The Stage Is Set for an Open Airing

It’s been 20 years since Luis Valdez’s hit play “Zoot Suit” premiered in Los Angeles. My favorite line in that agitprop musical about the 1943 Zoot Suit riots was uttered by a then-obscure actor named Edward James Olmos.

He portrayed El Pachuco, the play’s one-man chorus, who during an especially dramatic moment broke the tension by telling one overwrought character: “Don’t take the pinche (damned) play so seriously!”

I’ve thought ever since that would be a good--or at least healthy--philosophy for Latino activists to remember as they move into positions of power and influence. The issues they wrestle with may be dauntingly complex and the political opposition can be exceedingly bitter. But time and numbers are on their side, so why not keep a sense of humor and perspective?

I never figured I’d have to remind Olmos about that line. But he should keep it in mind this week, when a potentially far-reaching federal court trial resumes--a criminal trial in which Olmos already has figured prominently and may again.

The defendants are 13 reputed members of the Mexican Mafia prison gang. EME, as it is called, was created by inmates from Los Angeles’ Eastside barrios in the 1950s, and has been a problem in California’s penal system ever since.

But EME never has been able to expand its influence to the streets--which is not to say its members haven’t tried. This trial is a result of a recent campaign by EME to establish a powerful presence outside the prisons, according to law enforcement sources.

EME reportedly has been pressuring Latino street gangs in recent years, “taxing” them for a share of profits they make from criminal activities, especially illegal drug sales. Some gangs have resisted, and the result has been an increase in street violence as young gang members fight to keep EME enforcers at bay.

The 29-count indictment in the federal trial alleges that the 13 defendants, all prison inmates, conspired behind bars to extend EME’s influence. In an effort to break EME, or at least dilute its strength, the U.S. Justice Department is prosecuting its alleged kingpins under the federal Racketeering Influenced and Corrupt Organizations (RICO) law. Prosecutors hope that convictions in the case will allow them to scatter EME’s leaders throughout the federal prison system.

Olmos was dragged into the case because of the 1992 film he produced about the Mexican Mafia, “American Me.” Olmos said he wanted the story of a fictional EME leader’s rise and fall to demystify the gang in the eyes of young Latinos.

I have no idea if “American Me” had the intended effect. I chose not to see the film, and wouldn’t watch it today if I had the chance. I disapprove of violent films in general and especially dislike those that can be seen as glamorizing Latino gangs. For all the attention they get, gangs are only a small, pathological fragment of the Latino community.

But it’s clear that some EME associates saw “American Me” and didn’t like it. Three people who were consultants on the film--two ex-convicts and an Eastside anti-gang worker--were killed after it was released. All three murders are listed in the indictment for the Mexican Mafia trial.

And it is possible that some trial testimony may focus on allegations that EME targeted Olmos, either for murder or extortion, for not having shown EME proper respect.

Olmos takes the threats seriously. I have been approached twice recently by mutual acquaintances asking me to keep The Times from mentioning Olmos in connection with the EME trial. I told them I would do no such thing because Olmos is a public figure, the trial is a matter of public record and, most important of all, it is a matter of public interest. I don’t know if Olmos put his friends up to it, but I hope he didn’t. He’s bigger than that--and not just on stage or screen.

This is a man, after all, who some people seriously urged to run for mayor after he almost single-handedly inspired a grass-roots campaign to clean up Los Angeles after the 1992 riots. If the Mexican Mafia can frighten someone of his fame and stature, what chance do the thousands of hard-working Latino families in the city’s barrios have?

I am not trying to trivialize threats Olmos may have received. Movie stars in this town have enough to fear from celebrity stalkers without having to worry about hit men working for would-be crime bosses.

But let’s keep things in perspective. The thugs who control EME may be dangerous, but we aren’t talking about the likes of Al Capone or Lucky Luciano.

Like the title character in James Clavell’s World War II novel “King Rat,” EME members are powerful inside prison, but in the outside world they are no more than bullying corporals. Like all bullies, they have only as much power as we let them have.