The Legacy Story

Part I. The Beginning

My story begins with one of the greatest men I have ever known—my grandfather, Ortner "Von" Murray.

Born in Manzanilla, Trinidad and Tobago, he later served as an officer with the United Nations during the Six-Day War in Jerusalem before immigrating to New York in the late 1960s. He embodied perseverance, integrity, and an unwavering commitment to family. He often said he came to America not only to pursue the American dream for himself, but to give his family "a shot" at pursuing theirs. Like my grandfather and my father before me, I, too, am a dreamer. It's part of my DNA.

What began as a small shoe repair shop eventually evolved into Von's Sneaker Store, where my grandfather and father, Gerard Murray, built one of the most respected sneaker retailers in New York. Together, they secured the first Black-owned Nike account—a groundbreaking achievement in an industry where Black ownership was rarely recognized. Their success not only opened doors for others but also laid the foundation for something even bigger: the launch of School of Hard Knocks, a streetwear brand that became an iconic part of New York culture.

Growing up in the store was my first education in entrepreneurship. More importantly, it was my first lesson in the power of community. I didn't just admire the business my grandfather and father built—I admired the impact they had on the people around them. Von's Sneaker Store was more than a place to buy shoes or clothing. It was a neighborhood institution where everyone felt welcomed, valued, and at home.

Some of my favorite memories are Saturdays at the store. The music was always playing, the energy was contagious, and there was a constant stream of familiar faces. Watching the way PopPop and my dad treated every customer with genuine care taught me that a successful business isn't built on transactions—it's built on relationships.

My grandfather was a mentor to so many throughout East Elmhurst and Corona, Queens. He gave young people in the neighborhood their first jobs and believed in creating opportunities for others. On the busiest Saturdays, he'd be downstairs cooking his favorite West Indian dishes, inviting anyone who walked through the door to grab a plate and share a meal. Building community wasn't something he talked about—it was simply how he lived. That example became the foundation for the kind of business, and the kind of legacy, I hope to build.

Although I was born in New York, my family moved to Fayetteville, Georgia, while I was in elementary school. My parents became my greatest influences, especially in shaping my appreciation for Black art, music, fashion, film, and the many expressions that make up our culture.

I was never raised to conform. "Go. Be. Do." was more than a phrase in our home—it was a way of life.

They constantly encouraged me to think critically about Black history and culture in ways that traditional classrooms often overlooked. Our home was filled with Kadir Nelson paintings, Langston Hughes poetry, Black art books, and shelves of classic music and films. Long before I understood what cultural preservation meant, my parents were teaching it to me every day.

As first-generation college graduates, they understood the importance of giving my brother and me an education that extended beyond the classroom. They filled our home with stories, art, and history that affirmed who we were and where we came from. Those lessons instilled a deep sense of pride, identity, and self-worth—something I leaned on when, at just 11 years old, a teacher told me that my chances of attending college were slim.

A year later, my life changed again when I left home to attend The McCallie School, an all-boys college preparatory boarding school in Chattanooga, Tennessee. At 12 years old, I found myself navigating an environment where I often encountered more Black people while volunteering at local food kitchens than I did in my classrooms.

While I formed lifelong friendships and met mentors I still consider family, I also realized that my voice, my perspective, and my experiences were unfamiliar to many around me.

"In order to create history, you must do historical things." — Kobe Bryant

Whether I realized it at the time or not, I wasn't there simply to fit in—I was there to challenge perspectives.

That mission reached its defining moment during my junior year when I organized a peaceful sit-in with more than 30 students in the school cafeteria on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day. For years, I had advocated for the school to recognize the holiday as a day of service rather than another day of classes. My concerns went unheard until that quiet act of protest.

The following year, the school changed its tradition. Since 2017, every student has participated in a full day of community service throughout Chattanooga in honor of Dr. King.

That experience reinforced a lesson my parents had been teaching me my entire life: stand up for what is right, even when you stand alone. The McCallie experience taught me that meaningful change often begins with someone willing to make others uncomfortable in pursuit of something better.

Part III. The 180°

My introduction to the HBCU apparel industry began long before I ever attended an HBCU.

In 2012, my father founded Tradition, a collegiate apparel brand with a strong emphasis on HBCUs. As a kid, I traveled with him everywhere—from trade shows and buyer meetings to campus visits and homecomings. Those trips became my classroom. They exposed me to HBCU culture, the fashion industry, and the business behind building a brand.

One of the greatest lessons I learned had nothing to do with clothing. It was networking.

I watched my dad stop and genuinely connect with everyone he met. Relationships came before transactions, and people always came before business. At 12 years old, I began introducing myself, asking questions, and learning from everyone around me. Many of the people I met during those years remain mentors, friends, and collaborators today.

Whenever I had an idea, my dad welcomed my perspective, but most of my time was spent listening. I understood that before I could lead, I had to learn. While I'll never fill his shoes, I've always aimed to be his best student and follow in his footsteps.

To this day, he's the greatest businessman I've ever known. His passion, discipline, and enthusiasm set the standard for how I approach entrepreneurship. Although I always wanted to be part of the family business, he constantly reminded me that my first responsibility was to become a student of the business. So I listened, took notes, and waited until it was my time to step onto the court.

That opportunity came during my freshman year at Howard University.

Adjusting to college life wasn't difficult, but arriving at Howard was transformative. After attending a highly structured boarding school, stepping onto the campus of what many call "The Mecca" was a complete shift in perspective. For the first time in years, I was surrounded by an environment that celebrated Black creativity, individuality, and self-expression. Howard gave me the confidence to embrace every part of who I was.

It was then that I looked at my dad and said, "I'm ready."

His response was simple.

He shipped me five pieces of clothing and told me, "Make it happen."

As a freshman who barely knew anyone on campus, the challenge felt daunting. But through my friendship with Drew Hall, I connected with Ethan Iverson and Marko Hooper, two talented photographers who believed in the vision from day one. Together, we produced our first campus photoshoot, and those images eventually found their way into the Howard University Bookstore during Homecoming.

Seeing something we created displayed inside the bookstore was a feeling I'll never forget.

That moment didn't just launch a collection—it confirmed that this was the path I was meant to pursue.