Eye on San Diego

What started as a mobile-home park—with a nine-hole golf course, four-room motel, small recreation room and 60-seat restaurant—has evolved into the 600-acre Welk Resort Center. The property now features a 137-room hotel, 286 time-share villas, two 18-hole golf courses, a museum, tennis courts, pools, spas, a conference center, a theater featuring live musicals and a manmade lake for fishing (though you have to throw the fish back).

Vacationers and conferees of all ages are welcome. But don’t ask about a senior-citizen discount—if established, the place might go out of business.

So what legacy has Welk left to the resort that bears his name? Adriene Edwards, the Welk Center’s director of guest services, admits to having a bubble machine behind her desk. “When I do weddings and banquets people ask, ‘Can we throw rice?’ and I say, ‘No, that kills the birds.’ [Then they ask,] ‘Can we throw birdseed?’ and I say, ‘No, because people slide on it, but I’ll tell you what, you can blow bubbles.’” And a-one, and a-two, and a...

—Paul Young

Marie Dizon’s job BRINGs her kisses from strangers. No, she’s not in the escort business; Dizon has owned Beauty for the Beasts, a mobile, full-service dog salon, for six years. She tows the pooch-pampering tools of her trade behind a white pickup truck. Dizon—a grad of the Classy Canine School of Dog Grooming in El Cajon —says golden retrievers are “the sweetest” to bathe. But she’s also primped tiny Chihuahuas, 180-pound St. Bernards and breeds of all sizes in between.

During a full-service grooming, the dogs receive a HydroSurge bath, where water and shampoo shoot out of Jacuzzi-like jets. This $40 grooming also includes ear cleaning, nail clipping and tooth brushing.

The practice is popular in San Diego; Dizon says there may be close to two dozen mobile canine cleaners working the county. To have Dizon turn your beast into a beauty, call 276-7777.
—Heidi Summers

Buried in High Costs
You thought the cost of living in San Diego was high. But a death in the family can mean two types of mortality: physical and fiscal. Despite efforts by the Federal Trade Commission to prevent predatory pricing, the funeral industry is notorious for reaping financial gain from grief over the loss of a loved one.

“My advice is not to overbuy for a casket,” says Barry Tyra, co-owner of a San Diego wholesale outlet called, appropriately, Caskets & Urns For Less. “Mortuaries will often try to sell you on a lot of features that really aren’t necessary. For example, some caskets can be fitted with a rubber liner. It costs about 50 bucks to do that, but I’ve seen mortuaries charge as much as $500. Many people in the mortuary business prey on emotion. They’ll tell you that the seal will help keep water off your loved one. Or help keep the worms out. That’s not a very pleasant image, and people feel pressure to pay the extra money. The fact is, nothing prevents leaking or the dust-to-dust process.”

The National Funeral Directors Association estimates that the typical funeral costs nearly $4,800. The casket can account for half or more of the total price. Until 1985, the mortuary handling a funeral could require you to purchase the casket there, with a markup somewhere in the stratosphere. When the FTC mandated that mortuaries accept caskets purchased elsewhere, many skirted the law by adding a “handling fee.”

A 1994 FTC edict eliminated the handling fee, but many mortuaries still try to dissuade people from purchasing caskets elsewhere. While required to provide a price list for their services, some mortuaries list only a range for caskets. This practice should raise a red flag. Once a bereaved relative is in the funeral home, tremendous emotional pressure can be applied, says Tyra.

“I’ve heard stories of mortuaries telling people that if they bring in their own casket they can’t be responsible if the handles fall off, or imply that our caskets are cheap knock-offs made in Mexico,” he says. “The fact is, we get our caskets from the same manufacturers they do.”

Tyra points out that conglomerates own many of San Diego’s funeral homes. That means a consumer with the presence of mind to hunt for a bargain is still liable to get useless price comparisons.

“Conglomerates that buy up existing mortuaries typically keep the old name, so you don’t really know who you are calling,” says Tyra. “You can call three different mortuaries, but if they are all owned by the same parent company, the quotes will be very similar. You can do your homework and still pay too much.” Not so, says Terry Hemeyer, spokesman for Service Corporation International (SCI), a death-care conglomerate that owns six funeral homes in San Diego County. Hemeyer says each place has its own pricing structure.

“It’s a very complex business,” says Hemeyer. “It’s a service, not a commodity, and like any other type of service, you can find very high-end and you can find some very affordable. Yes, funeral homes—like every other vendor—have markups and make a margin. The margin for SCI homes nationwide is about 131¼2 percent. That’s not a lot.” Still, Tyra says it’s the customer’s responsibility to look out for his best interests. “Buying a casket is like buying any other product,” he says. “It’s not an easy thing to make funeral arrangements. Unfortunately, there are people who don’t think twice about cashing in on the vulnerability of somebody who just lost a loved one.”
—Timothy McKernan

On March 25, Palm’s wife, Carol, received a Peacemaker Award from the San Diego Mediation Center. The awards are given to those who help “prevent violence, end conflict and find creative solutions to serious community problems.” Carol Palm was recognized for working behind the scenes to bring about a peaceful solution to a new neighborhood conflict that was beginning to mirror the one that put her husband behind bars

All Aboard the What?
The San Diego Wild Animal Park features a monorail called the Wgasa Bush Line. Know how the line got its name? Park officials wanted a foreign-sounding name that brought to mind the plains of Africa. A memo asking for suggestions was sent to employees. One memo came back with “WGASA” written on the bottom. The name was a hit. However, unbeknownst to management, the scrawled letters were a popular acronym at the time that stood for “Who Gives a S––– Anyhow?” A park spokesperson concedes the story is true, but says they prefer to believe the letters stand for World’s Greatest Animal Show Anywhere.

The Good, the Bad & the Ugly

Good 
The Bus Stops Here: San Diego traffic cops are dishing out citations at a record rate around area school sites. The uptick in tickets is due in large part to Assembly Bill 1297, the Thomas Edward Lanni School Bus Safety Act of 1997, which took effect January 1. The Lanni Act requires schoolbus drivers to turn on flashing red lights whenever kids board or get off a bus. Drivers approaching the bus from either direction must stop until the lights are turned off.
Bad 
No Cat Kitty: The county wants to hike the city of San Diego’s annual animal-control fees from $1.4 million to nearly $4 million. A cheerless city council subcommittee has proposed mandatory cat licensing to help offset the potential increase. Prepawsterous. A tabby tab would surely set fur flying. (Has anybody at city hall priced Purina Cat Chow lately?) A more sensible approach to cover county charges would be to form a pooch patrol empowered to dun dog owners 10 bucks a poop for abandoned droppings
Ugly 
Homely Depot: The site of the permanently derailed Victoria Station bar and restaurant on Mission Center Road remains a train wreck waiting for something to happen. The ersatz depot’s façade is cracked and faded, and a sagging Cyclone fence surrounds the ramshackle structure. The building, with its defunct, faux dining-car appendage, is years behind schedule for the Wrecking Ball Express.

—Bill Owens

Hunger for More Munger?
Foodies extraordinaire Piret and George Munger are cooking up something new. You may recall the pair from their Perfect Pan, Piret’s and Canes eateries. Piret now heads up the Association of Wine & Food; George manages Arazzo in Fairbanks Ranch. The Mungers’ market/cafe catches a national trend—and goes a step beyond. At Arazzo, patrons may simply pick up groceries, or sit down and eat, or stay for a cooking class.

The black-tie/jodhpur crowd never had it so handy. Short on wineglasses or serving trays for your dinner party? Arazzo’s got them. Want to pick up the whole banquet on the way home from the office? The counters hold everything: Ossobuco and duck confit are made to order, hot or cold, on a moment’s notice.

Arazzo also has come to be known as the place to find rare oils and vinegars. A bottle of Vin Santo vinegar runs $36.50; 25-year-old balsamic vinegar goes for $75. But George brags about a few bargain specialties: Beluga caviar is only $39 an ounce.

Arazzo Market Café is at 16089 San Dieguito Road; 756-7569.
—Virginia Butterfield