(Final) exit through the coroner’s gift shop
Tongue-in-cheek Skeletons in the Closet big on morbid gags
The wind is so fierce that the bear on the California Republic flag outside my window looks like it’s having a seizure. The strongest storm system to hit California in years is here and I should stay put, but I just can’t. I’m determined to go to the Los Angeles County Coroner’s Office — to buy presents.
“Bring me Charlie Chaplin’s moustache!” my friend says as I leave, but celebrity relics are not on offer at Skeletons in the Closet, the gift shop at the office in Boyle Heights. Its bestselling item is a black beach towel with a chalk outline of a body drawn on it.
“The body outline at a crime scene is kind of anachronistic,” says Craig Harvey, who was chief of operations for 28 years and now serves as a consultant there. “Nobody really does it anymore, with DNA and contamination of crime scenes.”
The outline, though, is an icon of death investigation.
“And,” he says, “it looked kind of cool on a beach towel.”
In this snug little store, you can get scrubs, T-shirts and a licenceplate holder that says Coroner, which might get you a little grace on your parking-meter time. You can get a pin with the department’s seal, which has symbols of medicine and law enforcement, a reminder of the collaboration required to uncover how people have died. You can get a desktop model of a human torso or a red cooler bag with the seal on it, which can give the impression that instead of beach snacks you might be transporting organs (to go with that crime-scene towel). Of course, all sales are final. If you’ve watched Angie Tribeca, you’ve seen the building the gift shop is in, as it was used as the facade for the TV show’s police station. Built in 1909, it’s the front most of three buildings housing a workforce that tends to the 174 people a day who live then die in L.A.
Los Angeles General Hospital, its first incarnation, is still written in tiles on the entryway floor. Its warm, old-world interior and genial staff are a bonus, considering that it’s the only building where the public can interact with the coroner’s office. If you had to identify a loved one or pick up their belongings, you would come here. This is where mobs of media representatives and fans gather when a show business icon such as Michael Jackson dies in the city. No medical work is done on the premises.
Skeletons in the Closet is tucked in the front-right corner of the lobby, and its beginnings stretch back to the early 1990s, when the office put on a forensics seminar and gave registrants a coffee mug decorated with the departmental seal. It was a huge hit, so the following year the mugs featured Sherlock, a skeleton in a deerstalker hat, a perfect symbol of death investigation drawn by former investigator Phillip Campbell. When employees Marilyn Lewis and Mark Cooper came up with the chalk outline beach towel, the department decided to sell them. And so the gift shop began. If you’re a grieving relative, Harvey acknowledges, the gift shop might not appeal to you right at that moment. But most people are fine with this cuckoo in the nest. Surprisingly it’s not the only coroner’s office to sport one. Clark County, Nev. — home of Las Vegas — has one, too.
Harvey says the people who seek the shop out are usually either in forensics or just “identify strongly with the institution,” like “people who wear T-shirts that say USC or UCLA who never went to the school.”
“The gift shop makes its expenses,” but not much more than that, Harvey says.
I’m rooting for it to last.