The Journey of Stanley Prince: From Struggles to Success

My friend Tony Giordano sent me an article from the St. Louis Business Journal about a guy who did 26 years in prison and came out to start his own business. The headline caught my attention, but it was Stanley Prince’s story that made me want to talk with him. Stanley went through Harris Stowe’s minority entrepreneurship program for formerly incarcerated people and has doubled his business since graduating. When I listened to him speak at his church last weekend, I knew this was a conversation worth having.

Growing Up: A Mama’s Boy Who Wanted to Provide

Stanley grew up in a working-class neighborhood between Kings Highway and Highland, just up the street from DePaul Hospital. His mother was the backbone of the family, five kids total, with Stanley taking on the big brother role even though he wasn’t the oldest.

“My mother in particular was like, she was the backbone. She was a strength. I never seen anyone work as much as her,” Stanley told me. “You know what I mean? She was a provider, man. Yes, she was a trooper.”

Even as a kid, Stanley wanted to help ease his mother’s burden. He’d carry grocery bags for people at the store, collect soda bottles for the 15-cent deposit, and hustle however he could. The problem was school. Stanley had a severe stutter that made him self-conscious about reading aloud or speaking up in class.

“I would never talk because I was stutter. And so whatever the teacher will call me to read or something, I will become the class clown. Because people going to make fun of me anyway because I stutter. I really could not distract him by being funny,” he explained.

That strategy backfired. Stanley started skipping school regularly, which led to running with older guys who weren’t in school either. He was big for his age and could box, nobody in the neighborhood wanted to fight him. But hanging around older guys meant getting interested in older girls, and older girls expected things Stanley couldn’t provide as a 13-year-old without a car or money.

The Spiral: Drugs, Crime, and a Mother’s Horror

Stanley’s path into serious trouble started with drugs. What began as using turned into selling to support his habit, then doing other crimes when the selling wasn’t enough. The turning point came when his addiction had completely taken over.

He describes the day his mother found him using heroin in their bathroom, a moment that still haunts him. “I’ve never seen nobody with so much pain in their face, man. I mean, it’s like she had seen something from a horror movie, like she really was afraid. My mother was afraid I’d never, I’ve always been protected of my mother.”

His mother’s question cut deep: “Stanley, what’s wrong? Why do you hate yourself?” It was a country woman trying to understand something completely foreign to her world.

Stanley caught his first case in 1991 at age 26. He thought he was looking at maybe 10 years. He did 11 in Missouri State Penitentiary, got released, and had a brief taste of freedom before federal authorities caught up with him in 2003. This time, they offered him a plea deal that required cooperation. Stanley refused and took the full 188 months.

Inside the Nightmare: Jefferson City and Federal Time

Jefferson City Penitentiary, “the old walls”, was designed to break you. Stanley describes walking through those doors and seeing a sign that read “Welcome to Jefferson City, Missouri State Penitentiary, leave all your dreams and hopes behind.” The place has since been torn down, something Stanley is grateful for.

“That place was designed to be a nightmare. It was designed, the whole setup was designed to touch you mentally, physically take your spirit from you,” he said.

Survival meant following rules he’d learned from older guys on the street: trust no one, keep your guard up 24/7, and be ready to fight anyone who approached you wrong. Stanley worked washing the massive steam pots in food service and spent most of his free time working out. Physical fitness became both a survival strategy and a way to feel normal.

The federal system brought different challenges. Unlike state prison where you could mostly keep to yourself, federal penitentiaries operated on racial and geographic lines. You had to affiliate, St. Louis guys, Chicago guys, Crips, Bloods, white supremacists, Muslims. The gangs ran the yards, not the correctional officers.

The Breaking Point and the Turn

The deaths started piling up while Stanley was inside. First his mother, then his brother got out and was killed. His son Victor, who Stanley barely got to know, was murdered at 19. Death after death of people he loved, all while he was locked away and helpless.

“When Victor got killed, I almost lost it,” Stanley said. The pain was eating him alive until an unlikely person stepped in, a white lifer named Randy who had been watching Stanley.

“One day he walked up to me, he’d say, whenever you feel like it, coming down to the school, and I helped you read and write,” Stanley recalled. At first, Stanley was angry and defensive. But Randy asked the question that changed everything: “Do you want to spend the rest of your life in prison. Do you want to go home and visit your son?”

That’s when it hit him, he could still visit Victor’s grave, still visit his mother’s grave. He still had a chance if he chose to take it.

Education and Faith: The Last Seven Years

Learning to read and write became the foundation for everything else. Stanley got his GED, became student of the year, then motivational speaker of the year. He facilitated programs and spent every free moment in the chapel or library, around other people who were educating themselves.

“The best move I ever made was to learn how to read and write, get in my GED, and I still read and write to this day. I love it. That is the best thing that ever, ever happened to me was getting my education,” Stanley told me.

Education opened the door to faith, and faith gave him the strength to make it through. His relationship with God became central to his survival during those final seven years.

Stanley also became a boxing coach inside, teaching other guys the sport that had been part of his identity since childhood. One of his students, a guy named Wayne Noble, went home and became a professional boxer, sending Stanley videos of his first fight.

Coming Home: PTSD and Starting Over

After 26 years, Stanley came home to a world that had moved on without him. The adjustment was brutal. He struggled with PTSD and couldn’t hold jobs. “It was hard for me to keep a job, so I finally decided to save my money up and start my own business,” he explained.

The Harris Stowe minority entrepreneurship program became his lifeline. Designed for formerly incarcerated people, the program gave him the tools and support to build something legitimate. Since graduating, he’s doubled his business.

Stanley’s story isn’t finished, it’s still being written every day he chooses to build instead of tear down, to educate instead of staying ignorant, to have faith instead of giving up. The kid who was afraid to read out loud in class because of his stutter now speaks in churches and shares his story publicly. That transformation didn’t happen overnight or easily, but it happened because someone offered help and Stanley decided to accept it.