups such as 100 Black Men, and others who support the project.

“When I first came there were no walls, only an empty shell,” said Judi Johnson, a consultant who has helped coordinate corporate and community outreach. “He and his team may not be formally educated, but they’re high-spirited and have real vision.”