As a teenager, Cory McCray’s life was on a trajectory familiar to far too many Baltimore young men. Expelled from several city schools, he twice faced adult gun and drug distribution charges before he turned 18—eventually resulting in a 10-month confinement at the Victor Cullen Center juvenile facility in Western Maryland.

McCray’s mother worked multiple jobs, trying to distance her son and family from the pitfalls of the inner city. But when he was sentenced to detention, he was unable to envision a different path for himself, only seeing the streets  and increasingly long prison terms in his future. He told his mother to give him up on him. (She did not.)

Now 43, a married father of four, and northeast Baltimore’s elected representative in the state senate, McCray shares his journey in The Apprenticeship That Saved My Life. In this candid and engaging memoir, McCray recounts how a phone call from his mother to the Maryland Department of Labor—requesting a list of every licensed apprenticeship in the state—unexpectedly changed his course.

Violent crime, thankfully, has taken a sharp downturn over the past three years. But there’s still a lack of economic opportunity for young men, particularly young Black men. Was that the prompt for this book?
I visit schools once or twice a week…so they can meet someone who looks like them and can speak to their [circumstances] and their potential. But as you get older, you think, “How can I add value? How can I scale impact?” I thought this book was the appropriate next step to lean in on this apprenticeship conversation. It’s something that I can leave with them.

At 18, you were accepted into a five-year apprenticeship program with the International Brotherhood of Electricians. It quickly proved life-changing because it paid solid wages while you learned on the job. You bought a house two years later.
When I found out about the apprenticeship, I was blown away. How did I live in this city all my life and no one told me about this opportunity? The other thing is, if you don’t see it, you can’t believe it. I didn’t have electricians in my universe.

One thing that comes across is there are steps for acceptance into an internship program that those born in upper middle class ZIP codes may take for granted.
I still remember being in a school and asking, “If you were senator for a day, what’s one thing you would change about your school?” A young man gets up and says he would have driver’s ed at his school. I just stood for a second and thought about everything it took me to even apply for the apprenticeship. I had to be at least 18, have a high school diploma or GED, one year of algebra—and a driver’s license.

We took those same young people to Annapolis, put together a bill, testified before the House, testified before the Senate, watched the governor sign that bill, and now there is a $2-million appropriation inside of the State Department of Education for high schools with a poverty level of at least 40 percent for a [driver’s ed] grant they can apply for.

It could go without saying your backstory is different than most in the General Assembly.
I do see through a different lens. When I looked at [ex-offender] voting rights, and I’m a data person, I looked at two ZIP codes when we were debating the issue where only 10 people were on parole or probation. In the ZIP code I represent, there are 937. When you look at that correlation or that disparity from one ZIP code to another—it makes a difference in how you view other pressing issues—food security, housing, vacancies. Also, having bookstores and things of that nature because the buying power isn’t in that neighborhood.

Did you ever feel hesitant about sharing your story?
So, not all my colleagues know my background. When we were debating juvenile justice, one colleague said to me young people in the juvenile system didn’t grow up like me or don’t get see the world the way my son does. I wanted to say I’m probably the most qualified person to be in this conversation, but people who’ve only seen me in the last 10-15 years assume that to get to this position, you had to go a certain direction or go a certain pathway.

But I need to have transparent conversations with young people…I was at Jessup [Correctional Institution] and Cheltenham [Youth Detention Center] recently. Adults also need understanding and to feel like they have a chance. I have to let people know I’ve been at the bottom, too.

Mayor Catherine Pugh announced today that the City of Baltimore would be partnering with Roca—an anti-violence, nonprofit program based in Massachusetts—to connect with high-risk young adults by finding jobs and keeping them out of jail as part of her plan to reduce crime.

“We believe the approach to violence is holistic,” Pugh said at today’s press conference. “As we continue to look at the best practices among the nation, this is one of them. This will head the city in the right direction.”

For nearly 30 years, Roca has helped thousands of young men between the ages of 17 and 24 to transform their lives. Roca’s philosophy is that, with positive relationships, job training, and education, at-risk young adults can change their behavior “to disrupt the cycle of poverty and incarceration.” The CEO and founder of Roca, Baltimore native Molly Baldwin, began this program in hopes of working with a demographic that she says is being left out and believes that “the timing makes sense” for this to be instituted in the city. 

“They are a small group that causes a huge impact,” Baldwin said. “We are here to work with those young people who are not yet ready to show up and be the productive citizens they should be.”

The mayor’s office has been working with Baldwin and her team for the past five years to bring the program to Baltimore. Roca’s unique approach, which they call “relentless outreach,” uses data to target individuals with high recidivism and dropout rates—providing them with two years of intensive services and relationship building, as well as two years of follow-up and evaluation.

“This is data-driven and focused for those most at risk for violence,” said Drew Vetter, who heads the Mayor’s Office Of Criminal Justice. “It is something that is proven to work and we are optimistic that it will be successful here in our city.”

In Baltimore, the four-year interventional program will partner with local organizations like Baltimore Safe Streets and the Baltimore Police Department to develop the best practices. Baldwin has even gone so far as to temporarily live in Baltimore to get the program off the ground.

“We know that change is possible,” she said. “It’s an enormous responsibility to work with people at this level, but we believe that even the highest-risk young people belong, and that each one of them can succeed. And we have the data to show that.” 

As Baldwin affirmed, the data speaks volumes. Of the more than 850 participants in 2017, 84 percent had no new arrests. The program shows similar results in job retention with 76 percent of participants maintaining employment for at least three months. But this programming doesn’t come cheap and will cost the city $17 million.

Mayor Pugh is currently seeking funding from the state but is still awaiting response for her request to finalize a four-year funding plan for Roca. In a press conference last week, Governor Larry Hogan said he did not consider educational and job training programs to be part of an immediate crime fighting strategy. 

Philanthropic groups like Harry and Jeanette Weinberg, the Annie Casey Foundation, and the Abell Foundation have pledged to step in a pay for a portion of the program. The Baltimore-based money management firm T. Rowe Price Foundation, The Johns Hopkins University, and BGE are also among companies in the private sector stepping up to fund the program.

In Baltimore, juvenile crime rates follow an overall pattern in the city and violent crime has surged since the 2015 riots with homicide rates surpassing 300 for the third consecutive year. Data from the Maryland Department of Juvenile Services show overall juvenile arrests in Baltimore are down 11 percent, but are up in certain neighborhoods.

“It’s so tragic,” Baldwin said. “It’s heartbreaking, but we have a lot to learn. We’re going to dig in over the next few months and look at what interventional efforts work best in Baltimore that will effect change.”