Juvenile Delinquents

State officials have moved to close a home for troubled teenagers, saying the staff could not control the youths who ran amok in a series of incidents and crimes that culminated in what police called a "mini-riot." The state's action came Wednesday after the county had already removed the 68 teenagers from Pride House, a facility in the 15300 block of Saticoy Street for abused and neglected adolescents and petty criminals.

It was a winter night last year when Jesse's two friends approached him with a quick and easy plan to escape from Orange County Juvenile Hall. They would simply climb a fence and drop down on the outside. Jesse's cohorts went first--up and over. Jesse, close behind, hesitated, thought for a moment, and walked back inside, leaving his friends to go on without him.

State officials have revoked the license of Camp O'Neal in the Eastern Sierra one year after a tragic Presidents' Day outing at nearby Convict Lake claimed the lives of three teen-age residents of the camp and four others. The three teen-agers died when they fell through thin ice on the lake while on a holiday excursion. Two adult staff members from the facility for troubled adolescents and two would-be rescuers drowned trying to save the boys.

The search for the last of seven people who drowned in this frozen Sierra lake was suspended Thursday to allow divers to rest and organizers to bring in more equipment. But as the recovery efforts quieted, a debate began over what, if anything, officials can do to guard against future tragedies. Recovery efforts were curtailed after the Truckee, Nev.

As 16-year-old Patrick gazed across the darkened neighborhood, his eyes settled on a distant hill. There, in the cool of night, the lights of Joplin Boys Ranch sparkled like a beacon. "I love looking up there," he said, pointing toward the juvenile detention center. "It reminds me where I could have ended up." Certainly, Patrick and the other long-term residents of Boys Town Southern California could have been sent to any of several facilities for troubled youths.

FROM her first glance, Dayna Bennett knew that Casey was not the kind of kid featured in adoption brochures. Fifteen and a spindly 6 feet 2, he was so unkempt and forlorn, he "looked like a ragamuffin" when they met in the visiting room of a state mental hospital three years ago. Bennett knew his history: Casey had been removed from abusive parents at age 6 and spent eight years in foster care, shuttled among relatives, strangers and group homes.

Promise yourself ... to be so strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind. As boys they saw it hanging from the walls of the dining hall, recited it in unison with other boys, heard it intoned at every special event like a prayer: Promise yourself ... to think only of the best, to work only for the best and to expect only the best.

Fifteen-year-old George Peterson applied to Eagle Academy to escape the temptations of drugs, petty crime and idleness. But minutes after he and 44 other students arrived at the front gate, George just wanted to escape. A phalanx of tough-looking drill instructors appeared seemingly from nowhere and began pounding on the bus, screaming at the boys to fall out, line up, shut up. They marched the "recruits" to the barracks, shaved their heads, issued camouflage fatigues and assigned them bunks.

The two widows--one young, one older--clutched each other in a tearful embrace. Strangers before this moment, they were now bound by tragedy. "Be brave," a frail Ruth Anderson whispered to Terry Cutter. "They were both great men." The poignant meeting came Friday as more than 200 residents of this picturesque resort area crammed into the U.S.

Most of his friends figured he would die a hero, because when disaster erupted in the eastern Sierra Nevada, Vidar Anderson was almost always there. Forest fires, plane crashes, mountain rescues--these were like a call to arms for Anderson, 58, a volunteer member of the Long Valley Fire Department. Tall and wiry, the retired school bus driver would invariably be the first on the scene. He was aggressive, friends and colleagues said, selfless, and ever calm in the face of danger.