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November 27, 1998/ 8 Kislev 5759, Vol. 51, No. 10
Tucson tattoo artist wants to impress upon teenagers the need to fight prejudice
CAROL KATZMAN
Jewish Press of Omaha

The Scary Guy - that's his legal name - has spoken to more than 600,000 people about the dangers of stereotyping and intolerance. The Tucson resident's recent appearance in Omaha was sponsored by the Anti-Defamation League. He's seen here with his wife, Julie, in their engagement photo.
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The crowd of 350 high school students and teachers in Omaha had just settled back into their seats after watching a 20-minute video on tolerance, produced by the Anti-Defamation League for their annual Prejudice Elimination Workshop. The lights went up in the darkened theater at the Jewish Community Center and on stage stood "The Scary Guy."
There was an audible gasp as this fearsome-looking man looked right into their eyes. The Scary Guy - that's his real name, legally changed in February - is covered in colorful tattoos over 85 percent of his body. His earlobes, eyebrows and the bridge of his nose are all pierced as well.
"I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley" is the first reaction he receives from most people. Yet his message is one of kindness, hope, courage and tolerance.
The Scary Guy, who owns two tattoo shops in Tucson, Ariz., says he "just got sick of the name-calling and slander" and told his wife, Julie, to pack his bags because he was "going on the road for the rest of (his) life to make a difference."
Already, Scary, as he is affectionately called by people who know him, has spoken to more than 600,000 people, but this early November stop was his first appearance for the ADL. He wants people, especially teenagers, to understand that they have a right to be loved, to express themselves, to have freedom, but to recognize a different way of dealing with anger and fear.
"It took me years to figure that out," The Scary Guy said in an interview. "And it culminated in an early morning firebombing at one of my tattoo shops in Tucson. I stood there, watching the flames, and realized there was nothing I could do."
This moment of self-discovery brought Scary to understand that "what you give out is what you get." Now his philosophy is, "If I have something you want, I will give it. It's about sharing," he said.
Booking not coincidental
It's no accident that it was the ADL who sponsored The Scary Guy's appearance in Omaha. Leigh-Anne Brown, a student at the University of Arizona and daughter of Omaha ADL Assistant Director Debbi Brown, literally ran into The Scary Guy at the airport in Tucson. As a school photographer, she had met The Scary Guy while on assignment for The Wildcat, the university's daily paper. She told her mother, "The Scary Guy is about everything you are in terms of diversity, tolerance and justice" and was insistent her parents meet him.
While speaking to him in the airport, the family recognized the potential of Scary's message. After returning to Omaha, Brown wrote a grant request to the Murray H. and Sharee C. Supporting Foundation, which responded enthusiastically to her proposal for "Celebrating Diversity," the theme of this year's anti-prejudice workshop in Omaha. This annual event brings together area high school students, teachers and counselors to heighten awareness of commonly held stereotypes. Some 30 facilitators from the business, civic and educational communities also attended.
"Debbi Brown is so passionate about her work," said The Scary Guy.
According to Brown, "The students' evaluation forms reflected the positive feelings they had for him and his message, (which is) 'never reject anyone for the way he or she looks.' "
He has been asked to run for public office and, after the recent win in the gubernatorial race by former professional wrestler Jesse Ventura in Minnesota, Scary is now contemplating the possibility in five to six years, but "only after speaking to millions of people."
Scary tells the story of the "100th monkey" to illustrate his educational style.
"One monkey teaches two, then two teach four and four teach eight. By the time the 100th monkey has learned the behavior, it has been ingrained in the community. When the '100th monkey' has learned to put aside the human nature to prejudge, I will run for office," he said.
Tattoos send a message
Tattoos weren't always used to make a statement; 10 years ago Scary was a computer salesman in the Twin Cities. Tattoos on his arms and legs were covered by three-piece suits when he met his future wife, Julie Kaufman. A big, well-built man, Scary related how Kaufman reacted when she learned about the tattoos.
"I was wearing a long-sleeve white shirt and Julie complimented me on the 'shimmering colors' of the silk," he recalled. "Then I rolled up my sleeves and showed her my tattooed arms."
Her reaction was one of fascination, not repulsion, and he knew they would have a future together. Today, she acts as manager, organizer, scheduler, publicist and his biggest fan.
"Julie shares my mission," said Scary, adding that she's the behind-the-scenes force that enables him to get out his message.
When asked about the reaction from other tattoo-wearers, Scary related one incident as the exception that proves the rule. A known tattoo artist came up to him and thanked him for "giving us a good name."
The artist was the first to give Scary any positive comments about the abundance of his tattoos. The image of tattooed men is one that has traditionally represented "big lumbering guys" who don't fall into the higher socioeconomic categories. Even the Ku Klux Klan has angrily told The Scary Guy that he is a "white man who sold out."
The Scary Guy believes that he has offended many of these white males and others because "you can't put me in a box," he said. "I can't be pigeonholed by race or gender or ethnicity or religion or sexual orientation.
"I've created my own category," he added with a smile "and that's what frightens people. They can't categorize me and they don't know where I fit."
He refers to his inner strength and to his mother's death five years ago as the reasons he sticks with his agenda. He hopes that programs like the ADL's workshop expose issues that teens and adults might see as "hurtful" but encourages them to "have the courage to go there."
Billed as America's only "live comic book hero,"' The Scary Guy is ready to take his message wherever people are willing to listen. He's even thought of publishing a comic book, the reverse of traditional marketing methods. His name is trademarked, and even his clothes boast the embroidered Scary Guy logo.
And, of course, in today's technological era, The Scary Guy has his own site on the Internet:www.thescaryguy.com.
Carol Katzman is editor of The Jewish Press of Omaha in Nebraska. This story was distributed by Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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