Chicago Journal; Troupe Whose Stage Is the World of Gangs

Chicago Journal; Troupe Whose Stage Is the World of Gangs

CHICAGO, Dec. 12 - The students at the high school assembly in suburban Hillside relished the skit on stage: two young men wearing gang colors jeering at another youth who wanted to read a poem he had written.

Suddenly, one of the gang members lunged at the poet, plunging a knife into his stomach. There was a gasp from the audience, which fell silent as the young man dropped to the stage. Other actors ambled past nonchalantly until they noticed, with growing horror, the lifeless body.

The skit is the work of five Chicago youths who call themselves the Explosonic Rockers, a name that evokes the pulsating mixture of mime and drama and grinding street dance that the troupe uses in more than 100 appearances each year before school and youth groups here.

Since 1984 the troupe has spread an insistent message among its peers, trying to get young people to heed the consequences of gang violence and drugs and alcohol, as well as the emotional and physical effects of such problems as child abuse.

So far, the troupe's four men and one woman, four of them students from local high schools, have had rave reviews not only from guidance counselors and law-enforcement officials here but also from many of the students.

''Those high school students relate to the gang skit because they know it's true,'' said Kevin Chatman, who, at the age of 21, is the group's oldest member. ''They think, 'Wow, that really does happen.' ''

Like all members of the Rockers, Mr. Chatman speaks with some authority. Growing up in the tough public housing projects on Chicago's West Side, he was once in a gang.

Others bring their own experience to the play: most come from broken homes, one tried once to commit suicide, and others have had problems with drugs or alcohol. Several grew up in families where they were beaten or emotionally abused. One is a teen-age father.

Nancy Peterson, an official with the National Committee for the Prevention of Child Abuse, which has worked with the group, says the thing that makes the Rockers so compelling is that they have had first-hand experience with the problems they act out. ''You know they haven't just memorized their lines,'' she said. ''They've lived them.''

C. Rebecca Montoya, the dean of students at Proviso West High School, in suburban Hillside, says that after the group performed at the school last year, several students came in to see her and talk about problems they were having with drugs or sex or their parents.

''With their dancing and their performance, their message is: 'It's O.K. to stay away from drugs, or to talk to people about your problems, and still be cool,' '' she said.

At the performance in Hillside, students in the front rows were whooping with delight as the troupe - outfitted in skinny ties, bloused black pants that fit tightly around the ankles and black suspenders - spun through a hip-swiveling dance that ended with one Rocker twirling another atop his head.

The Rockers are the product of Ray Moffitt, a soft-spoken 54-year-old social worker who brought the young people together as members of a suburban Explorer Boy Scout troop.

They are in such demand that Mr. Moffitt last year resigned his job as community relations director for a Chicago suburb to devote full time to the Rockers.

Now he drives them about in his battered Chevrolet van, cues up the booming music for their dance routines and makes sure each of the Rockers keeps up with grades and homework when they must miss school for a performance.

Last year the group received a $10,000 grant from the McArthur Foundation of Chicago. Beyond that the Rockers pay their own way, surviving mostly on whatever donations and expenses Mr. Moffitt can coax from school and youth groups.

Later this month they will travel in Mr. Moffitt's van to Nashville to perform before a meeting of the B'nai B'rith Young Organization. In January they will fly to Hawaii for a week, where the Hawaii Criminal Justice Commission has invited them to tour schools on the islands.

Their performances echo street rhythms - the pounding music, the jerky dance moves, the rap-talk cadences. At several points, they bring the audience into their dialogue, as they did after a skit in which a father angrily beats his son and shouts, ''I wish you'd never been born.''

''How many of you have had something like this happen at home,'' asks Mr. Chatman, prowling the stage like a talk show host, cajoling his audience to join in. ''Let me see a show of hands.''

A few people raise their hands, then more join in. ''Don't keep it inside,'' he advises. ''Talk to somebody.''

Photo of members of the Explosonic Rockers (NYT/Steve Kagan)