Michael Fray Salters: The tragic story of the DC King Pin Ambassador

 

Michael Anthony Salters was born the day after Christmas in 1953, and raised uptown in NW Washington D.C. on Webster Street. Young Michael grew up believing he had to be a stable figure to keep his family afloat and together. He took it upon himself to provide for his loved ones the soonest that he could.

Salters hungered for money since he was a kid, and acquired it however he could. He and his friends would run around the streets doing whatever to get paid. Mike was part of two local gangs as a youth: the Marlboro 500, then the Rock boys.

As Mike got older he made a habit of armed robbery. And heroin. He developed a love for boxing as well, which trained him to channel his aggression. He became competitive and wouldn’t back down from fighting anyone with his hands. Throughout his life, Salters gained the respect of other fighters around him, including professional boxers who held championship titles.

People called Salters “Fray Bean” originally because of his skinny build when he was younger. The shortened name Fray stuck with him for the rest of his life. Some also called him “Horse Collar” due to the thickness of his neck.

Mike’s teenage crimes as a stickup kid soon caught up with him. One botched robbery attempt landed him a prison sentence in 1974, at the age of 19. Salters originally was placed in the now-defunct Youth Center at Lorton Reformatory in Laurel Hill, Virginia. His notoriety grew as a fighter behind bars. Another old-time hustler from uptown D.C. named Fatts recalled in a Don Diva interview how Mike’s presence was felt inside the institution:

“When I first got [to the Youth Center in 1974] somebody broke into my locker. Fray went and got my stuff back and made the dude apologize.”

Salters also had a personal chair located in the rec hall and dared anybody to sit in it. His behavior led him to be transferred into the bullpen housing all mature convicts charged with more hostile robberies, rapes, murders, etc. He witnessed all kinds of assault around him daily.

“Niggas didn’t care who you were or what you were known for…Most killers didn’t even walk alone, but some could, and Fray was one of those dudes…”

— Graytop (an old convict of Lorton)

Fray stayed strong while incarcerated, and began earning the respect of the other inmates. He shook off his drug addiction and focused solely on accumulating wealth. Building alliances around the Reformatory with people from other sections of D.C. secured his ability in conducting business for himself in their respective territories of town once he was released.

When he got out around 1978, Fray was introduced to a woman through a mutual friend of theirs. At the time, Fray was 24 and she was 17. What he had yet to know was that she was a local booster with a reputation. As she drove him that day, he explained his plans to become a millionaire. The two quickly hit it off and sparked a relationship.

Fray was fronted an ounce of marijuana by his friend Wookie and immediately went to work. Within a couple of months, Mike turned that one ounce into pounds. He remained keen and also avoided debts, which kept his pockets rising. Fray then got into the heroin trade, distributing his brand called Black Snake. Word began to spread about him in uptown D.C. He became more well-known in the city and started making appearances at venues, restaurants, and parties in fly clothing with his woman. His appearances with friends and associates began to dazzle those who witnessed.

One night a hustler named Avon Little ran and snatched a purse from a woman, not knowing she was Fray’s girlfriend. Little’s body was later found near an alley off of Wiltsberger Street, a few blocks away from Howard University. Salters was charged with the murder but managed to beat the case due to witnesses not appearing in court. However he was fully on the radar of the federal government, and so he started to lay low, as did his friend Wookie. Fray was inevitably arrested in Jersey and extradited to Washington D.C. All the while his girl was six months pregnant. Ironically, violating his parole sent him back to where he started: Lorton Reformatory. Still, he managed to coordinate deals in Buffalo, Rochester, Jersey, and Maryland. He ran his operation better than before from the inside with the aid of his girlfriend and crew. According to her, he was living relatively comfortably while incarcerated at the time.

When he was back on the streets, Fray got to witness the birth of his first son. He spoiled his child with his riches and made sure his family knew how much he loved them.

He also went straight back to work. A friend he knew while locked up gave Fray access to a stash containing about $100,000, which was stolen from a bank. With this extra capital and a plug for PCP based in California, Salters was ready to go. His angel dust floated through the streets and racked in thousands. He even secured part of Hanover Place NW, which had been an infamous spot to run drugs through since the 1970s in the days of people like Cornell M. Jones. Through the beginning years of the 1980s, Fray elevated to kingpin status.

In June of 1984, Fray purchased a $250,000 custom chain; a gold elephant pendant smothered in diamonds. He first adorned it for the Tommy Hearns v. Roberto Duran boxing bout in Las Vegas. Afterward, his girlfriend expressed concerns about him being too deep in the game and asked him to leave it alone so they could be a family together. Unfortunately, he just couldn’t withdraw from hustling, so she got a legitimate job, moved into a new apartment with her children, and refused any more of his money.

By the summer of ‘85, Fray was generating millions of dollars from handling premium PCP, marijuana, cocaine, and especially heroin (his most lucrative trade). He soon recruited his ambitious young nephew Darnell “Poochie” Salters into his ranks to keep him close and guide him. As the second half of the 1980s progressed, the influence of crack sank its teeth deeper into the city of Washington D.C., dubbed the nation’s murder capital at the time.

Rayful Edmond III rose out of the town’s sea of dealers to become a kingpin in his own right, primarily through crack sales. This was thanks in part to his plug connects, who were associates of Escobar’s Medellin cartel.

In comparison to Fray’s laidback, stern demeanor, Edmond was much more arrogant and loud which called for a lot of visibility. He seemed to relish in whatever kind of attention he got. Ray was also disrespectful to almost anyone (except Fray) including his friends. This gave Fray the impression that he “wouldn’t last long in this game”.

Edmond’s wealth attracted the attention of some rival hustlers from the Trinidad section of Northeast D.C. Fray arranged a meeting between both parties by Howard University and explained to them how getting money was more important than killing each other. He managed to issue a truce, which awarded him $100,000 from Rayful just for delegating the situation.

Rayful continued to directly offer Salters lump sums of cash ranging from $100,000 to $250,000. He even gifted Fray’s young nephew Poochie with a pure Colombian kilo of cocaine on consignment. All just to stay in Fray’s good graces. Though Salters and his crew still kept Edmond at a distance and stayed strictly business with him.

Word got out that a member of Edmond’s organization was talking down on Poochie’s name, so Fray set up a meeting between both groups one night at the old Breeze Metro Club.

*Sidenote: The go-go band Rare Essence, whom Fray loved, recorded a live album at this venue two years before which was called The Album That Kept The Whole Neighborhood Rockin’.

At the club, Fray and Poochie confronted Rayful and his man. Poochie proceeded to severely beat Edmond’s man down on the spot, but he brandished a .357 Magnum in defense. As everyone inside fled from the commotion, the man found himself pointing the gun at the only one left standing there—Fray. Salters stared down the armed gunman and angrily asked “What do you plan to do with that? Besides, make me mad.”

Needless to say, Rayful called Fray on the phone the very next day and had his man from last night sincerely apologize for everything that he did. Afterward, Ray showered Fray in more gifts to avoid his bad side. Salters’ extortions proved successful as Ray remained respectful, and fearful, of him. He considered everything he paid Salters as safety insurance.

* Rayful Edmond (center in white), Fray (b/w sweater), & Co. *

There was another time that Fray witnessed Rayful’s cousin fighting with someone in the parking lot of the Chapter III club. The two men pulled out guns and shot at each other as Fray laughed and walked away to his car. But as he sat inside the vehicle, he noticed a hole in his Versace shirt and realized one of the bullets from the shootout grazed him. This immediately infuriated him, though Fray calmed down when Edmond found out and coughed up $200,000 plus a brand new Range Rover.

By this point, Mike Salters was regarded as the Ambassador of Chocolate City. His reach extended to seemingly anywhere. He was loved by friends, musicians, professional athletes, politicians, prison inmates, and so many random onlookers that caught a glimpse of him. His crew recalls the regularity with which women swooned over him for years, but he never paid it much mind. He wasn’t the type to fall for anyone’s seduction. And after shaking his old heroin addiction long ago, Fray abstained from drug usage and alcohol. He always kept his mind clear.

Being such a high-profile figure in the city meant Fray knew everyone important. The mother of his children recalled how he’d stop by Mayor Marion Barry’s estate to drop duffel bags off in the middle of their outings. This was clean before anyone even knew Barry indulged in drugs. Federal agents once wiretapped a person’s phone call in which they mentioned Fray bribing a defense attorney with five grand in order to get some information.

Fray left behind a legacy throughout the whole nation. Convicts across the country were blessed and kept in good condition because he looked after them. He consistently gave one friend 20 grand apiece since they were on the run down in Houston. He provided a lot of community services through his storefronts and businesses in the city. And he did his best to make the ones closest to him feel as loved and respected as he did. He believed everything he did was always for his family first.

* Fray, Fat Rodney (shades), Walt & Evander Holyfield (c. 1989) *

Fat Rodney, shown above, was a go-go musician that was wrongfully killed at a skating rink the same year he took this picture with Fray.

Regarded by many as the king of D.C., Fray had the position to continue mitigating tensions between rival drug crews. He would even get paid to personally delineate the local territories in which specific narcotics organizations were allowed to conduct business. With words alone, he settled the violent beef between two warring drug dealing factions on the southside of town before things got too bloody. Everyone, even the wildest of killers, respected him that much.

He knew many across the nation from New York City’s Kenneth “Supreme” McGriff to the late NBA draft pick Len Bias. When Len was still a college basketball star, Fray often tried keeping him on the right path. Salters believed in the young man’s potential to make something of himself and warned Bias against using drugs and hanging around the wrong people. So, when Len Bias passed away from a cocaine overdose, Fray was enraged and wished to kill whoever sold the drugs to his friend in the first place.

During the Spring of 1989, Fray was coordinating a drug deal involving five kilograms of cocaine and ten bricks of pure heroin. While doing so, he discovered Rayful Edmond was raided by law enforcement. Salters laid low in case Edmond had snitched and compromised him. Fray stayed in hiding at a friend’s garage for weeks. While there, a man in his crew named Michael Jackson asked if he could get fronted half a kilo of coke. Fray met Jackson before in prison, but they weren’t close. He frequently made jokes about Michael, especially about how he dressed, and yet all Jackson could ever do in response was laugh along. But Fray still wanted Jackson to have a chance at getting some money. So he gave Michael a whole cocaine brick instead of just half.

Fray once bumped into a messy-looking Wayne “Silk” Perry at a restaurant on Ninth Street. There, Silk offered to be Fray’s trigger man if need be, but Salters respectfully declined in light of the pressure he felt from the feds. After departing, Salters had his people check up on Perry’s history to find out who he was. Fray later heard from his people in New York City about everything in Harlem involving A.Z. Faison’s robbery, the death of Rich Porter, and the sudden disappearance of Alpo Martinez. Based on how Martinez moved, Fray himself deduced who truly killed Porter and confronted Alpo about it when he drove past him in D.C. Fray also warned Alpo not to hustle in his city. Eventually, he demanded that Alpo leave altogether, and Martinez had no choice but to openly respect his wishes at the moment.

Alpo continued trying to set up shop in Washington regardless, though it wasn’t easy. He encountered a lot of friction and aggression there, and people were muscling in on his supply of drugs. Fray himself had allegedly taken 10 kilos from Alpo without consequence. Inevitably, he and Martinez put hits out on each other. Fray put a price on Silk’s neck as well, who was now Alpo’s primary enforcer and most dangerous soldier.

After he failed to repay his debts, Fray pressed Michael Jackson. He feared for his life when Salters demanded he fix it within the next few days. Somehow Alpo caught wind of the dispute and commissioned a scared Jackson to kill Fray to eliminate the issue. Martinez offered Jackson a 9mm, half a brick, and $9,000. He also claimed he’d support Jackson in the aftermath of the murder.

Michael set up a meeting with Fray on the night of July 16th, 1991. Salters was waiting in his car at the intersection of First Street NW & Bryant Street NW when an unidentified gunman pulled up and shot him six times. Fray’s brother was nearby observing in a van and ran into Salters’ car to drive his dying brother to medical aid. Fray was left at the entrance of Washington Hospital Center around 10:30 P.M. and declared dead at 1 A.M.

His nephew Poochie was devastated by this while in jail awaiting a murder trial. He allegedly got the prison guards to bring a now-incarcerated Silk into a private cell with him so they could be alone. There, Silk was beaten down and suffered severe head injuries. Poochie continued going on a rampage targeting anyone he believed was involved with his uncle’s murder. Inevitably, Poochie himself was gunned down as well.

Michael Jackson disappeared.

Fray left behind a legacy throughout the whole nation. Convicts across the country were blessed and kept in good condition because he looked after them. He consistently gave one friend 20 grand apiece since they were on the run down in Houston. He provided a lot of community services through his storefronts and businesses in the city. And he did his best to make the ones closest to him feel as loved and respected as he did. He believed everything he did was always for his family first.

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