Seems everyone knows someone who’s been robbed in Barcelona. And sadly, the city we love to visit shows no signs of improvement on the thievery front.
But one man’s made it his mission, as they say, to warn visitors (in 20 languages!), to aggregate information on local theft, and to shame city officials into taking action. “Rob Daly” has created the activist website RobbedInBarcelona.com, with the mission statement: “We intend to use the power of the web, and the English language, to internationally embarrass Barcelona’s local authorities into taking action on pickpocketing. Visitors to Barcelona should have a look before their travels.
Many, though, will see the site only after it’s too late. That’s because Robbed In Barcelona has made it possible for victims of theft to notify the city’s mayor by filling out an online form. The site administrator will then forward the complaint at no charge, and send back the mayor’s reply, if there is one. Imagine the impact if every day hundreds of victims send complaints to the mayor’s office! (Imagine the work for the unpaid site administer!)
Obviously, it’s better to avoid that necessity by being travel-savvy before setting off. Browse Robbed In Barcelona to see local newspaper articles and tv news pieces translated into English, to read victims’ experiences, to bone up on the local thieves’ latest dirty tricks, and, if nothing else, to get a sense of just how serious the situation has become. There are also occasional guest posts—including one by yours truly on the infamous Ronaldinho football method of pickpocketing.
Robbed in Barcelona is doing much to make city officials aware that Barcelona’s residents and visitors are sick and tired of the current level of crime and want something done about it. Besides pressuring the mayor’s office with victims’ reports, and besides posting multilingual warnings to potential visitors, it singlehandedly assumed the role of chief forewarner to delegates attending last week’s Mobile World Congress, a huge convention that Barcelona’s crime rate threatens to chase away.
Know some people planning to visit the beautiful Catalan capital? Point them to Robbed in Barcelona before they go. And there’s more reading here:
Fully warned and aware; pickpocketed anyway: Yes, Barcelona’s pickpockets are that good. While we’re busy sightseeing, thieves are focused on finding the chink in our armor.
In what could be called a social experiment, it is proven that a man in a police-like uniform has great power and ordinary citizens are easily bamboozled into idiotic obedience. When the intent is robbery, pseudo-cops usually rely on flashing a fake badge; compliant victims then hand over their wallets.
In the following cases, “pseudo-cops” detain and accuse innocent passersby of theft. Watch the accused squirm under interrogation and threats; remarkably, they never question the legitimacy of the uniformed authority.
Bob Arno, preeminent pickpocket, was asked to help make a commercial for Toshiba and Intel. The idea was to slip the company’s new laptop into the bags of unsuspecting people as they strolled through Culver City, California. The laptop, called “UltraBook,” is so thin and light, the company believed that no one would even notice.
Preposterous! It turned out to be a challenging assignment.
Ben Seidman and Bob Arno
Bob roped in the talented and adorable magician Ben Seidman and together, the two deceivers rehearsed the teamwork and choreography necessary to “put-pocket” the computer.
Now, a computer, no matter how light, is a noticeable weight factor when added to a tote someone is carrying. And it is of a size that is difficult to slip in, between straps, handles, zippers, and buckles. It took some doing to distract the victim and mask the PLUNK! of the extra weight dropping in.
In practice, the two sneaks were more than successful. After brief, seemingly innocent encounters, more than a dozen unsuspecting victims wandered the streets unknowingly toting a Toshiba UltraBook.
Our security guard accuses a victim. The cleaning cart holds a mobile hidden camera, one of many on the set.
Each victim was then questioned by a “security guard” about a laptop which had supposedly been reported stolen. After a polite request to search the victim’s bag, the shocking discovery of the “stolen” laptop, and the victim’s protestations of innocence, the pseudo-cop became rude, belligerent, and provocative.
“For a criminal, you’ve got excellent taste,” the security guard said while admiring the laptop.
“You’re going to jail, missy!” the bad cop threatened one poor victim.
“Your fingerprints are all over it,” the guard told another victim after making him feel the weight of the laptop.
“But you told me to hold it!” the vic protested.
“We have no record of that,” the guard said.
To victim Claudia the guard says “You have great taste in stealing products.”
“Thank you,” Claudia replies, stunned almost speechless.
“What else do you have that’s stolen?” the guard demands.
Ryan denies the theft of a Toshiba Ultrabook
One victim broke down and cried. Another ran away. One accused the guard of racial profiling. But most stood in compliant disbelief.
The video series is a fantastic study of human behavior. It’s amazing to see how obedient people are when ordered around by an actor in a bad uniform. They’re blinded by authority. Most victims obeyed even his most ridiculous commands.
Watch Claudia’s frightened confusion:
Check out Ryan’s reaction:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2l5-ul-Z0kA
See Tiffany’s disbelief:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EV_nCLykZ_w
Here’s a montage of many victims:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoGYjtCo350
And meet the pickpockets who did the job:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D49VH2Fav_4
The video ads were directed by Michael Addis and Jamie Kennedy. Though the experience was briefly brutal and sometimes frightening to the victims, comic relief was brought into each scene at the last minute, and some of the victims were rewarded with the gift of a laptop.
In the real world, thieves take advantage of our engrained respect for authority when they play pseudo-cop. With nothing more than a fake badge and a flimsy story, they make demands similar to our actor’s: open your bag, let me look inside, give me your wallet, give me your money… etc. We tend not to question them; we are obedient. And only later do we realize our gullibility. The thieves exploit our respect for authority and take advantage of our trust—that’s the CONfidence-building that gives the con artist his title.
I’ve never noticed these height-markers before, but I’m told they’re found everywhere. I saw this one in a bank in Stockholm last summer. Pasted on the inside of the door frame, it helps estimate the height of the fleeing robber caught on video. I still haven’t spotted another one, even though I’ve been on the lookout. Have you seen any?
Awful sound, isn’t it? Sorry to subject you (if it autoplayed in your browser), but I’m making a point.
This racket was blasting when Bob and I visited the Gare de Lyon police station in Paris. It was created by two young women, one in a cell, the other handcuffed to a wooden bench, where she posed in every ridiculous posture she could contort herself into (not sure why). They both bellowed and sang at the top of their lungs as long as we were there—perhaps half an hour—possibly much longer.
It’s their habit. They make themselves severely unwanted guests, so the police think twice about hauling them in again and again. We never found out what they were arrested for, but their tactic was arresting.
The yelling and wailing in jail is one of the cat-and-mouse games the criminals learn to play to get an advantage, even a momentary tiny one, over the system. You know some of their other strategies: they employ children too young to arrest; they carry an infant, because the mother of an infant won’t be jailed; they cut themselves, because a bleeding arrestee must be taken to the hospital, which takes much paperwork that a tired cop may prefer to avoid, especially one near the end of his shift.
A pickpocket in Lima told us, “If the police catch you, you cut yourself and they release you. They don’t want you if you’re cut and bleeding.”
Huffington Post picked up an interview of Bob Arno from over on JustLuxe.com a few days ago. Here’s a reprint of the question and answers:
Among women who carry a purse or handbag, which ones are safest? How do you position the strap? What’s the worst mistake you see in how they hold and look after the bag?
Bob Arno: The worst, and the most common mistake, is to hang your handbag on back of the chair, or to tuck the bag behind you on the seat. You think you have physical contact with the bag, but fifteen minutes into the meal you forget! I’ve seen surveillance videos in which a gang of three thieves in a well-established luxury hotel restaurant position themselves strategically around a targeted breakfast table, talking to each other on their cell phones. They wait for the perfect moment when the owner of the bag — the victim — leans forward. At that moment, the controller of the gang gives a small hand signal to the other two to execute their independent moves so that everything is coordinated. One accomplice creates a small diversion in front of the table, and the other observes the restaurant staff, to be sure nobody pays attention to the incident. The thief unrolls a soft jacket from his fanny-pack and drapes it over his arm, allowing the fabric to come down over the victim’s handbag. He scoops up the bag under the cover of the nylon jacket. They then immediately leave the restaurant. Coffee shops (such as Starbucks and their competitors) are extremely popular venues for thieves who practice bag stealing.
Conclusion: You must have your purse in front of you and keep physical contact when traveling. If it is a purse with long strap, wear it in front of your body when you are in a vulnerable location or environment.
What’s the safest place for a man to carry his wallet?
BA: Men should carry their wallets in their tightest pocket. Still, that’s not always safe enough. For added security, men might try one of four kinds of under-clothes pouches which are comfortable and functional for easy access, but which make it almost impossible for thieves to steal from.
1. A pouch that hangs from a string around your neck and is worn under your shirt.
2. A pouch that hangs from your belt by a loop and is worn inside your pants.
3. Ankle-holsters in various designs and levels of sophistication.
4. Underclothing with built-in pockets for valuables. One new product is called Stashitware. Another line is made by Clever Travel Companion.
What’s the best way to respond to aggressive panhandlers, who may or may not be pickpockets?
BA: We’re programmed to be polite to strangers who approach us, even in unfamiliar cities. It’s hard to be cynical or always suspicious. But it’s wise to question the motivation behind an encounter, regardless of how friendly the stranger appears to be. Scammers want to lull you into a false sense of security and then spring the “rope-in” move. I like to prescribe a dose of cynicism, though it’s not to everyone’s taste. In any case, aggression should not be rewarded with a handout. Step aside. Disengage.
Further to that, do gypsies actually exist? Where are they a threat?
BA: In terms of stealing and pickpocketing, they do represent a threat. But they are not always attempting to pickpocket when they simply beg. Young female pickpockets in Europe, age 13-18, often originate from East Europe and belong indirectly to gangs, controlled by organized crime bosses. These bosses travel across East European cities and “lease” young girls from their parents with promises of lofty employment in the service sector in Western Europe. They are then “processed” or tutored in various techniques of pickpocketing. Finally, after the “schooling” they are sent to cities like Paris or London, where they’re chaperoned daily by their controllers at lucrative “theft” locations, such as busy public transportation stations, maybe underground Metros or popular music festivals. These criminals are not violent and are more a nuisance than a serious threat, yet one has to have one’s guard up against them. They’re especially prevalent in the big cities of Western Europe and the United Kingdom.
What should one watch out for in a crowded market or bazaar?
BA: It’s always hard for law enforcement to patrol and observe everything that goes on in a big market. And the thieves are good at spotting undercover police officers. The good thing is that the merchants in popular markets and bazaars have their own security who alert shop owners about lurking pickpockets.
There are many exotic and bustling markets, for example the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, which appear threatening, but which are in fact extremely safe. Perception can be wrong in either direction. Without listing every exciting bazaar around the world and ranking its safety, lets just say that common sense should rule. Don’t carry more cash than you are prepared to lose. Use those under-clothes pouches. Keep your purse or backpack in front of you (or leave it in the hotel). Markets, generally speaking, accept cash but not always credit cards, although even that is changing now with the abundance of new small portable wireless terminals.
What’s the best way to look after cameras, iPhones and other devices popular with petty thieves?
BA: A smart phone can easily be grabbed off your outdoor café table, with the culprit running (faster than you). I have never met a pickpocket who isn’t using a cell phone he or she previously stole from someone. Have a wide sturdy strap on your camera which is not easy to yank loose. Be sure it has strong clips at the end of the strap. For extreme situations, buy a camera case that actually has an opening in the bottom where the lens points down towards the opening. In other words, wear your equipment in disguised bags which do not have brand name logos on them, but rather something that will throw the thief off his target scent.
Important: Never fight a mugger! Cameras can be replaced, but getting a sharp object shoved into your body is not a good exchange. You cannot predict the behavior of a mugger. Pickpockets on the other hand are not prone to violence.
Please discuss hazards of public transportation.
BA: Public transport is by far the most common locale for pickpocketing. Especially during the moment you enter the tram/car/bus — or depart (at the door). The busier the Metro or the bus is, the higher the risk. Real professional teams travel in groups of three and create their own choke-points or blocking scenarios. Understanding that a large percentage of pickpocket thefts happen on or at public transportation should be enough to cause you to plan carefully and be on guard if the train or tram is crowded. It’s the physical jostling which needs to be avoided. But it’s also extremely easy to avoid the threat with a few obvious counter-moves. Just clasp your handbag solidly in front of you when entering; men can hold onto their wallets.
What are the biggest risks in using an ATM in an unfamiliar location?
BA: There are two threats tied to ATMs. One is the “skimmer,” a small device overlaying the mouth of the ATM (where you push in the bank or credit card). Skimmers can usually be spotted if one looks carefully at the ATM. If you recognize such a device, walk away and alert proper security personnel. Some skimmers are internal, and can’t be seen at all.
Two, and more ingenious, are “shoulder surfers.” They lurk near the ATMs and watch the PIN code used at the machine. When they get a PIN code, they watch where the credit card is put, then follow that person around, waiting for a good moment to steal the credit card.
Always shield your PIN as you enter it. Watch for lurkers, and use a different ATM if you’re suspicious of bystanders or the machine itself. If your card is “eaten” by the machine, try to cancel out of the transaction, even if you have to abandon your card. Do not accept help from a stranger in this situation.
— — — —
Denouement. None of us wanted to leave the park. After the demos, the dinner, and the as-yet-untold experience on the buses, after the conversation, the exchange of trade secrets, the trust, and yes, the new friendships, we sort of bonded. And I mean all of us: the band of thieves, the filmmaking crew, and the Arnos in the middle.
We stand there in the park in two concentric circles. The inner circle is Bob, Michele, Frank, Andy, and Marc. The outer circle is Van with the Red on his shoulder and his assistant holding his shoulders to guide him, director Kun, producer Kath, fixer Rosie, and me. None of us want to say goodbye.
Work finally pulls Marc and Andy away, but Frank remains. And finally, after two complete rounds of hugs and kisses, Frank straddles his bike, snaps on his helmet, and rides away. Van follows him with the camera until he’s out of sight.
We’re all physically and mentally exhausted; spent. I don’t know how the crew kept going; they were up hours before us every day and working for hours after we said goodnight. Yesterday they went nonstop from the market to the thieves’ restaurant to the second restaurant without a break, setting up and taking down equipment repeatedly. They are champions, all of them.
Making this documentary allowed Bob and me to fulfill certain long-held dreams. It allowed us the time in which to develop relationships with our subjects. It allowed us to have top-notch translators, especially my hero Michele. It enabled us to host our gang of thieves at a meal that Bob and I alone would need investors to fund, but which was integral to the building or our relationship, which gave us the ability to dig deeper into the life and times of pickpockets. And lastly, the documentary gives a soapbox to the subjects, a platform for the pickpockets themselves to explain their methods and motivations, their regrets and their desires.
Writing these stories has been difficult for me. The “easy difficulty,” if there is such a thing, has been simply finding the time to write in the midst of our action-packed days, and then finding an internet connection to get them online. But that’s just a technicality. The true difficulties have been several.
First, whitewashing our incredible host city [Naples!], and by necessity, the characters and true identities of the men in our story. How I had to restrain myself! As a writer, I tend to be of the descriptive sort. I would never say we drank “liqueur!” I want to say what kind [Limoncello], what color [sunshine yellow], and how lovely the fruit it was made from [lemons]. I want to tell about the marvelous restaurants we visited and the wonders of the local cuisine. I want to praise our cliffside hotel [San Francesco al Monte] and describe the view from its terraces, that you can see all the way to …
Sigh.
And—wait a minute! What will this film do to tourism in this mystery town? Will we repel visitors, or intrigue them? Our goal is to balance the stardust with the dirt, to spotlight the unique riches this place has to offer. We hope it comes through in the film. I certainly left it out of these stories.
And there is something of a moral dilemma. In an exchange of thievery techniques, are we teaching known criminals how to steal more and better? We don’t think so, but how do you see it? What about the techniques the general public will learn from watching the film—should we be concerned about how that knowledge may be used? We don’t think so, but we agree that it looks bad—as if we’re teaching how to steal.
I’m afraid of what the public will think of Bob and me in our pursuit of thieves. Will you chastise us for not stopping thefts when we see them? Or will you understand that our method, getting “in” with these criminals, has a greater end? Will you think us awful for liking the pickpockets, despite knowing what havoc they wreak, what distress they cause? In the film, it will be up to Kun to portray us honestly alongside our motives. But here in these writings, it was my responsibility. Do you think it’s all fun and games for us, that we dine with thieves for a lark? Do you understand that as outsiders, allowed into an underground brotherhood of thieves, we are able to gather knowledge for the greater good? Please comment. We need to know if we should hide under a rock when the film comes out.
We are incredibly grateful to film director Kun Chang, who has pushed this project forward for more than four years already. Bob and I have complete faith in him and have no doubt that he’ll put together a documentary that is as beautiful and dramatic as it is fascinating and educational.
While the shooting isn’t over, the exciting part is. What’s left is hard work, mostly by Kun and his editing team. It’s impossible for me to imagine how they’ll make sense of the vast amount of gripping footage we have accumulated. I also recognize that my perception of the experience is not the same as Kun’s. The sterile, stripped-down story I told here, missing highlights (believe it or not), missing local color (of which there’s tons), genericizing everything for the sake of the eventual film, may have little resemblance to Kun’s vision. We will all be surprised at the film: you, readers; and Bob and I.
This is Part 21 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel.
—Originally posted 10/5/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.
Bob gets cold feet. Overnight, reality began to percolate and bubble over the exhilaration of yesterday’s thieves’ challenge. By morning it was clear to Bob that stealing from the innocent public requires a set of attributes he lacked. Pickpockets in the U.S. call it heart, but they are referring to a lower part of the anatomy. They mean balls. I call it a criminal core.
Bob will not disappoint our gang of thieves in the park, assuming they show up. We will go to the park to thank them for the good time last evening and for participating in our film, and concede defeat in the great steal-off that never was.
Our director is fine with this decision. Crew and cameras are packed into the van; Bob and I are put in a taxi. We meet in the park. Bob paces, still somewhat conflicted. He wrongly accepted this dare in a feverish party atmosphere; but he is not a man to go back on his word, either. Not even to a band of crooks.
Maybe they won’t show up. Then Bob will be off the hook. Of course they’ll show up. Just like they did for the demo in this same park weeks ago, and yesterday’s dinner party. Bob paces in the shadow of the kiddie rides.
Frank & Bob
Frank zooms up on his motorcycle, grinning. He doesn’t know if the others will come; Andy’s not too reliable, he says. After a few minutes of chat, Bob swings his leg over the bike, wanting to putt around the park. Frank first pushes his helmet on Bob, and ensures that it’s safely fastened.
By the time Bob returns, Ed, Marc, and Andy have arrived. The regrouping of the party gang revs up the mood a few notches and distorts reality once again. The thieves are eager to pit themselves against the stage professional, and their enthusiasm is contagious. The laughter and excitement rise. Then talk turns to location.
“On the buses, of course,” they say in unison, “that’s where we work!”
“How about the market,” Bob suggests. He’s hoping for an environment in which he’d feel a little more control. A place with a large number of potential victims so he can pick just the right one, in just the right situation.
“No, another group is working there today. We don’t want to ruin their day. The bus!”
Somehow it was agreed. It was also agreed that all items would be returned to their owners. Certainly we could not be involved in stealing things for real; not even in accompanying known thieves while they commit criminal acts. All pickpockets, Bob included, would take, display, and return or replace ill-begotten gains.
Again we are a large group. Four thieves, Bob and I, and a crew of five. The eleven of us cross the park and board the next bus.
What happens next is—is—well, I’m very sorry but I can’t say. I will tell you that it is the climax of the film. It is beyond the dinner with thieves in excitement, fascination, and entertainment value. The added element of danger looms large. The speed in which events occur, the drama, and the revelations to us all combine to create lifetime impressions for all of us. Perhaps for you, too, when you see the film.
I know it’s mean to leave a cliffhanger. I admitted in part one of this narrative that I’d be compelled to leave out much good stuff. I’m sorry. But let’s go on.
Two hours later we regroup in the park. There’s been a little one-upmanship between Frank and Andy, a kind of battle using warmth-charisma-speed-guts-and-raw-skill. No hard feelings—it was all in fun. But which of them will be the pickpocket face of this city?
We’re debriefing now. Interviews in the park with the big Red camera back on its tripod and Michele translating while responsible for impeccable sound.
These men are thieves—criminal scavengers—but they are also poets. On camera Andy says:
“Bob, what we do is the same, but we are different. You make people laugh. I make people cry.”
This is Part 20 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel. Right. There’s no part 19. The original Part 19 is here.
—Originally posted 10/410 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.
Dinner with thieves, continued. Carafes of white wine land on the table. I join Andy and Lou and have beer. Among much laughter, the feast begins, family style. Plates of bruschetta arrive, and large rounds of mozzarella draped in prosciutto. Andy stands, carves the cheese, and serves everyone. Before he finishes, platters of fried items are placed on the table. Fried cheese, fried mashed potatoes, fried fishballs on sticks, fried squid, fried octopus. Before anyone begins, all glasses must clink all other glasses. Then men stretch across the table, serving themselves and each other with their hands. Ed puts handfuls of crisp-fried squid on my plate, and squeezes a lemon over it all.
Pickpockets love seafood, too.
Bob and several of the pickpockets are standing again, clowning around and swiping stuff. Watch me! No, wait—try it this way! Our plates are cleared and fresh ones laid down. The room is thick with smoke and loud with laughter. Ed is taking pictures with his mobile phone, or maybe he’s taking video. Bowls of stewed octopus come, and others heaped with steamed mussels. Bob borrows someone’s lit cigarette and pushes it though a handkerchief—no hole!—no burn! The men love it. More beer, more wine, more bread… Bob calls for dessert—”maybe some fruit.” The thieves laugh. Not yet! We have more courses coming!
Bob Arno and the pickpockets of Naples enjoy an endless dinner interspersed with theft demonstrations.
Michele is translating for six pickpockets and Bob, as fast as he can. In such demand, he sometimes forgets he’s also sound recordist for a big-time film and someone has to remind him: “Michele, the boom!” I make a little conversation with Ed, on my left, but since I don’t have a translator, I mostly just observe.
Paccheri with seafood. Delicious!
A huge platter of pasta comes, covered with buttery mussels and a variety of clams. Its fragrant steam masks the cigarette smoke for a few minutes. It’s a work of art. The pasta is thick and chewy, the clams sweet, garlicky, divine. This dish, served in the den of thieves, is my favorite of all the spectacular meals enjoyed in our host city. It pains me to withhold credit where credit is due. I want to shout the name of the restaurant, and the city we’re in. I will… later. [Naples!]
A seafood feast with pickpockets in Naples.
There’s serious eating for a while. This is food to pay attention to, and these men are no strangers to fine cuisine. Another platter is added to the table, this one heaped with shell fish, crustaceans, and fish. Really, it is too much. Yet Ed is popping baby squids into my mouth with his fingers, and I’m enjoying them. There is some metaphor here—something about the fingers of a thief being exempt from all rules.
Eat-til-you-burst in Naples, with thieves.
The men rise for more demonstrations. Bob swipes the restaurant owner’s wallet, then Andy shows how he can take cash without removing the wallet. Finally, they get to that special front pocket technique, unique to this city. Andy crushes against Bob, as if on a lurching bus. Frank holds Bob in place from the other side. Andy removes bill after bill from Bob’s front pocket, handing them off to Marc. Then Andy turns and skulks away. Playing along, Bob shouts “who took my money!” Marc passes the cash back to Andy, who presents it to Bob with a half bow and hand up in apology. Bob accepts the cash and Andy departs.
Left: Andy takes cash from Bob’s front pocket. Right: After Bob’s accusation, Andy returns the cash—but his left hand palms half of it in a practiced short-change move.
“We return the money when we have to,” he explains, “but it’s never the same amount.” Exactly like a magician, he has palmed half the cash before returning it. The victim never counts it on the spot. Andy grins hugely, full of pride.
Lou, now retired, sits out most of the demonstrations, but can’t help getting into the action to show his own wallet extractions. He rocks the wallet—zig-zags it out. The demonstrations and raucous laughter extend through dessert and beyond; through coffee, through liqueur. Then it’s time for picture-taking. All the thieves want to get between Bob and me for a photo.
Bob Arno and five pickpockets at dinner in Naples.
There’s a surprise: everyone signs full releases agreeing to be in our film, faces shown. We are ecstatic. The thought of blurring these expressive, lively faces was distressing. Now these men, the true stars of our pickpocket documentary, will be laid bare; not only their identities, but their emotions, their humanity.
An impromptu pickpocket demo. The most difficult steal.
And there’s a challenge. The pickpockets have admired Bob’s steals, but insist their work is different. Can he perform in their world? Has he got the heart? By that they mean the guts—the nerve. They summons Bob to a test. We’ll meet in the park. Tomorrow.
This is Part 18 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel.
—Originally posted 10/210 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.
Dinner with thieves. It’s 3:00. The film crew’s still perfecting camera angles, lighting, and table arrangements. I’ve taken my seat as requested, so cameras can be adjusted behind me.
I’m antsy. Bob’s irritated. All invitees arrived on time at 2. They’ve been asked to wait in a nearby café. But for how long? They’re our guests and I’m feeling rude.
The restaurant has closed to the public. Its owners and staff stand in the back, arms crossed, unsmiling. Its lighting has been draped with black or white fabric and our own lights have been arranged on large stands. My eyes bounce from the frenzied crew to my watch to the prominent tanks of live seafood bubbling noisily. Sound man Michele frowns at the hum but, as a homeboy, he knows he can’t ask the restaurant owner to turn off the vital air supply to the pricey perishables.
Bob and I were skeptical as the taxi cruised along the unfamiliar streets of this neighborhood. This small restaurant, chosen by Andy, is the best-looking address on the street. Inside, its homey atmosphere is comforting. We can’t help wondering: are the owners relatives?; if not, do they know who today’s guests are?
We thought this gathering would just be a dinner, maybe a party, but it’s more—it’s an ad hoc film set. The crew are now trying to rig a camera to fly over the table. Our producer and official whip-cracker, Kath, is putting on the pressure to open the doors; but sound must be perfect. Lighting and cameras must be just so. I’m wondering if we’ll have any guests at all by the time they’re ready. Finally, at 4:00, the thieves are called in.
The pickpockets arrive, smiling: Frank, and his brother Ed; Andy, and his brother Lou; Lou’s son-in-law Marc; and Clay. Handshakes and hugs all around, as at any dinner party. Then Andy goes straight for Bob’s pockets, feeling him up. With a flourish and a spin, he whips out a wallet from Bob’s breast pocket, laughing. To complete the charade, he hands it off to Marc, who skulks away. The room cracks up. Applause.
Frank has dressed for the occasion, in a purple silk shirt. When we first met him on the bus he was clean-shaven. The next day in the park he signed a release agreeing to be in our film. Now he has a mustache. Has he grown it as a disguise? For a debonaire film-star look? I forget to ask him.
This is Part 17 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel.
—Originally posted 10/1/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.
Anticipation. Frank has RSVPed by email, with enthusiasm. But what about the others? Will they come to our dinner? I wonder about the restaurant chosen by Andy. Is it owned by a relative? Is it a regular thieves’ den? Will the food be appetizing and safe to eat? Is it a dive, or has he taken advantage of our offer to select an outrageously expensive place?
It’s in a rough neighborhood, is all we are told. Later, our crew go there to scout the lighting needs and see how they’ll set up cameras, but the place is closed.
At the dinner, we hope to exchange pickpocketing techniques. Bob is particularly interested in learning the moves involved in a slow, steady extraction from the front pants pocket. To be on the safe side, we decide to buy a pair of pants with the kind of pocket we know will work.
We go shopping, camera crew in tow. And given the neighborhood, given the mass of equipment that surrounds us on this excursion, we have police protection. Not one, but two cops escort us into the alley of cheap clothing, where we find what we think are the perfect pants. Michele shouts as a man runs toward Van, who has the Red on his shoulder; Van can only see what’s in his frame. One of our cops steers the man away.
Waiting for the dinner, we feel we must stay off the buses. We don’t want our pickpocket friends to think we’re looking for their competitors. Neither do we want to infringe on their work—we’re not law enforcement, we remind ourselves. This city could put a dent in thievery if it wanted to, but criminal activity is an innate and intrinsic part of society here; our values are outsiders’ ethics.
We feel it’s safe, so-to-speak, to research another territory. We make a morning trip to a huge outdoor market where we’re told a few female pickpockets work plucking wallets out of women’s purses. Bob and I wander the aisles of clothing, shoes, hardware, luggage, housewares, and electronics. I’m totally, naturally, distracted by the shoes—of top quality and bottom price. A fabulous pair of tall, lace-up boots costs €25, about $30—10% of regular retail! I want to try them on but I’m supposed to be thiefhunting. Our crew is following us with their hidden cameras. Kun is using an exposed Canon D5 for stills, but it also shoots gorgeous video. We have undercover police guards tailing us at the ends of each aisle. Nothing happens. I try on shoes, I set down my purse, I turn my back on it. Nothing. No takers.
Victims report
Back in the police office we dissect our failure to attract thieves. Kun’s camera was too obvious, the police say. Shouts were heard warning of cameras. The books containing hidden cameras were held unnaturally, raising suspicion. My purse was carried too carelessly, they say, no local woman would hold it like that.
While we’re debriefing in the police office, three separate victims come to report thefts from their purses. The thieves are there. They’re working. But they’re savvy, and they don’t like me as a victim.
The market is closing now; each vendor is packing up and loading boxes onto trucks. Our dinner with thieves is nearing.
This is Part 16 of THE MAKING OF OUR NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC DOCUMENTARY, PICKPOCKET KING. The film is about us, Bob Arno and Bambi Vincent. We are “thiefhunters in paradise.” The paradise we chose for the story is the warm and wild city of Naples, Italy, home to the world’s best pickpockets. The documentary premieres December 2 at 8pm ET/PT on the National Geographic Channel.
—Originally posted 9/29/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.
