Guard’s Mettle Tested at Heavy-Metal Music Club

It’s a Friday night at Paladino’s Lounge, and from the parking lot you can hear the ripping guitars of Chigger Redd cutting through a rendition of “Working Blues.”

Outside, heavy metal dudes with long hair and black leather pants and silver rings on their fingers queue up beside women in short skirts and halter tops. A muscular guy without a shirt on elbows his way past them into the club, carrying equipment, and another man walks past tuning a guitar.

In addition to Chigger Redd, tonight’s billing includes two bands with members of ‘80s rock groups Warrant and Ratt. As people approach the door, several announce importantly, “I’m with the band” or “I’m on the guest list.”

Everybody wants to get in quickly, but everyone first has to get past security guard Daniel Salgado. No one under 21 is permitted and one by one they hand over their IDs for inspection by Salgado, who does not seem the least overwhelmed by the people crowding around him.

Take the group of young men who try to reenter the Reseda Boulevard club. They show Salgado the stamps on their hands, but that isn’t enough. He wants to see IDs too.

A club worker had tipped off Salgado that something was up. Perhaps the men had left the club to lend their IDs to friends who were under 21. Or perhaps they had gotten in with borrowed IDs themselves.

Whatever the circumstances, they don’t have IDs now--and Salgado bars the door.

“I can’t let you guys in at all anymore,” said Salgado. “You guys screwed up. Come back tomorrow. Tomorrow’s a different story.”

It’s a different story every Friday and Saturday night for Salgado at Paladino’s, where he makes sure the rocking atmosphere doesn’t get out of hand. Besides checking IDs, he interrupts arguments before they turn violent, keeps patrons from taking their drinks outside and reminds customers they can’t smoke indoors. Anyone he finds staggering or falling asleep he asks to leave.

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Beefy at 6 feet and 245 pounds, Salgado can tame most troublemakers with just a glance. To stay fit, he rides a bike, lifts weights, jogs and practices martial arts. For the past year, Salgado and three other private security guards who comprise his team have worked several nights a week at Paladino’s.

Salgado has the owner’s total trust, said Nancy Paladino, wife of owner Ken Paladino.

“You have to be careful to trust someone to check IDs,” said Nancy Paladino, 42, noting the club could lose its liquor license. “His size is something someone first looks at. He’s also professional and has a good sense of humor that makes people feel comfortable.”

Julie King, who came to watch members of Warrant and Chigger Redd, said she enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere.

“I haven’t seen any violence--that’s a plus,” said King, 40, of Burbank. “[Security] won’t even let you take a [beer] bottle on the dance floor.”

In fact, compared with the action Salgado has seen elsewhere during a decade in security work, Paladino’s has been almost boring. Salgado said he has broken up only one fight--between two guys who were slam dancing during a concert--and they apologized to him.

Salgado said when he or other security guards spot two customers arguing, they immediately get between the bickering pair. The security guards always work in twos to watch each others’ backs, he said.

“If they keep it up we have the right to handcuff them,” said Salgado, 36. “If [a customer] spits on us or throws drinks at us, we have the right to arrest them and escort them out.”

Throughout their shift, Salgado and his partner give each other glances whenever they detect any tense situation in the club. Like cops, they walk a careful line being forceful when necessary, without being abusive.

“We’re not bullies,” he said. “Some security guys and bouncers try to push their way around. At some places they are very rude. They’re staring you down. Some of the bouncers give the rest of us a bad name.”

“We’re not here to handle anybody rough, but to deal with the public and keep everything safe,” Salgado said. “You have to be aggressive, but nice to people. Everybody knows we can get real mean and nasty if we have to.”

Salgado, who lives in Reseda, said he turns away customers who seem drunk and some of them have tried to choke him when he wouldn’t let them in. During a recent Friday night, a drunk guy with a cell phone came outside and yelled, “Who’s got the beans? Is this Mardi Gras or what?” at dumbfounded people chatting in the parking lot. Then he climbed into a taxi and split, to Salgado’s relief.

“I gotta ask him to leave all the time,” said Salgado, who wears earrings on both ears and has a long python tattoo across his big right biceps and forearm. “He bugs everybody.”

“After a couple of drinks, some people get nasty,” Salgado added. “A lot of them taunt me and say, ‘Why don’t you handcuff me or take me outside and beat me up?’ I say, ‘Sorry, sir. We don’t do that.’ . . . When somebody’s drunk they want to fight everybody [and] they can’t even stand up.”

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Besides handling obnoxious drunks, Salgado also deals with customers who become defensive when they have to show identification.

“We get remarks like, ‘I’m old enough to be your dad. I was working when you were in your diapers,’ ” Salgado said. “Some don’t want to show ID because they’re in the band. . . . What did mother always tell you? When you go out always leave with money, ID and clean underwear.”

When Salgado asks for ID, he often must inspect a wide variety of out-of-state driver’s licenses and foreign passports. Often, underage teenagers try to fool him with their siblings’ IDs.

“I give them credit for trying. I was once young too,” he joked.

Although Salgado’s job is to keep order, he said he grew up fighting on the streets of Selma, near Fresno. He thought of being a cop, but he married young and had a son.

Now with two kids and a girlfriend, he works as a dispatch manager at an auto transmission distribution warehouse in Van Nuys during the week. He gets paid $10 an hour for his part-time work at Paladino’s.

Salgado said he started in security working as an unlicensed bouncer for extra cash. But he has repudiated the bouncer label and describes himself as a private security guard. He has a guard card issued by the state Bureau of Security and Investigative Services and carries chemical spray, a baton and handcuffs on his belt. He also has a state permit to carry a handgun and can work as a bodyguard.

Salgado handled security at clubs, a dance hall and a fast-food restaurant before coming to Paladino’s, where he was initially a customer. Before Paladino’s, Salgado worked at a hamburger stand on Roscoe Boulevard in North Hills, where at night gang members gathered and arguments, fights and shootings often erupted, he said.

Salgado wore a bulletproof vest the two years he worked at the burger joint, where run-ins with gang members were common.

“I had to learn not to panic,” he said.

When things get slow at the door at Paladino’s, Salgado takes a walk inside the club, past the heavy metal fans on the dance floor hypnotically mouthing the lyrics to their favorite songs, such as a tribute band’s rendition of Poison’s “Every Rose Has Its Thorn.” He makes sure the aisles are clear for waitresses and with his long flashlight he helps revelers find their lost keys in the dark.

“It makes you feel good helping other people,” he said about his weekend job. “It keeps you busy too.”