CAMP HELPS TOUGH TEENS PULL THEMSELVES UP BY BOOTSTRAPS.

Byline: G.M. Bush Knight-Ridder Tribune News Wire

It's a scene familiar to anyone who's ever served in the Armed Forces or watched a movie about basic training: squads of raw recruits in T-shirts and shorts struggling through countless push-ups and sit-ups, their collective voice rising above an expansive lawn in deep male unison, ``Sir! Yes, sir!''

Like recruits at boot camps everywhere, the 113 cadets at Camp Munz drill endlessly, usually in camouflage-green fatigues and black, spit-shined combat boots.

When not practicing parade maneuvers or grueling group calisthenics under the watchful eyes of stern drill instructors, they're likely to be sweating through 12-hour days in the mess hall, pulling their turn on KP.

But there's one big difference in this training camp that literally separates the men from the boys: Munz is run by the Los Angeles County Probation Department for delinquent juveniles.

It's not uncommon to hear teen-agers who just a few months earlier were flashing gang signs and running undisciplined through the streets shouting in military cadence.

Currently, Munz is one of two boot camps in the county. The other is Camp Mendenhall, right next door. Other probation camps, however, are in the process of adopting a boot camp regimen in a major restructuring of the camp program.

``This worked so well, they decided to use it as a pattern,'' said Terry Tooley, an assistant director at Camp Munz.

The boys are all part of Company A, which is divided into four platoons. Tooley, a Vietnam veteran, says a lot of them would make excellent soldiers.

The daily routine includes a full day of classes or going out on work crews. About 20 of the kids are involved in a drug diversion program that takes up an hour or so every evening. And, as part of the restructuring, the boys take part in a program on family issues.

Camp Munz has an annual budget of $1.2 million, about $20,000 per boy per year. That compares with $30,000 to $35,000 to house a child in the California Youth Authority, the state's juvenile prison system. About 70 percent of the boys who leave the camp manage to stay out of the juvenile justice system for good, according to county probation officials.

Munz Director Robert Polakow says the regimentation is designed with one goal in mind: to teach self-discipline and responsibility.

``We're teaching the boys something about how life is structured on the outside,'' he says.

However, Munz is an open camp, isolated in a decidedly rural and rugged area, without walls or fences. Just last week, a Long Beach teen-ager ran away and was AWOL for nearly 12 hours.

The camp is not set up to deal with heavy-duty gang-bangers or ultraviolent criminals such as killers, arsonists, rapists or armed robbers.

``This is a gang-free environment. We don't allow graffiti. We don't allow gang signs,'' Polakow said. ``We provide services, and one thing we ask is, `Can we turn this kid around?' I'd rather see the kid we can deal with.''

The boys themselves can earn responsibility and respect. They can work up through the ranks to become quartermaster, sergeant, executive officer, commanding officer. The highest-ranking cadet is Brian, the CO. He has been at Munz for nearly a year for manufacturing methamphetamines.

Through a combination of diligence and excellence, he moved up the inmate ladder and was recently promoted to Warrant Officer 3, only the third boy in Munz history so honored.

The commanding officer's job is largely one of delegating authority to make sure others complete assigned tasks on time. He's also in charge of raising and lowering the camp flags. And, as a leader, he spends a lot of time counseling and encouraging other boys.

Brian, a baseball natural, is a bright kid who would love to fly military jets, and is thinking seriously of joining the military when he leaves MCunz. If not, he says he'll go to college and pursue a career in fire safety.

``Being here has changed my life, the way I look at life,'' the 17-year-old said. ``I'm actually glad I came to this camp. If I wasn't here, I'd be doing the same thing, associating with the same people, maybe in jail or prison.''

One of the commanding officer's privileges is living in ``the condo,'' a three-bed enclosed room in the barracks that Brian shares with his executive officer and first sergeant.

All the other boys sleep in an open dorm with rows of neatly made-up bunks.

Although the CO outranks the other boys, the quartermaster may be the de facto boss. It is he who runs the laundry and controls who gets which clothes and linens - just about the only possessions anyone is allowed. So Rolando, a Harbor City boy who's been quartermaster for eight weeks, commands a great deal of authority and respect.

``The laundry is the most powerful position in camp,'' said Assistant Director Tooley.

Rolando was sent to Munz for joy-riding and running away from his assigned placement home. Now, he's looking forward to Aug. 6, the day he's scheduled to go home. ``I just want to do good so I can go home to my family,'' he said.

As quartermaster, he gets up at 5:30 a.m. and gets right to work. His day doesn't end until 10 p.m. At Munz, he's earned his high school equivalency certificate, but he still goes to school, where he has a solid B average.

All the boys attend school two or three days a week, alternating classes with work assignments. Each school day consists of four 90-minute classes: social studies, math, language arts and shop.

The social studies teacher is John ``Doc'' Vance. Doc's classroom abounds with maps, globes and books. The boys, dressed in their camouflage uniforms, sit around small tables, studying, writing, talking quietly.

One recent assignment was to design a personal overseas vacation package, complete with itinerary, hotel reservations, tours and fares.

Aaron, C17, is from South Central Los Angeles and has never been outside California. He planned his ``vacation'' in Scandinavia. In reality, when he leaves Munz, he hopes to visit St. Louis or somewhere else in the United States, then report back to his family on how people live in other places.

Larry Renfro teaches shop, and his classes are responsible in large part for Munz's spiffy appearance. His boys paint classrooms, repair cabinets and replace chalkboards. They've also poured cement and built benches alongside the athletic field. And they've completed projects at other camps and the Probation Department headquarters.

``The stuff my classroom has done is all over the county,'' Renfro said.

Three times a day, the youths march in formation into the mess hall, where they're greeted by Bob Coffey, the head cook.

Coffey's 125-seat dining room, with its sparkling stainless steel tables, is spotless.

The food is good and plentiful, and meals are balanced and well-planned. In the summer, they are lighter and sometimes served cold. Lunches, purposely, tend not to be heavy or sleep-inducing, because the boys have to go back to school.

Those on KP get to eat first, then those on sanctions for violating camp rules. They're not eligible for seconds.

Munz's family-issues classes are taught by deputy probation officers. Last week, the lesson was about ``Sex in the '90s; Life and Death.'' The instructor was Bob Sepulveda, who spoke frankly with a dozen boys about AIDS, condoms and respect for girls.

All of the boys claimed to be sexually active. A few even have kids of their own.

Sepulveda asks who is the most famous person who is HIV-positive or has AIDS. The boys' answer is Eazy-E, the rapper who died from complications of AIDS last year at age 31. Sepulveda mentions Magic Johnson. Neither star cared much for condoms, despite their admitted promiscuity, he tells the boys.

``How can you respect a person, and you're all people, who treats himself like dirt?'' Sepulveda askedC. It's difficult to gauge the impact of his comments and questions, but the boys seem to be paying close attention.

That message - responsibility and self-discipline - is constantly reinforced in a variety of ways. As soldiers, for example, the boys are required to memorize and learn a set of General Orders, prominently displayed in the barracks and around camp:

1. I will obey all conditions of my court order.

2. I will obey all instructions given by staff members.

3. I will refrain from the use of and threats of violence.

4. I will treat all people with dignity and respect.

5. I will not use drugs or alcohol.

6. I will tell the truth.

7. I will maintain a positive attitude at all times.

8. I will maintain a military demeanor at all times.

9. I will know myself and seek improvement.

10. I will be more productive in my endeavors.

Tim is a Long Beach gang member who got caught using drugs, but who now follows the general orders as well as anyone. He's been at Munz for nine months, and is a staff favorite. As such, he's served as an administrative orderly, squad sergeant and quartermaster. But he concedes that his grades aren't so good, so he's no longer an officer. ``I'm kind of lazy in school,'' he said.