This book is about a young man coming to age back in the sixties, when Black men wore Afros and dashikis. We have just realized how important allies really were, no more mopping floors and working in the auto factories. We were going to be business owners, and no one could imagine what was in store for us--the burning down of my brother's nightclub, a fight for my life, and my mother hanging on for dear life as my brother's nightclub went up in flames. The opening of my photo lab was the biggest photo finishing plant the Kodak I've ever seen; that was owned by a Black man, hundreds of accounts from Los Angeles to Beverly Hills, but the robbers didn't care. The police could not protect me; my employee respects life, going to work every day. This was the fight of my life; could you imagine coming to work finding your mother beat down in the store? I had to defend myself and my employees; it was a tale. Was it worth it? The dead bodies in the alley, my wife having no idea of what I was going through every day. My kids did not care; they only saw that I was never there.

Get the insight of what it meant to be a Black business owner in the sixties. Everyone talked about a Black business owner getting a free ride with business loans from the SBA, but they never knew the truth. I still wake up at night in cold sweats, thinking about what I have been through. Was it all worth it?