Bob Arno – Page 12 – Thiefhunters in Paradise

Chortle reviews Just For Laughs

Bob Arno on stage at the Just For Laughs Gala

The UK comedy guide Chortle.co.uk reviewed the Just For Laughs Craig Ferguson Gala. The most interesting part of the review:

The next act, Bob Arno, steals material. Ties, belts, watches, cellphones and wallets, mainly—as he’s an expert pickpocket. He romps through his act with verve and speed, rattling through some polished, witty banter as he displays his amazing talent. The biggest thing this lively, compelling performer stole, however, was the show.

Along with the Montreal Gazette proclaiming Bob Arno as “best act,” we’re happy.

Bob Arno in Just For Laughs

Montreal, July 18—Hospital instead of curtain call for Bob Arno at the end of his performance in the televised Just For Laughs Gala, Friday night. Hosted by Craig Ferguson, the all-star line-up played to a packed house at the 2200-seat St. Denis Theatre. Performing comedians included Craig Robinson, Mike Birbiglia, Steve Byrne, Elvira Kurt, Bruce Bruce, and of course, Bob Arno.

The day before, Bob rehearsed the seven cameramen and the sound and light technicians. The theater looked spectacular. Andy Nulman was there, an old friend of Bob’s for more than 20 years.

We arrived on show night in time for makeup and a photo shoot. Then Bob cased the joint, as usual, getting a sense of the upscale audience the costly event attracts. At 7:30 or so, standing in the back of the house waiting to go on, Bob began to feel a little queasy. Something was bothering him, and it was getting worse, not better. Backstage in the wings, I had no idea.

Bob went on and did a smashing show, only a minute longer than his allowed ten. Dashing into the wings to huge applause, he ducked under the video camera waiting to tape his bumper shots. I chased Bob through the backstage maze, through the dressing room hall where 20 or more comics watching the the show on monitors burst into applause, and only caught up with him in our dressing room.

“You’re supposed to tape bumper material,” I reminded him, “it’s in the contract.”

“I can’t,” Bob said, doubled over. “I have a kidney stone.” He grimaced.

Bob Arno’s virtuoso performance was also a heart thumper. With a switch from crime to comedy, “pickpocket” Arno has gone straight but, be forewarned, he’s nobody’s straight man. He delivered a hilarious routine that left the audience running for cover, and double-checking its pockets.” —Hollywood Today.

The scene in the dressing room was bizarre. Bob and I discussed options, to the extent Bob was able to communicate at all. The door was knocked on by a procession of people, and each time I opened it, the inside handle fell off. I was irritated that I had to fit it back on each time, otherwise the door could not be opened. Meanwhile, the next comedian’s routine was blasting into the dressing room and—we could hardly believe it—he seemed to be doing a routine on kidney stones! He graphically described a urinary exam that had Bob shaking his head when I urged him to go straight to the hospital.

Meanwhile, the cameramen kept trying to interview Bob, a PA wanted me to sign off on payment, Andy Nulman was recommending hospitals, a car and driver was arranged, and I was spreading apologies.

Then Bob pulled two watches out of his pocket which, in his pain, he was too distracted to return while on stage. I gave them to Craig Ferguson, who tried to return them to their owner from stage between comedians. One watch was claimed, the other was not. Perhaps its owner left, or didn’t realize it was missing. Eventually, a woman claimed it, running up on stage and admitting it wasn’t hers, but that claiming it allowed her to get a kiss from Craig Ferguson.

Bob skipped the curtain call and slept it off. It was a rough night for him, having refused the hospital. By noon the next day, he was almost back to normal. The Montreal Gazette, in its review, bestowed “Best Act” on Bob.

Happily, we kept our early dinner reservations, then meandered slowly through the city streets, packed with Just For Laughs Festival goers. At the St. Denis Theatre another Gala show was in progress. We popped in and offered to tape the video bumpers and intros that Bob had refused to do because of his illness. Bob delivered them with energy so high it was hard to believe he had been so incapacitated 24 hours earlier.

We headed back out toward the street of festival crowds, where all the comedy stuff was happening. A giant praying mantis climbed over us, its delicate legs lifting high, head tilting, eyes flashing. We were on a perpendicular street about half a block from the thickest crowd, when suddenly there were screams ahead and panicked people scattering. I just had time to ask “what is it? what’s going on?” Then a bucket dumped on me, and on everyone around me. It was a storm the likes of which I’ve never experienced before, despite having lived in the tropics in Asia, Africa, and the Caribbean. One minute it was dry. The next was like standing under a waterfall. There was no cover. We crowded into a doorway, but it didn’t have a roof. Another couple squeezed in and put up an umbrella. I cozied up to them, uninvited, and got the spill from their umbrella along with the rain. We were drenched.

Watch for the 2008 Just for Laughs television show hosted by Craig Ferguson. It will be broadcast around the world. I don’t know when.

Bob Arno just for laughs show tv

Russian Rip-off: pickpockets and thugs, part 5 of 5

Pickpockets in St. Petersburg

St. Petersburg, a few weeks later—We loaded ourselves with video equipment this time, and headed straight for the Metro corner. Having spoken with the gang three weeks earlier, we were afraid to get too close. We wanted to observe them in action without being noticed. I found an excellent location just across the canal from the Metro entrance, a perfect stake-out spot with a convenient cement chunk I could hide behind when necessary. Bob wandered, undisguisable, wishing for a height reduction.

Instant gratification! (No, not Bob getting shorter.) First I noticed two of the gang leaning on the canal wall, watching the heavy flow of people going into and out of the Metro.

Pickpockets in St. Petersburg: A pickpocket gang member on the phone — A pickpocket gang member on the phone

I recognized others loitering in the doorway and on the street corner. Most of them seemed to get or make frequent phone calls. They often disappeared from view, melting into the crowd, ducking into the station, or being obscured by traffic.

Suddenly, they’re off and running. I follow with my video camera. The victim doesn’t have a chance. Six gang members surround him. It’s impossible to see them all at any one moment, but on the video (see Part 2), you can see them dance around the mark like a Russian ballet. Two men maneuver themselves in front of him, impeding his progress. Four others are behind and beside him. Then, to buy more time, the largest of the team, in the gray t-shirt, spins around and shoves his weight against the victim’s chest and stomach, nearly doubling him over.

It was impossible to determine if anything had been taken. I had to choose who to follow with the camera and I chose to follow the thieves, who quickly dispersed, then regrouped. I don’t know how the victim reacted seconds later. He immediately left my field of vision.

I got another pursuit on film, but it ended behind an ice cream kiosk that blocked my view. I wasn’t far away, but I was stationary, with a canal in front of me. I got lots of shots of the thieves positioning themselves among the crowds crossing the street.

Pickpockets in St. Petersburg: An opposing gang of pickpockets in St. Petersburg — An opposing gang of pickpockets in St. Petersburg

Meanwhile, Bob wandered through the danger zone. He watched other thieves display their well-practiced choreography. They also employed the Russian sandwich, with a dropped piece of paper, a bend, a block, and a partner’s pluck from behind.

Mohammed is fine. He’s recovered from his near-arrest and is friendly with us again. We didn’t dare ask him to interpret for us again. But we met a nice Russian woman at the black market who teaches English…

This is Part 5 of 5. Part 1 — Video in Part 2

Bob Arno film gang police Russia St. Petersburg street crime thieves video

Hoodwinked, the show

“If it weren’t onstage, it would be illegal” —The Montreal Gazette

Montreal—Our new show, Hoodwinked, opened July 15 in the GesÃ¹ Theatre as part of the Just For Laughs Festival. We had three performances, all to nearly packed houses, and all received instant standing ovations.

We were all thrilled, having come together only three days earlier to put the show together. In fact, we considered these performances our technical rehearsals.

“Prepare to be conned” is the show’s subtitle. The cast is made up of four consummate con artists who manipulate, baffle, and social-engineer the audience until they don’t know what to believe. But let me emphasize: this is not a magic show.

Take Richard Turner: cheat, card mechanic, card sharp. To be honest, card tricks bore me to to death. What Richard Turner does is riveting. His control of the cards is other-worldly, especially since he allows his audience to shuffle and cut the deck as much as they want to. He deals a winning hand at will, places the queen in three-card-monte exactly where you know she isn’t, and flips out aces from portions of the deck chosen by an audience volunteer. Simply amazing. How does he do it? “When the gambling gets heavy,” he says, “I cheat.”

Richard is famous for his dirty dealing, which he demonstrates in the show. In fact, he demonstrates it with a card face up on the deck, so you see it stay there while he appears to deal normally. Two video cameras capture his work and project it on a huge screen behind him. Still sounds so-so? Richard demonstrates a perfect faro shuffle, in which he neatly splits the deck into equal halves (one-handed), then interweaves the two halves exactly every other card. His feel for the cards is barely believable. Pick a number, he tells his audience volunteer, holding out a deck with one hand. She says 14, or 27, or 36, or whatever. The instant she says it, he twists a chunk of the deck out, one-handed. Count them, he demands. Incredible.

Richard, a fifth-degree black belt in karate, is blind. At least that’s what they say in Hoodwinked. Is this just another con? If it’s true, you’d never know it by watching him and he largely ignores the fact himself. If it is a fact, of course. I had the enormous pleasure of spending a week with him and I can tell you, his life has been more colorful than anything the rest of us have seen. In Hoodwinked, he weaves a few anecdotes into his card work, so that jaws drop over his manipulation and control of the cards, and stay dropped throughout.

$Richard Turner\'s faro shuffle$ For me, a card scoffer, Richard Turner is a highlight of Hoodwinked. Of course I’ve seen Bob Arno a million and a half times. And the show wouldn’t be possible without Todd Robbins and Banachek. All the other cast members are worthy of their own articles; I will get to their stories later.

Hoodwinked will tour the East Coast in November, with big things scheduled for 2009.

Banachek Bob Arno con artist Entertainment hoodwinked Richard Turner show Todd Robbins

Russian Rip-off: pickpockets and thugs, part 4 of 5

Bambi Vincent and Anton at the art market in St. Petersburg, Russia.

St. Petersburg— “They think I robbed you,” he said.

By then it must have been obvious to the cops that we were not Mohammed’s victims, or anyone else’s, either. But they’d created such a melee they couldn’t let go, didn’t want to believe there really was no problem. Finally, they left with a warning to Mohammed, who was so shaken he just collapsed onto his low stool and hung his head. He wouldn’t look up at us so we left him, thinking he was angry with us for getting him involved.

So the cops had seen us and Mohammed together with a gang of known thieves. Why, then, did they arrest the local underdog, instead of the criminals? In St. Petersburg, where the police are pitifully paid (about 2000 rubles/month, US$70 at the time), payoffs are their bread and butter. Officers routinely roam the streets collecting 100 rubles ($3+) here and there, from unlicensed merchants selling caviar or souvenirs. Pickpockets pay police too. They buy a piece of property for a limited time span. This allows many thieves to work, and keeps them in their own territories. Vladimir, a pickpocket we met some years ago, had a one-hour-a-day claim on a short segment of Nevsky Prospekt. The Mongolian gang seems to own the Metro station corner.

When thieves are caught, they pay 700 or so rubles ($23) to the police and are let go. It’s well known, Mohammed’s friend Anton told us earlier, that police are corrupt and will take bribes for anything. They can be seen on the streets looking for unlicensed merchants in order to shake them down instead of looking for thieves. Why would they arrest thieves? The system works well the way it is, and rich foreign tourists fund it.

Tangentially interesting, Anton, who also works at the art market, told us that when a person is picked up for being drunk, the police steal everything from him: money, watch, and jewelry. Then they put the drunk in a cold shower to wake him up and put him out on the street. If the citizen complains of being robbed, the police claim he must have lost his belongings while he was drunk. Anton described his father’s clever hiding place for cash. He slits the inside of the waistband of his jeans and slips folded money inside. When he’s drunk and shaken down, the police don’t find the money, but take everything else.

This is Part 4 of 5. — Part 1

Bob Arno police Russia scam St. Petersburg steal street crime thieves

Russian Rip-off: pickpockets and thugs, part 3 of 5

St. Petersburg—Pseudo-cops!” we thought: bandits who pretend to be police. We’re about to be robbed! At the same time, I thought: no, we’re about to be robbed by real cops of the corrupt variety. The four of us in that deserted alley made a huge commotion.

Bob pointed to the entrance we had come from and shouted “You’re police? Okay, over there!” I shouted “in the public area!” and they shouted in Russian. We had no idea what they wanted. We carried a $1,000 digital still camera, but no video equipment and, thankfully, no hidden video equipment, which might have been considered illegal.

As our captors escorted us back to the art market alley entrance we heard the bleeping of police radios and saw police equipment under their shirts. Yet, knowing they were real cops did not put us at ease. We were still four agitated, confused, and rather scared people, unable to communicate. My thoughts were, get to a public place so we won’t be ripped off; find Mohammed to translate.

The cops allowed us to lead them into public view, or they led us. Just outside the alley gate, in the art market, we saw Mohammed on the ground with a gun to his stomach. Four other plainclothes cops had him surrounded. Everyone was yelling and a crowd had gathered. Mohammed was the only one capable of translating for us and he was beside himself, terrified and at gunpoint. As soon as we arrived he was hauled up and shoved against a wall, the gun still at his belly.

My reaction was to grab onto Mohammed. I hugged him, trying to show the cops that he didn’t do anything wrong to us, that he was our friend. Bob tried to reason with the cops, but none spoke English. Then six uniformed cops joined the fracas and our concern escalated. How far could this thing go, and what is it? For a few minutes, the uniforms were more interested in the plainclothes than in the civilians. With machine guns pointed, they demanded IDs from the plainclothes officers and scrutinized them intensely.

Mohammed had told us the previous day that because of his looks, he is frequently stopped and challenged by the police. With everyone still shouting and confused, including him, we couldn’t find out if this was one of those “challenges.” Why did Mohammed have a gun in his stomach? Why were we hauled into this business?

Bob dropped the name of an ex-KGB officer we know, with no idea where it would lead. Like a silent fart mysteriously clearing a room, the officers scattered and disappeared. The only Russian sounds we could dredge up turned out to be powerful, indeed.

“What is the accusation?” I asked Mohammed, several times before he quieted and paid attention.

“They think I robbed you,” he said.

This is part 3 of 5. Part 1 — Video in Part 2

Bob Arno cop corrupt police Russia St. Petersburg street crime thieves

Hoodwinked

Montreal—Pardon this little interruption in the Russian Rip-off 5-part story. For our Canadian friends and fans, Bob and I would like to announce one of Bob’s rare public performances, in the new touring show Hoodwinked, premiering this week at the Just For Laughs festival in Montreal. Hoodwinked will play on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, July 15, 16, and 17, at the GesÃ¹ Theatre.

Hoodwinked : Prepare to be Conned

Bob Arno is the world’s most famous pickpocket. Years of research and first-hand observation of real street crime have made him an authority frequently consulted by police, security experts and television producers. Bob artfully blends the comedy and tragedy of thievery in his outrageous performances. Bob has been featured on ABC’s 20/20, CNN, the BBC, and National Public Radio, and he has been profiled in the New York Times and USA Today.

Banachek is a leading expert on psychological manipulation. At 18 he became a test subject at a heavily funded university psychic research facility. For two years, scientists closely studied and tested his “psychic” abilities. Using only his skills of deception, Banachek astounded the researchers and made them believe he truly was psychic. His live performance features demonstrations of subliminal influence and “cold reading” that are at once hilarious, fascinating and, at times, disturbing.

A well known authority on all things deceptive, Todd Robbins has been called the “king of New York con men” by the New York Times. He has used his expertise, gained by walking down the shady streets of fraud, on numerous TV programs and has consulted on various articles, documentaries and films. In April, Bloomsbury Books released his book The Modern Con Man: How to Get Something for Nothing.

Card mechanic Richard Turner is an expert on card cheating and sleight-of hand. He is respected within the international casino industry as one of the most skilled cheaters ever. Richard travels the world demonstrating his ability to cheat with cards undetectably. Endless practice and years of training result in card table mastership that is unsurpassed, and which can now be shared in Hoodwinked through the use of live video projection.

Hope to see some of you there.

Bob Arno canada just for laughs montreal performance

Russian Rip-off: St. Petersburg pickpockets and thugs, part 2 of 5 (video)

St. Petersburg pickpockets

St. Petersburg—we were surrounded by five hostile faces. Shaking inside, we stood firm until the men stalked off. Bob and I crossed the street to photograph the scene of the crime. Since the gangsters were still at work, I ducked into a shop doorway to be less obtrusive. Two men followed me in. They were thieves ready to snatch my camera, so I threw its strap over my head, pirouetted in the vestibule, and stepped back onto the street. The suspicious pair trailed me out, gave Bob the once-over, and wandered off. It was a cosmetics shop I had entered, filled with only female customers.

We returned to the subway station with an ad hoc interpreter. Mohammed is a law student with a summer job selling paintings at the art market on Nevsky Prospekt. We’d met him the day before. He’s soft-spoken, a bit shy, black-haired and olive-complected; a Muslim Russian from the south of the country.

He was skittish about getting involved with a criminal gang, but in the end his curiosity got the better of him, or he couldn’t resist our pressure. Off we went to the Metro station, a block away. When we found them, all five predators were in the station lobby, watching for lucrative marks.

Here’s a bit of video. It’s confusing and hard to follow, but try. You’ll see the team of six St. Petersburg pickpockets at work outside the Metro station. It’s hard to spot them all. One wears a red hat, one a white hat, and the others are pointed out with arrows. You’ll see them start out fast after a victim, then go out of view. In the second sequence, all six surround a victim, then the biggest of them crashes into his chest to delay him. Then they turn and meet beside the canal to divvy up the swag.

Mohammed’s first timid overtures were rejected with disinterest. Then he used the words “Las Vegas,” and vor, Russian for thief, and the gangsters turned to look us up and down. A moment later we had them outside, and suggested we get out of the crowd. The eight of us walked a block away and around a corner, where there was less traffic.

By then Mohammed had warmed them up and the gang members were smiling and curious, though not comfortable. Bob got a two-fingered grip on the big guy’s wallet and gave him a little shove from behind, neatly extracting the wallet. That’s when they relaxed half a notch. We stood around small-talking for ten minutes, but nothing of substance was discussed. They claimed they throw away credit cards instead of using or selling them, but we’re not convinced. Mohammed said their Russian was not very good. Soon a well-dressed man with a briefcase joined us. “Professional,” one of the thugs said in English, and he made a gesture for pickpocket, stroking the back of the index finger with the tip of the middle finger.

You just tried it, didn’t you!

One by one, cell phones started ringing. I think the thugs were speaking with each other. A group of tourists paraded by, and two thieves caboosed them around the corner. Our conference dispersed, but ice had been broken.

Bob and I walked Mohammed back to the art market. He led us down a street parallel to Nevsky Prospekt, then cut through a long narrow alley to the back of the art market. After saying goodbye, Bob and I headed back into the alley.

Halfway through it, two scrawny young men came running up from behind us, shouting “Police!” They flashed ID at us. “Pseudo-cops,” we thought, bandits who pretend to be police. We’re about to be robbed!…

This is part 2 of 5. Part 3.
Read Part 1.

Bob Arno metro police Russia St. Petersburg street crime thieves

Russian Rip-off: pickpockets and thugs

St. Petersburg— The beefiest of the five Mongolian thugs shoved his fist in front of Bob’s face, thrust forward his chin, and stared. Bob stared back and so did I. Two more brutes joined the first. One pointed to our camera and said “No!” The other swept his hand as in “get out of here, scram!”

Experienced at this sort of confrontation, we didn’t back down. That doesn’t mean we weren’t nervous and aware of the danger. We’ve been threatened before, not to mention spat upon and mooned. But pickpockets, by our own definition, are nonviolent. Sure, there are the unpredictable drug addicts desperate for money for a fix, but these five fixed us with alert and stone-cold eyes. They did not look harmless.

We’d spotted two of the gang within minutes of reaching Nevsky Prospekt, the broad boulevard of St. Petersburg. They stood on the corner of what might be the city’s busiest intersection, where tourists get their first glimpse of the magnificent Church on the Spilled Blood, a subway station upchucks clotted streams of humans, and tinny, battery-operated speakers screech the muffled pitches of Russian barkers selling canal cruises.

We picked the pair out of the crowd as we crossed the street toward them. They crossed and passed us, then u-ied and immediately separated, one in front, one behind us. The Russian sandwich. Instead of worry, we felt glee. Bob had a prop wallet stuffed with newspaper in his back pocket. Bait.

As Bob and I paused outside the subway station, the crew ditched us, ducked inside, and came out following a tourist. Bob managed to snap two blatant frames with a camera, one of which shows the gang leader looking straight into the lens as a partner shields a backpack for another’s grope.

Did they get anything? We don’t know because, as always, the thieves cover their moves. But a moment later…

This is part 1 of 5. Next (with video)

Bob Arno metro Russia St. Petersburg street crime thieves victim

Midnight sun in Stockholm

Actual, working pickpockets discuss their demonstrations in Bob Arno's National Geographic documentary "Pickpocket King"

$Bob Arno interviewed by Sweden\'s TV4$

A family visit to Stockholm turned into a media circus. How did they know we were in town? First was an interview for an article in the Sunday supplement of Aftonbladet, one of Sweden’s national newspapers. (See it here.) Then Bob (Arno, the criminologist) was asked to speak to Stockholm’s street cops and detectives. Halfway through his two-hour presentation on street crime, TV4 showed up for an interview and demo.

The tv news reporters had to wait an hour for us, while Bob and I analyzed some tricky footage of a bag theft in Stockholm’s main subway station. The subway surveillance cameras are excellent, with high resolution and enough frames-per-second. We recognized the finale of a version of the pigeon-poop ploy, but earlier footage of the set-up was no longer available. Video footage is only kept for a few days before it is destroyed. The department’s looseleaf “book of criminals” is thick with mugshots. Stockholm is not what it used to be, even just a few years ago. Sad.

We drove Bob’s 97-year-old father out to his country house on an island in the archipelago. The old man built the three houses on the property with his own hands, and has maintained them reasonably well until the last year or so.

The grounds have always been a loosely-controlled wilderness, but now the meadows of wild orchid, lilly-of-the-valley, lupine, and Swedish soldiers are overgrown with tall grasses that hide the colorful flowers. As we arrived, a huge male deer munching leisurely on the trees looked accusingly at us, as if we were the trespassers. Within arm’s reach of the car, it didn’t bolt until we aimed a camera at it.

The weather was glorious and the old man was happy to be at his “summerhome.” I picked handfuls of smultron, tiny wild strawberries, until I was dragged away. I find it excruciating to walk on such delicacies, but they cover the ground and there’s no choice. I brought home a tick, but didn’t find it until the next day.

Bob Arno food lecture police Stockholm street crime Sweden

PICKPOCKETS, CON ARTISTS, GANGSTERS, THIEVES, AND TRAVEL