Band-Aid Solutions?

Ron Current, president of the Las Vegas Black Panther Party, called to say the Weekly's July 20 cover story, "Kids Gone Wild," failed to mention his group's work in stemming local gang wars.

A county Parks and Rec employee phoned to ask why the story didn't target deadbeat parents: "You need to do a follow-up on parents not doing what they need to do. You know, we do a lot of work with parents."

David Saxe's folks pitched an article on the producer's new talent show, saying it "offers amazing opportunities for the black community."

Call it self-promotion as a crime deterrent. Also call it shortsighted. Press coverage isn't the problem here.

If solving rising youth violence were as easy mentioning every group involved in the fight or hosting a talent show with a prized $150,000 contract—which presumes that the gun-toting youth responsible for the recent carnage are talented enough to land and keep a Strip gig—then this place would be Mayberry and not one of America's more dangerous cities (seventh most dangerous big city in Morgan Quitno Press' 2006 survey).

"Kids Gone Wild" outlined how funding cuts have made it harder to cater to the needs of a growing teenage and young-adult population. But arguably looming just as large are the twin evils of complacency and limited follow-through on the part of activists.

Take the 1992 riots, sparked by the Rodney King acquittals. After gangs looted and torched portions of West Las Vegas, an amalgam of groups formed the Community Coalition to broker a cease-fire and pressure lawmakers to bring jobs and recreational outlets to the inner city. Gang violence dropped—the riots spurred political and some investment interest in West Las Vegas—but the jobs and recreational outlets never materialized. Hey, one out of two ain't bad.

Flash-forward to 2001. Gang violence turns a four-block radius near Martin Luther King Boulevard and Carey Avenue into killing fields—16 murders in eight months. Back comes the coalition, pressing for the same things—jobs and recreational outlets—and threatening to march on the Strip if politicians don't meet with them and accede to their demands.

The meetings never occur, but killings eventually subside, though it's hard to say exactly why.

Some industry sneaks in—a McDonald's, a Jack in the Box and a CVS Pharmacy at the intersection of Lake Mead and MLK; certainly not the types of good-wage jobs the coalition envisions. Doolittle Community Center gets a $10 million remodel, but that's about it on the recreational front. Most of the new buildings (the FBI's massive headquarters at the intersection's southwest corner and Cox Communications' move into the empty veterans' hospital on Owens and MLK) offer little in the way of jobs.

Zoom to 2006. Amid the worst spate of juvenile violence in 10 years—violent crime is up 22 percent year-to-date—members of the coalition are back, planning a press conference to discuss the rising violence, the recent spate of officer-involved shootings and—here we go again—the lack of jobs and recreational outlets in the inner city.

Current insists that he's never been lulled to sleep by decreasing crime rates. That the Las Vegas Black Panther Party, an offshoot of the Huey Newton-led Black Panthers of the '60s, and the local branch of the Nation of Islam, will follow the issues through to resolution. He sounds convincing.

But you have to wonder if he or anyone can do anything measurable and sustainable about crime. The Rodney King unrest delivered the perfect opportunity: Vegas made national headlines. What better time to press politicians to make changes?

The gang violence of 2001 represented another lost opportunity: Activists backed out of the march on the Strip. Why? What better way to get attention than by impeding tourists and hitting casinos in the pocketbooks? A threatened march on the Strip led to casino desegregation in 1960. Thousands of Hispanics walked the Strip in March, stumping for sensible immigration reform, and they got noticed.

Back then, Current admits, the Panthers and the Nation of Islam didn't have a short-term plan, much less a long-term one.

"That was our main problem," Current says.

Now he says he's got a working plan; it includes the basics—jobs and economic development—as well as trying to duplicate the 1995 gang summit, called after a 4-year-old was killed in a drive-by shooting. "We had gang members come out of the woodwork for that meeting at Muhammad Mosque No. 75," he says. Things calmed after the summit. "There were only a few shootings."

Gang homicides peaked in 1996, and then gang violence began a six-year decline.

"Maybe we can't take all of the credit, but you can't do that with night basketball," he says, referring to the popular Late Night Hoops program designed to keep youth off the streets. (It's in operation at Cambridge and Walnut Cecile community centers, but no longer at Doolittle Community Center, in the heart of West Las Vegas gang territory).

What's unique about David Saxe's show, says promotion agent Bri Ulivarri, is its Showtime at the Apollo format (crowd response determines the winner; local civic groups have long used the format for talent shows) and its appeal to the black community. "Kids Gone Wild" focused on the lack activities for kids and young adults, Ulivarri says; what better way to fill that void than a talent show?

"This gives them something to do on a Friday night," she says. "We're using all local talent. It gives them an opportunity to make something of their future."

But will thugs and gunslingers—some of whom are underage; the show starts at 10:30 p.m.—really attend and, in some instances, compete?

"Even if they don't win the contract," Ulivarri says, "we produce so many shows [Nathan Burton, The Scintas, V the Ultimate Variety Show] and we know so many agents."

To the county Parks and Rec official's point: County community centers run an extensive number of programs for youth and parents—early childhood development classes, forums on parenting skills, Mommy & Me arts-and-crafts workshops.

All of this is well and good, but here's the thing: No one, not Current, the Nation of Islam, Parks and Rec staff, parents, mentors, or any of the hard-working people who risk their lives to save youth, knows what it will take to eliminate youth violence. But they could start by rethinking the method of attack.

You need involved parents and good-wage jobs, recreational outlets and money for proven programs, to be sure, but you need so much more: Buy-in from influential local politicians and state lawmakers. More mentoring. Investors willing to open businesses in poor neighborhoods. Students striving for academic excellence. More magnet and apprenticeship programs in schools.

The list goes on: money to build community centers. Inclusionary housing, so that struggling families don't always have to live in high-crime neighborhoods. A crackdown on slumlords, absentee owners and poorly run HUD properties. Better street lighting and fewer pay phones in the ghetto.

Not to mention more alternative-sentencing programs (for many kids, juvie is high school for criminals.) Dedication to community policing. Witnesses brave enough to finger criminals. A commitment to getting weapons off the streets. A larger gang bureau. Easier repatriation of ex-felons (without a skill or good support network, many revert back to crime).

When someone can finally pull these parts together—not an easy feat—and make a significant, lasting dent in crime among juveniles and young adults, then they will deserve all the publicity in the world.