April 12, 1999
Dan Turner
The poster is a picture of a group of Latino kids hugging each other and looking into an open casket, where the body of a young man is lying. It doesn't seem like a real upbeat way to advertise a line of clothing.
But it does tell a story, and for this line of merchandise, the story is everything.
The poster is one of three in-store displays created on a pro bono basis by The Miller Group in Santa Monica on behalf of Homeboy Industries, one of the more worthwhile but little-known programs in Los Angeles.
Homeboy is spearheaded by Father Greg Boyle of Dolores Mission Church, who spends his time ministering mainly to gang members at 14 detention centers throughout the city. But Boyle doesn't just cater to their spiritual needs; he's out to get them jobs.
There are six separate businesses under the Homeboy umbrella, including a bakery for handmade breads, a service that cleans film sets before and after shooting, a landscaping business, an artisan shop and a merchandising arm. The latter takes sweatshirts, T-shirts, tote bags and other items and stencils or embroiders on the Homeboy label.
The businesses are staffed by about 40 employees, all of them gang members, many of them working side-by-side with members of enemy gangs. The intent of the program is summed up by its slogan: "Jobs Not Jail."
How does Boyle convince these hard-edged kids to spend their time baking bread and making clothes for little more than minimum wage? Actually, he has to turn away most of them.
"It always feels around here like you have one job for every thousand kids who want jobs," Boyle said
Business is not booming for Homeboy. While in the past Boyle has been able to convince some stores to carry the clothing, he's not sure whether any L.A. retailers still do. Mostly sales come through mail order, and after he gives talks on the program to groups like the Kiwanis, he always gets a spate of orders.
Ironically, merchants in Japan are more interested than those in Los Angeles.
"In Japan, the word 'homeboy' has become sort of gangster-chic," said Boyle, who sells a big supply of merchandise every year to a two-store chain in Tokyo.
Part of the problem with selling the clothes here is that, unless you know the story behind the program, Homeboy merchandise looks like just another hip-hop design label in search of an audience. That's where The Miller Group's posters come in.
The three posters picture a funeral scene, a young man getting arrested, and a close-up of the frightening tattoos on a gangster's back. At the top corner, each has an "Exit" sign, and copy that explains the Homeboy program. "Look for Homeboys apparel at retailers that are willing to make more than a fashion statement," it says.
Agency chief Renee Miller hopes the posters will convince more retailers to accept the line, and that they'll help sell the clothes by educating the consumer about them.
"It's a soft sell," Miller said. "It's a very complicated issue, and we needed to simplify it as best we could."
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