Kids still scream for ice cream trucks

Monday, May 29, 2000 | 9:17 a.m.

It's Pavlovian. They first hear the song -- a simplified arrangement of "Turkey in the Straw" -- coming from the horn mounted on the front of the truck.

One by one they come barreling out of their houses and racing down the sidewalk.

"Ice cream lady!" screams a red-faced, shirtless 5-year-old boy, his arm extended, clutching the air. Little girls in sandals and dresses follow suit.

In a refurbished postal truck painted white and decorated with cartoon characters, Lois Allen pulls to the curb and waits. For Allen, who has been driving an ice cream truck nearly five years, it's a common routine.

In Las Vegas neighborhoods where the corner store might be a 7-Eleven adjacent to a busy intersection -- out of reach for kids whose parents refuse to let them cross a heavily trafficked road -- the sound of an approaching ice cream truck is enough to draw children running for blocks.

Toy gun sales and questionable vendors have recently tarnished the wholesome appeal of the American pastime. Allen and some of the vendors her business supplies believe they can return the image of ice cream trucks to the "good old days."

The 46-year-old former casino cage worker runs Dandy's Ice Cream, an ice cream truck supplier that serves nearly 30 vendors and is home to off-duty ice cream trucks that park in her lot for the evening. Her 24-year-old daughter Tara Mazzel and their husbands are partners in the business.

Her venture into the ice cream business was more of a spiritual journey, she said, than a money-making venture. In fact, she has yet to see a profit. Something other than reason led her to this, she said.

"I never dreamed I was going to get into this. It's very difficult work and the money varies."

But after driving her first truck, it became "like a fever," she said. "You just can't not go out. You know the kids are waiting."

A late-afternoon ride through an older Las Vegas neighborhood sheds light on her enthusiasm.

Her route that day began with a northbound turn onto Essex from Charleston Boulevard. Slowing her speed, Allen flipped on the music.

"This is the song I use," she said, then briefly demonstrated the other options: "Pop Goes the Weasel" and "The Entertainer."

"That's how they know me."

As the truck moves at a steady 10 mph, the bags of chips, cotton candy and cheddar-flavored popcorn clipped to a wire sway back and forth. For the next three hours, Allen would be beckoned by whistles, hollers and horns. "We were all in the house and the kids yelled 'ice cream man.' " said Paula Roushia, who stood among a group of young consumers studying the photos of ice cream sandwiches, drum sticks and Choco Tacos next to the vending window. "Kids can hear things we can't."

Never mind that another truck had already combed the area. In this neighborhood, the customers are faithful.

"She's the only one I let the kids buy from," says a grandmother surrounded by her grandchildren.

The trust wasn't immediate. When Allen first vended in the neighborhood, people were reluctant to buy from her. Many had been duped by a former vendor.

In some neighborhoods, she was egged and squirted by the children. "Aren't you the one who squirted me?" she would later ask them. "They couldn't believe I remembered them."

Through formal introduction, free bubble gum and reduced prices, Allen wooed the residents to trust her.

"She's a great ice cream lady," said 10-year-old Bethany Stark. "She's the only one we know by name."

Compared with some vendors, Allen's prices are unbeatable.

"You can get a Firecracker Jr. and a candy for 50 cents," Allen said. "I could go into different neighborhoods and up my profit, but it's hard to do that in some neighborhoods.

"About all the parents (in some neighborhoods) can do is buy ice cream for their kids."

For any child, the colorful wrappings of the ice cream bars, root beer floats, sour candy and bubble gum filling the back of her truck gives a glistening "Oz"-like effect.

"She's got a lot of stuff," said 7-year-old Oscar Maciam, clutching his Cheddar Fries and Ring Pop. "Sometimes she gives free candy."

While children (and some adults) will chase by car, rollerblade, foot or bike, there are others who wait patiently on the curb for her to approach. At one point a family of nine -- three generations, ranging from the grandmother to infant -- stood silent at the curb.

There are the nonchalant customers who don't bother to hail, run or wait, but stroll casually from their front door offering no sign of interest.

"You learn how to read them after a while," Allen says. If they put their hand in their front pocket, it's usually a stop, she said. "A little bit of everything is happening today. It's a pretty good day."

And despite the wind, sales were up. Normally a windy days means poor sales, she said. "On hot days it's like a ghost town. Sometimes you can drive around for eight hours -- nothing."

Summer temperatures often rise above 100 degrees in Las Vegas, making it uncomfortable for children to play outside. This breaks the stereotype of ice cream trucks as a summer phenomenon -- at least in Southern Nevada.

"Spring and fall are the best seasons for ice cream truck vendors," Allen said. "Summer isn't. That's a misconception."

Even at 6 p.m., traditionally known as family mealtime, adults and children will still chase after the goods. "This is Las Vegas," she said. "Not everybody has a set mealtime."

Flicking a neatly folded dollar bills through his fingers, a boy stands behind a group of three who are leaning on the counter, peaking their heads through the bars, beyond Allen, to the candy shelves lining the wall behind her.

"One of your memories you always have is the ice cream man," said Richard Frank, who had pulled his car over to the sidewalk so his pregnant wife, Darlene, could satisfy her craving.

"And she doesn't go real fast," Darlene Frank said. "Ours would go real fast and make us run after him."

For some children, a stopped truck is worth the chase. A moving truck is even better.

Sometimes paths will cross among vendors, causing turf animosity. Then there are vendors who will call other vendors asking them to cover a route.

"Actually a neighborhood does better if (the route) is kept up," she said, adding that customers develop a sugar fix and are more familiar with ice cream trucks.

Allen, who is licensed to vend in the city of Las Vegas, chooses from a few different neighborhoods.

Selections vary from neighborhood to neighborhood. Taste buds change from among various cultures. "But everybody likes a Glory Cone. That's the No. 1 seller.

"Toasted almond, that's a very adult thing," she said, adding that Caramel Apple Pops are cross-generational.

"Could you wait here because, er, ah, ah, uhhh," said a panicked girl on the sidewalk in striped sweatpants and a T-shirt who had flagged her down to hold her while she waited for money to arrive.

"I got the message," Allen said with a smile and a nod as she leaned back to wait for the girl's return.

Although a faster moving afternoon would reap in more profit, Allen doesn't mind the wait. The rest is sometimes welcome.

"It takes a lot out of you," she said. "It gets hot. You spend money for dry ice. It dissipates. Regular ice melts. Trucks break down a lot."

Some drivers vend from 8 a.m. to dusk. All drivers spend a couple of hours stocking and gassing their trucks before the route.

"This is the most peaceful part," Allen said as the sun was lowering.

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