View from a low hotel window: our hotel on left, mountain road, and the city.
Thiefhunting, Day One, still more. This is an old-fashioned town, lightly touched by the 21st century. Vendors ply the streets like the horse-and-buggy days my parents describe, only these peddlers drive rickety rusty trucks piled with everything from fruit to diapers to toys, and bark through muffled microphones: “come one, come all, I’ve got everything for you—cheap!” Several trucks may be wending their ways on the steep roads below our hotel, and they politely alternate their announcements.
It’s a noisy town, too. Church bells ring insistently all morning, to shake the lazy from their beds. The nightly neighborhood fireworks I’ve already mentioned (I’m watching a spectacular show just this moment from the terrace bar). Cars and motorcycles whiz by on the narrow mountain road, spewing fumes, deafening. There’s a lot of horn-honking, and frequent musical police sirens. The words “charming” and “quaint” only apply to certain aspects of the city: dining, for sure; the people, architecture, ancient culture and traditions.
The fact that the city is somewhat of an anachronism is important to this story. It explains a little bit of the pickpockets’ fascination with us, and their reaction to us. Theirs is a simple, predictable existence. Not simple as in easy; their chosen career has plenty of difficulties and complications. But simple as in routine, repetitive, and limited. There’s work, there’s family life, there’s celebration and I’m sure there’s joy and pride.
An old and crime-ridden part of town.
Slyly lifting a wallet from the pocket of an obvious tourist on a bus is one of the daily routines. Speaking with the victim—briefly—happens now and then. Coffee with the victim? Never. Hours of conversation? Unheard of. An outsider actually asking questions, listening, interested, non-judgmental? A total shock. And not unpleasant! Or…reason for suspicion. Is it a sting of some sort? A trap? “The system?”
The men start out fake-friendly. Then they are confused. They become curious and cagey, cautious and protective. But Bob and I are believable because we’re honest. We admit outright that we’re making a documentary. We say we’re looking for the top talent in the profession. We explain that we want to feature this job, and we need the best representatives to do it. Yes, the film will be international, and that means it will be shown here, too.
We’re listening, and the thieves are flattered. We do not fit the routine. We are a curiosity, and a surprisingly welcome intellectual stimulation. We trigger new thoughts, inspire them to say things they’ve never before put into words. We become their future dinner topic, a big thing in their day, maybe in their year. Possibly more.
We’re making a film, we tell the thieves. A film. A movie… This is a concept so remote to the people of this neighborhood, the people who live this simple-but complicated existence, they know it is impossible that the making of a film would touch them—yet it has.
Just the thought brightens their day. And they’re intrigued. Why not? Everyone in this town knows what they do. It’s no secret, they’ve been doing it their entire adult lives and even before. What’s to lose?
Bob and I prepare for the meeting in the park. Will the pickpocket gang show up? Will they really sign the required releases and demonstrate for our cameras? Fervent hope and suspense make it impossible to sleep.
This is Part 9 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 9/19/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.
Thiefhunting, Day One, more. We’ve been standing in the tiny coffee bar more than an hour, speaking loudly. Eventually, the owner throws us out. No bad feelings, Michele translates—we’ve just been there long enough. Frank and Marc need to get back to work, anyway. They promise to meet us in the park tomorrow. They agree to demonstrate a few of their favorite techniques. They agree we can film them. And most important, they agree to sign releases, allowing us to show them in our film.
Warm goodbyes, and we all split. They go one way, Bob and I another, Michele-the-translator another.
Bob and I are ecstatic beyond words. On our first bus ride, we snagged a new pair of thieves and connected well with them. We’re surprised—and we’re not. After all, that’s why we chose this city for our documentary. It has the greatest concentration of pickpockets, who work the hardest, and are—we believe—the best at it.
Leaving the coffee bar, Bob and I walk blindly around a few corners. We’re all wound up and high-strung. We just want to get away, cool down, get our heads together, decompress. We want to find Michele and ask him a million questions, since he couldn’t possibly have translated everything the thieves said in the bar. And we want his impressions of the men.
A few streets away, we pause. Bob turns off his eye-glass-camera, his button-camera, and his book camera. He lifts the back of my shirt and turns off my button-cam. Our film director Kun Chang finds us, and we talk excitedly about what just happened—our meeting in the coffee bar—and tomorrow’s plans to meet in a park.
And at that exact moment, Frank and Marc approach us from across a wide street. There’s a third man with them—Ed—who was their partner on the bus with us. We stand there in the middle of a busy sidewalk and the coffee shop conversation continues, now with Ed, who turns out to be the brother of Frank. Ed is another good-looking man. At 51, he’s got a little silver in his hair, and a little bald spot. He has a distinguished look. Put a suit on him and he could con a banker out of a million bucks. But the banker might just give him the million bucks because he’s so benign, even affectionate.
I suddenly remember that all Bob’s cameras are now off and so is my button-cam. What about my purse-cam, did we ever turn it off? I can’t remember. I aim it, just in case. Another man strolls up: Clay, a colleague and team member. More of our production crew arrive, too, so we introduce the thieves to the filmmakers. Michele is translating three conversations at once, overwhelmed by the bizarreness of happy-chat with thieves, but utterly capable of interpreting the rapid-fire chatter coming at him from every direction. Hands are flying. It’s another long talk about not much, but it cements our relationship. Trust is building.
We are all to meet the next day at a time and place of their choosing. The pickpockets are to demonstrate their specialties for our documentary. They’re going to show us exactly how they steal.
This is Part 8 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 9/18/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.
Thiefhunting, Day One, continued. Bob and I were on a high, having found a talented pickpocket team on the first bus ride of our first day of thiefhunting—in front of our film crew. Okay—in reality, the pickpockets found us. But let us credit ourselves as talented pickpocket magnets. And let it also be noted that we do not make it easy for the thieves. There’s no wallet peeking out of Bob’s pocket. His shirt covers the pocket, too.
The five of us—two pickpockets, our sound man-cum-translator Michele, Bob, and I—order coffee in a tiny bar. The thieves pay for it immediately. They’re smiling, laughing, and so are we. Michele translates with a huge grin, first nervously, then almost joyously, as he recognizes the human side of cold, heartless criminals. It’s a revelation to him, as it once was for us.
Gentlemen thieves
In these moments of close contact, of talk without judgment, of sharing insider talk with outsiders, we are like any strangers conversing. But no—we are more. We are intimates, because we speak of the unspeakable. We are confidantes, understanding what most do not.
As we enter the coffee bar, the gentlemen thieves step aside to let me, the only woman, enter. I’m terrified, hyper-aware of my hidden rigging: coils of wire, two boxes of electronics at my waist. These are just the sort of gallant gents who might place a hand softly on the small of my back. A move that would turn our encounter upside down. I rush past the men and their roving hands. Hands that are comfortable in other men’s pockets, in women’s purses, on the small of my back. I feel rude in the face of their chivalry.
Introductions over coffee—so civilized. Sorry, but I must now bastardize, anglicize, and fictionalize their names. For now. Frank is the clean-cut man who stole Bob’s wallet. He’s fiftyish, nicely dressed, good-looking. He’s muscular, confident, oozing testosterone; default emotion: jovial. As I said before, we’d not have suspected him for an instant were it not for his behavior on the bus.
His partner is Marc, thirtyish, short hair, light beard as dictated by fashion, big bright eyes. Marc is a bit cagey. Cautious and observant, his eyes dart around, land for an instant, keep moving. He can pick up some of our English. He can speak a little, too. But he’s nervous and confused in this unheard-of situation.
Bob is excited and wants to cement his new relationships. He tosses me his book-cam, which I now balance on my purse-cam, carefully holding the two at slightly different angles in hope of capturing the scene. And remembering not to block my button-cam with either.
Pickpocket friends
Bob pulls out his iPod Touch, on which he’s loaded a gallery of thieves: pictures of pickpockets we’ve met in this city over the years. There are twenty or so faces. Bob lets the thief take the iPod in his hand. I watch, pretty certain he doesn’t intend to dart out with it. Frank slides the photos around, showing Marc, enlarging them as he pleases. He’s dumbfounded to see all his pals on Bob’s iPod. He points, laughs, doubles over, and names each one. Then he looks up at Bob, smile gone. “Which model is this?” He raises the iPod. Old model, Bob admits. “Okay, okay. I have the new one,” Frank says, and lights up again.
As Frank flips through the photos, he comes to one of Lou, another pickpocket we know in this neighborhood whom we first met in 1998. We learn that Marc is married to Lou’s daughter. They flip to a photo of Lou’s brother, Andy—Marc’s uncle. It’s a thriving family business.
Frank chuckles: “We thought we were hunting you, but you were hunting us!”
“Twenty years ago we made a good living without the tourist,” Frank tells us. “Now because of the economy, we depend on them. For that, we are sorry.” He tells us they now use a new technique, only developed about 20 years ago, because the police complained about the thefts. “We now can steal only the money from the wallet, without taking the wallet. And we don’t take all the money—we try to leave a little.”
For the most part, they don’t use stolen credit cards, either. That would raise the crime to another level. When they do steal a wallet, they bundle credit cards, ID, even photos, and drop them into a mailbox. Lou told us the same thing in 1998. Now, the police here corroborated it.
Our film crew had gathered outside the bar and are trying to get footage however they can. Marc becomes suspicious. He calls Bob on his sunglass-cam. Bob fesses up. The mood doesn’t change in the least.
Bob explains our film project to Frank and Marc. He invites them to participate, saying they’ll be shown on big screens around the world. They’ll have to sign releases. We make an appointment: tomorrow in a park.
This is Part 7 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 9/17/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.
On buses and trains, Michele ditches his studio headset in order to monitor sound with something less obvious.
Thiefhunting, Day One, continued. As we synchronize our thiefhunting plans with the film crew, I’m newly appreciative of Michele, our London-based sound recordist, who is from this city. He’s a gentleman, a perfectionist, and an invaluable translator. We’ll need him in order to talk to the pickpockets. Assuming we find any. Assuming they agree to talk to us.
We’re all driven to a point near to where Bob and I want to board a bus. We disperse like a criminal gang, each ducking into various doorways to turn on our cameras.
Bob and I linger, loiter, choose a bus, and board. It’s not crowded, not promising, we see no “suspects.” But we decide to ride to another location. We stand near the middle door. The crew scatter throughout the bus. All of us wear a veneer of nonchalance. All of us are coiled like springs, hyper-alert. Bob and I have done this a million times, but it’s the first time for our team.
At the second stop, three men board the bus. They’re clean-cut, fresh-faced men—two in their fifties, one 30ish. Bob and I don’t suspect them until they move close, crowding us—unnecessarily—against the window. Bob gives me a little squeeze, so I know something’s happening. He concentrates on the feeling behind his butt pocket, then whispers to me “done.”
As the bus approaches its next stop, Bob blatantly feels for his wallet. The pickpocket, still behind him, points to the floor, where he’d dropped it after finding it empty. He picks it up, hands it to Bob, and smiles as if Bob must have dropped it himself.
The pickpocket and one accomplice get off the bus. We follow, and all our crew jump off too. One of the thieves stays on the bus. As the two thieves stroll away, Bob and I accost them. “I do the same as you,” Bob says. He repeats it in several languages. With friendly faces, the pickpockets try to pretend they don’t understand. Bob persists and makes himself understood to some degree. But he wants full communication.
“Does anyone speak English?” he calls to the crowd. The nearest woman says no, and walks past. One man rises from where he’s lying in the grass, and volunteers to translate. It’s Michele, our sound-man, jumping into his role of anonymous translator. “How about coffee, then?” the pickpocket pair suggests. Just what we’d hoped for! And off we went.
Later, Bob described how smoothly the pickpocket had extracted the wallet on the bus. Bob said that if he hadn’t been concentrating on it, he’d never have felt it. And our crew? They got the shot from every angle. But nobody knew that until much later. There was no time to look at footage.
This is Part 6 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 9/14/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.
The crew films us in our room as we gear up for thiefhunting.
Thiefhunting, Day One. Fully half the day is spent rigging hidden cameras. I’m wearing a button camera attached to an awful button-down shirt that I force myself to wear for the cause. The camera is wired to a control pack and monitor tucked into the back of my skirt. Another wire runs into the shirt pocket where a tiny mic is attached. Another wire ends in a remote control that allows me to start and stop the camera.
The button looks like any other, but contains a camera and is wired to a recorder.
I’ve got another microphone clipped to my bra—another piece of clothing I wouldn’t have worn but for the need to keep lifting my shirt for the crew rigging me. This mic is wired to another box that is tucked beside the first one on my back. This pack is a transmitter, and gets very hot. My skirt is tight now with all the equipment loaded under it, and I feel like a third-world building, draped in external wiring.
The bulbous lens of our wide-angle camera is concealed within a piece of an earring sewn onto a small bag.
I’m carrying a purse—a little clutch bag—which contains another hidden camera. This one is a wide-angle that takes gorgeous, sharp video, especially at close range. Its bulbous lens, like a black marble, has been beautifully disguised by our crack camera pros. I put on my NABI cap (my private joke because NABI is the National Association of Bunco Investigators) add sunglasses, and I’m ready to go out and investigate some bunco.
A wide-angle camera lens is behind the shiny sticker.
Bob gets the same kind of button cam and mic set up. In addition, he wears a completely wireless camera built into a pair of sunglasses, that he can casually remove and keep shooting with in his hand or set on a table. Bob will also have a tiny wide-angle handheld video camera like mine. His has been carved into a paperback novel. You can’t see it at all—it’s brilliant. Our director of photography is a master. We’re told his shooting is gorgeous, too, but we haven’t seen it yet.
The book is carved out for the camera, and closes with magnets. It’s a gorgeous piece of work.
Fully rigged, we make a plan for our thiefhunting. Bob and I will ride public transportation. Sound and camera crew will be nearby, not too close. Film director, associate producer, and our local “fixer” will all tag along, watching, but keeping their distance. We have a few assistants, too. We’re a big group. It will be difficult to coordinate our movements while acting as strangers to one another.
This is Part 5 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 9/13/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.
“They’ve bugged our room,” I postulated to Bob in the taxi from the airport. “I bet they hid video cameras inside.” That aspect of shooting a documentary hadn’t occurred to me.
Our hotel is a former monastery carved into a hillside. With an outrageous view, it overlooks the entire city we’ve come to infiltrate. It’s a pleasing dichotomy: after years of sweaty skulking lowdown among the gritty streets, we now look down on the calm innocence of colorful rooftops which belie the commotion of the city and its criminal activities.
We opened the door of our room to find its lovely decor largely hidden behind draped cloths, booms, electrical cords, and extra light fixtures. The room’s chandelier was wrapped in pink gel (colored cellophane used to alter theatrical lighting) and cloaked in black fabric studded with clothespins. The bedside sconces were half-covered with foil. The ambiance of the room was pretty much destroyed.
The crew followed us in for a few arrival shots and immediately dismantled much of the equipment before leaving us in privacy. As soon as the door closed and we were alone, I got up to sweep the place for hidden cameras. Is that one in the middle of the gilt scrollwork of the sconce in the dressing area? What about the handles of the closet door? Behind the translucent panel covering the electrical fuses?
Entering the bathroom I stopped dead in my tracks. The ceiling lights were gelled. In the bathroom! What shots do they need in the bathroom? Nobody’s talking. At this point, we still don’t know.
This is Part 3 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 9/11/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.
That was one of the first sentences directed to me upon landing in our location city. We did not collect our luggage because it didn’t arrive. As we came out of the airport, our film crew was waiting. We did not make the expected dramatic appearance pushing a mountain of aluminum cases on two trolleys. It was just us, dragging our carry-on.
The soundman needed to mic me in the airport lobby. With exquisite courtesy in his accented English, he inquired about my undergarments. He needed a sturdy mount for the mic.
It took two hours to rig our taxi with cameras and lights. You think a documentary is just a camera following the action, but the action must be lit and wired for sound.
Light panels are mounted on the taxi ceiling and backseat windows. White reflecting fabric helps brighten the scene. It’s dark before we get moving.
Our film director hinted of some sort of surprise to be found inside our hotel room. The room and hotel are gorgeous, we were promised. But whatever it was that we’d find in the room was left intentionally ambiguous.
There’s a lot about this project that’s ambiguous, or at least unknown. We know what we’re looking for and we know what resources and how much time we have for the search. But we don’t know what we’ll find. We’re meddling in a criminal subculture and can’t predict the reaction we’ll elicit from the thieves. And what about their bosses? If we’re poking into organized crime—and we believe we are—will the bosses feel threatened? Will they be angered? Or will they just smirk and laugh at us?
This is Part 2 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 9/10/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.
Day 1—TIME TO MAKE an announcement. Our long-dreamed of, long-worked-for project has become reality. Bob and I are making a documentary about pickpockets. The shoot starts now! We have an incredible team, and backing us is National Geographic, the fantasy of any serious documentary-maker. And we have a film director, Kun Chang, whose passion and persistence has been the engine of our project for more than four years.
Bob and I have been on our feet countless, endless days, for the past seventeen years in pursuit of pickpockets. We find, follow, and film the thieves, talk to them, and interview them. Dropping into the most fabulous locations of the world, we give short shrift to museums and monuments, and instead lurk among the tourists, preying on their prey. In the name of research, we people-watch. We’ve slowly acquired better and better video equipment, and a massive archive of crime footage.
Time to do something with it.
We’re on location now in a European city we chose for the main filming of our documentary. Over the next numerous posts, I intend to share the excitement, successes, and surprises of our journey as we dive ever deeper into the world of pickpockets. I don’t mean to be coy if I only hint of tantalizing details; certain aspects are contractually unmentionable until broadcast.
This is Part 1 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 9/9/10 and soon thereafter password-protected at the request of the producer.
Hi, Bob Arno here. First, thank you all for passionate comments (here and here) on our National Geographic documentary, Pickpocket King.
To a certain extent the majority of these comments are right, in individual or personal observations. For example, some of you have mentioned that you have friends who have come and visited Napoli and have never experienced any trouble. And of course it’s true, you can certainly visit Naples and never see a pickpocket, and you may even take a tram from the main train station down to the port and not be brushed into.
The same observations go for other cities that have even more daily pickpocket incidents; for example Paris and Barcelona. So, one can summarize that Napoli is not at the top of the list if we are only measuring daily figures, versus per capita numbers. But it is not our point in the program, or our agenda in this blog, to prove that Naples is especially high in statistics.
Naples is unique from another angle, compared with other European cities. Its pickpocketing is concentrated within a specific region of the city and on certain public transportation routes. That is a fact. And from a technical viewpoint, Naples can be perceived as a pickpocket capital—in finesse and in execution. The pickpockets’ teamwork and coordination is extremely accomplished. I don’t think anyone wants to hear why; we are not out to glorify the pickpockets as some kind of Olympian athletes. Maybe in another post. The first raw version of the documentary, an early edit, showed more details of their skills, but this was toned down so that young and impressionable viewers would not be inspired to follow in the tracks of these thieves.
Pickpocketing in Naples often, maybe even as a rule, follows a specific and intrinsic pattern in which at least three members in a troupe operate. It’s difficult for the police to penetrate this operation, unless certain laws are changed. Laws which at present are in line with the rest of EU laws, including where there is less of this crime. For example, we might see pickpockets in Copenhagen during the summer months, but rarely with the sophistication of those who practice in Naples.
So, for those who say they see more pickpocket activity in other European cities than in Naples, that may be true for them personally, but in no way does this prove our film theme wrong. The premise (and the fact) was that we could arrive in Naples with a team of camera operators using hidden equipment and, within ten minutes on our first day out, be successfully “hit.” That is not luck; it’s an understanding of the local scene.
By the way, I’ve done television programs on pickpocketing in many cities, including Barcelona, Rome, Las Vegas, New York, Stockholm, Prague, and others. For sure, Naples has the world’s most charming pickpockets.
We hope that those who saw the film armed with preconceived notions will comment after screening the program. And let us all hope that Naples finds a social program that offers these practitioners of an old “art” some sort of re-schooling to enter society with a fresh attitude, where nobody takes advantage of another human.
In Naples, Italy, media reports concerning our upcoming National Geographic pickpocket documentary have stirred up serious controversy. A large number of citizens have become upset, despite not having seen the film. More than a thousand have signed a petition demanding that the program not be broadcast this Sunday, September 25, in Italy.
The petitioners believe that the film will give Naples a bad reputation. (Uh, Naples already has a certain reputation, folks.) Whether broadcast in Italy or not, the documentary, Pickpocket King, will play in the rest of the world, with most countries airing it between now and the end of the year.
Naples deserves much more treatment and attention from the NG. The “documentary” shot with the help of actors is detrimental to the image of Naples from the title, but rather affirms the false! According to ministry data Napoli is not in any way being the first city in number of pickpockets! A giant transmitting information such as the NG this “documentary” yet another deal, free low blow to the city of Naples to zero the work of active citizenship and associations that try to do every day out of Naples, a new image, the true, that of a big, beautiful capital of Europe is unique in the world! Among the many, even our work, our tribute to the City of Naples, to which we have dedicated an entire project “Another Naples” http://www.oceanus.it/it/progetti/another-naples.html Here following the first 1000 signatures collected in less than three days, from September 23 to 20 at night, to ask the non-airing of the “documentary” National Geographic “Naples, the King of pickpockets” scheduled for Sunday, September 25, 2011.
I have pruned the 1,023 petitioners’ names from the post.
Bob and I want to emphasize that we adore the city of Naples (from a visitor’s perspective, of course). While shooting the documentary we made a conscious effort (easily accomplished) to highlight the beauty and charm of Naples.
Afterwards, in the editing room, the filmmaking team of director, producer, and editors had a story to tell and a finite number of minutes in which to tell it. Sadly, much great stuff was cut which portrayed the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. As always after a successful “shoot,” all parties to the making of the documentary were disappointed to see the loss of this fantastic scene or that poignant image because ruthless editing was required.
Here, Bob Arno replies to Oceanus ngo and the issues raised:
Hello Oceanus ngo. Thanks for sharing your concerns. We are not representatives of National Geographic, and we have no influence as to the program’s title. I even doubt that its head office has editorial input in the marketing of its programs outside the United States.
While I cannot address your dismay over the title, I would like to comment on a more sensitive point: the prevalence of pickpocketing in Naples compared to other European cities.
Real pickpocket statistics are impossible to acquire anywhere. First, how do you define “pickpocketing?” Tearing a handbag off a shoulder from a scooter? Ripping off a Rolex? A wallet or passport cleverly extracted from a fanny pack on a bus?
Official statistics are based on police reports. Reports tend to fall into multiple categories. We’ve written extensively about all this here.
We have spent considerable time researching Naples, actually in Naples, every year for the past 18 years. We research many, many other cities as well.
In the summer months, Naples has more cruise ship visitors than hotel guests. How likely is it that a typical cruise ship passenger experiences a theft in Naples, versus in St. Petersburg, Barcelona, or Istanbul? All these cities have pickpocketing at various level, and all cater to cruise ship passengers.
This brief reply is not the forum to explain all the complicated details of statistics. The majority of travelers, and especially those who visit this blog, are more interested in intriguing anecdotes of various cons and scams, and how to protect themselves when traveling abroad.
Here is a summarization of my thoughts regarding this Sunday’s broadcast:
1. Generally, only 30% (or fewer) of victims ever bother to visit a police station to report a theft, and even fewer cruise passengers because their ships usually depart at four or five p.m. A rule of thumb: there are usually 70% more incidents than statistics show.
2. Some cities “massage” these reports even further for various reasons. I do not know what the official daily or weekly counts are in Naples. There may be a political agenda, for example, requesting more funds for police; or the opposite, less money for law enforcement.
3. A large number of tourists who “visit Naples” head straight out of town for Pompeii, Capri, and the Amalfi Coast—cruise ship passengers, for example. While these tourists have officially “visited Naples,” they have not strolled around town. Of those who do experience the charm of the streets of Naples, and especially of those who brave public transportation, the proportion of pickpocket incidents is higher than in any other city we have researched (and we have researched many around the world). This conclusion is based on our constant survey of visitors to Naples, the number of pickpockets we have observed “at work” and interviewed, and the vast number of times we have been pickpocketed ourselves (sometimes several times in a single day). Granted, our wallet is empty for the sake of research, but we do not make it easy for or tempt pickpockets. We simply behave as any tourists.
4. Some cities with pickpocketing problems have used more draconian legal maneuvers to fight the crime. For example: in Paris video cameras are mounted on train platforms coupled with new legal statutes. In France, it is now a crime for a pickpocket (who already has one conviction) to begin even the first step in a sequence of moves to extract a wallet, such as “fanning,” which is brushing against the victim’s pockets to establish where the money is.
Professional pickpockets even have their own lists of cities where they like to visit in order to practice their “art.” Barcelona is number one in pickpocket-preference, because of the ineffective legal system. Paris, on the other hand is now disliked because of the cameras and the new law.
5. Compared to other Italian cities, for example Rome or Bologna, an uninformed visitor stands a higher chance of a pickpocket confrontation in a concentrated area, including on local transportation. That the skill of Naples’ pickpockets is exceptionally high. We say this after having witnessed in excess of 500 pickpocketing incidents around the world.
6. The double-threat of pickpocketing coupled with credit card fraud is not high in Naples. “Shoulder-surfing” and breaking of credit card pin codes is higher in other cities. It is the actual extraction skill and success rate that is exceptionally high in Naples.
7. Media across Europe and especially travel companies always warn their travelers to be very careful when visiting Napoli. This is a reputation gained over many years of visitors returning home with unfortunate experiences. It is also true that Napoli today has regained a reputation as a fun city with energy and flair.
We, personally, consider Naples one of the most charming cities in Europe. An absolute “must see” for any traveler; the restaurants, the shopping, the old city, the waterfront, the coffee shops, the great historical sites, the extension of the Amalfi coast, side trips to Capri and the unbelievable warmth of the people—its friendliness!
Yes, an entire program could be made about the pulse of the city and its people. But is there a “will” to clean up the criminal mess? It will take a monstrous effort, a strong focus on correcting a certain social malaise, and the re-education of those who are still in the quagmire of criminal activity. We’re back to money and available funds in a time when all of Europe is contracting.
Nobody wants to hear what two outsiders like ourselves have to say about the measures which are necessary. You have your own experts. But I am confident that if you can direct sufficient energy into giving the hundred or so professional pickpockets in Naples opportunities for new jobs, you would be able to clean up the image of Naples within two years. Expose the problem and offer alternatives. Others might say: why help these bastards?
8. The Italian media in Napoli has mentioned (in the few articles we have managed to read) that the program depended on actors and that it is not a true documentary. This is not so. I have not seen the Italian version of the program, so I cannot speak with absolute authority on this matter. But I can say that, apart from a short demonstration of bag-snatching from a motor-scooter, there are no actors. There is also a short segment in which two former pickpockets are interviewed and asked to re-enact some moves. They are not actors either. Since they gave up pickpocketing to find new careers, they also hoped for small parts in movies. Hopefully this will happen for them.
Their parts are brief, and the film does not concentrate on their action, or their participation. All the other pickpockets in this documentary are themselves; not actors, but professional thieves. I have seen some of them “working” trams and buses over a ten-year period.
If those in Naples who are fortunate enough to have a stable job and income are concerned that National Geographic will cast an ugly image upon their beloved city, I say they are wrong. This documentary does not portray Naples as especially dangerous or threatening. It simply follows my hunt for a specific individual, and shows how I then “connect” with his team.
One might say that I am “fooling” the thieves—our term is “social engineering”—because our ultimate goal is to educate the world on the methods of skilled pickpockets. The outcome, after watching a film like this one, is that the viewer will better understand how to behave when traveling, and how to avoid the unfortunate incidents they will never forget. In that endeavor we are extremely successful. Far more so than the police. We make people aware—through this platform, through books, and through stage presentations in which we mix “reality” with comedy show-business. The lasting impression is one that is never forgotten. We have literally thousands of thank-you notes to prove the success of our campaign.
