Photo credit: Tom Jenz
Ed Hennings at his Hair Code Barber & Beauty Salon on Capital Drive
I met Ed Hennings at his Hair Code Barber & Beauty Salon on Capital Drive. In his trim black beard, he comes across as a striking presence, tall, lean and potent with the buffed body of an athlete and a radio voice that threads a tale with sincerity. He is 48, but he looks 28.
Hennings has a story, and it’s some story. He spent 20 years in prison for murder and was released in 2016. Since then, he has turned his life around. He owns three businesses and does motivational speaking and workshops. I said, “You spent 20 years in prison for murdering a man in 1996. What was the charge?”
“I was charged with 1st Degree Intentional Homicide,” he said, “and that carried a mandatory life sentence. But at the trial, the jury found me guilty of 1st degree reckless homicide which carried a maximum 40 years, and I served 20 years.”
I wanted to hear about his background, how he could have ended up committing a murder. I started by asking about his early environment.
Gifted and Talented
“I grew up on 23rd and Capital,” he began, “was there my whole life, went to grade school at Benjamin Franklin. At about the fifth, sixth grade, I was deemed gifted and talented, and I ended up going to a school outside of my community, a school for the gifted and talented, Samuel Morris Middle School. Then I went on to John Marshall High School, graduated there in 1990. Throughout my young life, I stayed out of trouble. No police involvement. Typical kid trying to find his way.”
But when Hennings was 18 and a high school senior, his beloved grandad passed away. Tough loss. The grandad had been the main positive influence in his life. Not long after, he began to betray the promise he had growing up. Yet the journey started on a hopeful note. He got accepted into a technical college in Phoenix.
“When I got to college, I felt out of place,” Hennings said. “I did get good grades, but for some reason, I didn’t feel like I belonged. I was kind of resentful that I couldn’t have the things that I saw other kids having. A lot of students had cars while I had a mountain bike. In my high school years, there were friends in my neighborhood that were in the streets sellin’ drugs, and they were gettin' fast money. They would drive to school every day in their cars, and I’d be on the bus goin’ to school. I’d call back to Milwaukee, and there would be guys from my neighborhood sayin,’ ‘Man, I just bought me another car, I just put some music in it,’ and all this is playin’ in my mind, man. My head is spinnin' and tryin’ to figure out how to get some of that money instantly. I came up with the idea to start sellin’ drugs.”
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Hennings quit school, called home, and his mom sent $370 for a plane ticket. Thinking ahead, he took that money and bought a bus ticket for $69.99. He rode the bus back to Milwaukee, then took the remaining $300 and bought some drugs.
Drug Dealer
I could see the regret in his eyes, but he was telling it to me straight. He said, “Once I started selling drugs and didn’t have to ask anybody for anything, that was so intoxicating to me. Sure, I could work a regular job, but I could get fired at any moment. Nobody could fire me from sellin’ drugs. So that was my independence, and I always held that close to me. So in turn, sellin’ more drugs, gettin’ more money. With that came notoriety, being the go-to guy in your family, in your circle, with your friends, in your community, know what I’m sayin’? If you need something, call Ed. If you need some meat on the barbecue grill, call Ed. And when arguments broke out, they always called Ed, my friends and my family always came and got me, and with respect, I’d say, ‘Hey, man, don’t argue with him, man, we’re good’ and I’d straighten it out, everything would be good.”
“So where did it go wrong?” I asked. “When did it stop being good?”
His expression changed, his voice grew softer. “June 11, 1996 came, and my uncle had got jumped on by some guys, and he says to me, ‘Hey, man, I just got jumped on, let’s go see.’ So here I go again, go over there, squash the beef, and it’s over, me tellin’ my uncle ‘Be quiet, it’s good, we all good, everything’s straight.’ Then three guys showed up maybe 15, 20 minutes after my uncle and me arrived at the scene where he got jumped. The mood switched. Dark, very dark. I always carried a gun. I had my gun in my pocket. One guy got nose to nose with my uncle, givin’ him shit. The court later said the guy was pullin’ up his pants, but in my eyes, what I thought is that he was reachin’ for a gun. When I seen his hand go toward his pants, I pushed my uncle out of the way, pulled out my gun and I shot twice, BANG, BANG, that fast. Everybody started runnin.’ My whole process is that this is gonna be a war out here. Before you know it, guys are runnin’ down the street, I’m runnin’ down the street. I’m shootin.’ Later on, I got picked up that night, never knew anybody got hit, never seen the guy that got hit, he never fell. They put me in a cell, slid a paper under my door that said first degree intentional homicide, mandatory life sentence. That’s when this new person you talkin’ to today began to form.”
20 Years in Prison
Out of instinct or fear, Hennings had made the instant decision that changed his life forever. BANG BANG. He went to prison for what ultimately became 20 years, from a young man to a middle-aged man. I asked what he had learned in prison, how he managed to reform himself.
“When that paper was slid under the jail cell door,” he said, “everything inside of me went limp. I was facing the rest of my life in this place, and I’m responsible for a guy losin’ his life. Now I’m questioning myself, where did I go wrong, what happened to me. I said to myself, you know what, man, if I get another chance, if I get another opportunity, I’m gonna make good on it.
“I started to look for things to rebuild myself, to be the person that my grandad, my mom, and my grandma was wanting me to be. Even if I couldn’t be that, I wanted to be better than that. In prison, every opportunity I got, every book that I could read, every class I could take, every magazine article that showed somebody that overcame the odds, I ripped it out. I made it my own, I posted it on my wall. I used my prison time to prepare, to better myself. Once I took on that mindset, I started seeing success right there in prison. Because the 20 years I did in prison is definitely the foundation for the things I am doing today. Yeah, I went on a complete mission to be the best version of Ed Hennings I could be.”
Entrepreneur
I was thinking, all those days, weeks, months behind bars, the end so far away that maybe faith and strength were the two friends Ed couldn’t let go of. I said, “So let’s talk about what you’ve been doing for the last four years and what you’re doing today. I understand you own three businesses and you’re a motivational speaker.”
He said, “My first business was Hair Code, a barber shop and beauty salon. Soon a salon client was telling me about the trucking business, and me being an entrepreneur, I wanted in. By the time he came back for his next haircut, I had researched as much as I could, had bought a truck, and I was in. I also had been doing some speaking, different juvenile groups, boys and girls clubs. Different mentors was callin’ me in. Speaking just kind of organically happened because I was doing that in prison, bein’ part of Scared Straight programs and youth awareness programs while I was in there. Before you know it, I’m speaking at business luncheons, I’m at the governor’s mansion, I’m in different high schools, I’m all over trying to motivate anybody with adversities not only in life but in business as well. Adversities are always there, they’re not there to stop you but just to see how bad you want it. That’s my motivational thing and it’s organic. Now Ed Hennings does this motivational thing every morning on social media.”
If that weren’t enough, Hennings found yet another creative outlet. He wrote a book called The Answers: A Guide To Passing The Test Of Your Life. I read the book. It was brutally honest but still instructive and positive. He did make some references to his life story and his redemption, but the main theme seemed to be helping ex-felons and prisoners to find a purpose in their lives. I wanted to hear more about the book.
He said, “People would always ask me how did you do it, how were you able to do 20 years, then come home and have two businesses in two years? The book gives you some answers I’ve found through my life, the principles and knowledge that enabled me to do these things I do today. In the book I call them Building Blocks. I write about the building blocks I learned from birth to incarceration to entrepreneurship. My target audience was people who went through adversity, and those people need quick hits. So if you’re in prison and you’re gonna come home or you’re in prison and looking for some guidance and inspiration, let’s get you some quick hits because you’re distracted already cause you got some adversity on your plate. You can’t dedicate three or four years of attention while this monster is on your back. I wanted to make sure the reader could get it quickly, bam bam. If you sit down and read my book and you read well, it will take you an hour. The governor read my book, and once he got a copy, it just opened up the gates, and now my book’s in all 37 institutions through the Wisconsin Department of Corrections.
Advice for Young People
I decided to delve into a broader topic and get Ed’s opinion on what’s happening currently, all the racial and protest controversy. I reminded him that I’d spent a fair amount of time on the inner-city streets, chatting, listening. I’d come away with the notion that young Black men, even boys, look up to gangbangers, gangsters, drug dealers, and rich Black athletes. I said, “Shouldn’t these boys be looking up to activists like yourself or Frank Nitty and Vaun Mayes?”
Hennings thought about that. “I wouldn’t consider myself an activist. I’m more of an entrepreneur. I label myself a motivational doer. I’ve probably been up since 4 at the gym, I probably been at work since 6, I probably been goin’ to another of my businesses at noon, and I’m probably gonna end the night at about 8, 9 o’clock bringin’ some trucks in, gassin’ em up, talkin’ to the guys. My day is filled up seven days a week with work.”
He went on, “As far as the children of today lookin’ up to us, I think that when we’re children, the shiny object seems more attractive. Oprah and Bill Gates and JayZ and Warren Buffet, anybody that is uber successful, LeBron James, they walk in the room, they’d have more impact on our children than Ed Hennings or Frank Nitty or any of the activists. Everybody has a different formulator making impact, but I do know that success is definitely impactful so if Ed can be as successful as Ed can be, and he walks into his community and he say, ‘Hey, you can do it,’ the kids are probably gonna be more attentive to successful Ed than unsuccessful Ed.
I said, “I know you visit the inner-city schools to just kind of help and talk to the kids. What are you seeing?”
“I’m seeing a lot of missing pieces,” he said. “The first missing piece is opportunity. The Milwaukee I grew up in is a different Milwaukee. AO Smith, Allis Chalmers, Briggs & Stratton, these industries are what brought the migration of Black people to Milwaukee in the first place from the south. The ‘60s had this migration because of the opportunity. In the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, those opportunities left. It’s no coincidence that cities like Detroit, auto industry, Gary, Indiana, steel mills, Milwaukee with the manufacturing industry that we used to have, they’re all in a similar situation. The quality of life went down as you lost these industries in each city. So you can see the results in the classrooms, in the streets, in the home. The opportunity is not what it used to be here.”
He added, “Secondly, I’m seeing a lack of male figures for the young black child, especially the male child that’s goin’ to school everyday. I go into schools where 90% of the staff are women. For the little boy, he’s not vibin’ with that, from first grade on up. Those boys need men, dads, leaders. And the third piece that stands out is parent involvement. Parenting is different now. When we were going to school, it was about respect, it was about humility, You had to be humble and your parents hammered humility home. Like right now, it’s more like a fashion show. Young parents like to attach themselves to the outer appearance of their child. When I was growing up, it was more about your inside.”
I Failed Him
I had a related question. “It seems as if younger Black men are really angry and carry around a kind of inner rage. The result can be domestic violence, foolish crimes, reckless driving, to name a few. Do you agree?”
“Yes,” he said, “I agree. There’s a lot of anger, there’s a lot of misguided, and miss-education. There’s so many moving parts to the psyche in the urban community right now. I was gone for 20 years, and when I came home, I saw that Ed had been missing for those years. I saw where I went wrong. I see that if I hadn’t went to prison, some of the bad things wouldn’t be happening today. Some of the decisions I made in the 1990s are affecting things that are going on in 2020. I have to take my responsibility. This kid is doing this bad thing, and this kid is doing that bad thing. I say you’re that way because of what I did, you’re that way because I wasn’t there. If more Eds hadn’t found themselves in that prison situation, then today’s situation wouldn’t have been as bad. My take is that I failed that young angry guy. I failed him tremendously because the men and women before me didn’t fail me. They instilled humility in me. They instilled a work ethic in me, although I didn’t use it at the time. They planted that seed, and I wasn’t there to do the same thing by giving back to the people who came after me.”
Just then, a customer walked into the salon. Before long, Hennings was back cutting hair and listening to the latest news about neighborhood matters.
