LAPD Program Gives a Hand to Troubled Youth

The 23 youths sitting around a large rosewood conference table in a Universal Studios office building had problems on their minds. Some were being pressed to sell drugs or share their test answers. Others were worried about their parents’ fighting, or were facing punishment for messing up in school.

The problems were from their own lives, but this time the solutions were turning out just fine, with lots of giggling and applause. That’s because they were deciding the endings themselves. It was a night of drama improvisations, and the audience was a handful of Los Angeles police officers.

The young actors were participants in the highly touted Los Angeles Police Department-sponsored Jeopardy program that attempts to sway vulnerable kids away from gangs by involving them in alternative activities. Most of the nearly 1,000 youths enrolled in the 3-year-old program are engaged in sports, including boxing, hockey, running, wrestling and horseback riding.

But, for the past eight weeks, one group has been getting an inside look at the movie business from a director of feature casting at MCA.

The boys and girls, ages 10 to 17, come from all five of the Valley’s police divisions and have been selected because of poor performance in school, lack of guidance, incorrigibility, or peer influences that may tend to lead them to gangs. Each Tuesday afternoon they meet at the stations, where they spend a mandatory hour in study hall under supervision of a community volunteer. Then police officers drive them to Universal Studios.

There, assembled in a corporate conference room for 2 1/2 hours, they hear lectures, read monologues, perform skits and take tests on what they’ve learned.

Officer Richard Stocks, one of the two Foothill policemen who started the Jeopardy program in 1990, said it was always his intent to have arts activities, but sports were started first because there was a greater need.

“Each division has the power to decide the kind of activity their community would most want to be involved in,” Stocks said. “Our first need was a boxing program.”

Eventually the Devonshire division started art and dance groups. The Jeopardy program, which relies heavily on volunteers, had no drama teacher until an unsolicited offer came from Valerie McCaffrey, one of two casting directors for Universal Studios’ feature films.

McCaffrey, 37, said she was concerned about the environment in which her own children, 2 and 4, were growing up.

“I live in the Valley,” McCaffrey said. “I kept reading about the gang activity in the Valley. I figured that we, as a motion picture industry, donate a lot of money to a lot of causes--I wanted to donate some of my time.”

She called Police Chief Willie L. Williams’ office to volunteer and was referred to Deputy Chief Mark Kroeker, commander of the Los Angeles Police Department’s Valley Bureau.

“He told me about this Jeopardy program,” McCaffrey said. “I said, ‘What if I could teach them drama?’ ”

Officers took McCaffrey on a ride-along to show her the kind of youths with whom she’d be dealing and she decided to give it a try. Officers from the five divisions selected the class members based on their interest in drama and desire to stay out of gangs and improve at school, Stocks said.

The first class was strained. About 19 attended and, because they were from all corners of the Valley, most didn’t know each other. Their ages ranged from 10 to 17.

“They were very embarrassed,” McCaffrey said. “It was very hard for them to speak. I think they were all just a bit stiff.”

They loosened up quickly enough.

“Now they’re dying to get up,” she said.

Indeed, last Tuesday, the 23 youths around the table jumped up and down after each skit ended hoping to be chosen to give the next.

McCaffrey would huddle with each new group working out a situation, such as the one in which two best friends fought over a girl.

“The only reason she likes you is because you’re good at algebra,” one said.

“She’s my girl,” the other shot back with a knifelike stare. “I found her, so get your butt out of my face.”

After a few such exchanges, McCaffrey intervened.

“You’re supposed to be hurt, fellows,” she said. “There should be some hurt there.”

“She doesn’t even like you,” the other said. “Where’d you find her?”

“Shut up, you test-tube baby.”

Even if it wasn’t an expression of hurt, the tag line got a big laugh.

That kind of exchange is the goal of the workshop, which tries to build confidence and self-expression rather than develop young people for careers in acting.

“The workshop is a very powerful, very strong element to developing within these children some goals and self-confidence,” Stocks said.

Still, McCaffrey doesn’t discount the employment potential for some of the students.

“I think if you have talent, it’s thriving,” she said of the job market. “I know one of the kids is very interested in special effects. A lot of them are really talented. They just need to be directed.”

The future of the drama workshop remains uncharted.

“I’m really playing it by ear because I enjoy it so much,” McCaffrey said. “I see the kids growing in the arts. They know so much more now than they did when they first walked in. They love it. It’s hard to say, ‘Goodby guys.’ ”

Her plan now is to continue the workshop indefinitely, calling in other professionals such as directors, makeup artists and directors to teach individual sessions.

“That would be the second level,” she said. “I would teach another group of beginning kids. That’s the dream.”