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At 16, he packed up and moved back to Kansas City. Payne says West stayed with her for a short time but then struck out on his own. He lived with a couple of friends while he attended Shawnee Mission East High School. To make rent, he got a job in Westport. Then a friend borrowed and wrecked his car, making it impossible to commute. West says he ended up living in an empty building near the school. He showered each morning in the school gym's locker room.
He admits that he made plenty of bad choices as a kid, though he won't get into specifics. "One line I never crossed," he says. "I never sold drugs."After attending 11 schools, he graduated from Shawnee Mission East in 1997.
One Friday morning that year, Payne says, West asked for a lift to Lawrence. He told her to pick him up after the weekend. "By Monday, he'd enrolled in school, talked someone into renting him an apartment — even though he wasn't 18 — and he'd gotten two part-time jobs," Payne says with a laugh.
He didn't stay at the University of Kansas for long. Records show that West was enrolled at KU only from fall 1997 to summer 1998. He'd always been skilled with computers, and a job opportunity in Lenexa was too good to pass up, West says. For his job with Cephas, a dot-com-era Web development firm, he jetted all over the country. West remembers making more money than he knew what to do with.
But Cephas went under. West secured some of the contracts and started his own company; when he sold out to Computer Sciences Corporation, a business technology services firm based in California, it seemed time to move on. Certain realities had begun to outweigh his financial comfort and professional success.
"Lenexa was a wake-up call," West says. "Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought if I could be successful in the dot-com industry, if I made enough money, then I would be accepted there as who I was: a bright guy with a successful company making lots of money. Turns out, that was not the case. I was still just some black kid."
He bought the house in Ivanhoe and slowly became involved in the neighborhood association. By 2004, he was leading the creation of a detailed, resident-driven neighborhood plan. He didn't know anything about city zoning, and he knew even less about his neighbors.
At one point, West and the other organizers drafted a 60-page report based on input from several group meetings. West argued that sending the bulky document to all the residents would be a waste of paper. No one would read it, he argued.
At the next meeting, dozens of his neighbors showed up, their reports worn from reading and covered in notes.
"It was really a series of moments like that that took over," he says. "Now, instead of being a full-time technology entrepreneur, making scads of money and being very self-important, I'm a part-time, gainfully unemployed computer hacker between the hours of 10 p.m. and 2 a.m. and spend most of all day every day working on community projects that don't pay a dime."
On evenings and weekends, kids are checking their e-mail or doing their homework at West's house. Over the past few years, he and Turner have let young men stay at their house for varying lengths of time. Some have been kicked out of their homes. Others just need a place to cool off after confrontations with other neighborhood kids.
West calls the rotating group his "gentlemen." When Democratic presidential hopeful Barack Obama was at Municipal Auditorium last month, West and his gentlemen were there. Sometimes he takes them to the symphony.
Recently, though, his routine changed.
West's 14-year-old cousin, Damon, had sometimes stayed with him. Family members saw that, under West's care, Damon was making progress. So this past summer, West became Damon's legal guardian.
The air-conditioning and cell-phone bills spiked. But that wasn't what worried West.
"Ghosts of my own childhood return to taunt," he wrote on his blog in August.
Damon attends Fairview Alternative School on Pittman Road near East 38th Terrace, a boot-camplike place with as many cops as administrators.
West had served on the boards of Gordon Parks Elementary School (an inner-city charter school) and the Stephanie Waterman Foundation (a program that pairs tennis lessons with tutoring). But over the past year, he has navigated the public school system as the guardian of a struggling student.
In September, West got a call from the Walgreens on Linwood and Prospect. The man on the other end of the line told him that Damon had been caught shoplifting. Fuming, West met the 14-year-old at the store, bought some poster board, and ordered him to make a sign with the words "I like to shoplift." Then West marched him outside and made him stand on the sidewalk, holding up the sign.