Jordan Mays and I connected about four years ago. He and his girl would come into Pitchers Pub. He’d have his work outfit on, and fancy boots. We got to talking about his background — his grandfather was a carpenter; he is too — and how he wants to help Black youth get into the trades the way he has. (He’s also a drummer for Ms. J and the Cresson Street Band.)
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Mays grew up in Cheltenham and went away to college at Southern Illinois University. After a year, “I ended up failing out,” he says. “I wasn’t really good at school at all.” He worked two jobs for two or three years, but ended up in prison for 130 days for his second DUI. It wasn’t what he wanted, but going away had a benefit. “I actually grew up once I went to jail,” he says, “You really learn a different level of respect for people in jail; you’re forced to learn respect.”
When he got out, he’d lost both jobs, but “a buddy of mine called me. He said he needed an extra guy to help frame out a bathroom in Germantown,” Mays says. “I did about a week’s worth of work for him. I got paid $800. It’s not that much, but during the time, I was like: This is what I want to do.” The light clicked on.
When he was younger, Mays worked with his dad and grandfather on building projects. He remembers redoing their basement in their Montgomery County home. He saw he could take what he learned and make a career. “I found a passion within framing. The guys that I was working with were extremely smart,” he says. He admired how proudly they walked onto the jobsite, how they moved in their profession.
Neighborhood Contracting in Germantown hired him to build decks. He stayed there for a while until he felt ready to go out on his own. When he did, Mays bought CNH Home Improvements — his grandfather’s original LLC — got his license, his insurance, and started contracting his own jobs: “interior renovations, exterior doors, windows — everything within the realm of carpentry.”
One day, Mays was pulling out flooring from a Mount Airy house, working with the front door open. “And there was a couple of dudes walking by,” he says. Passing by the threshold, they saw him working on the ground, pulling nails, and, “They were like, ‘Man. Fuck that shit.’ It’s not easy work, you know what I mean?” he says, “But then I get on lunch, and I see a bunch of guys standing outside the corner store, and I’m thinking to myself: This is what my young Black brothers need to be doing.”
Learning on the job isn’t just about learning how to build things, he says. It’s also about recognizing the value of ownership. “I think that what rules the world is owning property,” he says. “I might be wrong, but that’s what I was taught … Commercial properties, residential properties: That’s what we need to own. And once we have that, that’s something that they cannot take away from you. And that’s the goal. I don’t think there’s any other way to gain economic power.”
He’s currently looking for a place for himself and his young family — a good deal, a home he can work on himself.
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