FROM THE NORTH SHORE

The Flashing VCR Clock Chronicles

I had come to  the Punta Mita manse of Nando, a good friend and client because of a desperate message from him on my cell phone. Upon arrival at  Casa des Colmillos (Nando’s tongue-in-cheeck name- house of fangs, he told me, drop the “n” and you’re closer to the truth of the dental enigma)I endured an embarrassing interlude with Manny, his on again/off again partner and was finally told, “Good news/bad news/worse news, hermano.  Good news; he finally admitted he needs a better remote.  Bad news; that’s what’s left of his cell phone in the middle of that trash-pile.  Worse news; he took the Diva into PV to buy something at Radio Hut.  He left about five minutes ago."

CLUE BUS

Here’s a Quarter, Go Buy a Ticket to the Clue Bus – Pt. 3
By Landon Hollander, Electronics Entertainment Investigator and Integrator
Photos by Jesús de Avila • April 2009

Too much information. OK, one thing at a time. I told myself. I can’t call Nando to tell him to stop, because he has no phone. I get it. And he’s taken the Diva, which is actually good news. The Diva is Nando’s car, or should I say, automobile; a 1964 Jaguar MkII Sedan. This car has cost him more time and money since he had moved to Mexico than his mansion it seemed. And for good reason.

Nando had finally inherited the Diva from his father who passed away while Nando was attending Stanford University. Eduardo (his father) had gotten the car from a business associate who couldn’t pay his debt from a winery expansion project. The unfortunate businessman had subsequently parked the car in the family “shed” before skipping town. 

A few months back, Nando had confided to me, “My father once admonished me that I would never amount to anything if I couldn’t make that piece of shit car run for 10 miles without stalling, so I made it my project to not only resurrect the POS, but restore it to its’ former splendor to shut the old man up once and for all.  He was convinced that because I was gay, my only interest would be in ‘dolling up the interior’ as he put it.”  Even though Nando never got to drive it (more than 10 miles to prove his point) until his father died, he had cared for the car like it was his adopted child.

The shed it had been parked in upon abandonment, would, of course, become the now legendary home of Nando’s Internet search engine, clearing house and database for dental wares and services, Gargle.  The shed had birthed a 60 million dollar baby, and sentimental slob that he was, Nando would NEVER part with that car. It was a lifeline to his family, his resolve and his wealth.

The other good news for me in all of this, was the fact that I knew that there was no way Nando would ever drive the Diva over 45 miles per hour, so he wasn’t going to set any records getting to PV. I could easily catch up with him.

At least this recent crisis of control (not being able to get the system to play his buddy’s DVD) had made him realize that he needed an intelligent controller rather than the six separate remotes he was currently using against my previous advice.  Small freaking victory, I told myself, because I should have insisted that he purchase the system controller way back when. God, I was not going to let this progress any further downhill by letting him purchase a “supposed” universal control at Radio Hut.  There was no telling what kind of horrible advice he’d get from the clueless clerk nor what kind of sorry excuse for a remote he’d fool himself into buying.

First things first, I told myself. “Manny, I’m gonna go towel off the Boo slime (Boo is Nando’s Newfoundland dog who had wetly and rambunctiously greeted me upon entering the casa). Can you grab me a Peñafiel regular for the road (I knew Nando kept a refrigerated stash for me even though he insisted I should have Perrier; I wasn’t comfortable with that kind of indebtedness) and then I’m gonna chase His Cluelessness down.  If I’m lucky, I’ll get to him before he gets to La Cruz.” 

“I’ve got Perrier” he said, and before he could proceed, I interjected,

“Peñafiel’s just fine, Manny. Really.” I saw him look at me like I was conceding something. Jeez, if that’s all I have to deal with, I’m fine.  I’m totally OK with this retirement thing if, after everything, the only concession I’ve made is giving up Perrier for Peñafiel?  Can it really be this simple?  As I was musing on this, I caught a flash of hot pink behind Manny and the lovely posterior of Marta, the teen daughter of Nando’s housekeeper, Rosa disappeared down the hallway off the kitchen.

“Use the Guest Bath, down there,” he said nodding his head at the hall into which Marta’s butt had just disappeared. 

After a minor face scrub and water splash interlude in the shrine of bathing arts & sciences otherwise known as the Guest Bath, I exited only to find Boo snarfing and scratching at a very ornate wooden door just down the hall. About 50 bucks a scratch, I was thinking, when suddenly my sarcasm was trashed by devotion to my friend.  “Cut it out, Boo!”  I yelled at the beasty.  Yeah, like he cared. 

$500 later (according to my earlier estimation) I body-nudged him away and opened the door he was so intent on destroying.  As the door swung open, Marta dashed out and seeing me, stopped to explain, “I am sorry Señor Landon; Boo & I are playing the hide and seek!” and she disappeared around the corner, Boo slobbering after. In her dash to elude me & the dog, the door had swung open further and I glanced inside this room that had not been on my radar during the project 6 months previous.

“Oh my GOD!...”  I uttered out loud just in time for Manny to shriek,

“NO, you can’t see this!  Please, hermano, don’t go in, Nando will never forgive me.”

But like a hypnotized child in a candy store, I was already through the doorway and not about to stop.  The room I entered was the size of any respectable master bedroom you’d find in a 15.000 square foot mansion, making it about as big as the entire first floor of my house.  Concealed cove lighting behind a stucco and cement ceiling crown cast a soft glow throughout. Arranged around the entire perimeter and in meticulous parallel rows through the center of the room were ceiling-height Metro shelving units; you see them in all the gourmet stores and catalogs. Chrome, open shelves were filled neatly with stack after stack of brown and white cardboard boxes of varying sizes.  A cursory glance told my retail veteran eyes that all of the boxes were still factory sealed and on top of that, dust-free.  The room was a warehouse museum.

“Manny, how long has this room been here with all this stuff?” I inquired trying not to sound mad and doing an apparently poor job of it because he was almost crying when he replied,

“It’s been here the whole time, hermano mio.  It’s supposed to be locked, but I guess Rosa was in here cleaning this afternoon. It’s my fault that Marta and Boo got in.  You can’t tell Nando you saw it, please don’t…”  A slamming door at the other end of the house cut him off and he stretched his neck to peer down the hallway.

Even though I’ve technically been out of the business for a few years, it was obvious to me that I was looking at somewhere in excess of a million bucks worth of audio and video equipment. Throughout my 30 plus years in the biz, I would take daily tours of the warehouses of the stores and companies I worked for to have an ongoing handle on my stock. I was very good at spotting the hidden treasure in such an environment and frequently made sales of items none of the other salespeople thought we had to sell. What I was eyeballing at this moment was a veritable who’s who (or what’s what) of every significant piece of consumer electronics hardware to hit the market in the last twenty years. I spotted Sony’s first 5 disc carousel CD Changer, Pioneer’s first DVD player, Bose’s first mini speaker and subwoofer system, and Marantz’s first Dolby Digital Surround sound receiver. I identified a humongous refrigerator sized box as NEC’s first 6 inch deep plasma TV, a 42” wide beast that had cost $25,000 when first released.

But while historically intriguing, these could not hold a candle to the collection of high end equipment occupying the far left corner. Pairs of Martin-Logan, B&W Nautilus and Meridian speakers, Classé mono block amplifiers, a Vidikron CRT projector, body by Piñafarina (of Ferrari fame) that I recalled sold for $60,000. 

When I snapped out of it, I turned to ask Nando about this hidden treasure but he was no longer in the room. I strolled along the aisles of equipment, stroking the boxes and putting together a theory.  Beyond the obvious value of the equipment was the incalculable amount it must have cost to transport all of it to Mexico, and more intriguing; through customs (or around?) with nary a seal broken. A serious greasing of palms must have occurred. But for what?  Much of this equipment was dated. And the remaining components didn’t have any purpose in Nando’s current home systems. It was all overkill.

A thought struck me. Curiously missing in the mix of electronics was any type of accessory. No cables.  No speaker wire. No adapter boxes or AC power centers. No infrared receivers or transmitters. No remote controls. Any well-stocked A/V warehouse would have these items in profusion. There was no intention of ever opening any of these boxes. This hidden room was a monument to Nando’s desperate desire to understand, control and PLAY with these expensive toys. A feat he would never achieve, I knew only too well. 

A hand on my shoulder startled me out of my reverie. I turned and gazed into the melancholy eyes of His Cluelessness himself; Nando. “So my friend, at long last you have stumbled into The Temple of Doom? He mused.

I replied “Listen Nando, Manny had nothing to do with my being here. I was just swimming a few laps in the Guest Bath and…” As Nando cut me off, I could see Manny standing in the doorway, the back of his hand stuffed in his mouth as if to stifle an outburst of what, I wasn’t sure.

“…Very funny, I know, that tub in the guest bath is kinda big, isn’t it?  Marta & Boo, right? They’ve been playing around here a lot lately. I never wanted you or anyone else to ever see this room, but those two are like little kids. I didn’t have the heart to close it up when I saw how much fun they were having playing in here. Look, you were bound to find it sooner or later. Let’s just get this out of the way.”  He gestured to the far right corner, “Check this out.”

He grabbed a medium sized box off the shelf. Unlike the others, it was not a manufacturers box, just a plain brown cardboard box sealed with transparent packing tape. He pulled a mini Swiss Army knife from his pocket and scored the top tape and spread the flaps to reveal a black box surrounded by loose wires, capacitors, tubes and miscellaneous pieces and parts. “My first journey into the wonderful world of consumer  electronics.  Behold the Heathkit Stereo Receiver!  Assemble it yourself with our easy-to-follow instructions! Amaze your friends with state-of-the-art stereophonic sound!” He held up the partially assembled component over his head like a trophy won and several loose fitting pieces smacked the top of his head and fell to the floor.

- to be continued

Landon Hollander
E-mail: landon5123@mac.com

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Landon Hollander consults, designs and sells audio and video systems (landoplan.com) and handles sales in the Riviera Nayarit for the PVMirror. He can be reached at: landon5123@mac.com. Landon is currently teaching his dogs French to see if they will obey commands in this language as they appear not to understand English or Spanish.

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