Most said we'd turn out badly. Our name signified wild guy, partier, fighter. We thrived on reputation. Whether they admired or hated us, everyone knew who we were, our jackets, our spot in the stairwell.
A Chicano teenager in 1950s Tucson had two options: "You could do okay or become a juvenile delinquent," writes anthropologist and poet Renato Rosaldo in his new book of poetry, The Chasers. But Rosaldo and his crew chose a third path. They became the Chasers.