Uncle PICO

Sanford's quote-unquote "Watch Repair & Appraisals"

Nobody would ever dare to call him Uncle PICO to his face. But that’s how everybody in the town of Sanford Florida in 1930 that either knew him or knew of him, knew him. Uncle PICO knew all of this, and he not only did not mind, he felt lucky. 

He was known as Uncle PICO for two reasons. 

One. His storefront was located on the 1st floor of the PICO Building Block Extension that ran along Commercial Street, neighboring the main entrance to the PICO Hotel lobby and Takach family restaurant facing Oak Avenue.

And two. He was a pawn broker. Although everybody avoided using the terms ‘pawn broker’ or ‘pawn shops’ in 1930. Pawn brokers were the last line of possible credit available for the brokest of the broke. In Sanford Florida that year, people were in the very early stages of reckoning of a financial double-blow of existential and historic proportions. Their main local bank, the First National Bank of Sanford ran out of money in July of the prior year, 1929, due to Florida's enormous real-estate bubble of the 1920's whose time had come due. Overnight, nobody could withdraw their money. Its doors were permanently closed by the 12th of that month. Three months later, October 24th through 29th, Black Thursday through Black Tuesday, the great stock market crash, banks all across the country wasted no time following the fate of the First National Bank of Sanford, the Great Depression came roaring in as fast as the roaring 1920’s was fun and loud. Pawn brokers were sometimes referred to as an Uncle, as in a guy you call when you desperately need money but have nobody else to turn to.

"No.", said Uncle PICO.

He lowered the wedding ring with the rather large diamond down from the tip of the magnification device extending from his right eye and placed it back on top of the small towel on top of his glass-top counter.

The customer pleaded, "But Robert. Mr. Brumley. Why?"

Uncle PICO's real name was Robert Brumley. And he made no effort to hide his disapproving frown, "I've got a very expensive set of silver in the back. That I now have marked for sale. That you should still be the owner of. That is why."

The customer wanted to be persuasive, but could not contain his unexpected and strong sense of contempt, "But is not failing to pay a final-due interest payment on a pawn broker's loan that's secured by a set of silver what a pawn broker wants?"

Robert pointed to his store's front door from behind his glass counter, "Okay my friend? Time to go."

"Please?", the customer pleaded.

Still pointing to his front door, "My friend. You wasted paying four expensive months of interest to me. Very expensive interest. Only to have missed your recent fifth-due payment. Resulting in your loss of your set of silver that you secured your loan with. And I know that you've got a wife and or a mother whose heart or hearts are broken over this. Or will be broken over this, if they have not yet come to know this. But I'm guessing they already know. Because last month was Thanksgiving. And Thanksgiving is every family's set-of-silver's biggest day of the year. And now you come in with a diamond wedding ring, which, again, probably belongs to your wife or mother, if not was passed down from your mother to you, to give to your wife. So go. You can likely find somebody over at the Peoples Bank Building at the 100 Block on East First Street, for a ring like that. Or, you can try your luck at the Barter and Credit Corridor as they like to call it, over on Sanford Avenue. Okay?"

His small store suddenly felt crowded. Four other men dressed in nice suits that did not look pressed or even washed had built up a line behind the man with the diamond wedding ring that would not leave.

He needed a drink. But never let himself have a drink until he closed his shop. Otherwise known as the hard-nosed Uncle PICO, Robert Brumley counted his blessings. His drink would have to wait. He never closed at five if there were still customers waiting to be serviced. And this year, way more so than he ever thought possible, people needed his service.

The Great Depression had just started just two months prior. Preceded just ninety days by the sudden shutdown of the First National Bank of Sanford. It was five o'clock. His line was growing faster than he could service it. He needed a drink.

And to add insult to injury, it was still Prohibition. The Great Depression had just started two months ago, and alcohol was still prohibited. And would continue to be totally prohibited throughout the Unites States for the next three years. And his homemade gin at home was gone. Which means that after work, he'd have to stop off to see his friend out by Sanford Avenue, to score some gin, before getting home. And it was never just a quick easy hello goodbye transaction. He was never not invited in to share a drink. And there was never a good way to ever say no.

By the time Robert got to Sanford Avenue he was excited to see his friend. He sometimes would end up sort of glad to have run out of his homemade gin, just to have the excuse to pay Marcus a visit.

...stay tuned for next scene...

--- from The Once O'clock Tavern universe ---

Click blue link to the right for Once O'clock's 1st Chapter ---> Once O'clock's Tavern