When he first contacted The Sun in June, Johnson said he had been out of prison for several months, had stopped using drugs and wanted a job. Like many of the city's recovering addicts in their 40s, Johnson had a difficult time getting hired because of his background. But he expressed determination to stay off the streets. "I can't do that again," he said of prison. "I can't go back there."
A reader took an interest in Johnson and, through many telephone conversations, became something of a mentor to him. He helped Johnson connect with the Baltimore development company of Struever Bros. Eccles & Rouse. In late summer, company officials conducted four interviews with Johnson before giving him a position as a maintenance man at one of their many properties.
Johnson, who lives with his mother, has been on the job now for nearly two months. He goes to a regular meeting of others in recovery and keeps in weekly contact with the man who helped him land the job. "Things are going well," Johnson says. "And I'm back in touch with my family, my grandkids."
Craig Wright"You know what makes me feel normal?" Wright says. "Just going to the market, shopping for Thanksgiving, and coming home with groceries. It doesn't mean much to other people, but it does to me, more than ever."
Wright, 35, had sold drugs and used drugs for several years. He went to prison for it, the last time in the late 1990s. He got out in 2001 and had a series of what he considered dead-end jobs. He enrolled in the STRIVE Baltimore program to get help as an ex-offender in the job hunt. In September, he and five other former drug dealers went to work for a company called TLC Excavation. They make $10 an hour as site laborers.
"It's the first job I've really been content with," says Wright, who praises the company for giving him and his co-workers a chance to prove themselves reliable. "I'm really thankful for the job. I'm thankful that I'm not out on the streets, rippin' and runnin', looking over my shoulder to see if the police are gonna lock me, or someone's gonna kill me. I wake up with peace of mind. And my mother is proud of me. She's not worried about whether her son is going to wind up in a grave or in prison."
The job with TLC came with a bonus for Wright - a co-worker introduced him to a woman named Tonya Carroll. They're an item now.
"Craig is a hard-working, focused man with goals and structure," Tonya Carroll wrote in a note to The Sun last week. "I was not looking for a relationship in all of this, but I must say I would not trade these wonderful days for nothing.
"We all wanted to say thank you. Mr. Tim and Ms. Linda, from TLC Construction, deserve a standing ovation for their commitment to these men. They pick them up for work. They provide structure, and they respect them as men. They treat them like family."
Told he could give it another try after a 10-day interval, Patterson has reapplied for the warehouse job.
In the meantime, he's working for his brother's new home improvement company; Patterson likes the work, thinks it might turn into something lasting.
At 37, Patterson was last incarcerated four years ago, and last sold drugs in 2002. He and his wife live in West Baltimore with Patterson's grandmother. One day, when work is steady and they can manage to save some money, they hope to own a house.
"I'm thankful just to be alive and trying to do the right thing," Patterson says. "And I have my wife, and she supports me. I'm out of prison, I have prospects now. I'm not going back to the street. Things are gonna be all right."