The Tawdry Tale of the Don Tomas

A bar, a man, a woman, a fight, a murder and, finally, a small monument of candles and broken pieces of pavement, one painted with the words, “R.I.P. Shortie.”

Shortie was Mario Montano, 26, who was shot to death six months ago near a shabby Reseda bar named Don Tomas in the worst of many incidents that police said have plagued this largely residential neighborhood. The man who killed him, police said, had been drinking at the Don Tomas before the murder.

Just another L.A. murder, shots breaking the early morning silence of a San Fernando Valley area of single family homes.

But as I looked into the story, I saw there was more to it. The tale of Mario Montano and the Don Tomas bar is a perfect illustration of the difficulties facing the Los Angeles Police Department as it tries to keep violence from the residential neighborhoods that are the heart and soul of Los Angeles.

And, unlike most tales of tough problems, this one even has a satisfying ending.

*

My attention had been attracted by a small item on the daily schedule of events we get from City News Service announcing a press conference: “10 a.m. RESEDA--The Los Angeles Police Department and the [state] Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control will announce the revocation of the license of the Don Tomas Bar. 19243 Saticoy Street.”

State and city cops aren’t famous for their cooperation and when they work together, it’s often a story. Also, I knew the LAPD had been trying to close troublemaking bars around the city, and this sounded like a success story.

The Don Tomas is located in a strip mall at the intersection of Saticoy Street and Tampa Avenue. Its neighbors include a 7-Eleven, a liquor store, a coin laundry and a couple of other businesses.

At the designated time, I drove into the parking lot and met state ABC district administrator Dale Rasmussen; the LAPD’s Val Paniccia, commander of the West Valley Division, and Sgt. Steve Merrin of the West Valley vice squad.

No other reporter, it seems, shared my enthusiasm for the story. When it was apparent that I comprised the entire press corps, the state and city cops went ahead with their planned photo op, nailing up a big “Notice of Revocation” sign on the door of the closed bar, informing customers that the Don Tomas’ beer and wine license had been taken away. The bar, state officials said, had been serving drunks and engaging in the practice of hiring B-girls, women employees hired to persuade men to buy them drinks, a practice banned by state law.

Eugenio Rodriguez, the convicted killer, had gone into the Don Tomas to pick up his girlfriend, who worked there. Homicide Det. Rick Swanston said Rodriguez had some drinks and left with the woman. Outside the bar, he got into a fight with some other men.

Just about then, Shortie Montano, who lived in the neighborhood, drove up to the 7-Eleven to buy milk for his girlfriend and baby. He was well known in the strip mall, according to Henry Diab, who operates the liquor store. “He was friendly, he had a nice car,” Diab told me. “He looked like a gang member but he wasn’t.”

Montano knew some of the brawlers and tried to break up the fight, Detective Swanston said, but Rodriguez told him to mind his own business. Do what he says, Rodriguez’s girlfriend told Montano, or he’ll kill you.

Montano left, Swanston said. So did Rodriguez. When they drove by each other in the alley, Rodriguez opened fire, fatally wounding Montano. He was traced through his license plate and this week Deputy Dist. Atty. Shelley Samuels won a first-degree murder conviction with special circumstances, a potential death penalty offense.

*

The murder showed the LAPD that the brawling at the Don Tomas had turned deadly, requiring a change of tactics.

For years, Sgt. Merrin said, the bar had been trouble for the nearby apartments and the residential subdivision across Saticoy. There was brawling, drinking in the parking lot and urinating and passing out in the front yards of the houses.

It took a lot of police time to deal with disruptions that often didn’t end up in arrests, the suspects having fled, or the brawls so confused the cops that they couldn’t figure out who was at fault. With the murder, the situation escalated, Merrin said. With the place clearly turning deadly, the cops began responding to the frequent calls involving the Don Tomas with four patrol cars instead of the usual one.

Constant trouble at the bar diverted most, if not all, of the patrol cars in the area to this one trouble spot. “Establishments such as the Don Tomas take away from the service that the LAPD can provide to the rest of the city,” said Councilwoman Laura Chick, who represents the area.

I drove through the surrounding neighborhoods and saw what Chick meant.

They are the tract homes built during the Valley’s post World War II transformation from farmland to subdivisions. Most are neatly maintained although some are badly neglected.

The LAPD, knowing how crime tips a neighborhood into a slum, has put in a lot of time making these streets safe and secure. This is among the Valley areas where community policing began, long before the beating of Rodney King and the 1992 riots brought the concept to public attention. Police officers, working with residents, have been identifying Valley trouble spots for years and dispatching patrol cars to deal with them before violence erupts.

Now the cars won’t be tied up at this particular violent bar. Let’s celebrate closing time at the Don Tomas.