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Observations of An Ex-Cop in La La Land |
 ANDY MURCIA |
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Me Down Storefront Row |
 "My name is Arnold the Mentalist. Have I got a deal for you! I relieve stress and get you jobs in movies. My receptionist does massage outcalls and I have a cousin who does windows." |
Malls are a real snooze;
I check out storefronts!
By ANDY MURCIA
of TheColumnists.com
If like me you find most large shopping malls pretty boring turf, you might want to do what I do. I enjoy driving around the side streets and looking at small storefront shops as they attempt to market their services and products. Because most of these small shops are “ma & pa” types of businesses, the signs as well as the people can be very amusing.
To be more specific, my fun beat is in the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles. Here are a few of my favorites that never fail to give this old cop a chuckle.
There’s a bail bondsman's
office located just blocks from the Van Nuys Police Station and
Courthouse. The sign hanging outside says it all; "If We
Can't Get You Out, You Ain't Gettin Out!"
This sign holds great meaning to those who find themselves in
the slammer with some big guy blowing kisses their way. The old
image of bail bondsmen hanging around police booking desks is
all but gone. The old school bondsman was a colorful character,
often times friends with both the police and the bad guys. Newspaper
reporters on the police beat could depend on them for a few words
of copy when all else failed.
In Chicago I recall a bondsman with the nickname “Springs.” He earned that nickname the old fashion way: “He earned it.” When other bondsmen failed to get the local gangster out of the clink, old “Springs” was called in. The reason “Springs” was called as a last resort was because he was expensive. Springs had a brother who was a police captain. Often times he had to grease a few sweaty palms before the “right” judge would admit the bad guy to bail.
Recently I spoke with a LAPD copper who advised me with a straight face that bribery days were long gone, at least as far as he knew. Today he advised, the bondsman is more likely to be a real estate guy looking to cash in on the bad guy's family home or any other real property in exchange for putting up bond to get him out of the jug. Guys like “Springs” would take a chance for the right odds, but not today’s bondsmen. I’m told, it’s strictly “business values” that matter most as to whether o;r not you'll get out of jail or stay in, blowing kisses back at those big guys!
Lots of “Ma and Pa”
type business storefronts have no clue when it comes to marketing
themselves. Even so-alled professionals like personal injury
lawyers, whose ads on TV & radio scream, “Get all you
can!”
And doctors, who hopefully make better incisions than they write
ad copy, are in dire need of pro advertising.
Case in point: A new plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills recently
wanted to increase his bank account by increasing women’s
breast augmentation. His ad copy read like this; “Don’t
like your boobs? Don’t go to a boob! Make an appointment
today with a real breast doctor who can professionally handle
all your breast needs.”
Needless to say, the ad didn’t run long. I suspect the doctor
realized he was demeaning himself and his patients as soon as
his parents called, demanding their med school loan be paid back--now!
My all-time favorite small storefront business was "Arnold, The Mentalist." His sign read, "I will listen to your troubles and reduce your stress.” The policeman still lives inside me, so I had to stop and check this one out.
I entered “Arnold's”
storefront and was met at a counter by an attractive young lady.
I’d say she was about 22 or 23 and while she was cute, there
was nobody home upstairs. The joint was like a '60s head shop
complete with smelly candles & old Ravi Shankar sitar music
underscoring.
My old habits die hard and I found myself going undercover by
speaking with the receptionist as if I were a prospective “client”
for Arnold. I introduced myself as Mr. Rooney, a professional
actor by trade. I asked if Arnold was a shrink. She explained
that Arnold was not a real doctor “of the brain” but
rather just a real nice guy who would listen. She said I could
“unload” my troubles on him. I asked her how much Arnold
charged.
She told me $25 for a 10-minute session or $50 for 25 minutes.
I asked her if Arnold accepted my Screen Actors Guild Producers
Medical Insurance?
She said,“Oh, no, cash only--but we do have a lot of actors
who are clients and Arnold has helped them.”
I asked if he might help me get starring roles in my acting career.
Here’s when the ditzy babe went over the line: “Oh,
sure. Did you see the movie with George Clooney about the hicks
in the Ozarks?”
Yes, I had.
She said, cutely; “Well, there you go! George and Arnold
are like that!” (she held up two fingers indicating they
were “close”).
I asked if I might meet with Arnold at no charge before deciding
to buy his professional services.
“Sure, let me see if Arnold can see you now.”
She disappeared to the back part of the storefront where there
seemed to be a small room.
"Yep, Mr. Rooney, right this way."
She waved me into the room
where a young man sat at a cheap desk that faced a brown fake
leather chair. He stood up, said he was Arnold, shook my hand
and motioned for me to sit in the brown chair. As I sat down,
I went into my cover story as the actor with problems. Arnold
asked me what kind of problems I felt I needed to talk to him
about. I advised him that because I was straight, that I was
having a hard time being cast as a leading man in major motion
pictures–seems all the good roles went to the gay actors.
Arnold sympathized with me at once.
I advised Arnold that sometimes I felt like hollering out loud
things like, “Dam’it, give me the part, I’m an
actor! So what if I’m straight!”
I asked if he would mind my yelling–should I secure his
services?
Arnold stated, “No, it would be okay to yell, just not too
loud,” and that he knew he could help me, “but first
you need to go back out and pay Debbie.”
I asked him if he was truly interested in hearing my problems
or was he just doing it for the fee? Arnold said he provided
a service for a fee, but that he was “sort of interested”
in helping me out. I thanked Arnold and walked back to the receptionist
counter. “Debbie” asked me if I wanted the full 25
minutes for $50 or the 10 minutes for $25 and did I want the
full body stress reducing massage for an additional $50.00
I told her that I was feeling better already after just meeting
Arnold. I promised her that I'd be back for at least the 25-minute
deal as soon as I got a starring role as a leading man and earned
some big money.
I told her I felt I needed
to yell a lot once I got started with Arnold, and I was concerned
if she would be hearing my yelling?
She said, “No way. I usually lock the door and go for coffee
once the client goes in with him. The only way I stay is if the
client also wants my massage as he’s talking to Arnold."
I thanked her, passed on the massage offer, and said I was glad
that she would not have to listen to my yelling out loud and
my complaining.
I asked her if she was
Arnold’s girlfriend?
“Well, sort of," she said. "We have dated. I like
him a lot, but I enjoy dating other men. I like older men, too.”
Something in the way she delivered that last line tempted me
to investigate further to see if “Debbie & Arnold”
might be involved in prostitution activity, massage parlor style–but
I thought I'd better quit while I was ahead. With my luck, the
“Debbie & Arnold Show” would turn out to be a front
for the LAPD vice squad doing a sting operation to lock up horny
old “johns.”
I’m not sure if even the most proficient advertising guru
on Madison Avenue could market “Arnold The Mentalist”
without taking a pinch, but a few guys I once knew in Chicago
sure could.
So, now I ask you other
old guys, wouldn’t you want to hang with me checking out
the storefront joints on the side streets, or would you really
want to go to that old Mall?
© 2002 by Andy Murcia. The cartoon is from IMSI's Master
Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd. E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506,
USA.
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