Instead of growing as a boxer, Dickie was descending deeper and deeper into the destructive world of crack cocaine. Although he’d fathered a child, and wanted to do right by his son, Eklund was no longer capable of making good decisions. He was held too tightly in the grip of the poison.
Holding on to his dream of worldwide fame, Dickie still had the talent – he just couldn’t use, or develop it, in the best possible way. Surrounded by other drug users – and rotting debris – he lived in a Lowell crack house.
People who cared about Dickie could not reach him. His mind, controlled by drugs, led to delusional thinking. When HBO came calling, Eklund convinced himself – and members of his family (including his mother) – that documentarians wanted to record his reemergence as a boxing contender. What the film makers really wanted was something far different.
One of three people featured as “crack heads” in Lowell, Dickie Eklund was starring in the worst of all possible films. It was the kind of negative publicity which endangers – not promotes – a career.
The documentary – available on DVD, or for online viewing – is extremely hard to watch. Bad language is just the beginning. Sordid details about Dickie’s life – and those of two crack-influenced house mates – fill frame after frame. With furniture – if one could call it that – covered with drug paraphernalia, Eklund’s house was hardly a home.