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In the early ’90s, Death Row Records had a roster that could compete with any label’s top talent, and CEO Suge Knight earned a reputation as one of the most feared men in the industry. James McDonald, then known as Mob James, was the instrument of Knight’s intimidation. McDonald served as Death Row’s muscle and Suge’s go-to-guy for years.

Knight and McDonald used “any means necessary” to get their point across to the label’s opponents. That was then and this is now. McDonald wields a starkly different kind of influence today. Through his podcast, “The Gangster Chronicles,” he draws on his experience and wisdom to steer vulnerable young men away from gangs and street life. Knowing how deeply he was affected by the absence of his biological father, McDonald strives to be a positive male role model in the lives of young men; he feels that if he can just help one individual, then his efforts have not been in vain. The podcast has a bright future: It was picked up by the Black Effect Podcast Network, a joint venture of Charlamagne Tha God and iHeartMedia to amplify black voices.

On the podcast, McDonald and his co-hosts, legendary Compton rapper MC Eiht and music insider Norman Steele, dissect a range of topics and use important aspects of their lives as teachable moments. McDonald spoke with Zenger News about his days at Death Row Records, his transition to podcast host, and the one lesson he retains from his days as Mob James.

Percy Crawford interviewed James McDonald for Zenger News.

Zenger News: During Death Row Records’ days as the most feared record label in the industry, you were Suge Knight’s muscle. Is that a proper introduction for you?

James McDonald: Yeah! That’s the best way to put it. He really didn’t get started… In ’88 when I got out of prison, he came to me — he didn’t tell me his journey, but he came to me — and asked me did I want to work with him. He looked out for me when I came, and the next thing I knew, I was on an airplane and everything else with him while on parole. I was that guy that he needed to … let’s say, persuade other people into certain things. Yeah, I was that guy for him.

Zenger: Fresh out of prison to being on airplanes with Suge Knight. Was that something new to you that you had never experienced before?

McDonald: Nah! Honestly, the airplanes wasn’t for me. That’s why I passed the torch to my brother [Buntry] because I didn’t want to fly no more. I didn’t dig that. The whole thing, when Suge came, it was all new. All I knew was the hood, you know what I’m saying? When he came and got me, all that stuff was brand new to me. Which, I liked it. The fighting part and being aggressive, I already had that.

Zenger: That was right up your alley.

McDonald: Oh, yeah! Definitely! Getting paid to do what I do [laughing]. It was a different way of gettin’ it, definitely.

Zenger: Typically, everyone wants the side of the story where you and Suge fell out. Suge was a very smart man, so I want to know, what did you learn from him while spending so much time around him?

McDonald: How to take care of business. The way he conducted his business was a good thing. And me and Suge was a cool team in the beginning, because learning what Suge did and then Suge seeing the way that I got down from a neighborhood perspective, Suge was like, we both had something to offer each other. Just seeing the way Suge dealt with different people. Mind you, I never dealt with people that was on that level, as far as the way they talked and all that. I had to get used to that real quick dealing with him because he would take me, I would meet people, and I would feel uncomfortable. Because my conversation was, “What’s going on? How you doing?” People would look at me like, “What the fuck is he talking about?” Signing my name — I was so far into the gang shit, I wasn’t writing in cursive. My whole thing was gang writing. I learned a lot from him as far as just being that street cat. Suge was always in the street, but not like we were. So, he learned from me as well as I learned from him.

Zenger: A lot of people said Suge really changed when Tupac came on board. Do you agree with that, or did you see him changing prior to Tupac coming to Death Row?

McDonald: Nah, his change came before that. When Suge started really making the money, you saw the change in him. I used to try to keep him grounded and tell him, “Suge, you don’t have to be blasted all over the magazines. You don’t have to be out there on the frontline. That’s what we’re here for. I got this.” It was something that Suge wanted to be. Suge wanted to be seen, Suge wanted to be that guy. And when he became that guy, he just lost control. When Tupac came, he just … Lord have mercy. He was off the chain when Tupac came. That’s when the money really started coming. But right before that, Suge started wearing red suits, and started smoking the cigars and shit, and I knew we were headed downward after that.

Zenger: The narrative is that you didn’t like Tupac. You didn’t necessarily agree with the way he moved. Is that true?

McDonald: I had no reason not to like Tupac. I didn’t really deal with that dude like that. My brother Buntry and all of them were into the artists, hanging and smoking weed with those guys. I never smoked weed. I never dealt with them like that. My thing with Tupac is when Tupac wanted to be and start claiming my neighborhood. And I had a thing for that. I lost a lot of homeboys in this gangbangin’ shit. How you going to bring Tupac to the hood — and this is Suge I’m telling this to — how are you going to bring him to the hood and say he’s the homie? He ain’t the homie. I just didn’t like that, cause you ain’t no one-day cat. You can’t be that. You ain’t broke no bread, you ain’t lost no blood over here, so I felt a certain kind of way about that. But my brother and them felt that, “Ah, he the homie. We kickin’ it.” Nah … let him be the homie, but he ain’t from the neighborhood. That was my only thing about Tupac. And the way Tupac changed when he got around all these gorillas. He felt like he couldn’t be touched. He became disrespectful. That was the only thing I didn’t like about that. You’re the artist, you making money for this company, that’s all he should’ve been. And I don’t think he should’ve been, or could’ve been, from no motherfucking blood just like that, overnight. I never had no bad business for him, though.

Zenger: Last thing on the Death Row stuff: Who would have imagined in 2021 that [Death Row Records co-founder] “Harry O,” Michael Harris, would be a free man and Suge Knight would be behind bars. Crazy turn of events. (President Trump pardoned Harry O, for anyone out of the loop, on his last day in office.)

McDonald: I’m glad to see him out, man. The brother done did a lot of time. Now he can take the rest of his time of his life and enjoy it. He’s been in jail for some years. It’s crazy, how you said — one is out and the other is in. I think Suge would have rather been in jail for this day. With Harry O home, there is a lot of shit that he can’t fix. I can’t go too far with it, but Harry O is a well-respected brother all over. And Suge took advantage of the fact that he knew this man might not ever come home. So, Suge … yeah, he’s in the right place.

Zenger: You have a lot of big business going down. I love “The Gangster Chronicles” podcast with you, my man Steele and MC Eiht. How did that come together?

McDonald: Well, the podcast started with me, Reggie Wright and Alex Alonso. Norman Steele called Reggie Wright and asked him for my number. He said he wanted to do a podcast. I had no clue what a podcast was. I wasn’t doing too much of nothing. At this time, I had just lost my moms; I was just sitting around the house. I went up there, met Norm, met Reggie. We did a show that night and it was on since then. We never looked back. Reggie Wright went to jail, Alex Alonso fell off, and they pretty much left me by myself. I didn’t know what I was gonna do. And then it just came together. We kept going. I kept grindin’, did some shows by myself. Then we got the deal with The Black Effect with Charlamagne, we introduced Eiht. I didn’t really know how I was going to be with that. I had no hard feelings for MC Eiht. The only beef I had was when him and [DJ] Quik was going at it. I had to stick with the “Red Side,” and Quik’ beef was my beef. So, I didn’t like it. But other than that, growing up, I said, “OK, cool, let’s try it and see what Eiht going to bring us.” And we have been doing good so far.

Zenger: It seems like everything about you is to adapt and adjust to situations you weren’t used to being in, from Suge Knight putting you on airplanes and having you around corporate people to doing a show with MC Eiht, who is from a different color than your set. Shows a lot of growth, brother.

McDonald: Yeah, well, the more and more I tell my story and give my opinion, it seems like the stronger I get, the more positive I am with speaking. The feedback that I get from all these people from all over the place, man … it just makes me feel good, like I’m paying it forward. I done helped somebody. I really did believe that “Who is going to listen to Mob James?” And now, I got people all the way in Australia telling me how much my story helped them. Telling me that a particular episode on the podcast helped them. That’s wild to me. It’s not about no money or none of that. I know I caused so much friction, so much pain, and so much destruction in my life, you know what I’m saying? I know I hurt a lot of people, and this is my way of somewhat fixing it. I know I can’t fix all the shit I did, but if I can help one motherfucker, three motherfuckers, five motherfuckers, then I know I’m headed in the right direction. I know I’m doing good.

Zenger: When I listen to the podcast, your focus is always on the youth, putting them first while showing them a better way. Why is that so important to you?

McDonald: Because I know how we turn out if we don’t have that big brother and father figure. It ain’t about the big homie. I know if we don’t have that somebody to guide you at that age, I know where you going, and that’s where I went. Starting from juvenile hall systems to the penitentiary. You have no choice but to get involved with the things that I had to. Me being a gangbanger, man, you had to keep your survival mode crackin’ at all times. You gotta keep it going. That one day could be your last day. So, if I can reach them and tell them that this ain’t cool, this ain’t the way to do it. I’ve done it that way. I done this shit that way. I done-done it any way you can think, and it didn’t work. So, however you feel you might can plan it out or whatever, it all comes back to one way, and it ain’t good for us. It’s not good for us. So yeah, I focus on that. If they could hear that, it can change a lot of cats.

Zenger: You guys had TQ on the show and were talking about having someone bring a car to an empty parking lot, gathering some neighborhood kids and just showing them the basics in car maintenance — how to change the brakes, changing the oil, a tire. I love this idea. I know grown men right now who can’t properly change a tire because they didn’t have a male figure in their life and they just never learned.

McDonald: To me, “Gangster Chronicles” is a whole bunch of stories that we have in our head and in our minds, and we can tell those stories. It fits for me because that’s all I got. If a motherfucker wanted to sit down and talk to me and ask me, “Man, give me some gangster stories,” that’s all I got. Where do you want me to start? I don’t have no fairytale ass stories. I can’t tell you what I wanted to be growing up. I never sat down and said, “When I grow up, I want to be a doctor.” I ain’t never had no stories like that, you know what I’m saying? I never wanted to be like nobody. I didn’t have that. So “The Gangster Chronicles” is the perfect pitch. It’s perfect for me.

And using this platform to reach these li’l cats — when I was growing up, I didn’t know how to fix brakes or none of that shit, but I had a grandfather that stood up and was more like my father. My grandfather taught me everything. When he worked on a car, “Come here.” When he did the drywall in the house, “Come here.” When he did the tile, “Come here.” So, I learned a lot of shit from my grandfather. If it wasn’t for him, I would be just a straight dumb motherfucker. My father wasn’t shit. My pops didn’t teach me a motherfucking thing. Not one thing in my life I can say … yeah, it is. He taught me one thing — how to be dangerous, how to be violent. That’s all I learned from him. And he didn’t teach me that, he inflicted that on me. I didn’t have no choice but to learn that. But anything constructive, never got it from him.

Zenger: Are you are peace right now, because it sounds like you are. I hear you have the grandkids with you, you have you own podcast, which is doing very well. Is Mob James at peace?

McDonald: I believe Mob James is done. I don’t live that. I don’t live that guy. I don’t live his way; I don’t think his way no more. The only thing that I have from Mob James is, I’ll never forget how to survive. I’ll never forget how to keep a motherfucker off me. Other than that, Mob James is somewhere else. He’s far out of my life. I don’t live him no more. I’m James McDonald.

Pro Football Hall of Famer Deion “Prime Time” Sanders learned the value of movement after purchasing his first “iced out” Rolex in his rookie season with the Atlanta Falcons. His multi-diamond timepiece wasn’t working properly — or so he thought, until the jeweler told him to move his arm.

“The Rolex works off movement,” Sanders quipped during the Southwestern Athletic Conference (SWAC) Spring Football Virtual Media Days in mid-January. “I go on movement. Whenever I’m idle, I lose energy. I’m a mover and shaker who makes things happen, and that’s how my life has always been. That’s what makes me – me!”

Sanders, who left a successful career as a football analyst at NFL Network, is now shaking up the HBCU football world as head coach at Jackson State University, one of the premier programs in the SWAC and the NCAA Football Championship Subdivision (FCS).

“Coach Prime” has brought energy and credibility to a proud tradition that includes two fellow Hall of Famers, Lem Barney and onetime rushing leader Walter Payton.

The Jackson State program’s tradition and success position it to level the playing field in intercollegiate athletics at HBCUs. After all, Jackson State’s three Hall of Famers are more than Ole Miss and Mississippi State have combined. Sanders thinks he can change the perception that only large schools with massive resources can offer a path to the pros.

“The playing field is horrible,” Sanders said. “If these kids had the same playing field, many more would matriculate to the next level. We lit the fire that they deserve to be called on [NFL] Draft day.”

Sanders’ first order of business has been to improve the quality of his team’s campus apparel. He has already brokered deals with athletic apparel manufacturer Under Armour to outfit his team with contemporary game day gear and fashionable sweat suits that help them stand out from other students on their “yard.” He believes players’ pride in their appearance gives them a sense of hope that will carry them to success on the field and into their professional careers.

Sanders also has wielded his considerable presence and brand in the community, developing relationships with local Golden Corral franchises so his student-athletes can eat off campus. He has added a training table where players can eat in the athletic department facilities. He is working to improve the practice fields and locker rooms as well.

“It’s like back in the day when I played: If you look good, you play good,” Sanders said.

“We don’t have the best of things, but we make the best of things. We’re trying to develop, nurture and caress them in or to help them reach their goals. Either go pro [as a football player] or professional [in fields other than sports].”

Sanders already faces challenges to recruiting. Despite producing one of the top 2021 classes in America, the school self-reported a minor rules infraction. JSU lost four weeks of recruiting after being placed on probation for a tutoring infraction that happened under the previous staff.

That’s all part of a day’s work for Sanders as he strives to comply with NCAA rules that most administrators privately feel keep HBCU programs behind the eight ball. It’s one of the many institutional challenges that Sanders has discovered since taking the job.

“The new hustle is allowing kids to opt out of their scholarships but penalizing them academically,” Sanders said. “Kids are losing credits to keep them from transferring, and that’s unfortunate.”

Sanders is having a palpable impact on Jackson State, the SWAC and HBCU sports, bringing unprecedented attention to a conference that has led its division in attendance for 42 of the last 43 years. If the spring football schedule is completed, SWAC will be the only FCS conference playing and figures to be prominently featured on ESPN. Sanders and his program will be under a bright spotlight as he lives the dream of coaching both of his sons, Shilo and Shedeur.

“I feel like I have 100 sons,” Sanders said. “I sometimes have to remind myself that my kids are on this team and this will be the first time they’ve played for a school that has a band. [We] can’t wait to see the [JSU] ‘Sonic Boom of the South.’”

On Feb. 21, America will get its first chance to see Sanders’ first edition of the Jackson State Tigers when they play the Edward Waters Tigers at Mississippi Veterans Memorial Stadium in Jackson.

(Edited by Jameson O’Neal and Alex Patrick)

RICHMOND, Va. —  As fencing is set to be installed Jan. 25 around the 130-year-old Robert E. Lee monument in Richmond, Va., in preparation for its removal, the monument itself has become an unlikely symbol of hope and persistence for many in the surrounding communities.

Gov. Ralph S. Northam ordered the removal of the Confederate general’s memorial in June 2020, but it has been delayed by legal action from local residents who want it to remain.

The 60-foot, 12-ton statue on Monument Avenue is covered in graffiti, applied and reapplied multiple times since June’s Black Lives Matter protests.

Queen, 32, a well-known Richmond activist, has been here since the beginning of the takeover. She has a bright smile and is wearing earmuffs. Her frame is small but her voice is loud and confident.

“We created this space for everybody. We want everyone to feel safe in this space. Even if you have some differences, we want to be able to all come together and be able to stand together and be able to enjoy each other because there’s so much hate everywhere else. Even with the [BLM] movement, it’s not to create problems with anyone else, it’s to say equally we are here,” she says.

“That’s why everyone is mingling, we don’t play that. We don’t ask the question ‘who are you with’ unless you’re being really weird,” she says. “As long as you’re here in peace and don’t cause any problems with anybody we don’t care who you’re with or what group you’re technically in.”

All along Monument Avenue, statues were toppled or officially removed during the nationwide wave of protests. Monuments to Jefferson Davis, president of the Confederate States of America, and Christopher Columbus were brought down by protesters. Later, the statue of Stonewall Jackson, another Confederate general, was removed by order of Richmond Mayor Levar M. Stoney.

Many Virginia residents don’t want to see Confederate monuments removed, and believe the Lee statue is an important piece of history. After Gov. Northam ordered the removal of the statue in June, a group of nearby residents filed a lawsuit arguing the removal would lower property values in the area.

Judge W. Reilly Marchant ruled in Oct. 2020 that the statue can be removed by order of the governor, but the ruling was stayed pending appeal.

Robert E. Lee served as military advisor to Davis at the start of the Civil War, before taking command of the Army of Northern Virginia in 1862. He famously succeeded in driving the Union army away from Richmond, the capital of the Confederacy, during the Seven Days Battles that year. During his 1863 invasion of the North, Lee’s army lost the Battle of Gettysburg. In 1865, Union Gen. Ulysses S. Grant, who would later become president of the United States, took Richmond and defeated Lee’s army.

When it was erected in 1890, the statue of Robert E. Lee was next to a tobacco field, and later became the center of an all-white, affluent neighborhood. Today, the base of the monument is surrounded by memorials for African American victims of police brutality.

For protesters, the monument, once a symbol of the Confederate States’ fight to uphold slavery in the South, is now a beacon of hope and inspiration.

The area around the monument is full of people of all ages and all different ethnicities. There are tents with burgers on the grill, a community garden, lawn chairs and a basketball hoop set up to the side. The food is free and funded by community donations.

A man stands alone on the base of the monument and plays a trombone solo, the music ringing through the air as people stand silently and watch. After the solo ends, they clap and cheer. They are laughing and mingling. The crowd piles on top of the base of the monument, dancing and crowding around one another as a boombox plays “Juicy” by Notorious BIG.

Queen says these joyful times used to be more frequent. “This used to be way better before the police started coming and tearing everything down. We fed the community for days, for months, for free. We used to have tents, we used to have stuff out here feeding the homeless but then the police started coming down and tearing down the tents [in August]. We used to be here every single day. I think they just got tired of seeing it, they got tired of the marches even though they were peaceful, they got tired because it made them work.”

On this day, Richmond police are not interfering, but closing roads leading up to the statue and standing watch nearby, off the monument grounds.

“Down in the Capitol is a 2A [Second Amendment] rally today, I was there as well, as you can see I carry [a gun]. I went up there with my AR on my chest the same as everyone else did. I think that because a lot is going on that they [the police] aren’t really foolin’ with us,” Queen says, in reference to the festivities being allowed to continue, unlike on other days.

(Edited by Claire Swift and Kristen Butler)