STRAIGHT EDGE, BENT VIEW

Suburban gang says no to drugs, smoking, sex but yes to violence

SALT LAKE CITY -- Two years ago, Clinton Colby Ellerman announced a shift
that made his parents sigh with relief: He'd sworn off alcohol, drugs,
smoking -- even sex -- and taken up the cause of animal rights.

Never mind that he'd also had crossed M-16 assault rifles tattooed on the
back of his head and was inspired by the deafening and aggressive anthems
of a hard-core punk movement calling itself "Straight Edge."

"At first, my mom and dad thought it was good thing," recalled Ellerman,
21, during an interview at the Salt Lake Metro Jail. "It would have been a
good thing if the violence had been taken out of it."

A month ago, a state court judge ordered Ellerman to spend two years in
jail for his role in a July 1996 raid on a local mink farm. His 19-year-old
brother, Joshua, also a Straight Edger, is facing federal charges carrying
a minimum 30-year prison sentence in connection with the March 1997 bombing
of a fur breeders cooperative.

What's Straight Edge? That's what everyone in Utah wants to know as federal
agents and state and local police chase its local followers from one fur
farm raid, arson or bloody melee to another.

Gradually, the story of a vicious offshoot of a national subculture is
emerging here. Straight Edge -- whose followers favor shaved heads, combat
fatigues, Doc Martens and pierced and tattooed flesh -- began in New York
in the mid-1980s as a quiet rebellion against apathy and addiction.

The movement still exists, with factions acting mostly as peaceful "moral
watchdogs" wherever there is punk rock. Lately, however, Straight Edge
groups from Southern California to New York have been trying to disavow
their Utah brethren.

In Utah, no sooner had police detectives noticed the Straight Edgers in the
early 1990s than they began receiving reports of bombings and arson attacks
that targeted animal-product stores -- including leather furriers and
fast-food stands -- and assaults and stabbings at punk-rock concerts. Ever
since, Straight Edgers have been destroying notions about the causes of
gang violence in a state where growing up these days can be a pretty safe
and comfortable affair.

These are mostly young, middle-class, Anglo vegetarians who communicate
through their own Web sites and view themselves as courageous sober
soldiers in a dangerously corrupt and polluted society. And they enforce
their mantra -- True 'Til Death -- with brass knuckles, baseball bats,
knives, Molotov cocktails and pipe bombs.

According to Utah law enforcement authorities, the number of these
"suburban terrorists" has jumped from a few dozen to more than 1,000 in
five years -- and shows every sign of growing further. At least 40 cases of
arson, vandalism and serious assault -- including the torching of a Salt
Lake City McDonald's -- have been traced to Straight Edgers.

The fact that several high schools have become gathering places for Utah's
Straight Edge scene has prompted officials to ban students from scrawling
phrases such as "Drug Free" and "Stay Sober" on their backpacks.

Salt Lake City psychologist and gang expert Terie Weiderhold is trying to
make sense of what she has dubbed "Utah's home-grown, upper-class gang."

"Perhaps our Straight Edgers are different because in the Mormon culture,
kids are told from Day 1, 'Don't do drugs, alcohol, tobacco or premarital
sex,' " she said. "What is not emphasized, however, is, 'Don't fight.'

"Of course, that's not to say that Mormons are violent," she added. "But
since they don't participate in things that other gangs are involved in,
our Straight Edgers may be finding an escape from boredom and a source of
identification in violence."

Salt Lake County Sheriff's Deputy Scott Perry, who is in charge of security
at Kearns High School, a few miles southwest of Salt Lake City, would not
argue with that.

At Kearns, five Straight Edgers recently "put the boots to another student
who needed stitches to put his face back together," he said.

"It's the darnedest thing I've ever seen," Perry said. "We only have about
100 Edgers out of a total student body of 2,100 students. But they're
predatory, travel in packs and go out of their way to fight.

"Their weapon of choice is pepper Mace, which they spray at each other for
laughs," Perry said. "Now they're immune to the stuff, which makes it hard
on us when there's a gang fight. I've hosed them down with Mace and they
just kept on fighting."

Conflicts between Straight Edgers and outsiders have become almost routine
at schools, shopping malls and punk-rock hangouts throughout the 100-mile
Wasatch Front.

With a dozen Straight Edgers in jail or facing serious criminal charges,
and dozens more under law enforcement surveillance, even die-hard Salt Lake
City animal-rights activists are severing ties with the group they once
depended on for recruits.

"Generally, Straight Edge has been a boost for the animal-rights movement;
they've added fresh blood," said J.P. Goodwin, spokesman for the
Dallas-based Coalition to Abolish the Fur Trade. "In other cities, they've
helped organize activities. But they're nothing like the weird scene in
Salt Lake City."