Now when the surf was good life was very simpleÖ you surfed. But when the ocean was flat; which it could be for seemingly endless days things got a bit more complicated.
Like in the springtime when the storms in the Aleutian Islands have calmed down and the Cold, huge, north swells cease their fear filled waves. And the hurricanes have yet to form off the west coast of Mexico bringing the big warm water south swells of summer. It is like a clipper ship caught in the doldrums with no wind and boredom besets the crew. It was at this time that the Santa Monica Police increased their surveillance of the beach area. For bored young minds tend to search for things to do when there is no surf. These things tend to be trouble.
It was just such a springÖ just such a flat, boring time when the plot was hatched. Most of us were actually in school, might as well, no surf. But a few of us die-hards languished in the sand at Bay Street.
The brain behind this brilliant idea was a kid named Lonnie. Now Lonnie was a strange, dark, teen. Who, I was convinced, was destined for prison or an early, violent death. He had dark brown short hair, aged about 17, well built, street smart, strong, tan and wore thick, dark rimmed glasses. Not a great surfer but he could hold his own in the line up. Lonnie was always in trouble, he had been kicked out of Santa Monica High School numerous times for various reasons, truancy being the very least of his offences. He seemed to always be scheming to rip off anything and everything he could get his hands on. I really didn't like him at all. He and I had almost come to blows a few times, but he had always backed down before we actually got into it.
The other participant in this little escapade was a young, immature, but fairly smart, surfer named Foamrider. His real name was Rick Fulemrider but with a last name like that the obvious nickname was instantly attached. Actually Rick was anything but a begining surfer that only rides the foamy soup part of a spent wave. He was, blond, lithe, 5' 6", age 16, quick reflexes, and a very good surfer. Whether Ricky really liked the idea or he needed money or just wanted to do something radical so he could be thought of as coolÖ I don't know. Who knows what motivates the mind of a sixteen year old kid?
About three blocks east of the beach on the north east corner of Bay and Main streets was Crescent Bay Grocery. A small neighborhood store, the kind of store almost extinct now. Unsatisfactorily replaced by 7-11s with their corporate colors and marketing jingles, lacking any form of feel for the neighborhood's they invade.
Abe Solomon was the owner and sole proprietor of the neat little store. Abe was forty two and use to long hours and hard work. He was born and raised in Borough Park, Brooklyn. A tough Jewish section of a tough town. He was five foot ten with thick arms, a barrel chest and weighed about one hundred and sixty pounds. Abe joined the Marine Corps in 1942, after Pearl Harbor, and served in the Pacific during World War Two. On his way to the South Pacific he was billeted in Southern California waiting for a troop ship and he fell in love with it. He vowed that if he lived through the war he would move he and his wife to what seemed like paradise to him. He survived the war and used his savings and his GI bill loan to buy the store at Main and Bay St.
Back at the beach laying in the sandÖ Lonnie says with a big smile, "This is gonna be so easy, he'll never know what hit him."
Foamrider did not look convinced but you could see he was interested. "Ok how is this gonna work again?" Foamrider asked.
"It's simple," Lonnie says,"We go into the store I walk up to the counter and grab the old Jew by the shirt. I put this church key up to his throat,"
Of course to the teenage mind anyone over twenty is old and anyone over forty is bound to be down right feeble.
Lonnie pulls a shinny new can opener out of his pocket and holds it up throat high and continues, "I say give me the fucking money out of the cash register or I'll cut your fucking throat. You take the money he gives up and split. I shove the Jew down so he can't call the cops right away and I split. We meet up back here and we divvy up the bread. What could be simpler? Corse we gotta be scarce for a while in case he remembers us. But I'll bet he'll be so fucking scaredÖ he won't remember shit."
Rick stood there for a while thinking, then says, "I'll bet that'll work. I'm in, when we gonna do it?"
Lonnie says, "WellÖ we have to make sure nobody else is in the store. You can go in first and pretend you are picking up a few things like bread, can of soup and stuff. I'll be across the street by the Mexican restaurant if the coast is clear put your hands on you hips then I'll come in and we do the deed. No hands on hips I'll stay where I am. I think Thursday will be a good day."
"You'd better come in cuz I don't have the money to actually buy that stuff." Ricky explained.
I need to digress a bit here to explain the code. You see, back then, the absolute worse thing you could ever do was to rat on somebody. Not only would you face a serious beating by the ratee but no one would ever talk to or trust you again. You might just as well have contracted leprosy. Other kids might kick your ass even if you didn't rat on them. Just because you were a rat. So Lonnie really had no concern the rest of us would rat them outÖ it just wouldn't happen.
Foamrider says, "Ok, Thursday it is."
Thursday arrives and we are all hanging out lounging in the sand. About ten a.m. Lonnie gets up and announces, "Foamrider let's do this thing."
And Lonnie starts walking up the hill toward main street. Rick gets up and follows. They reach the top of the hill and they split up so they won't be seen together. The rest of us stay where we are.
Someone says, "I want no part of this." We all just smile and lay back soaking rays. I had a feeling this was not going to end well.
A while later we hear sirens and look at each other all thinking that this can't be good. We get up and en mass trudge up the hill to see what is happening. We cover the three blocks and arrive in time to see about four Santa Monica cop cars parked all over the intersection of Bay and Main We stop on the west side of Main St. to watch. We melted into the crowd of curious onlookers. A few seconds later two cops are escorting a hand cuffed Lonnie out of the store. Lonnie has fat lip and blood all over his tee shirt. A Santa Monica Blue bus passes north bound on Main Street monetarily blocking our view. Lonnie has stopped the cops and is watching the bus as it proceeds up main and out of sight. Lonnie has a strange smile on his face, shakes his head and lets the cops put him in the car without a struggle. We hang around as the cops write stuff in their notebooks and two plain clothed cops are talking to the old guy who owns the store out front on the sidewalk. Oddly Foamrider is no where in sight. Boredom soon set in and we all drift back to the beach discussing different scenarios that could of happened. We were chuckling at the obvious misfortune of our buddies.
A few weeks later Foamrider shows up at the beach and we get the story of the great store robbery. This is how Ricky told the story.
Rick went into the store as planned, grabbed a loaf of wonder bread, a can of Campbell's chicken noodle soup, two cans of tuna fish and a jar of mayo. He walked up to the counter. Since he is alone in the store except for the owner he put's his hands on his hips signaling Lonnie. According to plan Lonnie dashes across Bay street into the store. He gets to the counter, reaches across and grabs ex-Marine, Abe Solomon, by the shirt collar yanks him forward, puts the church key to his throat and recites his rehearsed threat. Now here is where the brilliant plan starts to go awry.
Abe says, "Fuck youÖ you little shit!" and throws a solid punch to the side of Lonnie's head.
Lonnie goes down like a stone, the church key clanging to the floor. Abe is starting to climb over the counter to further fuck up Lonnie when Lonnie gets up and bolts towards the door.
Back then polio was a major crippler and killer of children all over the world. A non-profit organization called the March of Dimes was created by President Franklin Roosevelt, himself a polio victim. The March of Dimes ask school kids all over the US to donate their dimes to help with the research to fight this deadly disease. Also just about every Liquor store and mom and pop grocery store had this huge clear plastic ball, about a foot in diameter with a slot on top, on the counter so you could chip in some of the change from your purchase to the March of Dimes. The Crescent Bay Grocery was no exception.
Now Lonnie, on his way out the door, with Abe Solomon right on his heels and being the clever sort he was, grabs up the March of Dimes ball and tucks it under his arm like running back heading for the line of scrimmage. I guess he figured that the thing wouldn't be a total loss with whatever was in the plastic ball. This particular ball had a small but strong chain attached to it. The chain was fairly long and the other end was bolted securely to the counter. When Lonnie and the plastic ball reached the extent of the chain two things happened. First Lonnie's feet went out from under him. Second the ball popped out from under his arm, did a graceful arc into the air and crashed solidly to the floor. And since the ball was over half full the coins spread out over the linoleum. Of course this pissed Abe off even more and he landed on Lonnie like white on rice.
This all happened really fast and it took a second for Rick to process it. When he realized that things were not going according to plan he rightfully decided it was time to get his young ass out of there. But before he ran for the door he bent down and picked up a dime and a quarter off the floor. Then he blasted for the door leaping over the beat up Abe was dolling out to Lonnie and headed south bound down Main street.
I don't think Abe even knew Ricky was in on the robbery. After all he was so busy with Lonnie he didn't even see him bolt out the door.
About six months later Lonnie got out of Juvenile Hall (known as Juvie to us). We got his version of the story.
Everything was pretty much the same as Foamrider said. Except for the part after Rick split. Luckily for Lonnie Abe came to his senses and stopped beating on him. Abe's wife Sheila was in the back room doing something and heard the ruckus. She immediately called the cops. The Santa Monica Police arrived quickly as the police station was less than four blocks away. When they got there Abe was holding Lonnie for them by the throat and up against the door of the store. They put the cuffs on him and lead him out the door.
"That old Jew could hit pretty hard an could run faster than I figured," Lonnie told us.
"The cops got there really fast and as they were leading me out the door this bus comes by and I look up and there is Foamrider sitting in a window seat smiling down at me as the cops are putting me in the car. What a kick!" he laughed.
In the 1960's the fare for the Santa Monica Bus was thirty five cents. Now I call THAT presence of mind.