Ben Marcus Rules

Citizens gawk driving by the Malibu Newsstand. Some stop, full stop. Think Sam Neill’s and Laura Dern’s stunned first-gawks at the Brachiosaurus in Jurassic Park: Incredulity, delight, amazement. The very existence of Malibu Newsstand inspires similar emotional expression sessions from passersby on foot, on bikes, skateboards, scooters, EBikes, tour buses, behind shopping carts or behind the wheel of large automobiles: Aston Martins to Vauxhall - mass quantities of Teslas. A growing number of Rivians and the occasional Lucid, Karma, Taycan and Ford Lightning.

(There are a lot of wealthy, progressive Greenies in Malibu who think about the future and see the Big Picture and give the rest of us a glimpse of the future. Rich people live now the way everyone is going to live 20 or 30 years from now. The future is electric and the future happens fast these days.)

Incredulous gawks of delight: Seeing the Malibu Newsstand is like seeing a… dinosaur. A pterodactyl. Something extinct like a  T Rex, Dodo birds, dial up or Blockbuster. 

(“Or a functioning democracy,” Nate the Owner chimed in philossarcastophically, as is his wont. See below.)

A newsstand! Print! Here in the 21st Century! No way! We thought you wuz dead!

For 30 years now, seven days a week, roughly 10 to 6 in summer, 10 to 5 in winter - rain or snow or sleet or hail or June Gloom - the Malibu Newsstand has offered an ever-dwindling but still healthy variety of printed materials: newspapers, books, comic books, even printed maps and tide charts but mostly magazines, from AD to Variety. 

After 30 years of day to day operation, Nate the Philosophizing Owner carries the whole equation in his head, but believes he has about 250 different titles in a wide variety of categories: Entertainment, Home, Travel, Foreign magazines like Bundt,  Hello! and Italian Vogue, Sports, Mental and Physical Health.

Yoga magazines of course, and real estate, because this is Malibu, and because this is Malibu: Fashion and Finance, for very often the people buying are inside and/or on the cover. 

Nate the PhilosophOwner added:

“It’s much more difficult now to find a magazine about your favorite teenage dreamboat or multiple magazines about your troubling cat obsession.  However, people are still widely interested in celebrity foibles, homes and fashion.”

Your Humble Narrator was an editor at SURFER Magazine for 10 very creative years during the Roaring 90s - 1989 to 1999. SURFER Magazine went out of business in 2020 which is sad, but understandable as it is very expensive, time-consuming and wasteful to print, distribute and store a magazine. The computer/Internet revolution has made it technically easier to publish and print a magazine, but also increasingly unnecessary. Citizens don’t want their information tomorrow or a week or a month hence. They want it before or as it happens. 

Understandable that print is coughing up blood but still sad that SURFER Magazine (1960 - 2022) has gone the way of Popular Science (1872 - 2021), Field and Stream (1895 - 2015), Mad Magazine (1952 - 2018), Playboy (1953 - 2020) and dozens of other print magazines.

Nate the Owner offers notary services for $15 and they are popular for the needs of Malibu citizens high and low - from notarizing handscrawled IOUs to divorces of course and certifying multi-million mansions and movie deals -  but Nate draws the line at Psychiatry Services. 

The Newsstand is popular with an ever-changing parade of homeless, shirtless babblers and psychotherapy seekers. Passing by they see an attentive, kind and potentially caring/understanding person trapped behind the kiosk like Lucy in Peanuts, and they gravitate - asking, offering, needing. 

Unlike Lucy in Peanuts, The Doctor Does Not Wish To Be In.   

Nodding politely to tsunamis of pressured speech is one of the perils of working the kiosk. But the newsstand is also popular with - and offers free advice to - visitors foreign and domestic for whom “Malibu” is a word of wealth, celebrity and glamor.

And these visitors are sometimes disappointed. 

“How do we get to the beach?” is a common question for which there is no easy answer as the beach directly south of the Malibu Newsstand is blocked by the high fences and homes of the Malibu Colony. Also the endless search for a public restroom in bathroom-challenged Malibu.

More than a few times, visitors will approach the newsstand and ask - sheepishly, curiously, disappointedly: 

“Excuse me, is this Malibu?”

“Yep.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

Don’t know what they’re expecting to see, but they aren’t seeing it. Because while Malibu is known as the hundred-year home of the rich and the famous - Joni to Miley, Bob to Benatar to Beck, F Scott Fitzgerald to Winston Groom, Clara Bow to Britney Spears, Sting to Flea, Jack Benny to Jonah Hill - what Malibu really is, is a small, outwardly unspectacular town: where the post office ladies know your name and have memorized your PO Box. 

So small town, the movie theater couldn’t survive even when offered a 70% reduction in rent. Pretty weird to not have a movie theater in Hollywood’s favorite coastal bedside community.  Some say it was home theaters and screeners killed the theaters - because this is The Malibu.

But where most small towns are boring, unsophisticated and dying, Malibu is none of the above, and it’s a prosperous small town that supports one of the last newsstands standing.

Malibu Newsstand is scrunched behind four roll up doors in a clean, well-lighted exitway in the sycamore-lined Malibu Colony Plaza at right angles to Pacific Coast Highway and Malibu Road. With Bank of America behind it and facing a restaurant space that was Wolfgang Puck’s Granita (1990 - 2005) but has itself been extinct for almost two decades and is currently being ripped, hammered and sawed back to life in the form of a Zinc Cafe - or is it Zinque Cafe? - and mazel tov to them.

There is ample parking all in front of the Malibu Newsstand: at least 15 spots, no waiting - except for surf’s up days of big historic south swells or massive beach parties along Malibu Road, the Colony Halloween Bash, or Labor Day weekend, when all parking spots are taken up by locals and outsiders flocking to the Chili Cookoff across the way.

This Labor Day weekend is 150 degrees celsius everywhere in Los Angeles County but Malibu is cooler but still uncomfortably hot: The yearly Indian Summer Bakeoff on the same weekend as the annual Labor Day Chili Cookoff.  And so the quiet little beach community of Malibu is besieged by people escaping the heat, the city, fleeing Covid, going to the beach, going to the circus. They park in front of the newsstand with no apologies or second glances and scurry across PCH to the fun zone. 

The Malibu Newsstand has been open for business three decades now, through all the economic ups and downs which don’t effect Malibu as much as other places. Truth be told, Malibu is populated by the sorts of clever ba$tard$ smart enough to benefit/profit from wars, pandemics and other natural and man-made causes that level the economies of less-fortunate places from Chico to Sri Lanka.

At risk of being vulgar and/or gauche and/or obvi and/or indiscreet: There is a lot of money in Malibu. You see it in the cars, the dogs, the homes, clothes and attitudes (or lack of attitude) of some of the people. You feel it in the weight of those thick, heavy-metal, so-satisfying American Express Gravitas cards that many hand over when buying Financial Times or Barrons or Vogue.

A well-known Fight Club actor rumored to have become uber-wealthy as one of the first investors in Uber lives close by. Which is appropriate, as the First Rule of Working at Malibu Newsstand is: Don’t drop the names of the celebrities and anonymous gazillionaires who frequent Malibu Newsstand.

But if you want to do the math to total the GNP (Gross Neighborhood Product) within a mile east or west of the Malibu Newsstand, it’s fair to start it off with Kanye West’s billion or two. Just up the street, Ye paid $57,000,000 for a 3600-square–foot beach house that must be made of gold or Unobtanium, but it’s okay to wealth-drop his name because he isn’t shy about kvelling about his Gotrocks. 

Forbes Billionaire’s List just came out and listed Kanye at #1513 with a net worth of $2,000,000,000 - although that was pre Ye’s anti-semite madness and getting dropped by (in alphabetical order) Adidas, Balenciaga, CAA, Gap, JP Morgan Chase, MRC so he may only be a billionaire and not multi-billionaire.

Ye is in the ‘hood and there are others. There’s the former NBA owner Forbes claims is good for $3,900,000,000 and the current NBA owners Forbes pegs at $6,000,000,000. There’s the hyphenated family in the hugest beach house on Malibu Road who add up to $20,000,000,000. A couple billion here and a couple billion there and pretty soon you’re talking real money. Forbes and God knows who else lives on Malibu Road and the Colony, but the Gross Neighborhood Product within a mile either way of Malibu Newsstand is probably somewhere between Cuba’s GNP of $96,850,000,0000 and Ukraine’s GNP of $112,000,000,000

Maybe even more. Who knows?

So what? So it’s that shockingly high GNP that helps keep the Malibu Newsstand open and alive. The regulars show their appreciation when they regularly buy an $8 magazine and throw a $20 and say “Keep it.” Happens a lot. But it’s not Gotrocks or Kvelling, it’s appreciation for and support of the institution.

THE WIT AND WITTICISMS OF NATE SCHIELDS

Nate the Owner (Pepperdine ‘93) scoured a draft of this to make sure there was no name-dropping - not wanting to break the First Rule of Malibu Newsstand. Nate is a steady sort who has operated the Malibu Newsstand going back to 1993 - breathed into existence by a groovy local named Fran, who always wanted to ensure she had a Sunday New York Times.  Much of the philosophy and idiosyncratic decor of the newsstand was instilled by Fran.  

The newsstand now supports Nate and his also-hard-working wife Tara and four kids over in the San Fernando Valley and Nate goes about his business smiling quietly to himself.

(Nate objected to the V Word: “C’mon man…I don’t live in the San Fernando Valley,  I live in the agrarian hills of Moorpark.  I’m an entire Conejo and Santa Rosa Valley away from the San Fern Valley Girls and Boys.”)

Nate is a philosopher fond of philosophizing on a chalkboard over his head - the literary/print version of the Reel Inn. Nate has owned/loved/hated/thrived/struggled with the newsstand for 30 years and has his insights on how Malibu Newsstand has remained standing when newsstands from Melrose to Manhattan succumb to the asteroid crashes of the Internet, social media, and the death of print.

“It’s been an interesting through line of my adult life running this humble newsstand.  I suppose it affords me the ability to not grow up completely.  I can indulge my love of smart-assery by writing humorous (?) headlines on the chalkboard - because God knows, the daily headlines can be a little…. somber.  

It’s also pretty great to work outside every day in a beautiful oasis from so much of the modern chaos (not counting the highway running through the yard). Most all our customers are terrific people who are happy to see us and grateful to see a living, breathing Stegosaurus.  [Printosaurus?]

Some of our friends have been stopping by for decades and even pitch in financially to help keep the doors up.  [He meant up. The newsstand has roll up vertical doors] 

It’s the concerted effort of folks who like the idea of a place where you can see an acquaintance or fellow luminary and also buy The New Yorker, who keep the newsstand open, against modern convention.  Over nearly 30 years thousands of amazing people, famous and not have passed through - and not just Tupac.  We’ve tried hard to provide a fun diversion for people, and a place to buy People (c’mon, I mean the magazine) that provides an escape and reprieve from life’s constant digital barrage.  Plus, if this fails, I have to get a job. 

What Nate isn’t saying is the newsstand has been kept alive at times by generous benevolent benefactors, anonymous donations, a 2016 GoFundMe ($1,845 raised of $30,000 goal from 15 donors) and support from Malibu citizens who hate to see it go: Because if the Malibu Newsstand goes down, what’s next? 

European Shoe Repair?!?!?! 

Malibu Kitchen!!!?!?!?!?! (When this was written late summer 2022 Malibu Kitchen (RIP) still roamed the earth. And now it is no more.)

To work at Malibu Newsstand is also to experience some incredulity - at the cost of things these days. If you were thinking - like me - a daily Los Angeles Times was still 50 cents, you’ll be incredulous to find that a paper-thin (so to speak) daily LA Times is now $3.66 and that goes to $4.01 with tax. 

As content goes down, the price goes up? That don’t make no sense nohow!

A child of the 60s can remember when an entire carton of cigarettes - 10 packs - was less than $6.00. Adjusted for inflation, that 1960s, 60-cent pack of cigarettes would be 2023$5.40 now, but these days because of inflation and sin taxes and the Surgeon General, one pack of cigarettes is $12.50 to $15.00. 

A pack. That’s sixty cents a smoke.

(The brother of Your Humble Narrator was with Ray Charles for many years, and Ray warned him it was easier to quit heroin than it was to quit cigarettes. One wonders if a heroin addiction is as expensive as smoking these days.)

A local award-winning actor came to the stand and stocked up on a carton of Camels in preparation for a movie shoot somewhere in the United Kingdom. Even with the We Love Your Work + Local discount, that was well over $100. 

Surprisingly, TV Guide still exists in print and is reasonably priced at $7.99. One wild-eyed, Oscar-nominated actor comes every week for his TV Guide and then marks it up with a pencil. Fast and furiously. (This guy is famous for playing a cuckoo guy in Big Wednesday, but now it’s not an act.)

It’s not cool to be star struck in Malibu but also hard not to be. And the people passing through the Malibu Newsstand are not your ordinary crowd. 

One of the actors from the now-scarily-prophetic Mike Judge movie Idiocracy comes by every so often. Asked if they are amused or appalled that Idiocracy has already come true not in 2055 but now, and the world is being taken over by dingalings, the actor smiles ruefully and says: “Both.”

The Italian/American Spaghetti Western star formerly known as M.G just walked up as I was starting this story. Born in 1939, so 83 now, but still slender and fit, handsome with that rascal smile and eyes as blue as a Sicilian sky - the kind of eyes Sergio Leone loved, because Leone’s actors act with their eyes. 

He was surprised to be recognized. He’s great.

On this blazing hot Labor Day Sunday a Thin, Pretty Heiress Who Shall Remain Nameless ( TPHWSRN) rolls up in a Range Rover fresh outta Burning Man wearing The Disguise: Baseball cap, sunglasses. She buys a stack of fashion magazines - she is on the cover of two of them. 

The front of the kiosk is the sun’s anvil on this scorching Labor Day Sunday. The TPHWSRN chooses a V Magazine with Giselle Bundchen on the cover - the first cover in four years for the 41-year-old supermodel after playing mom to the Brady Bunch.

The TPHWSRN adds that V Magazine to the pile and says, quietly: “That’s hot.” Her smile is more dazzling than the sun, but she's not Sliving and Jiving - she means the actual magazine is actually finger-burning superheated from baking in the sun’s anvil all day.

Funny. Cool. She is pretty and nice if a little guarded. 

And not thin - slender.

And so it goes: Seven days a week, roughly 10 - 6 from May to September and 10 - 5 during winter’s cold 70 degree chill. Call ahead if you need notary service, because Nate is raising four kids in the Val… in Moorpark, sorry. And he sometimes has down and out writers fill in for him.
The Heiress leaves, the sun sets, the parking lot fills up, the lights come on at the Chili Cookoff sight and Malibu is bubbling as the Newsstand closes after another day. 
May it live forever.

CODA 1: After finishing this story on the last Friday of September, working at the newsstand in the late afternoon, a blue BMW passed by driven by an English chap named Tony who stores and transports extremely expensive cars around the world. He often spoke of his friendship with John Lydon - aka Johnny Rotten - which was interesting if you're a Sex Pistols fan and saw them at the Hard Rock Cafe in Vegas in 2008, and watched the Pistol TV mini-series about them and appreciated Johnny Rotten's sentiments about not exploiting God Save the Queen around the death of Queen Elizabeth 2 and if you are a particular fan of Black Arab - a smooth disco medley of Pistol's greatest hits. 
So on an otherwise uneventful fall afternoon this British chap pulled up in the blue Beemer and it looked like it was his bird in the passenger seat and then a chap jumped out that could only have been Johnny Lydon/Rotten - all distinctive looking he was.

Mad as a hatter-looking.

(Mr. Lydon-Rotten is not a regular customer so it's okay to name drop him)

He bellowed in my general direction: "I've heard all about you, mate! You're a hooligan!!!"

Safely behind the kiosk I suggested that he, too, was a hooligan for insulting Her Majesty and a rascal but also a talented musician and how much I liked the Pistols and PiL and saw them at the Hard Rock in Vegas in 2008 and my favorite Pistols song is Black Arab.

Mr. Lydon-Rotten cackled and scrunched back in the Beemer.

As it drove away I hollered "God save the Queen!"

To which J Rotten-Lydon hollered back out the window of a Beemer, "It's King now, you nob!!!"

So, "hooligan" and "nob" from Johnny Rotten-Lydon in the same day on an otherwise uneventful last Friday of September.
If he’d thrown in “bounder” or “wanker” it woulda been the Triple Crown.

This job rules.

CODA 2: And then the wife - who is also a well-known actor - of the well known actor who bought the carton of Camels came by and bought some smokes. She also was wearing The Disguise but you can’t hide the name on a payment card. 

I said: “It’s you!”

She said, “It is!”

I said: “How many takes did it take when you slid out of the book-burning meeting and into the locker?”

She said, “Two.” 

So we had a chat about that and other stuff, and she is very nice.

Two of the things I have learned living among the talented and accomplished and rich and famous are: 1. The wealthier and more accomplished they are, the nicer they are. It’s the wannabes you gotta watch out for.

And 2. No matter how rich or famous someone is or how many Oscars someone has, they love talking about their work, if you ask the right question.

CODA 3: A woman with an accent wanted to buy some art magazines for her husband - an artist. I guessed she was from South Africa and she was surprised, as most people think she’s English or Australian or something. We had a chat about South Africa and she said the same thing all expatriated South Africans are saying these days: South Africa is very dangerous and they got out while the getting was good. 

I told her about my Uncle Sid who was sent to Africa as a geologist right before the Stock Market crash of 1929. He rode out the Depression livin’ la vida bwana poking around the stones in deepest darkest and shooting everything with claws or feathers. When he left he was getting out of Africa on the same tramp steamer as Baroness Blixen/Isak Dinesen. Played poker with her and said she was a crummy poker player. 

The South African woman was very nice then she got into an SUV with a driver and a guy in the back who couldn’t have been anything other than Secret Service. They just have that look.

Turns out she was the wife of a (TPSWSRN) troubled presidential son who shall remain nameless.

CODA 4: A customer handed over one of those American Express Gravitas cards with a Polish name that looked familiar. 

I asked stupidly, “You’re a cinematographer aren’t you?” 
He looked at me funny and said, “Yes.” 

I said, “Anything I’ve seen?” 

He said, “West Side Story.” 

Doh! Cool. The Spielberg version. Loved it. I had questions and asked him: In the scene where they were fighting over the gun, were those holes in the floor CGI? 

He said, “Yes, partially.”

I asked, “How long did it take to shoot the school gym dance where Tony meets Maria?” I figured at least a week, maybe two for a complicated scene. 

He said, “Four days. One for rehearsal.”

(Turns out I was right to be enthused about that scene. Guillermo del Toro reckons it was genius: https://screenrant.com/west-side-story-gym-scene-guillermo-del-toro/

You can see the scene here: https://twitter.com/RealGDT/status/1497625522041352192

He was friendly and as he drove away I looked at his IMDB: This was the guy who won Oscars for Saving Private Ryan and Schindler’s List. 

Spielberg’s guy with a spectacular resume. 
Saw him again a few days later, apologized for my lack of knowledge and grilled him about shooting those shows, and Minority Report.

CODA 5: Met the widow of an actor who was part of a famous acting family. I asked about the truth or fiction of an apocryphal Montana story in which her now-85-year-old sister in law accompanied her non-Montana billionaire husband to a famous steak house in Manhattan, Montana called Sir Scott’s Oasis Club. According to just about everyone in Montana, the owner of the place was a Vietnam Vet who stopped the husband and wife at the door and said “We’ll serve you _ _ _, but that _ _ _ _ has to sit in the car.” 

Montanans fill in the blank about the actress according to taste and decorum.

I asked if that story was true, and the widow said indeed it was.

Interesting, accomplished smart people. There have been others, and there will be more.