Rattled by Reality of Certain Undesirables

Undesirable elements have cropped up recently in the South County, largely a result of spring. Like a lot of practical-minded people, I’ve been wondering what to do about them, always a believer in the do-something-even-if-it’s-wrong philosophy of life.

The first of these elements is gangs--Latino, Vietnamese and skinhead. There is now gang graffiti at Alta Laguna Park, bringing that serene little place into step with many of the larger and more sophisticated parks in Orange County. The writing has something to do with establishing turf, I believe, although I’ve seen no gang members on the tennis courts or baseball diamond that make up the heart of Alta Laguna Park. A couple of weeks ago, two Vietnamese kids were arrested up there after dark, both packing side arms.

That same week, I noted two different groups of Latinos in gang attire walking around Laguna Beach, one group being rousted by two police officers. (The rousted kids were to be seen later eating ice cream, so apparently they hadn’t been doing anything wrong.) A few days later, I watched a group of four skinheads marching up Ocean Avenue in Laguna, whacking signs and walls with broomstick-clubs and kicking trash cans into the gutter. Irate owners popped from their shops, waving and yelling, but the skinheads ran down the street and out of sight.

The second set of undesirables are the drunk and probably psychotic bums who’ve set up shop in town. As pointed out by a friend of mine, the naturalist Doug Thompson, there is a difference between “colorful” bums who mind their own business and lend a certain flair to some cities, and the less-entertaining types who rudely shake you down for money, mutter or scream insults at being refused, crap and pee in the alleys or--if you’re a woman--snarl some truly nasty things when they think no one else is around to hear.

The aforementioned Doug, a kindly and easygoing soul, was told by one gent: “I wish I had a .38 to blow your head off.” My own little brother and I recently were set upon by a large hairy man in a hardware store parking lot who bellowed his obscene insults into the air for so long that Matt finally had to bring the full seriousness of his 6-foot-5 being to bear, against which the insults faded into the roar of an OCTD bus belching up Broadway and the bum headed for easier pickings.

The third group of undesirables is the rattlesnakes--both Crotalus ruber and Crotalus viridis --which now are in full stampede across Laguna Canyon. The reasons for the increased numbers this season are the plentiful food engendered by the winter rains and the full-court press of development to the east of the canyon. (Why didn’t Kathryn Thompson name one of her Laguna Audubon streets after all these lovely critters she displaced, instead of just the birds? “Snakebite Glade” or “Viper Glen” certainly would have the ring of verisimilitude, not to mention the truth-in-advertising factor missing from Thompson’s earlier promises of Laguna Beach mailing addresses.)

One neighbor spotted the biggest rattler he’d ever seen just last week, which is really saying something since he’s lived in the canyon for 28 years. I myself spotted a large one (four feet plus) and a small one (15 inches, two rattles) and, for reasons still not completely clear to me, put them both in a trash can from which they cannot (I hope) escape.

What to do?

With regard to the gangs, I have nothing much to propose other than perhaps staging an Alta Laguna Gangbanger Tennis Open this summer whereby the “turf” can be divvied up without so much spray paint. I’m a firm believer in people’s right to free assembly regardless of what clothes or colors they choose to wear. I’m also a firm believer in a person’s right to keep and bear arms, which brings on a heart-wrenching contradiction in me when I see gangsters buying guns at local sporting goods stores.

My other thought would be that the peace-loving citizenry might get a clue from the gangsters, and learn to own and operate weapons for their self-defense. This is a highly politically incorrect and probably not very sound idea, but I for one would rather have a shotgun under my bed than a Kevlar vest and some vague Sociology 100 notions of “talking them out of it.”

So far as the bums go, I just wish they’d mind their manners like the rest of us have to. You can’t fault a person for being broke or mentally defective, but gallons of Thunderbird and choruses of obscenity don’t seem to me to be altogether healthy maintenance devices.

The rattlesnakes are by far the most desirable of the undesirable elements, because they don’t take parking spaces and because you don’t have to worry about whether they’re packing or not (they always are). They don’t kill each other over “turf”; they prefer to be left alone.

They also don’t ask you for money and cuss you out when you say no.

Rattlesnakes are also easier to get rid of than gangsters and bums. No sooner had I let out the news that I’d caught a couple of rattlers than I got calls from two friends (one a teacher, the other an artist) who wanted them. The city informed me that Animal Control would be happy to take care of them--they would either take them “far out” in the canyon and release them, or “kill them.” When I asked how they determined which fate, the receptionist told me she didn’t “know what they go by.” I then called the Irvine Co., onto whose land I was considering releasing the snakes, and a very friendly Environmental Department person told me to go ahead and let them go “as long as it’s away from any danger to any human.”

“Would Fashion Island qualify?”

“No, it would not,” she said.

So the rattlesnake problem is still unsolved, although I’ll probably opt for the Irvine Co.’s generous offer.

I wonder if the gangsters and bums would be welcome out in those beautiful arid hills, too. Tough life out there, I’ll bet.

DR, VAL B. MINA / Los Angeles Times