Gangbangers Who Want to Start Over

I always root for gang kids who want to go straight. It’s a struggle for many of them but some persevere in tough circumstances, even when the ex-cholo is reminded every day that he’ll never amount to anything.

That’s why I’m rooting for Clemente Arrizon Jr.

Arrizon, 24, is a former gang member from Buena Park who is graduating in December with a bachelor’s degree in urban recreation from Cal State Northridge. He knows all about gang life: He’s been stabbed twice, shot four times, been arrested three times and done more than his share of “stuff” on the streets. His upper torso is fully tattooed.

But he’s worked hard to change his life. He does anti-gang work in Pacoima and has given lectures on the subject. One appearance so impressed authorities in Canada that he spent 3 1/2 weeks in Toronto at the invitation of city officials to work with gangs there. His work made him a minor celebrity up north, prompting Air Canada to allow Clem--as he’s known at school and on the streets--to sit in first class on his way home as a sign of appreciation.

Back home in Buena Park, the cops think he’s still a punk. They don’t see the change in him. When stopped by officers, the normally gregarious Clem tries to stay calm and ignore their skepticism.

“I have to walk the line,” he says. “If I don’t, I fail.”

*

I got to thinking about Clem after reading the piece last Monday by Times reporter Paul Lieberman, who told the tragic story of 17-year-old Abel Silva of Hollywood. A former gangbanger, Silva was trying to turn his life around and wanted to be a police Explorer.

The cops at the Hollywood station thought they had won the battle for Silva, but they’ll never know for sure now. The boy was stabbed to death in Malibu, another innocent victim of L.A. violence. The fact that he was a former gang member apparently played no part in his death.

Nevertheless, those who knew the boy were left to wonder: Had they made a mistake? Was he turning his life around? Was he back to old habits?

The pain over his death was evident in the story.

But there are other battles to wage, so I eagerly agreed to go to Northridge to meet Clem at the invitation of Prof. Jack Foley, who thinks his prize student has seen the light.

“Clem is a great kid,” Foley says. “He’s an example of what can happen when someone takes an interest in somebody’s life. . . . Without strong influences, these kids get into trouble, but they’re good kids. There are a million kids like Clem out there.”

Foley isn’t the only one who has taken an interest in Clem. Ed Munoz, an attorney in Orange County, remembers the first time Clem showed up in his office several years ago when he was facing charges stemming from a carjacking. Munoz told him to leave until he changed his appearance and attitude.

“He looked like the prototype gang member,” remembers Munoz, who grew up in Boyle Heights. “Fu Manchu mustache, Raiders regalia. . . . We started talking about his trouble and I told him, ‘Look, don’t BS me. I know the routine. Look at your attitude, your posture. It’s a chip on your shoulder. You can’t win with that attitude.’ ”

Clem responded to Munoz’s tough-love lecture. While he is proud of his little barrio, he knew the old neighborhood had no future for him.

“I know I’m marked for life,” he admits over a Coke. “I’ve been to 28 funerals of my friends in the gangs since I was 13. My whole world before was just four blocks (in Buena Park). That’s why I’m working for a college degree. I want to be something. I want to prove that people can change.”

On campus, Clem covers up his gang tattoos. “Even in the summer, I cover up,” he says. “That’s why I love winter.”

But he still gets into trouble. Recently, police found an ice pick in his truck, a violation of his probation from previous trouble. Although the judge threw out the case, Clem still has to explain himself to disbelievers.

“In that case, I didn’t do anything wrong and I’m not planning on doing anything wrong,” he says. “Look, I’m no angel and I know how people look at me. But if you get to meet me, I know you’d like me.”

*

Clem won me over with his earnestness and ability to laugh at himself. I was rooting for him as he told an anecdote about being stopped recently near his parents’ home by the cops.

As always, they were on his case.

“They asked me, ‘What are you going to do with your education? You’re going to jail anyway,’ ” he remembers. Then came his zinger.

“I told them, ‘I’m going to join the ACLU and mess with you guys.’ ”