County Kneads Someone Like Her Before Giving Them License to Rub
Toni Torquato has an unusual part-time job. She lies on her back, or on her stomach, and makes idle conversation while the man or woman standing above her massages her--slowly, deeply, and almost always, she said, pleasurably.
Torquato’s title is county massage examiner. Torquato, 43, serves as the last step in the bureaucratic process that grants permits to massage therapists.
Torquato is a full-time holistic health practitioner who rents space in the office of a La Jolla chiropractor. Because she’s been a massage therapist for 12 years, she knows a lot about the business of rubbing people down. She’s in the second year of a three-year contract with the county.
She gets $10 a massage and sees 10 to 15 candidates a week (about 250 a year).
Takes Massage Seriously
She knows of no other county in the country that checks out potential massage artists in exactly this manner. She gets teased about it a lot, and, because she’s shy, the jokes make her squirm. Torquato takes massage quite seriously.
And no, she said, as if anticipating the question, massage is not dominated by ladies of the evening in training.
The men and women who come to Torquato’s office in the health department annex of the county building on Pacific Highway are almost always nervous. And young. Massage therapists tend not to be old-timers.
Torquato approves about 96% of those who come in for testing. They spend about 10 minutes giving Torquato what appears to be a thorough and utterly relaxing massage, albeit one limited to legs, feet, arms, hands and back. Torquato wears a bathing suit and usually insists that her neck not be included as part of the session. She’s fussy about her neck.
She’s impressed with almost all the fingers and hands that show up for testing. The ones who fail are usually bad enough to make her laugh.
Awkward Applicant
“I remember this one guy,” she said. “He did the same dull thing over and over and over again. Absolutely no variety. He was very awkward with the movements of his hands and arms. I don’t know why he even bothered applying.”
Torquato looks mainly for confidence. If the person is able to win her confidence, generally, they pass with ease. If the touch is too tentative, if the fear of having to be tested seems overwhelming, generally, she’s skeptical to the point of flunking them outright.
Tuesday afternoon, Wendy Escobar, 20, was taking her exam by giving Torquato a massage. She explained that she had taken a blood test, been fingerprinted and photographed by sheriff’s deputies and had then paid out $52.48 for the right to massage Torquato.
Afterwards--and Escobar passed--she commented on the testing.
“She seemed to want to know how I did massage, if I knew the different body parts and so forth. A knowledge of anatomy--a thorough knowledge--seemed essential. I randomly massaged her arms, back and legs. I was conscious of trying not to hurt her, of being too rough. I tried not to apply too much pressure.”
Escobar just moved to San Diego from Las Vegas. Her training involved more than 200 hours of hands-on experience. Some massage therapists--and Torquato was one--complete a minimum of 1,000 hours’ training.
‘Process Was Fair’
“I thought the process was fair,” Escobar said. “I get the impression they’re trying to eliminate people whose experience with massage has been limited to spouses, or boyfriends and girlfriends. But this was really pretty thorough.”
Escobar has applied for a job at a Hillcrest spa called Sincerely Yours. Its ad in the Yellow Pages seems provocative, to say the least. A woman with long, flowing hair and luminous dark eyes peers out from the page next to the words: “Personalized service to . . . home, hotel, office.”
All licensed massage practitioners in San Diego County have to pass Torquato’s way sooner or later. She is annoyed with the perception that massage is little more than a cover for what goes on behind a bordello’s closed doors. When she moved to San Diego 12 years ago from Florida--she hails from Johnstown, Pa.--she was “appalled” by what was found under the Yellow Pages listing: “MASSAGE.”
Even now, the ads crowd the pages, beckoning customers to such businesses as “Unlimited Fantasy,” “Light Up Your Life With Candlelight,” “JC’s Kittens” and “Dream Girls.”
Torquato finds such ads sexist and has helped to campaign for separate listings for practitioners serious about massage. Separate listings won’t be added for a year or two.
Torquato added, not without defensiveness, that it isn’t her job “to assess whether someone is using massage in the realm of prostitution.” Applicants are required to take extensive written tests before making it as far as Torquato. She helps devise the tests. They are required to have passed 100 hours of training at an accredited school. Tuition at most 100-hour schools ranges from $700 to $900. For 1,000-hour courses, fees are usually $4,000 to $5,000.
Once they complete the written portion, it’s on to law-enforcement agencies for interviewing, fingerprinting and photographing. If an applicant is leaning toward a cover for prostitution, Torquato indicated, it isn’t really her job to catch that--such a ruse should have been detected earlier, presumably by the police. She merely reviews massage technique.
Jean Snyder handles licensing for the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department. Her jurisdiction covers unincorporated areas, such as Fallbrook and Ramona, both of which have their share of licensed massage outlets.
Is massage sometimes a cover for prostitution?
‘Stayed Pretty Clean’
“Sometimes, I have my own suspicions,” Snyder said, “but I really have no idea. The people we’ve licensed have stayed pretty clean, with one or two exceptions.”
Snyder said the sheriff’s check is extensive. Candidates’ fingerprints are sent to the state Department of Justice to see if any have records. They are then sent to vice units for a records check.
“We have one problem,” Snyder said. “If we have only suspicions, we can’t deny them a permit. They must have had a conviction. Not just an arrest--a conviction.”
Once they’re given a permit, massage therapists (the preferred term) can work for themselves or another person in an office. They can apply for an off-premises license, which basically allows house calls.
Does Torquato like the massages?
“Most of the time,” she said, “they’re wonderful. If it happens that I have a kink that day, it’s nice to have someone with the knowledge of working it out be able to work it out.”
She’s a believer in the benefits--and beauty--of massage.
“It stimulates blood circulation, increases lymphatic flow,” she said. “I like to use massage for a client’s health maintenance. My forte is to bring a client to deep relaxation and work out all the knots and adhesions. I think I’ve developed a successful technique of pressing, pushing, kneading.”
Torquato’s main impression of clients--and of the hundreds who license themselves to give massages--is that everybody is under “a whole lot of stress, an incredible amount. We all think too much. We think and do too much. We’re out of touch with what’s basic to our needs. We tend to forget ourselves in a world that’s so complex, so frightening . . . . There’s so much to think about and do. People no longer know how to relax. The answer is to stop thinking so much, and to simply unwind . . . . “