Pantry Waiters Keep Myth Alive

The Original Pantry Cafe turns 75 next year--and a myth associated with the Figueroa Street landmark is approaching the half-century mark. The myth holds that its waiters are ex-cons.

“Oh, yes,” said waiter Aldo Frisan with a laugh. “We still hear that. People ask me, ‘What were you in for?’ ”

The rumor is believed to have started after World War II when an Eastern sports columnist in town for the Rose Bowl wrote that the waiters looked like thugs.

To be honest, there are a few scary-looking mug shots (excuse me, photos) in a framed display of the early-century workers near the entrance. Nor is the eerie impression dispelled by their nicknames, which appear in parentheses--Whitey, Joe, Tony, Roy, Al, Roxie . . .

But the Pantry has always denied that it recruited out of the nation’s prisons.

The friendly, mild-mannered Frisan, an employee since 1958, resembles a banker more than a waiter.

And how does he respond when asked what he “was in for”?

“I tell them, ‘You wouldn’t believe it,’ ” he said.

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UP FOR BID? In this age of voter cynicism--and the belief that politicians can be bought--Conrad Casler of Claremont was surprised to see that a handful of candidates would have their posters placed near a giant For Sale sign in Rancho Cucamonga (see photo).

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THE DEVIL, HE SAYS: A reserve deputy for the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department has gone to court, demanding that the Department of Motor Vehicles renew his license even though he refuses on religious grounds to write his Social Security number on the application.

John Zentmyer said he believes the number 666 represents the “mark of the beast” as mentioned in the Bible and will bring down upon him the “wrath of God” if he invokes it. Instead, he uses a personal ID number.

Zentmyer, incidentally, belongs to Bel-Air Presbyterian Church, which is also attended by former President Ronald Reagan. You may recall that the Reagans had their Bel-Air address changed years ago so it would not contain the number 666.

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NOT EVEN SEE-THROUGH WINDOWS: Paul Kikuchi of Pasadena found a glass shop that seemed to be short of glass (see photo).

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URBAN FOLK TALES (COLLEGE DIVISION): Yarns in this column about student scams inspired Jim Capell of Quartz Hill to relate another probably apocryphal tale.

This one concerns the student in a huge university lecture hall who refuses to stop writing in his blue book when the period comes to an end. He ignores the professor’s commands to bring his book up. Finally, with everyone gone, he strides over to the professor, who waits with hand outstretched and mind no doubt made up to penalize him.

The student asks the professor, “Do you know who I am?” The professor responds haughtily, “I have no idea.” The student then shoves his blue book into the huge pile of tests on the front table and races out.

miscelLAny:

If you phone Valley College for information, the voice-mail message advises you to press zero “to speak to a living person.” Has sort of a Halloween ring to it, doesn’t it?

Steve Harvey can be reached by phone at (213) 237-7083, by fax at (213) 237-4712, by e-mail at steve.harvey@latimes.com and by mail at Metro, L.A. Times, Times Mirror Square, L.A. 90053.