Streetwise : Scrappy Entrepreneurs in Taco Trucks Face Riskier Business

They are the rugged individualists and scrappy entrepreneurs of the freewheeling catering industry.

People who drive loncheras, better known as taco trucks, can be seen across the barrios of Los Angeles selling steaming hot tacos to Latino customers in worn work boots and the occasional burger to preppie Anglo college students.

For many new immigrants from Mexico, buying a taco truck is a first strenuous step up the American ladder of success. Sixteen-hour days are not uncommon, and the take can range from $300 or more in a good location to as little as $50 on a bad day.

Operating a taco truck “is a tough way to make a living--20 miles of bad road,” said Rene Wyss, president of Wyss Brothers Inc. of Bell Gardens, which sells about 20 lonchera trucks each year to hopeful businessmen. “They make a living because they are determined.”

The brutal killings this week of Ismael Cervantes, 43, his 13-year-old son, Ismael Jr., and three employees underscored the conviction in the industry that an already tough business has gotten a lot tougher.

While the motive for the killings remains unclear, fear of violence is only one difficulty the truck owners face. These entrepreneurs, sometimes known as loncheros or taqueros, say increased competition has cut into profits and forced more people to work the long nighttime shifts that exposed Cervantes to danger.

Competition is so intense that one truck owner has already made inquiries about taking over Cervantes’ spot in front of the See & Save furniture store on Lankershim Boulevard in North Hollywood.

“I don’t know if (the Cervantes family) will be back,” said the man, who refused to give his name. “If they don’t use it, somebody else will.”

Adding to the pressures of the business, the city adopted an ordinance in September that makes it illegal for trucks to set up for longer than 30 minutes in residential areas and an hour in commercial areas. Last year, 50 trucks circled Los Angeles City Hall while dozens of family members marched outside to protest the regulation, which was adopted because of complaints from residents about litter and other problems.

Just as earlier generations of immigrants arrived in New York’s ethnic neighborhoods and dreamed of opening their own garment shops or corner groceries, many of today’s poor Mexican immigrants look forward to driving their own lonchera , according to several people close to the industry.

“It’s quite a cultural thing,” said Andrew Willing, a Los Angeles attorney who represents the Independent Catering Truck Owners Assn., made up mainly of loncheros and other mom-and-pop truck owners. “Several told me it reminds them of the plazas back home where they would go to eat food and talk to friends.”

Selling food from vehicles “is common throughout Mexico,” Wyss said.

Cervantes, for instance, came to the United States 20 years ago from San Diego, a small community 150 miles north of Mexico City in the rural, heavily agricultural state of Guanajuato. He worked first as a cook and then bought his own taco truck 10 years ago.

By the time of his death, said his sister-in-law, Rachel Cervantes, he had become prosperous and was debt-free.

Newer immigrants continue to follow the same route in search of success.

Jose Robles and Hector Hernandez bought their lonchera three months ago, naming it Mariscos El Guasavense after a beach in their home state of Sinaloa. They set up shop along San Fernando Road near Lankershim.

The men, in their early 30s, said that business has been steady in the industrial area near a freeway interchange. Many of their customers are Latino truck drivers, and they hope word of their location will spread.

But their dream of prosperity has been dampened by concerns raised by the five slayings.

“We are afraid,” Robles said. “We don’t work at night and we take precautions. Our doors are always closed and locked. What else can we do?”

“Pretty soon we may buy a gun . . . maybe a bazooka,” answered Hernandez, smiling.

The loncheras occupy a special niche within the wider catering industry. The Los Angeles County Department of Health Services estimates that there are 3,500 catering trucks on the road countywide, a figure Willing says is low. But most of those are route trucks that serve specific businesses, such as construction sites.

It has been estimated that there are several hundred loncheras, though nobody knows for sure. While the route trucks serve specific businesses and travel from site to site, the loncheras may park for hours at a single spot, dispensing sodas and tacos.

Catering trucks also serve other immigrant groups--from Vietnamese to Armenians--but the taco trucks predominate.

Typically, the trucks are staffed by a driver, often the owner, and one or two cooks. The boxy 22-foot-long rigs are fitted with a grill, steam tables, possibly a barbecue, a generator and coffee maker.

A new truck runs between $40,000 and $60,000, Wyss said. Used trucks sell for about $20,000, with a $5,000 down payment.

Once he buys a truck, the aspiring businessman stocks up at commissaries, warehouse-type businesses that supply everything from refried beans to carnitas . Some trucks also serve up exotic dishes, such as tacos containing sesos (brains), cabeza (head) and lengua (tongue).

Each taquero must pay $348 annually for a permit from the health department, which is charged with inspecting the trucks and can order them to close down temporarily if they fail to pass. There were 131 closures in October out of more than 1,200 inspections, said Richard Wagner, director of the inspection program. That is about average in the lonchera industry, he said.

Once permitted and supplied, taqueros begin their search for a site to set up. Cervantes parked next to the furniture store for a decade with the permission of the store owner. Others lease space from bars or other businesses.

Many loncheros say competition forces them to work nights, where they face greater danger.

William Gomez, who works on a catering truck that travels tough streets in the northeast San Fernando Valley said: “Whatever happens, I have to keep working. If I don’t work, I don’t eat.”

Times Staff Writer Jesus Sanchez contributed to this story.