Neil Knight Private Dick

The Crazy Chicken

Juan Francisco Ochoa started El Pollo Loco, Spanish for "The Crazy Chicken", in Guasave, Sinaloa, Mexico, in 1975.

Expanding throughout Northern Mexico, he saturated his native land with restaurants within his first four years. In search of new growth opportunities Ochoa opened his first restaurant in the United States in 1980, in the city of Los Angeles. Based on the success of that location, he opened his second in the fall of the following year in Santa Ana. That was followed by opening 17 more restaurants over the next two years, for a total of 19 locations by 1983.

Ochoa sold his U.S. restaurants to Denny's in 1983, the same year Inocente began working at the Santa Ana Pollo location as a dishwasher. He was promoted to a position as a cook within six months, based on his experience, years before, as an assistant chef preparing meals at La Casa Vieja, The Old House, in Zihuatanejo, Guerrero, Mexico.

In the early eighties La Casa Vieja attracted some of the same crowds that gravitated to Acapulco, a city which once held the distinction as the country's poshest resort, but now better known as Mexico's homicide capital. Hollywood stars and Mexico's elite would travel up the Pacific Coast in their one hundred plus foot yachts to anchor in the protected Bay of Zihuatanejo, and venture ashore to the city in search of traditional Mexican meals.

The heart of the town is still the waterfront, tree-lined pedestrian walkway Paseo del Pescador (Fisherman's Path), also called the malecón. The walkway is lined with restaurants, as well as a variety of stores selling rugs, arts and crafts and souvenirs.

It was here where the elite first discovered the culinary delights of La Casa Vieja.

It was also here where the first gang members descended from the foothills of the Sierra Madre mountains in search of buyers for the powdery fruits of their poppies. Their search yielded a ready and steady clientele, and hastened Inocente's departure from the region as the gang members influence grew.

The North Main El Pollo Loco opened its door each day at six a.m., so at 5:25 in the morning the kitchen was already in full swing, with the fluorescent interior lights of the restaurant flooding the pavement outside the establishment, the smell of roasting chicken and Mexican seasonings inviting the salivary glands of the nearby to respond. This included the investigator's canines, who raised their collective heads and sniffed the air, locating the source and whimpering to remind their owner that one saturated donut did not a breakfast make.

"Alright boys" said Neil, "it's going to be another half hour yet. It's calling my name as well."

The pups seemed to understand, and reluctantly dropped down to the pavement, believing that their desires would be satisfied in due time.

At 5:45 the activity in the neighborhood began to increase, with local streets becoming traffic feeders for the nearby Santa Ana Freeway, the lights from the rooms at the Traveler's Inn across El Pollo on East 20th springing to life like LEDs on an electronic boardgame, indicating activity within from both visiting businesspeople and the dispossessed alike.

The homeless pushing their shopping carts full of possessions began to make their way south from the relative safety of the nearby overpass, stopping along the way to consider the public garbage cans, which had yet to be emptied from the evening before. Therein might be found the remains of a meal, still fit for consumption, or perhaps discarded cans or bottles which could be turned in for change at the Safeway. At times perfectly good, barely smoked cigarettes could be found discarded on the sidewalk like foster children who no longer held the attraction for their caretakers as they once did. Of course, vaping was taking a toll on finding OPCs, so discovery held more excitement and reward for them than it did previously.