# Funktown Harv: Rise of an Oakland Street Empire

## The Humble Origins of a Future Street Legend

In the quiet neighborhoods of East Oakland during the 1980s, when the crack epidemic was beginning its stranglehold on urban America, a young man named Harvey Weasanton was carving out what would become one of the most feared names in the Bay Area's underworld. His story began in the most unassuming of places: a small, one-story house on 11th Avenue in the Lake Merritt section of East Oakland. It was here, amid modest surroundings and limited opportunities, that the foundation for a street empire would be laid.

Harvey's early years followed a conventional enough path. He attended Franklin Elementary School, then transitioned to Roosevelt Junior High—though "conventional" would prove to be a relative term in his trajectory. Roosevelt Junior High was a microcosm of the chaos that defined East Oakland in the 1980s. The hallways echoed with the sounds of conflict; lunchrooms roared with aggression; and physical confrontation was as much a part of the curriculum as mathematics or English. It was within these tumultuous corridors that Harvey first encountered the Momo family, individuals who would play a significant role in shaping his future.

What made this connection particularly notable was that Harvey and the Momos represented different neighborhoods, different territories in Oakland's fractured geography. Yet they shared a school district, and in the complex social ecosystems of urban youth, shared educational space created unexpected alliances. Lines of neighborhood loyalty blurred, and bonds forged in the chaos of adolescence would later carry serious consequences.

Even at this young age, Harvey stood out. He was a big kid—not just tall, but substantially built, with the kind of physical presence that commanded respect or provoked challenge. His size came paired with something more valuable than mere inches: he had hands. The boys from 23rd Avenue quickly learned this lesson, and word traveled fast through the schools and streets. Harvey wasn't someone who merely talked about throwing down; he was someone who followed through with devastating efficiency. A disrespectful comment during homeroom could result in a knockout during recess. A challenge exchanged in the morning might be answered before the final bell. There was no hesitation, no posturing, just swift and complete dominance.

## The Athletic Years: Legitimate Prowess

When Harvey entered high school, his aggression found a legal outlet: football. The sport suited him perfectly. Here was an arena where hitting people—knocking them backward, driving them into the dirt, controlling them through sheer physical force—was not only permitted but celebrated. Coaches recognized what they had in Harvey immediately. By his freshman year, he had already reached six foot five and weighed well over two hundred pounds, a physical specimen that made opposing teams wince during game preparation.

The local newspapers began to take notice. Articles appeared in local sports sections featuring the impressive young athlete from East Oakland. The community recognized his talent, and with recognition came a nickname: "Big Harv," or simply "H." When he moved through the streets or corridors, people moved out of his way. This wasn't paranoia or exaggeration—it was simply the social mathematics of a neighborhood where size, strength, and demonstrated capability meant everything.

After graduating from high school, Harvey faced a crossroads that countless young men in similar circumstances encounter. The legitimate path that had worked so well—the athletic career, the college possibilities, the escape route that education and sports promised—seemed increasingly remote or unrealistic. Instead, Harvey began spending significant time on 23rd Avenue, tightening his bonds with the Momo organization. What had started as casual hanging out evolved gradually into something more concrete: work.

## The Transition to Street Business

Initially, this work was straightforward. Harvey provided muscle. His physical presence alone could resolve many situations without actual violence. He became a collector of sorts, though the debts he pursued weren't credit card payments or overdue rent. These were street debts—money owed from drug transactions gone wrong, from borrowed money that needed to be repaid, from obligations that had to be honored or consequences would follow.

Harvey was like a repo man for the street economy, except instead of towing cars, he collected on human terms. He was systematic, professional, and effective. Those who owed money understood that negotiations with Harv would not be theoretical exercises in persuasion. If the debt wasn't satisfied through words, it would be satisfied through other means. And if words and fists proved insufficient, Harvey had other tools at his disposal—he was willing to use weapons when the situation demanded it.

What distinguished Harvey from many others in similar positions was his essential seriousness about the enterprise. He wasn't interested in the performance aspects of street life, the flashy displays or the need for constant recognition. He was engaged in business, and he conducted himself accordingly. He observed, he learned, he calculated.

After several years operating within the Momo structure, Harvey made a critical decision: he would branch out independently. He parted ways with his original crew and returned to his roots on 11th Avenue, the area where his family had established itself. By this point, Harvey had accumulated a modest but meaningful amount of capital from his years of collections work. More importantly, he had accumulated knowledge about how the street economy functioned and how to successfully navigate it.

## The Perfect Storm: Timing and Opportunity

Harvey's timing proved exceptional. The drug landscape of Oakland was in the midst of a dramatic transformation. Heroin, which had dominated the Bay Area's drug economy throughout the 1970s, was declining in prevalence and profitability. Something new was emerging with explosive force: crack cocaine. This form of cocaine—created by cooking powder cocaine with baking soda and water, a process that became widespread around 1982—was revolutionizing the drug trade. It was more potent, cheaper, and more immediately addictive than powder cocaine. It was also far more profitable for street-level dealers.

Crack spots began appearing throughout Oakland, multiplying like cells in rapid division. Individual dealers were moving unprecedented quantities of product and generating staggering amounts of cash. The economics were simple and compelling: small initial investment, rapid turnover, substantial profits. For an ambitious young man with capital, connections, and the willingness to use violence, the opportunity was almost impossible to ignore.

The 11th Avenue area where Harvey had chosen to establish his operation was strategically positioned. The neighborhood wasn't already saturated with crack dealers the way some Oakland blocks had become. It was relatively quiet, still primarily inhabited by Asian families who maintained their own social structures largely separate from the emerging street economy. Career Town, another area, sat a couple of blocks away on East 12th Street. But 11th Avenue itself remained largely untapped—a blank canvas for someone with ambition and capability.

More importantly, the location was geographically perfect for the drug trade. Downtown Oakland was within walking distance, providing a ready customer base. Laney College was nearby, offering another market segment. Lake Merritt provided a buffer and alternative escape routes. The neighborhood was, in street terms, ideal.

## Building the Crew: Pressure and Loyalty

Harvey understood that individual effort, no matter how capable the individual, had limits. To truly dominate a territory, one needed an organization. He began recruiting, assembling what would become known as one of the most aggressive criminal organizations in Oakland's recent history. His strategy was multi-pronged: he recruited heavily from his own 11th Avenue base, pulling in neighborhood boys who understood the terrain and had ties to the community. He also made calculated moves to incorporate experienced operators from other areas, particularly pulling in formidable crew members from West Oakland's 24th Village—individuals who had already proven themselves in the street wars.

The result was a crew with no soft spots, no weak links. These were individuals selected specifically for their capability and willingness to engage in violence. The inner circle reflected this selection process. Members bore nicknames that reflected the economic machinery of the operation: Master Charge, Big Visa, Payroll—names that suggested the financial machinery of the enterprise. Then there were operational names: Merck Man (suggesting pharmaceutical operations), Killer Kev (self-explanatory), and Fat Dave.

Fat Dave merits particular attention in any accounting of Harv's crew. He was, by most accounts, an exceptionally dangerous individual. Short and heavyset with light skin, Fat Dave had a tattoo of a demon sprawled across his back—a physical manifestation of something internal. He was a kidnapper, a robber, and a menace who operated without apparent restraint or mercy. He had been literally dropped into East Oakland from West Oakland like a human weapon, and he functioned accordingly.

Beneath this core group was a younger cohort of crew members: Shawnee Boe, Critty Boe, Buck, Ant Lane, Black Ray Ray, Daddy Boe, Angelo, and Davey D (Harvey's blood nephew). These younger soldiers were wild, ambitious, and intensely loyal—the kind of young men who would prove themselves through violence and were eager to rise within the organization's hierarchy.

The loyalty that bound these individuals together wasn't sentimental or based on childhood friendship, though some bonds did have those roots. Instead, it was transactional and purposeful. Loyalty came with compensation, with status, with purpose. The operational logic was brutally simple: take what's yours, or take what isn't. The question of who you were or how tough you thought you might be was irrelevant. If you stood in the way, you would be destroyed.

## The Territorial Assault: Expansion and Early Conflicts

With this crew assembled, Harvey began what might best be described as a systematic territorial conquest. East Oakland, with its fragmented neighborhoods and competing crews, was transformed into a chess board, and Harvey played aggressively. There was no formal name for the organization initially—no logo, no motto, no public declaration. What existed was simply understood: 11th Avenue was the base of operations, and the block was loud. But the operation quickly expanded far beyond these initial boundaries. Harvey's crew began running through East Oakland like a force of nature, spreading fear and force wherever they went.

Their first major test came at Sobrante Park, an area controlled by an established crew. Harvey's operation came heavy—deep and aggressive, ready to impose their will through overwhelming force. But the Sobrante boys were not pushers. They stood their ground, held their territory, and returned fire with equal intensity. Several bodies fell during the confrontation, and Harv's crew was forced to retreat. It was Harvey's first significant setback, his first real loss.

But critically, it did not deter him. The loss was processed as a lesson, not a defeat. They regrouped, reconsidered their tactics, and moved forward. The next target came into focus: the Dirt Road, a grimy stretch of neighborhood at 99th and Plymouth known in Oakland vernacular as the Big Rock. This was no marginal territory. The Big Rock held historical significance as Oakland's first genuinely productive crack cocaine marketplace. Serious operators had built themselves up from this soil. Names like TB, AB, AF, and Burley Moe had established themselves here.

But Harvey was undeterred by pedigree or history. He saw opportunity, and he moved on it with characteristic aggression and organization. This was how an empire, built on concrete and violence, expanded block by block, territory by territory, across the landscape of East Oakland.