Black, Proud and Lonely in O.C. : But Businesses Thrive Even With a Largely White Clientele
Many of the nation’s largest cities--Los Angeles, Chicago, New York, Atlanta--have a well-established black business community where residents shop and dine.
Like other ethnic groups, blacks historically have gravitated to their own neighborhoods, where they take their laundry to the black-owned dry cleaner down the street and buy milk at the corner market.
But the racial mosaic of Orange County is much different from other metropolitan areas. Here, blacks account for less than 2% of the population, and those 39,000 people make up an even smaller fraction of the county’s consumers. And the blacks who do live here are widely scattered; there is no primary black business district in Orange County.
Also, other major ethnic groups far outnumber blacks here. Out of a total population of 2.4 million, Latinos make up 24% and Asians 10%.
So black-owned businesses here find themselves in an unusual situation: Very few of their customers are black.
“It’s an interesting departure from what generally has been the experience of black enterprises,” said Lawrence de Graaf, a Cal State Fullerton professor who specializes in black history. “Traditionally, black businesses have been set up almost exclusively to serve black clientele.”
In Orange County, only a handful of black-owned specialty businesses--such as hair salons and barber shops--cater to other blacks. There just aren’t enough blacks to keep many types of businesses profitable.
“Everything from pharmacies to auto dealerships can survive serving only the black community in areas with a larger black population,” said Aaron Lovejoy, president of the Black Chamber of Commerce of Orange County. “But for the most part, if a business is going to survive here, it has to sell to the general population.”
Four black professionals--a doctor, a graphic designer, a party decorator and a mortgage broker--share their experiences running a business in Orange County.
EXCEL TO SUCCEED
Almost every nose that Dr. Harrell Robinson treats is on a white face. The ear, nose and throat specialist sees about 100 patients a week--yet even with that volume, it’s unusual for a black patient to pass through his office.
“There’s always a camaraderie, although we’ve never met--a sense of brotherhood, a mutual affinity,” Robinson said of the rare encounters. “It’s oftentimes unspoken. They won’t mention, ‘Hey, you’re a black guy.’ But you can look into the windows of their eyes and tell that they approve, that they’re happy that I’m doing well.”
Robinson began his practice in Orange 11 years ago, soon after his graduation from Loma Linda University School of Medicine. A native of Orlando, Fla., he decided to live in Southern California--and picked Orange County as the place to be.
“I felt that it’s a nicer area than Los Angeles for a family, although I still don’t have a family,” laughed Robinson, 40, who lives in Anaheim Hills.
He diplomatically describes the county as “demographically challenging.”
“I know only a few other black doctors who work here,” he said.
Despite his ultra-minority status in a county that largely developed out of white flight, Robinson said he has never experienced blatant racism in his practice. “It’s crossed my mind that some people would not want to come to me because I’m black, but no one has ever openly admitted that,” he said. “I don’t worry about it. I find that most people realize I’m a good physician and that color is of no importance.”
In fact, he surmised, being one of the few black physicians in the county might even work in his favor by lending him a certain aura. “I think a lot of my patients, because I’m in a predominantly white area, assume I’m above average.”
They’re right, he added with good-natured immodesty: “Like women and other minorities, blacks have to prove themselves in the professional environment; we have to excel to succeed.”
Orange County, Robinson believes, suffers “a bad rap that has intimidated blacks from coming here.”
“There’s more opportunity for black businesses here than is realized,” he said. “It just so happens that the majority of people here are white, but that doesn’t mean that the majority of people are racist.”
BLACK AND PROUD
As a black businesswoman in mostly white South County, Deborah Farinella doesn’t worry about whatever prejudices customers might harbor, she just wants them to know that she is black--and proud of it.
“I’m fair-skinned, so often people don’t realize I’m black,” Farinella said. “But I’m not someone trying to pass myself off as white.”
How does one nonchalantly point out her ethnicity during cash-register chitchat? “I could say, ‘Thanks for your business, and by the way, I’m black,”’ Farinella quipped.
Instead, she took a more subtle approach at the Mission Viejo gift shop she owned for six years by displaying pictures of her obviously black parents on the counter.
Pregnant with her second child, the 33-year-old artist sold her popular store, LMNOP, last August so she could work out of her home. She recently started a new business, It’s a Fine Time, designing customized invitations for many of the same customers who frequented her shop.
Her light complexion has allowed her to be like the proverbial fly on the wall, catching the occasional bigoted client off guard. There was the man who complained that his old neighborhood “is going downhill” because of an influx of black families.
“I said, ‘Do you have a problem with that? I’m black myself,’ a” Farinella recalled. The man offered an awkward apology.
Farinella said she finds such racist attitudes somewhat more prevalent in Orange County than she did in likewise predominantly white Encino, where she grew up. “You hear more about hate crimes here, kids getting harassed on their way home from school, skinheads, that baloney,” she said.
She moved to Mission Viejo when she married her husband, Philip, a white dentist who had an established practice in the city.
Although she periodically encounters a racist customer, Farinella believes that even the least enlightened person would overlook the color of a merchant’s skin so long as that shop addresses a consumer need.
If anything, being black has been only advantageous for her; it doesn’t deter whites, but it can attract blacks eager to patronize black-owned businesses, she said: “When they find out I’m black, they make a point out of coming back.”
BELIEF IN SELF
Chuck Mosley has a tried-and-true strategy when he senses a client’s discomfort in dealing with a black man.
“Sometimes when a customer shows up at my office, I can tell by his body language he’s surprised that I’m black,” said Mosley, 44. “I immediately focus on the business at hand; my professionalism overcomes any apprehensions he might feel.”
Besides, Mosley has a “happy business,” he says--one that is more apt to elicit smiles than irrational negativism. His Santa Ana company, Balloons by Design, decorates everything from small wedding receptions to huge political campaign celebrations with hundreds upon hundreds of colorful balloons.
Mosley landed in Tustin 24 years ago as a young Marine. After finishing his military service, he briefly returned to his hometown of Lorain, Ohio but soon missed the diverse job opportunities Southern California offered.
“Just about everyone in Lorain works at the steel mill,” he said. “Orange County seemed to me like a land of opportunity, a place where if you had a dream you could pursue it.”
Indeed, he said, he has enjoyed a satisfying and successful life here--raising four children with his wife, Marie, while operating a property management firm that still supplements his income.
In 1986, he stumbled across the idea to begin his newer enterprise after attending many a balloon-decked event. His first major client was the Michael S. Dukakis campaign in Los Angeles; since then his customers have included Disneyland, UCI Medical Center, and the Orange County Fair. The company fills a niche at the tune of $65,000 in revenue per year.
Mosley is active in a number of local black organizations, and likes to discount his services for some of his nonprofit black clientele--the United Negro College Fund, churches, the Black Chamber of Commerce.
But he’s never seen much reason for planting his company in a a black neighborhood just because of his race. “Orange County is a business center and always will be,” Mosley said. “It’s simply the best place for me to be as a businessman.”
Self-confidence, Mosley said, is the surest weapon for battling racism: “If you believe in yourself, other people will believe in you, too.”
COLOR OF MONEY
In Orange County’s business world, for many the only color that matters is the color of money.
That’s been the experience, anyway, for Lionel Punchard, owner and president of First Republic Mortgage Corp. in Santa Ana. “Orange County has a very sophisticated group of people who are more concerned about making money than they are about skin color,” he said. “The only thing they care about is whether you can get the job done.”
Punchard, 40, founded the mortgage company in 1985 after learning the ropes of the corporate environment in Fluor Corp.’s international operations division. “It was a great place to work,” he said of the Irvine engineering firm. “I was able to take with me a lot of the skills I picked up there.”
His company specializes in high-volume lending; its main clients are large home builders and real estate auctioneers that arrange loans for potential home buyers through First Republic. In 1992, the broker originated $100 million worth of loans.
While many of the loans his company makes have eventually gone to black home buyers over the years, Punchard said virtually all of the clients he deals with directly are white. So, too, are the business people he hobnobs with at meetings held by such organizations as the Building Industry Assn.
“There might be anywhere from 100 to 200 people, and I’m typically the only black face in the crowd,” Punchard said. “I’m conspicuous by my presence or my absence.”
However, he said, that distinction “doesn’t even faze” him: “It’s not an issue. I know there are people who judge others by the color of their skin, but I’ve been very fortunate in that I’ve only been judged by my performance.”
Other parts of the country might not be ready for a mortgage company headed by a black man, he said. “It certainly would be tough for me to provide my services in the deep South,” said Punchard, who lives with his wife and three children in Mission Viejo.
Throughout his life, from Fullerton College football star to entrepreneurial success story, Punchard has viewed his minority status as one more incentive to excel. “I would never accept being black as a failure,” said the Long Beach native. “It just pushes me harder. In the back of my mind, I want to be three times better than the next guy--whether he’s black or white.”
