Hate Snow? Mosquitoes? Join the (Iowa) Club

News of those horrendous blizzards burying the Midwest has caused San Diegans to rejoice--smugly--at our fortunate geography. But none rejoice more (or more smugly) than members of the local Iowa Club.

The social group was begun by several former Iowans in June and now boasts about 1,000 members--a fair number of whom will probably be on hand Thursday night at Lehr’s Greenhouse in Mission Valley, where the club will hold its first 1985 event, a mixer.

No doubt a big topic of conversation will be the horrendous “back home” weather--the tales of rooftop-high snow in Minnesota, Iowa’s neighbor to the north, or of snow collapsing the roof of the Silverdome in Pontiac, Mich. But non-Iowans need not feel left out. To join the club you need meet only one of these qualifications:

Dislike snow, dislike cold, dislike rain, dislike humidity, dislike mosquitoes, dislike tornadoes, have been born in Iowa, have lived in Iowa, been through Iowa, been on Interstate 80 (anywhere in the United States), know how to pronounce Iowa, know somebody from Iowa or know a Minnesota joke.

“We pattern ourselves after the Long Beach Iowa Club, which for years had been the largest state club of all, begun 80 years ago when Long Beach became the place for Iowans to live in California,” said attorney Bob Ottilie, the local Iowa Club president. Ottilie noted that membership in the Long Beach club has been dwindling, and he figures San Diego ought to pick up the slack. Response has been encouraging.

“We sent out about 30 invitations to our first organizational event last June,” Ottilie said. “About 200 people showed up. Then, last July, we held our Founder’s Party at the Cafe del Rey Moro, and 350 people showed. That’s when we introduced Weiner the Pig as our official mascot. Weiner’s passed on, though, so Thursday night we’re introducing a new mascot, Carl the Cow.”

Easy as it is to join, Ottilie points out that about 75% to 85% of the club’s members are Iowans. He claims that nearly every Iowa city has a corresponding club in California--”There’s a club mailing list of 200 from my hometown of Oelwein, Iowa, population 8,000.” Favorite club topics --business, weather, farm jokes, Minnesota jokes.

Ottilie’s favorite Minnesota joke? “Why the artificial turf on Minnesota football fields? So the cheerleaders won’t graze at half time.” Favorite Iowa joke? “Iowans visit Minnesota resorts with just a clean pair of overalls and a $5 bill for a whole week--and they don’t change either one.”

The Court Jester

Justice may be blind, but that doesn’t mean that it can’t occasionally be funny. During one recent court session, Superior Court Judge James A. Malkus displayed the instincts of the judge on the NBC-TV comedy series “Night Court” as he dispensed with the cases before him.

For example, Malkus came up with a quick one-liner when one criminal hearing was delayed because the defendant--a prisoner in County Jail--was not in the courtroom.

Asked about the prisoner’s whereabouts by Malkus, a bailiff responded, “We’re looking for him.”

“Oh, he’s in custody and you’re trying to find him,” Malkus said. “That’s reassuring!”

The chuckles in the courtroom had barely died down when Malkus provided some banter about another case.

An attorney requested a delay in a hearing for his prisoner-client. Because the delay, if granted, would mean that the prisoner’s trial would not occur within the constitutionally guaranteed 60-day period, Malkus asked the defendant whether he was willing to waive his right to a speedy trial.

After casting a confused glance at his attorney, the prisoner asked Malkus, “What was the question?”

“The answer is yes,” Malkus said, touching off more laughter in the courtroom, including some from the prisoner himself.

Pizza by the Precinct

Driving the freeway the other day, we slowed down at the sight of an approaching police car. That is, until we got a closer look.

The white Ford Fairmont had a full light rack on top, but instead of any San Diego Police Department insignia there was a large “NYPD” stenciled on the side.

The letters stand not for New York’s finest peace officers, but for one of its finest culinary imports--in this case, the New York Pizza Department, a new franchise that uses cleverly disguised Fords as pizza delivery vehicles.

“We checked it out thoroughly, and got approval for the cars from the California Highway Patrol and the San Diego police,” said Dan Crotta, a local attorney (a Connecticut native) who owns NYPD with his wife, Monica (a New Yorker).

So far, the Crottas have franchised two locations --in Mira Mesa and on Friars Road--and, as Dan tells it, this is “total-concept” pizza parloring.

“Each one of our stores is called a ‘precinct,’ ” Crotta said. “There’s a cops-and-robbers motif, with wanted posters on the wall--not only humorous ones, but ones of real New York felons and some missing kids.

Customers place their orders at an old-fashioned station-house desk, with white globes at either side, and the counter people wear NYPD uniforms.

“You can get, for example, a ‘Bonnie and Clyde’--that’s a two-meatball sandwich--or the ‘Al Capone Calzone.’ But the pizza is traditional New York: yeast-risen bread dough, and hand-spun instead of rolled.

The NYPD idea just came to me. It seemed it would be fun to work, and there’s an endless number of marketing ideas.” Crotta said.