Teens Talk Politics, Though They Have No Say

No slackers here.

Among the scores of sharp-eyed politicos who gathered at Rancho Santiago College on Saturday morning to debate the pressing issues of the day, none was old enough to vote.

Many weren’t old enough to drive.

Some weren’t old enough to shave.

Still, these teenagers knew more than most adults about politics, and most held even stronger opinions than their parents about the upcoming presidential election.

“President Clinton is doing the work of three men,” read the lapel pin of Karyn Dest, a 16-year-old senior from Lake Arrowhead Rim of the World High School. (Beneath the slogan was a photo of the Three Stooges.)

The occasion for the gathering of so many politically conscious teens--who came to Orange County from throughout Southern California--was a regional conference and political debate sponsored by the Junior State of America, a 62-year-old national organization that promotes greater awareness among tomorrow’s voters.

“Most people at school look at it as pure speech and debate--like a dorks’ club,” said 17-year-old Julia Allison, a future Princeton student now attending Foothill High School in Santa Ana.

Despite its reputation, Allison said, Junior State of America represents a “cool” way for young people to get a jump on democracy.

Then there are the social benefits, enjoyed mainly by delegates from all-boy schools.

“They all come to the conventions so they can meet girls,” said Allison, scoffing specifically at students from Servite, in Anaheim. “My last boyfriend went to Servite. I should have known.”

When not dodging Servite boys, Allison and her fellow activists spent the day pondering and pontificating, favorite teen pastimes.

“We like to hear ourselves talk,” said Corie Rosen, a 15-year-old student at Foothill High School, who admits her fellow cheerleaders at school can’t understand getting so peppy over politics.

“I’ve already sent in my registration card to vote,” said Saroj Verma, a 17-year-old senior from Connelly School in Anaheim, who acted as liaison between the teen conference and the major political parties, each of which sent a representative to field questions. “I really, really, really want to vote.”

After hearing from the major parties’ spokespersons, the teens broke into smaller groups to debate and dicker, then gathered for a spirited rally at which they tried to pick a consensus candidate. (Bob Dole supporters seemed to enjoy a majority, but Clinton posters outnumbered all others.)

If you’d care to know how deep the political commitment of Generation X runs, Rosen said, consider this:

Some teens attending Saturday’s conference had to rise at 6 a.m. to get there on time--and last night was homecoming!

“We didn’t get home till 5 or 6 a.m.,” she said slyly, perhaps forgetting that her parents might read The Times.

Why such precocious fervor for politics? Alfio Rosetti, 17, theorized that he and his fellow teens have both the time and leisure to contemplate weighty issues.

Still, none of the convention-goers was simply sniping from the sidelines of society. Moments before giving a talk on the issue of minimum-wage labor, Rosetti’s pager beeped. The Italian restaurant where he earns minimum wage was calling him in to work.

Despite the teens’ enthusiasm for debate and political discussion, some adults simply refused to take their convention seriously.

When Allison called Dole-Kemp headquarters, for instance, seeking a few posters to decorate the Rancho Santiago auditorium, campaign organizers balked.

“I said, ‘We need 20 posters,’ ” Allison recalled. “And they were, like, ‘That’s too many!’ I’m like, ‘Pff, OK. . .’ ”

Someday, she implied, they’ll be sorry.