Robert Peace and Jeff Hobbs came from vastly different backgrounds, but when Yale paired them as college roommates, a race- and class-bridging friendship emerged. When Robert passed away several years after they graduated, Jeff took on the task of chronicling his life in The Short and Tragic Life of Robert Peace: A Brilliant Young Man Who Left Newark for the Ivy League. The story is not without its happy moments, but, ultimately, it's sad and discouraging.
Robert grew up in Newark, poor, son of a single mother and a father who was in prison for a double murder. Even as a toddler, he showed signs of brilliance, so his mother made endless sacrifices to ensure that he got a good education. He was a stellar student, and graduated with accolades from a local Catholic prep school. Due to the generosity of the school's patron, he had his way paid to Yale, where he excelled in the molecular biology program.
At every point in his education, Rob was well-liked by his peers and lauded by his teachers. He showed a remarkable selflessness, as he helped out his friends, many of whom would have struggled academically if not for his tutelage. He showed a great work ethic in his studies, on the water polo team, and in his outside work as a lifeguard, lab assistant, and other roles.
Rob's story should have been a rags to riches tale, an inspiring story of a man who had everything going against him, but through hard work, a brilliant mind, and some great connections along the way, became a great leader in government, business, the community, or all of the above. Alas, Rob was a habitual pot smoker, as well as being a very active dealer. He became the number one dealer at Yale, where there was no shortage of customers, and continued his dealing after graduation in order to make ends meet and to fund his various endeavors.
One of Rob's Yale friends, who also came from poverty, put it well: "You do dumb sh-- and you know it's dumb sh-- but it's the same dumb sh-- you grew up around so you do it anyway." Rob never seemed to wrestle with the ethical or legal implications of his dealing, only with seeking to avoid getting caught. When planning the "last big deal" that was supposed to set him up financially, he told his friends, "There's no great man who doesn't have [an ethical gray area], no man who's ever made a difference, anyway. You don't get to the top without compromising something along the way. . . . Look at politics and presidents . . ."
Ultimately, Rob's belief that he was above the law and above the darker side of drug dealing caught up with him and cost him his life. While he showed a lot of character in his care for his mother, his legal efforts on behalf of his father, and his treatment of his friends, his lack of a true moral compass was his downfall. He was able to justify the means by looking to the ends. To his credit, he was enabled to do so. One of the teachers at his Catholic high school confronted him about his drug use. Rob laughed it off, and the priest figured Rob could handle it and dropped the subject. I wonder if the priests who ran the school were so enamored with Rob's great qualities that they failed to see his need for moral instruction. Later, Yale officials confronted him about his drug dealing, an offense that should have lead to expulsion, but, laughably, they let him off without a penalty--as long as he promised not to do it anymore. Even his friends were reluctant to call Rob out for his self-destructive lifestyle, because they figured, he's Rob, he'll figure it out.
Hobbs does a masterful job of capturing Rob's life. He conducted hundreds of hours of interviews, getting background and perspective from wide circles of friends and acquaintances. Of course, he takes a novelist's liberty to reconstruct conversations and events, but the book has a very authentic feel. Although Hobbs is a friend and admirer, he doesn't justify or excuse Rob's choices. Refreshingly, neither does he make Rob's story a political or sociological statement. The reader, of course, must inevitably confront the political and sociological questions raised by Rob's story. How can such a promising young man, given the highest of opportunities, not rise from a poverty-stricken slum? What does it take for a bright, inner-city student to succeed, if not a full ride at Yale?
Rob's life was full of drama, but Hobbs's writing transcends Rob's story. He takes a troubled, tragic life and preserves it in a highly readable narrative. In Hobbs's telling of Rob's story, I felt a sense of brooding inevitability of Rob's self-destruction. Hobbs interjects some commentary on race, class, economics and poverty, elitism, and education inequality, but always from Rob's perspective and centered on Rob's experiences. In that sense, he has given us a poor, black Everyman, whose life demonstrates that our destinies are shaped not only by our family, neighborhood, wealth or lack of it--things over which we have no control--but also by choices we make every day, large and small.
Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!
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