News (Media Awareness Project) - US LA: Tulane Standout Started On Right Path |
Title: | US LA: Tulane Standout Started On Right Path |
Published On: | 2002-02-25 |
Source: | Times-Picayune, The (LA) |
Fetched On: | 2008-08-31 02:17:47 |
TULANE STANDOUT STARTED ON RIGHT PATH
But Drug Fumble Led Him To Prison
Toney Converse was such a standout running back during his years at East
Jefferson High School that Tulane and Nebraska courted him with hefty
college scholarships. Likable, mature and devoted to football and family,
he thought he could escape what he called "the ghetto" where he grew up and
travel a trajectory to success via the gridiron.
Those who knew him thought so, too.
Until last year, that is, when they listened with shock and sadness to news
that the guy some called "Touchdown" or "Road Runner" had been convicted of
selling crack cocaine.
"It shook my world up when it happened," said running backs coach Burton
Burns, who recruited Converse to play at Tulane University. "He's a kid who
could have been anybody's son. He was so friendly with everybody and so at
ease. It really just threw us all back."
Back in court last week, Converse sought to have his sentence reduced from
18 years to the minimum of 15, while facing the possibility that it could
be boosted to as many as 60 years. District Judge Joan Benge stood pat on
18 years, saying it was "a long time in jail."
And afterward, Converse, now 23, was sent back to the C. Paul Phelps
Correctional Center in DeQuincy.
Making something of life
Not long ago, it was easier to envision Converse as a potential draft pick
in the National Football League than first selection in a prison yard
pick-up game.
At East Jefferson High, he was a B student and "a first-class citizen,"
Principal James Kytle said. Small but quick, he transformed his football
career from stand-in to standout as a sophomore when he replaced an injured
starter at running back in one game and scored two touchdowns. Measuring
5-foot-8 and 163 pounds, Converse was small by football standards but as
tough as any 300-pound player, Burns said.
He turned down the Cornhuskers' offer in January 1997 and signed up closer
to home with Tulane, where he flourished under head coach Tommy Bowden.
"He played every play like it was his last play," said Rich Rodriguez, a
former offensive coordinator at Tulane. "He was making something out of his
life."
In 1998, his second year at Tulane, the team went undefeated, and Converse
capped the season by rushing for 103 yards to help the Green Wave beat
Brigham Young in the Liberty Bowl. He earned a weighty gold-and-diamond
ring to signify the bowl victory.
Entering his third year, he was seen as a candidate to break the school's
career rushing record of 3,095 yards. And after that, who knew how far he
could go?
"Every challenge we threw in front of him, he handled," Burns said. "The
sky was the limit because he never stopped amazing me with the things he did."
Converse, in a telephone interview from prison last week, said he was on
his way to a college degree in sociology or psychology. At home, he was the
man of the family. His father lives in Georgia, leaving Converse fiercely
devoted to his mother, Elizabeth, who was often ill, and his younger
brother, James.
"If he got his hands on $20, $18 of it went to his mother," said Ronald
Wilson, a New Orleans attorney who once represented Converse.
Falling apart
But as Tulane's 1998 season ended, things seemed to start unraveling for
Converse.
Bowden announced he was leaving Tulane to coach at Clemson University.
Converse said "it's like losing a family member," and broke down in tears.
He hoped Rodriguez would take over. Chris Scelfo got the job.
Even as his former coaches were packing their bags, they worried about
Converse.
"He needed structure, guidance and people around him to look after and care
for him and still be firm with him," said Rodriguez, now head coach at West
Virginia. "We all knew how close he was to the coaches. . . . For us, we
were afraid this would happen."
During the 1999 season, Converse was injured twice. And when he did suit
up, he said, he felt like he "wasn't being called on when could be." He
considered transferring to another school.
In March 2000, Converse was suspended from the football team for
undisclosed violations of team policy.
Two months later, Jefferson Parish sheriff's deputies raided his mother's
apartment in River Ridge. His brother was arrested and convicted of
possession with intent to distribute cocaine and marijuana. Converse,
caught flushing cocaine down a toilet, pleaded guilty to obstruction of
justice and was placed on probation.
And with that, prosecutor Greg Kennedy said, he "literally flushed his
future down the toilet."
Tulane agreed to keep Converse on his athletic scholarship through the fall
semester or longer, provided he stayed out of trouble, kept his grades up
and performed community service work on campus.
But Converse withdrew from classes in the fall. His mother's health was
deteriorating, and Converse said he experimented with prescription pills to
help him sleep, although he said he knew they would depress him.
"I was going through a lot of emotional problems," he said. "Maybe I was
looking at football as my savior, in a sense, because I thought nothing
would get me out of the ghetto."
Burns, now an assistant coach at Clemson, said Converse must have
envisioned his NFL dream dissolving.
"He had a deep, burning desire for football, and that kept him motivated,"
Burns said. "When he didn't have that, I guess he reverted back to his
comfort zone. He came from a very tough neighborhood, but he understood
where he had been."
Undercover operation
In early 2001, an anonymous caller told detectives to check out a drug
dealer and gave a Jefferson address. Investigators determined it was
Converse and set up four undercover buys from him between April 18 and May
7, at the house where he and his mother were living on Jules Street in
Jefferson. During one sale, Converse wore a Tulane football sweatshirt. In
another, an undercover agent testified, he was wearing his ring from the
Liberty Bowl.
As he prepared to make a fifth sale, on May 10 at a gasoline station on
Jefferson Highway at Labarre Road, deputies moved in to arrest Converse. He
tried to run, but was tackled by a 30-year veteran deputy.
Kennedy, who prosecuted Converse on the drug-dealing charges, said he has
little sympathy for the former football standout.
"He's not doing it because he needs to support his family. He's doing it as
a business," Kennedy said. "He had an opportunity to go to a very good
school on a full scholarship, with nothing to think about except playing
football."
His grandmother, Hortense Galatahe, however, said her grandson does not
deserve to sit in prison for 18 years.
"I'm not holding my head down. I'm proud of Toney," Galatahe said. "I'll be
82 when he gets out. I'll still be here. I'll be waiting for my baby."
But Drug Fumble Led Him To Prison
Toney Converse was such a standout running back during his years at East
Jefferson High School that Tulane and Nebraska courted him with hefty
college scholarships. Likable, mature and devoted to football and family,
he thought he could escape what he called "the ghetto" where he grew up and
travel a trajectory to success via the gridiron.
Those who knew him thought so, too.
Until last year, that is, when they listened with shock and sadness to news
that the guy some called "Touchdown" or "Road Runner" had been convicted of
selling crack cocaine.
"It shook my world up when it happened," said running backs coach Burton
Burns, who recruited Converse to play at Tulane University. "He's a kid who
could have been anybody's son. He was so friendly with everybody and so at
ease. It really just threw us all back."
Back in court last week, Converse sought to have his sentence reduced from
18 years to the minimum of 15, while facing the possibility that it could
be boosted to as many as 60 years. District Judge Joan Benge stood pat on
18 years, saying it was "a long time in jail."
And afterward, Converse, now 23, was sent back to the C. Paul Phelps
Correctional Center in DeQuincy.
Making something of life
Not long ago, it was easier to envision Converse as a potential draft pick
in the National Football League than first selection in a prison yard
pick-up game.
At East Jefferson High, he was a B student and "a first-class citizen,"
Principal James Kytle said. Small but quick, he transformed his football
career from stand-in to standout as a sophomore when he replaced an injured
starter at running back in one game and scored two touchdowns. Measuring
5-foot-8 and 163 pounds, Converse was small by football standards but as
tough as any 300-pound player, Burns said.
He turned down the Cornhuskers' offer in January 1997 and signed up closer
to home with Tulane, where he flourished under head coach Tommy Bowden.
"He played every play like it was his last play," said Rich Rodriguez, a
former offensive coordinator at Tulane. "He was making something out of his
life."
In 1998, his second year at Tulane, the team went undefeated, and Converse
capped the season by rushing for 103 yards to help the Green Wave beat
Brigham Young in the Liberty Bowl. He earned a weighty gold-and-diamond
ring to signify the bowl victory.
Entering his third year, he was seen as a candidate to break the school's
career rushing record of 3,095 yards. And after that, who knew how far he
could go?
"Every challenge we threw in front of him, he handled," Burns said. "The
sky was the limit because he never stopped amazing me with the things he did."
Converse, in a telephone interview from prison last week, said he was on
his way to a college degree in sociology or psychology. At home, he was the
man of the family. His father lives in Georgia, leaving Converse fiercely
devoted to his mother, Elizabeth, who was often ill, and his younger
brother, James.
"If he got his hands on $20, $18 of it went to his mother," said Ronald
Wilson, a New Orleans attorney who once represented Converse.
Falling apart
But as Tulane's 1998 season ended, things seemed to start unraveling for
Converse.
Bowden announced he was leaving Tulane to coach at Clemson University.
Converse said "it's like losing a family member," and broke down in tears.
He hoped Rodriguez would take over. Chris Scelfo got the job.
Even as his former coaches were packing their bags, they worried about
Converse.
"He needed structure, guidance and people around him to look after and care
for him and still be firm with him," said Rodriguez, now head coach at West
Virginia. "We all knew how close he was to the coaches. . . . For us, we
were afraid this would happen."
During the 1999 season, Converse was injured twice. And when he did suit
up, he said, he felt like he "wasn't being called on when could be." He
considered transferring to another school.
In March 2000, Converse was suspended from the football team for
undisclosed violations of team policy.
Two months later, Jefferson Parish sheriff's deputies raided his mother's
apartment in River Ridge. His brother was arrested and convicted of
possession with intent to distribute cocaine and marijuana. Converse,
caught flushing cocaine down a toilet, pleaded guilty to obstruction of
justice and was placed on probation.
And with that, prosecutor Greg Kennedy said, he "literally flushed his
future down the toilet."
Tulane agreed to keep Converse on his athletic scholarship through the fall
semester or longer, provided he stayed out of trouble, kept his grades up
and performed community service work on campus.
But Converse withdrew from classes in the fall. His mother's health was
deteriorating, and Converse said he experimented with prescription pills to
help him sleep, although he said he knew they would depress him.
"I was going through a lot of emotional problems," he said. "Maybe I was
looking at football as my savior, in a sense, because I thought nothing
would get me out of the ghetto."
Burns, now an assistant coach at Clemson, said Converse must have
envisioned his NFL dream dissolving.
"He had a deep, burning desire for football, and that kept him motivated,"
Burns said. "When he didn't have that, I guess he reverted back to his
comfort zone. He came from a very tough neighborhood, but he understood
where he had been."
Undercover operation
In early 2001, an anonymous caller told detectives to check out a drug
dealer and gave a Jefferson address. Investigators determined it was
Converse and set up four undercover buys from him between April 18 and May
7, at the house where he and his mother were living on Jules Street in
Jefferson. During one sale, Converse wore a Tulane football sweatshirt. In
another, an undercover agent testified, he was wearing his ring from the
Liberty Bowl.
As he prepared to make a fifth sale, on May 10 at a gasoline station on
Jefferson Highway at Labarre Road, deputies moved in to arrest Converse. He
tried to run, but was tackled by a 30-year veteran deputy.
Kennedy, who prosecuted Converse on the drug-dealing charges, said he has
little sympathy for the former football standout.
"He's not doing it because he needs to support his family. He's doing it as
a business," Kennedy said. "He had an opportunity to go to a very good
school on a full scholarship, with nothing to think about except playing
football."
His grandmother, Hortense Galatahe, however, said her grandson does not
deserve to sit in prison for 18 years.
"I'm not holding my head down. I'm proud of Toney," Galatahe said. "I'll be
82 when he gets out. I'll still be here. I'll be waiting for my baby."
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