Heroin's grip hard to break

By Mike McPhee
Denver Post Staff Writer

Heroin, be the death of me Heroin, it's my wife and it's my life Because a
mainer to my vein Leads to a center in my head And then I'm better off and
dead.'' (Copyright Lou Reed, recorded by Velvet Underground and Nico)

Heroin grabs its addicts with fangs longer than the needles that shoot it,
and there's many an addict who never shakes free.

Heroin develops a fierce addiction like no other street drug, a physical
dependency that lasts a lifetime and leaves a trail of human wreckage.
Addicts in the Denver area talk about their lives in the past tense, with
conversations drifting through prisons, lost loves, abandoned children,
shoplifting, stabbings and shootings all for the sake of getting high again.

"It makes you feel like everything's gonna be all right,'' said Dan, a
handsome, 52yearold Chicano with a soft voice. He could pass for a doctor
or a priest, someone you could trust. Except he's been sticking a needle in
his arm for 30 years his entire adult life 25 of them from inside one
prison or another. They called him "kid'' when he first went to Canon City
in 1962, and they were calling him "Pops'' when he left in May.

He's clean now but knows how close to another needleful he really is.
Wracked with pain, he goes silent, and gets tearful, talking about his fear
of going back to "the joint.''

"I'm classified as a habitual offender now (nine felonies). I could be
looking at a life sentence if I get high again. But I could take another
'ride' as easily as you could take a shot of whiskey. It just gives you a
sense of well being,'' he said, removing his glasses and wiping his
reddened eyes. He used heroin the first time to beat a lie detector test
(it worked), and the seven felonies that followed were all committed while
trying to buy more heroin.

"I was never an abusive husband. I used to mow the lawn and rake the
leaves. The only difference was I was an addict,'' he said.

"Cause it makes me feel like I'm a man When I put a spike into my vein And
I'll tell ya, things aren't quite the same.''

Heroin relaxes or numbs the central nervous system just the opposite of a
stimulant. It's a perfect pain killer. In fact, a large number of addicts
got started when they could no longer receive prescriptions for drugs such
as Percoset or Demerol to treat chronic pain, said Leslie Amass, director
of the Vine Street Center, an addiction treatment center operated under the
auspices of the University of Colorado School of Medicine. Percoset and
Demerol, like heroin, are opium derivatives.

Heroin junkies run the gamut from low income to high income, from
incorrigibles to professionals. There's no stereotypical junkie; he or she
can be under a bridge on the South Platte as easily as in the office next
to you. Once they get their dosage figured out, addicts can function
normally. Well, almost. The cravings they feel begin to occupy their minds.

"We have doctors, lawyers, everyone you can imagine, who come in for
treatment. We have some addicts who have families. They've been using it
for 20, 25 years,'' said Amass, who received a Ph.D. in psychology from
Boston University. "Heroin is becoming popular among younger people now,
particularly college students who smoke it, rather than inject it.''

Cindy grew up in an uppermiddleclass neighborhood on the water in New
Jersey. She got a new car at 18 and got her first taste of heroin while a
senior at Johnson and Wales College in Providence, R.I., when she started
driving down to the nightclubs in New York City on weekends.

"I never thought weekend partying could be addictive,'' said the
28yearold. "I was using cocaine and ecstasy (a stimulant). But after I
started staying up 20 or 30 hours straight, I started using heroin to come
down so I could go back to school.''

After graduating, she moved to New York and quickly worked her way up the
career ladder, until she was making $45,000 a year as a gourmet chef. Soon,
she was blowing coke every day and using "horse'' to come down in time for
work.

"Once it turned into daily usage, I cut out the coke, the marijuana and the
drinking. I got strung out (addicted) within a week. Once you're strung
out, you need it to function. Without it you get the DTs (delirium tremens,
or withdrawal sickness). I've been on a run for six years now,'' she said
with a nervous laugh, fumbling a cup of black coffee.

"I didn't know what I was getting involved with. I didn't know how much
worse it could get. I locked myself in a hotel room for five days and got
sicker than hell. I went back to it two days later.

"I ended up living with another junkie. We were spending $300 a day.
Everything we did revolved around copping more dope.''

"Because when the smack begins to flow I really don't care anymore About
all the JimJims in this town And all the politicians making crazy sounds
And everybody puttin everybody else down And all the dead bodies piled up
in mounds.''

Dean Tomkins (not his real name) was a 22yearold punk in the black
ghettos of North Philadelphia when he first stuck the needle in his arm.
It's hard to say what his life might have been without it. But with it, he
spent 34 years "boosting'' clothes, tools, VCRs anything he could out of
stores to pay for more smack. He robbed everyone including two undercover
narcs, lost his best friend, another addict who hung himself in a jail
cell, got thrown out by his wife and alienated his kids. He went through
one job after another, the last as a janitor in the Aurora Public Schools.

It's been a long, long 56 years, but he's clean now, has a little apartment
in Curtis Park, sells newspapers on the weekend and plays chess on the 16th
Street Mall across from the Rock Bottom Brewery. "I'm probably the only guy
in Denver who smiles when I get my telephone bill in the mail,'' he said
with a laugh, pleased at the normalcy he finally has been able to achieve
in his life. "I'm a citizen again. I want to sit on my porch with my
grandchildren. I'm at peace with the mother of my children.''

"Ah, when the heroin is in my blood And that blood is in my head Then thank
God that I'm as good as dead.'' The heroin found in the western United
States is almost exclusively black tar heroin, brought up from Mexico.
China white, on the other hand, is a far more potent heroin produced in the
Orient and found most commonly on the East Coast. Occasionally a shipment
of China white arrives in Denver.

"That stuff, whenever it shows up, is taken very seriously,'' said Sgt.
Mink of the West Metro Drug Task Force.

China white is generally more pure, anywhere from 80 to 90 percent. "Back
East, you're dealing with organized crime, and they'll do anything to keep
you strung out,'' said Cindy. Black tar is usually less pure, which brings
in more profits because it's been diluted, or "stepped on,'' with instant
coffee, brown sugar or even brown crayons. All of which is injected by the
addicts. Consequently, addicts never know what purity they're dealing with
when a new shipment arrives. It was black tar heroin that recently killed
seven addicts, six in Boulder, after they overdosed.

Dr. Steve Cantrell, assistant director of the emergency room at Denver
Health Medical Center, said he usually learns about new heroin shipments
before the police do.

"Whenever a new shipment comes into town, we start getting a rash of
overdoses until they can figure out how potent it is,'' said Cantrell.
Overdosing on heroin paralyzes the user's lungs, causing suffocation.
Fortunately, there is an antidote for heroin Narcane that temporarily
reverses the effects of the narcotic. But the victim has to get to the
hospital.

"As long as we can keep him breathing, he will live,'' said Cantrell. "And
we have a drug that will keep them breathing. The only problem with it is
that it cancels out the high they're feeling. When they wake up, they get
furious with us because they're no longer high. I tell them, 'Man, you were
going to die.' Then they'll yell back at me, "I don't care, you ruined my
trip, man.' Go figure.''

Brad, a stocky 24yearold from Texas, never smoked or drank in high
school. His dad taught him the value of hard work and, by age 20, Brad was
managing the night shift of 18 workers at a bakery, earning $35,000 a year.
He began partying quite a bit, drinking and doing drugs, eventually
spending about $50 every other week on heroin. "I was actually a pretty
straight junkie,'' he said.

He began to tire of his job and drifted around, eventually moving in with a
junkie girlfriend. With no income, he became dependent on her and got
addicted.

"She had me on a string,'' he said. He has overdosed four times in the last
12 months twice his friends revived him and twice doctors had to pull him
out.

His father, who lives in Boulder, never gave up on him and got him into
treatment.

"I lost four years of my life, just pissed it away,'' Brad said, amazed at
how easily it happened. He plans to move back to Austin next month, to open
a bakery and coffee shop with his younger brother, financed by their dad.

Unlike cocaine users, heroin addicts don't return to normalcy after a high.
They begin to experience withdrawal symptoms, so they take the drug to "get
well.'' Only an enormous dose or a second dose will get them high, but then
they run the risk of overdosing. Most addicts take enough to maintain
themselves, shooting up in the morning, again in the evening, then maybe a
small hit before bed. Casual users can spend as little as $50 on the
weekend, while strung out junkies can spend as much as $150 to $200 a day.

A typical dose is an "eightball,'' or eighth of a gram, or a quarter gram,
which sells for about $20. Street dealers typically put two or three doses
into a "bag,'' or balloon, which they tie off and put in their mouths. If
the cops come, they merely swallow the balloon. Drinking a couple of cans
of 7Up before going out dealing makes it easier for them to vomit the bag
back up, they said.

A bust several years ago by the Drug Enforcement Administration caught two
Colombians coming off a plane at DIA with 184 balloons in their stomachs.
The heroin totaled nearly 5 pounds, which the two produced for police
during a weekend of sitting on the toilet.

Those couriers, known as "swallowers,'' are an integral, albeit lowly, part
of the drug organization. "Swallowers are swallowers,'' said DEA agent Ron
Kresock. "It's something they do. It's almost a profession. They get paid
for it. It's just highly dangerous.'' For some people, the drug has a sexy
allure, similar to cocaine, and it can be found at upperincome cocktail
parties and in bedrooms.

Madison Avenue ad agencies have fueled the allure with their "heroin chic''
magazine ads showing skinny, hollowfaced models with dark eye sockets
staring numbly at the camera.

One recent magazine ad had a shirtless male model, wearing designer jeans,
with a needle in his arm. Kate Moss, a favorite model of designer Calvin
Klein, personifies the look with her anorexic body and vacant stare. She's
usually surrounded by a bunch of pale, skinny guys who haven't shaved in
days. They're supposed to be attractive.