They did not hum the “Anniversary Waltz” to Peter Messinger the other day because no one was in a mood to celebrate the end of his first year as owner of The Aquarium. Like many — but not all — of the roughly 100 business owners along the west side of South Sepulveda Boulevard, south of Sawtelle, he has a sinking feeling that his hard-won property may be slipping away. To a dreaded developer. Who says so? City Hall. The hour is late, and the rustling sound that wary Sunkist Park residents hear is the teeth-gritting owner of one of the neighborhood’s favorite family businesses whipping into action.
Bad News Struck Early
One month after taking possession of The Aquarium, Mr. Messinger found out that the entire — largely mom and pop —business colony, from Sawtelle to Jefferson, was destined to be shredded and reborn as an upscale business development. As soon as he smelled the crisis, he turned into a bulldog. Vowing never to lose The Aquarium, which he himself built — the tanks, the plumbing, the surrounding apparatus — with his own hands 20 years ago, he took charge. He is waging a to-the-death campaign to keep the neighborhood intact and fend off the encroaching developer. Some fellow entrepreneurs have doubts about the value of a campaign. Others appear confused. Still others are preparing their white surrender flags. Not Mr. Messinger. He keeps waving the onrushing threat before the eyes of his fellow owners. On the side, he is pursuing signatures for a petition he plans to present to City Hall. Mr. Messinger did not have to fight anyone before assuming control of a brigade of seemingly disparate, vulnerable, still-dazed mom-and-pop store owners. He worked too hard for too long, 19 years, to accumulate enough money to buy out his old boss just to let someone, anyone, take it away against his will.
What Is Natural?
Perhaps surprisingly, as diligently as Mr. Messinger has worked at unifying his business neighbors, the results are rocky. The unity that would seem to be natural has not materialized. “Everyone kind of goes his own direction,” said The Aquarium owner. Until there is a crisis. “But even then, it is hard to get people together. I feel as if I have to push people to even collect signatures.” He ascribes their reluctance to two reasons: “It’s a combination of people thinking, ‘There is nothing I can do about it,’ and others think, ‘I better not say anything. I might get into trouble.’ Many people along here are immigrants,” said the equally foreign-born Mr. Messinger who came to America 22 years ago as a young adult. “Some of them come from countries where the governments were very oppressive. Their English is bad, and they are scared to say anything.” Mr. Messinger’s locution is unflawed, perhaps superior to rgat of a native.
A Tepid Response
This is the way his frustrated strategy is working out. “I walk into their stores,” he said. “I tell them I have a petition for them to sign. Ten minutes later I come back. The petition is under the counter. I don’t know why. Maybe they are not worried. They think it’s a done deal, or they are worried about making waves.” Mr. Messinger paused. He decided a smattering of hopeful clues were hovering into view. “The people I am talking to,” he said, “most are starting to come around.”
Clear Trend Missing
Collectively, the mood of the store owners Mr. Messinger has visited is mixed. A preponderance believe the most daunting decisions already have been made deep inside City Hall, that the drama Downtown is over. “In terms of the City Council making up their minds what they want to do, they think it’s a done deal,” he said. “I kind of agree with them. There is no way Champion would fork over $70,000 to the city if he didn’t already have an agreement behind the scenes. Just because I feel it’s a done deal, that does not mean I’m not going to fight it. I am. I would forever kick myself if I just sat here and took it. I don’t know if I can get enough people for us to succeed. But I am trying.”
In the Beginning
Mr. Messinger did not start out to be a small-business owner who heroically chose to be the last man standing in case a developer ordered bulldozers to start their engines. When he emigrated from his native Vienna and set out for the United States as a 20-year-old, he first studied marine biology. “As a little side job,” he said, “I started working for the old owners of The Aquarium at their old store, on Venice Boulevard. It just built up from there.” After the store opened in much smaller space on South Sepulveda in 1986, they soon began expanding, doubling their room. Today, 4,000 square feet of the store near the corner of Sawtelle Boulevard belongs to Mr. Messinger. For now. Married for 15 years with two children, he said that family is his No.1 value. This is what drives him to win this Sisyphus-like battle.
There Is No Choice
“It is not just important, it is essential,” he said, for The Aquarium — at this early stage the lonely general of threatened South Sepulveda businesses — to remain in Culver City. “This,” he declared, “is a matter of survival. I mortgaged my house to buy this business. If I lose this business, I probably would lose my house.”
Postscript
Mr. Messinger cast his fate in the darkest, starkest terms. “It is not a matter of me wanting to stay here. Or thinking Culver City is a nice community. It’s not as if I can just pick it up and move it to Pomona. That is just not going to work.” He seems cynical when he relates conversations he has had with City Hall. “What I get from them is, ‘Don’t worry. We’ll move you. Don’t worry. Don’t worry. Don’t worry. We will move you. We have moved people before.’ But when you say to them, ‘Name one person you have moved,’ they can’t name one.”
Next: Mr. Messinger’s campaign.
