Safety for Sale : Athletes, Entertainers Pay Mercado to Provide Peace of Mind

Hours after a spectator stabbed tennis star Monica Seles in the back during an April 30 match at Hamburg, Germany, Nelson Mercado of Santa Ana videotaped a television replay of the attack and filed it on the shelf next to recorded assassination attempts on former presidents Gerald Ford and Ronald Reagan, the Pope and the murder of Egyptian leader Anwar Sadat.

Security breaches make Mercado’s skin crawl.

“The Seles thing blew me away,” he says. “It made me sick. It hurt me to see Monica get hurt.”

Mercado, a personal bodyguard who has protected top celebrities, professional athletes and, more recently, Rodney G. King, routinely reviews the tapes to make sure what was done unto others never happens to anyone under his watch.

“Dead clients don’t pay,” Mercado says coolly.

So, Mercado rolls the Seles video over and over.

“I look for things: eye movements, security, behavior,” he explains.

Mercado, 33, takes his work seriously.

Sign on the dotted line for him and he puts his life on the line for you.

Mercado once pulled singer Sheena Easton out of a smoke-filled dressing room after a coffee pot caught fire.

Before King testified in the civil rights trial against four Los Angeles Police Department officers who were accused of beating him, Mercado pulled his client aside.

“I’m here for you,” he told King. “By any means necessary. If I get killed, use my body as a shield. I’m dead anyway.”

David Cone, the Kansas City Royal pitcher, has received a similar pledge.

“If the situation arose, he would take a bullet for you,” Cone said.

Mercado hasn’t had to, but last year there was a close call.

As Cone enjoyed himself at a popular Los Angeles nightclub after a game, Mercado quietly watched a brewing argument between a couple at the bar.

In a flash, a woman took a .25-caliber pistol from her purse and pointed it toward her boyfriend. Cone was in the line of fire, but Mercado stepped in, disarmed the woman and ushered her out of the club.

“I didn’t even realize it,” Cone says. “He’s the one who saw it. I wouldn’t have known.”

Securing peace of mind is why Cone and others pay Mercado as much as $20,000 per year for protection. Mercado’s clients have included Spike Lee, Lionel Richie, Liberace, Michael Jackson, Oprah Winfrey, the comedian Gallagher, Prince and New Kids On The Block.

In the tranquil years before his life became a security nightmare, former heavyweight champion Mike Tyson was a client. Baseball players under Mercado’s watch include Cone, Eric Davis of the Dodgers, Bobby Bonilla, Frank Viola, Barry Larkin, John Franco and Ron Darling.

“My job is to get them from point A to point B,” Mercado says. “I have my professionalism, that’s to take the bullet. I’ll do it for Eric Davis, I’ll do it for David Cone.”

Rodney G. King?

“I’ll take one for him.”

Mercado earned his reputation by word of mouth. He and a partner, Bill Holland, operate a two-man company called the Emerald Group based in Fountain Valley.

More than with muscle, Mercado wields power with trust. Supermarket tabloids try to ply him for gossip.

“I know a lot of secrets, so many that if I said one, I wouldn’t be able to work the next day,” Mercado says. “My secrets will stay with me. See no evil, speak no evil. I don’t give up information. That’s against the rules.”

Most years, Mercado earns six figures.

In his best year, 1988, Mercado made $200,000.

Despite his success, Mercado is appalled at the lack of respect for his profession.

“People continue to think security is a joke,” he says.

Mercado keeps waiting for the punch lines.

He cannot conceive how someone such as Monica Seles, a tennis star who has earned millions, would not have a bodyguard to protect her from the likes of Gunther Parche, the 38-year-old German who reached over a barrier during a break in a match and stabbed Seles.

Parche said he stabbed Seles so his favorite player, Steffi Graf, would regain the world’s No. 1 ranking.

Wackos have always stalked celebrities, but Mercado says the thin line that once separated stars from their fans has all but faded.

“It’s just the instability of our society,” he said.

“One day, there’s no doubt in my mind, there will be a tragedy on any of those fields, whether it be tennis, baseball or football,” Mercado says. “It’s like a rubber band. Some day it’s going to snap.”

When push comes to shove in the bodyguard business, Mercado says most celebrities do not think security is necessary. Some don’t want to pay the price.

A strongman with Mercado’s skills can cost as much as $750 a day. But Seles could have secured protection for half that price.

“You pay for the experience,” Mercado says. “But how can you put a price on your life when you’re making millions of dollars?”

Recently, a representative of Julia Roberts called to ask how much Mercado would charge to investigate a man who was stalking the actress.

“I found out they were calling around pricing for security,” Mercado says. “How can you put a price on someone with a stalker?”

Mercado didn’t get the case.

“Security is not an expense,” he says. “It’s an investment.”

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Mercado has always been obsessed with security.

“I really believe I came to the world for a purpose,” he says.

It doesn’t take Freud to figure out why.

Mercado vowed to do for others what he could not do for his mother.

Raised in the housing projects of Brooklyn, the fifth oldest in a family of 11, Mercado watched helplessly as his father, Joseph, physically abused his mother, Bessie.

At LaFayette High, Mercado’s childhood friend, John Franco, dreamed of becoming a major league pitcher.

Mercado wanted to protect the President of the United States.

He was introduced to the security business early on, having roamed the streets of Brooklyn with relatives of the Gambinos, a New York crime family.

Wanting to break clean after high school, Mercado moved to Southern California and enrolled at Santa Ana College (now Rancho Santiago), where he played linebacker on the football team.

Two years later, his future uncertain, Mercado took a job in construction. Then, a bit of fate: In 1981, Mercado landed a job laying marble at a store on Rodeo Drive owned by Bijan, the fashion designer.

Bijan catered to Hollywood’s most famous celebrities and was looking for security help. Mercado, the former linebacker, got the job.

At the store there was a regular patron who was a Secret Service agent who protected Henry Kissinger.

The man invited Mercado to a security training course near CIA headquarters in Virginia. For four months, Mercado was trained by and learned tricks of the trade from former government agents, including G. Gordon Liddy.

Mercado returned to Los Angeles and used his connections to land a job protecting singer Lionel Richie.

The rest is security history.

Mercado broke into sports security in 1984 after receiving a frantic call from George Curtis, trainer for the Los Angeles Express of the now defunct United States Football League.

Curtis, who had been Mercado’s trainer in college, was panicked.

Greg Fields, a 6-foot-6, 265-pound defensive lineman who did not necessarily agree with the team’s decision to release him, threatened to return with a .357 magnum and shoot John Hadl, the team’s coach.

Mercado was in Palm Springs and could not drive fast enough--although he tried--to the team’s Manhattan Beach headquarters.

Instead of shooting Hadl, Fields walked onto the practice field and blindsided the coach with a tremendous punch, knocking Hadl to the grass.

Mercado arrived soon after and served Fields with a restraining order.

Mercado worked with the Express until 1985, before landing an eight-month job protecting Liberace. The assignment: guard the pianist’s trinkets and furs as if they were the crown jewels.

Mercado then took a job protecting Gallagher, the comedian.

Don’t laugh. Says Mercado: “He ran into a lot of hecklers.”

Mercado worked security for the Jackson family’s Victory Tour. He protected Prince. Mercado stood watch at the door the night the music industry’s biggest stars entered the studio to record the smash hit, “We Are The World.”

Five years ago, Oprah Winfrey paid Mercado $500 a day to track down a stalker who was harassing her. Mercado located the man and slapped him with a restraining order.

And while Mercado is a martial arts expert who is licensed to carry a gun in 50 states, he rarely resorts to violence.

“My concept is to do it with my mind, not my body,” Mercado says.

Sometimes, violence is unavoidable.

In 1989, outside the Ed Sullivan Theatre in New York, a group of screaming teen-agers attacked a limousine carry members of the pop group, New Kids On The Block.

Mercado attempted to hold them off.

“They literally tore my suit to shreds,” he says.

Two males charged Mercado, who grabbed one with each arm.

“I landed them on the other side of the limo,” he says. “Airborne. It hurt me, because I know I hurt them.”

But that’s not Mercado’s style. Violence involving millionaire clients usually leads to nasty lawsuits.

After the 1989 All-Star game at Anaheim Stadium, a fan took a swing at former Dodger Pedro Guerrero from behind in the parking lot as he unleashed a string of epithets.

Guerrero wanted to rip the fan’s head off.

A cooler head prevailed.

Mercado firmly escorted the fan back to his car and advised him to leave.

“Guerrero had a lot more to lose than that guy,” Mercado explained.

For good measure, Mercado noted the license plate number on the car and ran a police check. If the fan been a security concern, Mercado would have started his own file.

Clients are more impressed with Mercado’s investigative skills than his head-bashing capabilities.

“It’s nice to have him around, I’ll admit it,” Cone says. “Not just for his protection, but for his connections.”

Players have been known to ask Mercado to run security checks on potential girlfriends. Are they living alone? Are there intentions sincere? Are they just out for a money grab?

Mercado also investigates business propositions.

If someone approaches Eric Davis with an idea about investing in Florida swamp land, Mercado gets the first call.

“He’ll run checks for me,” says Davis who, like Cone, considers Mercado more a friend than a protector. “He finds out a lot of information. It’s good to have a friend like that in the field.”

When Davis is on the road, Mercado often keeps watch over Davis’ wife and children.

Dodger pitcher Kevin Gross once paid a man $2,500 to build a trailer for his motorcycles. When the man fled with the money, Gross called Mercado, who obtained the canceled check, lifted a fingerprint, had his contacts in the State Department run a check and, one week later, was standing at the man’s doorstep.

Gross got his money back and paid Mercado $650.

Mercado makes most of his baseball contacts through Franco, his old Brooklyn buddy who, indeed, grew up to be a big league pitcher.

Mercado met Davis in 1988 when Franco and Davis were teammates with the Cincinnati Reds.

When Franco moved on to the New York Mets, Mercado was introduced to more players, including Bonilla and Cone.

Cone, who has known his share of off-the-field headlines, became fast friends with Mercado.

Cone says Mercado gives him the freedom to enjoy a night out without having to look over his shoulder. Mercado also makes a good witness.

“How many times do you hear about a barroom fight, where things get blown out of proportion?” Cone says. “You don’t get the facts, you get sensational headlines. A guy like Nelson can circumvent any problems and stop them before they happen.”

When Cone travels to Southern California, Mercado always picks him up at the airport. Cone arranges for Mercado to stay in the room next to his at the team hotel. Mercado’s wife, Judy, and their son, Nelson Jr., are always invited.

Mercado does not smother clients with public displays of force, preferring to work behind the scenes.

“It’s amazing how observant he is,” Cone says. “It’s almost like he has his game face on, like a middle linebacker. Like he’s playing football again and he’s trying to read the quarterback.”

If he played now, Mercado could read the quarterback’s lips, having mastered the skill through a series of training courses.

It serves him well at noisy night spots.

Across a room, a fan might whisper to a friend that he’s going to approach Bonilla for an autograph, at which time Mercado will ask Bonilla if he’s willing. If so, the fan may approach. If not, Mercado stops the seeker before he leaves his bar stool.

Mercado specializes in stalking cases. Franco was stalked by an infatuated woman who followed him from city to city during the season.

To catch her, Mercado posed as an autograph seeker and gathered enough information in stadium parking lots to work up a description. He tracked the woman down at Cincinnati’s Riverfront Stadium and put an end to it with a restraining order and a few choice words.

Mercado doesn’t always wait for clients to come to him.

Last January, Mercado approached Milton C. Grimes, Rodney G. King’s attorney, to see if his client had security.

Mercado learned there had been numerous death threats against King as the emotionally charged civil rights trial approached.

Grimes eventually hired Mercado to escort King in public.

There was nearly trouble on a night when King attended a Laker game without Mercado. A man approached King, stuck out his hand and pointedly told King he got everything he deserved from police.

“If I was there, he would not have shaken his hand,” Mercado said. “Because if I can shake your hand, I can easily do what I need to do with you. It was dangerous.”

Mercado, through Eric Davis, arranged for King to attend opening day at Dodger Stadium.

Davis and Mercado have become close friends. As a sports star who has endured his share of boos this season, Davis said stars who seek protection from the public are not paranoid.

With the average baseball player making more than $1 million per season, and several making much more, the pressure to perform is greater than ever.

Some fans expect their heroes to live up to their enormous salaries.

When they can’t, some seek revenge.

“There are sick people out there and you guys don’t realize it,” Davis says.

Seles was one of the lucky ones, she survived.

“This thing with Seles should have never happened,” Mercado says. “These athletes just don’t realize the importance of security. Why do we always have to wait for something to happen?”