PSU Magazine Fall 1998

ow did it happen ? How did two model students from Portland's Grant High School, one the student body pres ident, the other an honor student and member of an elite school choir, end up charged with a series of armed robberies? The story broke in April with the arrest of Ethan Thrower, the choir boy, and the disappearance of student leader Tom C urti . On the run for several months, Curtis turned up in Mazatlan, Mexico-where he partied with former classmates on a jaunt celebrating their graduati on. In late July, no longer able to hide after his story aired on television 's America's Most Wanted, he finally surrendered to the FBI in Las Vegas. Two other fo rmer Grant seniors were arre ted in Augu t in connection wi th the crimes, along with two local men in their 20s. It's poss ible that other Grant students were involved , and it's probable that many were in the know. Portland State professors, like many others, are puzzling over the riddle of a crime spree-some 19 robberies over a year's time-allegedly committed by students who seemed to have every– thing go ing for them. • oth youths came from stable, two-parent families, both did well in school and were headed for college, and neither abused drugs, as fa r as anyone knows. Only in C urtis' case were there signs that something was amiss. In his campaign speech for student president, C urtis mocked teachers and staff at the school, delighting students but shock– ing school authorities. More seriously, during the summer before his senior year, Curtis got in an argument with a convenience store clerk, alleged ly cursing the woman and hitting her in the face. Still, such unruly behavior is a long way from donning a ski mask and pointing guns at people. While speculating on a variety of exp lanations, along with rai ing a host of questions about the case, seve ral PSU profs zeroed in on the one provocative theme. Call it "Rebe l Without A Cause," late '90s style. "Nobody can know why at this point, but youthful rebellion had to be a big part of it," says Randy Blazak, ass istant professor of sociology and criminology. Blazak isn't terribly surprised at the notion of seemingly well-adjusted middle-class kids committing poten– tially deadly crimes. "It's a lot more common than people think, " he says, adding that statistics show juvenile delinquency evenly spread through all U .S. "They're bored with their schools and their baby boomer parents who started out as flower children and are now miserable ..." economic classes. "But more poor kids get caught." Nor is he surprised that well-off youths stage high-profile, sometimes violent stunts during a time when juvenile crime is generally declining across the country. Youthful rebellion is more a part of American culture than ever, he says. "In our country, the rogue male, the mythologized outlaw-like Jesse James or Billy the Kid- has a long tradition," he says. "Rebellion against authority also ha a long history, only in the past it was almost always motivated by some ideology or social injustice." In the '50s, however, the two concepts began to morph together in popular culture, Blazak says. Along the way, rebelli on lost its anchor in righteous cause. In The Wild One, when a threatening Marlon Brando is asked, "What do you want ?" he retorts, "What'ya got ?" In Rebel Without a Cause, James Dean can't pin down his sense of deep angst and anger. Pop star singers like Elvis Presley proj ected the image of rebellion for its own sake. "The whole thing becomes a huge marketing tool," Blazak says, reaching FALL 1998 PSU MAGAZlNE 7