About us

For decades, Johnny led a double life.

By day: John Shields — Chief Master Sergeant, devoted family man.

By night (and on weekends): Johnny Nevada — Busch Light in hand, black leather glinting in the neon, offering unsolicited golf tips to strangers in dive bars.

Rumor has it, he once packed the parachute for D.B. Cooper’s infamous $2 million getaway. If you ask Johnny, he probably did it one-handed while lining up a 7-iron shot.

But the true twist in his tale came somewhere deep in San Antonio, where Johnny crossed paths with someone who changed everything. It wasn’t love at first sight — it was love at first bite. The tamales were tiny masa-wrapped miracles. Addictive. Glorious. Johnny was hooked.

He smuggled his first batch back to Tampa on a TWA flight, sharing them with his crew. Word spread. Demand exploded. Soon, Johnny was making monthly runs — rolling through Tampa International like a duct-tape-slinging Hank Williams Jr.–meets–Charles Bronson hybrid, towing Igloo coolers packed with steaming-hot tamales.

That’s when the Tamale Cartel was born.

Years later, when asked why he chose tamales over, say, cocaine or weed, Johnny just grinned and said:

“Why make millions… when you can make hundreds?”