Old friends meet on road to rock bottom

They were friends from way back. From working the bingo concessions as kids. From singing Jackson Five songs at talent shows as teen-agers. From the glory days at Hughes High School when life looked like nothing more than one long, sweet good time.

Donald Whitehead was class vice president, prom king, Most Likely to Succeed.

Marianto Pettus was the guy with the voice. Known by everybody. Always up for fun.

Both of them liked to party.

After high school, Marianto headed to California and a job singing back-up in music studios. Donald joined the Navy and saw the world. Well, he missed every historical and cultural attraction, he says, but he hit every bar.

Life was still really good. Spinning faster, a few mistakes along the way, but still good.

Eventually, it brought both men back to Cincinnati. They brought back something new.

Addiction.

The walking dead

Then they worked less and partied more. After a while, they only worked to party.

Pretty soon there was no more "party." Looking for a high became their work.

The friends started dropping off. Drug abuse starts out as a social event, the men say, but when it gets serious, it comes down to just a man and his drug. There is nothing to share.

The two men, who would now bump into each other occasionally at clubs, saw things slipping away. A wife. A house. Lots of jobs.

Integrity. Honesty. Self-esteem.

They moved in with their friends and family, living with one until their addiction wrecked the relationship, then moving on to another.

Until there were no more relationships left to wreck.

Then Donald Whitehead, the guy Most Likely to Succeed, and Marianto Pettus, the guy with the voice, ended up on the street.

Fountain Square, Eden Park, abandoned cars, under bridges.

One day last fall they stumbled across each other in Garfield Park. "I was doing my thing in addiction," Marianto says, "and he was doing his thing in addiction."

They used drugs together for a couple of hours, the fun long gone. And they talked.

"We were surprised to see each other in that situation," Donald says. "We talked about being the kids who had everything in high school and being the adults who had nothing."

In each other's face, they saw all they had lost and the shadows they had become. "The walking dead," says Marianto. "The walking dead."

Deciding to live again

A week later, he "surrendered," deciding to fight his addiction, deciding to live.

The next time their paths crossed, Marianto was standing in line for a free meal at the Drop-Inn Center, and Donald was handing him a tray. Donald was in a drug-recovery program. "He was looking good; he had this glow," Marianto remembers. "You could see he was back alive instead of walking dead."

It took Marianto longer to believe he could do it. Finally in April, he entered drug treatment as well.

Today, Donald Whitehead, who first appeared in this column in December, has been drug-free for nearly a year. He is an outreach coordinator for the Greater Cincinnati Coalition for the Homeless. He has a paycheck, a driver's license, an apartment. He speaks at schools, colleges and community forums.

His old friend Marianto attends with him.

"We were together out there walking, and now he's doing this," Marianto says, his admiration clear. "Every time I look at him, I see that if he can do it, I can do it."

When things get tough, Marianto takes a walk to Donald's apartment. "I holler up there," he says, his voice trailing off. He looks away, shaking his head. "It's the only place I know where I can go and be happy and safe."

Krista Ramsey's column appears in The Enquirer on Saturdays. Write her at 312 Elm Street, Cincinnati 45202 or fax at 768-8340.

Published May 25, 1996.