A Theory Mowed Down

They still exist! Right here in Los Angeles, they still exist!

Well, maybe not L.A., per se. But if we’re talking the County of Angels, they do.

Yes, in this era of These Kids Today--of slackers and heshers, Goths and gang-bangers, snotty brats and mall rats, and every suspect in that Santa Clarita teen burglary ring (guilty until proven innocent, I say!)--I have an important news bulletin.

There are still young people in Greater Los Angeles who make a little money by mowing their neighbors’ lawns. I have found them.

Nope, you don’t have to move to Tulsa, as one reader suggested, to find a phenomenon that seemed to die out here amid all the cheap immigrant labor and, especially, all you damn Baby Boomer parents out there spoiling These Kids Today rotten.

But you might still have to move to the outer fringe of the sprawl--to a place like Ruth Penn’s neighborhood in Lancaster, where brothers Aaron and Jeremy Leishman not only care for her lawn, but nine other neighbors’ as well. They’ve been doing the work for four years, since Aaron was 14 and Jeremy 13. Back then, they used to pedal over with a trailer attached to Aaron’s bike, carrying the mower and edger. Now they borrow their dad’s truck.

Mrs. Penn--she’s 82 years old, so Mrs. seems only polite--sent me a letter in response to a challenge. Events like the Santa Clarita juvenile burglary bust had me thinking about my suburb in the ‘60s, back when I inherited my brother’s afternoon paper route. Many thousands of boys, and probably hundreds of girls, used to make money delivering papers--and they often started as preteens. It also was routine for boys to make extra money tending their neighbors’ yards.

So convinced was I that such youthful entrepreneurship was history in these parts that I recently issued a challenge: “Two tickets to Universal Studios for the first young person here in Greater L.A. who could document that he or she earned regular spending money by mowing neighbors’ lawns.”

The early reaction seemed to reinforce my suspicions.

Tara Elder-Couzzon of Canoga Park wrote in to tell of two boys who passed out 100 fliers seeking such work--and got no takers. Some people told similar tales about young people who don’t shy away from volunteer work. A few parents wrote in to brag about what good kids they have. Not only were they not arrested in connection with burglaries, but they got good grades, did their chores, performed volunteer work, earned merit badges, all that stuff.

Lindsey Howell of Santa Clarita was one such mom who bragged about her daughter. She also reported that, until a couple of years ago, she and her husband had a neighborhood kid mow their lawn “until he broke so many sprinkler heads that it became cheaper to hire a gardener.”

With serendipitous timing, I also received e-mail from a young woman I had written about a few months ago. Melody was one of my students in a journalism workshop, a bright teenager who favors dark Gothic stylings and music. But as I wrote last summer, she taught me that even Goths can be perky.

She signed herself as “the Princess of Sorrow, Mel.” Then she added this:

“P.S.--Goths can be good too! I’m Student of the Month!”

It was interesting, but not surprising, that most of the reaction came from Santa Clarita, the scene of crime.

Santa Claritans seem particularly sensitive about the image of These Kids Today, now that their low-crime community has been tainted by These Kids Today. Rabbi Steven Conn of Congregation Beth Shalom of the Santa Clarita Valley sent along a copy of a sermon on the importance of parenting. He suggested that the problem wasn’t parents who spoiled children but gave their kids too little of what they need--guidance and supervision.

“From what I have seen in my own neighborhood,” Rabbi Conn said in his sermon, “there are plenty of kids who are not being actively raised by their parents. Like many parents in our town, some of my neighbors truly believe that we live in a magical kingdom whose very atmosphere will prevent their kids from coming to any harm. . . . Kids of all ages roam our neighborhood unsupervised.”

Now, I liked 98% of Conn’s sermon and was flattered to be mentioned. But being a journalist, I must now dwell on that other 2%.

The first 1% was that common parochial complaint: that Santa Clarita gets attention in The Times when something bad happens. To that I have two reactions. Try to imagine how residents of a more troubled town--Compton, say--could commiserate with all the negative press Santa Clarita is getting. Secondly, remember this: News by its nature tends to be negative. “Airliner lands” is not news. “Airliner crashes” is.

The other 1% concerned Rabbi Conn’s statement that I “ridiculed” Santa Clarita parents for both leaving their doors unlocked and driving their kids short distances to school. Well, excuse me, but I was just the messenger: That quote came from Santa Clarita Mayor Jan Heidt.

If Rabbi Conn knew of any young people making a few bucks mowing lawns, he didn’t mention it.

But by then I had the letter from Mrs. Penn, telling me about Aaron and Jeremy Leishman.

“They are fine boys, polite and very kind--doing extra chores to help me. I hope they qualify for your offer of Universal Studios tickets.”

I called Mrs. Penn and she gave me the Leishmans’ number. Aaron, 18, is the oldest of Kurt and Leesa Leishman’s eight children. He told me the enterprise was sort of handed down through family and friends. First his grandpa mowed lawns to make money on the side, then his father. Then his father passed it on to a family friend, who passed it down to younger siblings. Then it was passed back to Aaron and Jeremy.

They get most of their business through referrals. All 10 of their customers live within about a half-mile radius of home, he said.

Aaron told me he’s been putting his earnings in the bank, saving up for five months from now, when he will be leaving for his mission. The Leishmans are Mormon.

Wait a second. I think I see a loophole. My promise explicitly referred to “regular spending money.” I said nothing about savings. As virtues go, thrift strikes me as greatly overrated. I am not sure that, in good conscience, I can give tickets to Universal Studios to a young man who is saving up for a church mission.

But what the heck.

Aaron and Jeremy, let’s call it a tie. Two tickets for each of you.

*

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to him at The Times’ Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth 91311, or via e-mail at [email protected]. Please include a phone number.