Illegal Ice Cream Men in Virginia?

From the Washington Post:


In Arlington, Ringing Up the Tickets
By Patricia Davis
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, October 30, 2000; Page B01

The police officer was a few blocks away when the white van began slowly winding its way through the Arlington neighborhood teeming with children. Then it happened: Ring! Ring!

The officer quickly responded to North Fourth Street, confronted the driver, Salou Kaba, and whipped out his ticket book.


Another Good Humor man. Busted.


Kaba's offense was clearly spelled out on the Virginia Uniform Summons he was given ordering him to appear in court: "Ring bell to attract sales."


In Arlington, it's against the law for vendors--even the venerable ice cream man--to ring a bell. But enforcement of such an ordinance could sound the death knell for a profession that's been an American institution for 80 years, Kaba said. What's an ice cream truck without its bell?


"You have to ring the bell so they know you're outside," Kaba, 34, said.


In recent months, there has been a crackdown of sorts in Arlington--several other Good Humor vendors also have received tickets. One ice cream man was fined $500.


For ringing his bell.


"That's crazy," said Dalphena Harris, 40, a housekeeper whose 7-year-old daughter listens for Kaba's bell each day. "How would the kids know he was there if he didn't ring his bell? If he didn't ring the bell, I would think it was suspicious. I like to hear it because it reminds me of my childhood. Why take the fun out of everything?"


Deputy Police Chief John Haas said Kaba had already been warned once--he was told he was violating a county code that says in part that no vendor "shall shout, make any outcry, blow a horn, ring a bell or use any sound device," Haas said.


Moreover, Kaba's bell was "a fire [or] burglary alarm type of bell, not the old-fashioned kind of bell," Haas said.


"It's a misdemeanor ordinance that is on the books," he said. "We enforce the ordinances that the county establishes. It's a quality-of-life type of issue. The officer was simply enforcing the law."


Kaba's bell was no louder than the average person plays his car radio, and he doesn't stay in one place long before moving on, said his boss, Scott Cochran, director of vending operations for Berliner Specialty Distributors in Hyattsville, the exclusive distributor of Good Humor novelty items in the mid-Atlantic region.


Some of the 130 vendors who work throughout the Washington area have the old-fashioned pull-down kind of bell, Cochran said. Others, like Kaba, have electronic versions, he said.


"Most of them couldn't make a living without those bells," said Alan Schwartz, the company's director of sales. "That's ridiculous."


On Aug. 29, Kaba was making his rounds in Arlington, just as he always does, driving slowly past rows of two-story brick apartment buildings in Buckingham Village and The Gates of Arlington. He cheerfully greeted the children who eagerly await his arrival each day.


"I love dealing with kids," said Kaba, who lives in Maryland and used to hawk his ice cream in Prince George's County. "I've got three kids myself."


At 5:20 p.m. that day, Kaba rang his bell to let the children know he was there with his stock of Klondike Bars, Giant Neapolitan Sandwiches and King Cones. Instead, a police officer approached his Good Humor truck and told him he was violating the law.


"I said, 'Sir, I've been driving my truck for seven years,' " said Kaba, who insists he never received a warning.


"You can go to court and explain that to the judge," Kaba said the officer told him.


So this month, Kaba missed part of a day's wages to go to General District Court, where the judge asked him about his bell. "They build them like that," he explained.


The judge agreed to dismiss the charge on one condition, Kaba said: no more ringing. She then gave him a copy of County Code 30-7 to serve as a reminder, he said.


"She says, 'You have to promise me that you won't do it again,' " Kaba said. "I didn't want to pay the fine."


Kaba knew that the judge could have fined him as much as $1,000 and thrown him in jail for up to 12 months. So he agreed.


But some of the people on his route in Arlington wonder what's next. Salvation Army bell ringers?


"It's not annoying," said Catherine Engstrom, 27, a lawyer with the federal government, who can hear the bell inside her apartment. "I remember when I was a kid and the ice cream man came around."


His customers don't know him by name, but they know him as the nice man who gives children lollipops and makes sure to park on their side of the street if they're too young to cross by themselves.


And what about the children for whom the bell tolls?


"He's a good person," said Jesus Majano, 15. "He says, 'What's up? How are you doing?' For me it's not noise."


"That's ridiculous," said Rosa Villegas, 17. "When people hear the bell, they know the ice cream man is here. It's not like we're supposed to stand outside."


Haas, the deputy police chief, said he wasn't aware of any formal complaint being lodged against the Good Humor bells. An ordinance prohibiting bell ringing by vendors has been part of the Arlington Way since 1979.


Quality-of-life issues have become a growing concern in the county, Haas said. The police department frequently gets complaints about drivers honking their horns, often from people who work the night shift and try to sleep during the day.


Kaba said he plans to continue hawking ice cream in Arlington--and ringing his bell. Only from now on, he'll make sure there are no police around when he does it, he said.

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