More than anything, Craig Thomas, also known as 215 Stacks, was wrapped in joy, bringing his infectious smile and positivity everywhere he went. It was a love for life and making people laugh that began early, when he couldn’t help but pull pranks on his family.
“I remember when we were younger and I went to sleep getting up to him putting hot sauce on your lips, pepper underneath your nose,” his older sister Ashley Hughes said with a laugh. At parties, he would come out dressed up as an old man and silly dance. And for kid’s birthday parties, he would put on suits so that they could have characters for their birthdays.
“If you block that block off, that boy would dance. If you put on music, that boy was going to dance and he was going to dance until he couldn’t dance anymore,” Ashley says. Even though he had two left feet, she said, that didn’t stop him from joining dance groups and the football team as he was growing up in Kensington.
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Maybe it was his love of dancing that made him fall in love with music, where his heart belonged. “When he’s first met you, let’s say you had a car or you’re around any set of speakers, he’s going to give you a concert and play his music loud and he’s gonna play it a million times over. He’s gonna make sure you hear his music,” says Inferno, his music producer and one of his closest friends.
Music was a means of escape and an outlet through which he spoke of his struggles growing up in Kensington. Often, Craig would sleep at the studio overnight as a refuge. But more than anything, his music reflected his hopes for the future and was imbued with a long-lasting motivation to move forward.
Despite Craig’s passion and being well on his way to becoming a professional musician, he wouldn’t make his dreams come true. He was fatally shot the morning of May 1, 2021 while walking in his neighborhood at 3100 block of G Street. He was 21 years old. His services were held at Deliverance Evangelistic Church and he is interred at White Chapel Cemetery.
Born September 15, 1999, Craig was raised in Kensington. Ashley remembers him as a vivacious child and he grew to be very protective of his family. His brother Nehemiah was born with special needs and Craig took on the role of his protector, teaching him and ensuring that he got everything he needed. Ashley, a domestic abuse survivor, recalls coming home one day to see Craig sitting outside of her home. “That was his way of protecting me,” she says.
Kensington wasn’t an easy place to grow up and Ashley remembers him as determined to get out of the situation where he was living. “He felt like if people wasn’t doing right, he was going to be doing right double,” says Ashley, “And he was going to be doing right so that he can make sure that everybody around him is okay.”
Inferno remembers Craig as ambitious and driven, determined to make it as a solo artist. He remembers the time that Craig refused an offer to work as a songwriter for a major record label in New York. With Inferno, he traveled across the United States, to Miami and Atlanta—riding on yachts and making connections in the music industry. Everywhere they went, Inferno notes, Stacks knew people and made friends. “You become real close to him because that’s just the type of person he was. I can’t say one person that didn’t take to him,” says Inferno “He had his own relationship with everybody that I introduced him to.”
Beyond his own music, Craig supported other artists in the neighborhood. “He was trying to bring everyone together,” says Inferno. Ingrained in the local music scene, he would often refer young artists to Inferno, working hard to build everyone up. “There was nowhere we could go without him knowing someone.” He was well-respected and loved in the community. “Very kind, he’d hold the door for everybody,” says Inferno, “just the perfect kind of person.”
The day Craig passed he was dressed up on the way for a music video shoot with a cousin who had flown up from Houston. He was planning to visit Houston himself in a few weeks to record.
Craig left behind a legacy that inspired those around him. His song “Somebody” says it best when he says, “I’m going to be somebody.” Craig was more than just somebody. As Inferno told Craig once, “I’m older than you, but I want to grow up and be like you.” Craig exuded a genuine warmth and kindness that is easy to aspire for but hard to fully embody the way he did. “I really would like to be like him,” says Inferno.
He is survived by his father. Craig Thomas Sr, as well as his siblings: Donna, Heaven, Quanesha, Christopher, Emmanuel, Nehemiah and Ashley. He maintained a close relationship with Ashley’s nieces, Heaven and Nivea, who were deeply impacted by the loss.
Heaven insists upon wearing her hair in the same signature twists as Craig and has visited Inferno’s studio to record a song in his memory. Craig also often attended the basketball games of Inferno’s son Eric, who ran off the court mid free throw upon finding out about the shooting. Now Eric says that he “balls for Stacks.”
Posthumously, his album, “God Got Me” has been released on all streaming platforms, one of his biggest goals. Inferno recalls a moment when as his sister drove past Craig’s gravesite, the radio suddenly switched to his album—Craig’s voice filling the space of the car. “His body is not here but his spirit lives.”
Resources are available for people and communities that have endured gun violence in Philadelphia. Click here for more information.
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