Organized crime in America takes in over $40 billion a year and spends very little on office supplies.”- Woody Allen; Remember the Boazes? One of the complicated stitches in the quilt of Santa Clarita is the nefarious. Every few years or so, someone in the limelight steals a million or opens a trenchcoat at a bus stop. At the very least, sometimes, the parties involved just can’t handle large sums of money. It is sad, maddening, funny and, basically, tragic. (Photo: Dan Boaz)

In the blueblood circles of the valley, the Boazes were the cream of the crop. Young, charming and delightful in public, they quickly turned a local delivery company into supposedly a multimillion-dollar national player.

They added their name to the newest jewel in the Santa Clarita crown — College of the Canyons’ Performing Arts Center. It’s an interesting question. You visit any Little League field in America and the outfield fence is littered with the company logos of septic tank pumpers, pawn shops and bail bondsmen. The charming pastime mutated into the uncontrollable when college football bowl games were named after potato chips.

Poor COC. The well-meaning campus was trying to do its version of selling an empty spot on the Little League fence and ended up the center of a maelstrom.

The Boazes gave the school about $1.98 million shy of the promised $2 million for advertising their company name, Vital Express. They certainly duped The Signal. The couple were Newsmakers of the Year in 2005. (Photo: Lisa Boaz) I can’t remember. I may have voted for them. About three years ago, the Boazes ran from their tony Sand Canyon home and moved just about as geographically far away from the SCV as possible without leaving the country. They bought a home in a ritzy North Carolina enclave outside of Charlotte. Last I heard, they were hosting meetings at CSUN for investors on how to franchise a business. They may have taken out millions from the Santa Clarita Valley.

Certainly the young couple aren’t the most famous in the history of this valley’s controversial.

Tiburcio Vasquez, our very own womanizing pistol fighter and road agent, was subject of the largest manhunt in California history. That world-famous rock formation in Agua Dulce still bears the bandit’s name — Vasquez Rocks. Old Tibby had at least three houses in the valley, plus, his brothers lived locally. He passed himself off as a gentleman horse trader and, from time to time, sat at the dinner table of community leaders like John Lang and Col. Thomas Mitchell.

Tibby’s outcome wasn’t as gentile as the Boazes. He was hanged in San Jose.

Milfred Yant was worshiped as a financial god here in the 1930s. His specialty was selling mineral rights in Placerita Canyon to hundreds of pensioners during the later days of the Depression. He served time in Folsom, then came back to Newhall to try the oil scam all over again. Small problem. He went into partnership with a local wealthy rancher and was going to soak him by drilling an oil well. Only thing was, their well was a gusher and Yant accidentally made millions.

In the 1940s, not too many locals knew that one of their neighbors who quietly lived on Arcadia Street from time to time had a rather interesting career. He was a gangster. His name? Bugsy Siegel.

A few years later and a few doors down, some L.A. gangsters rented a house right next to the local judge. They used the residence as a training brothel.

Thirty years later, there are still people swearing at Richard Schindler. He earned the unasked-for nickname of Schindler The Swindler and was convicted of bilking investors —  most of them local — out of tens of millions of dollars.

I remember when the story broke, I didn’t think there were tens of millions of dollars in the combined Santa Clarita AND Antelope valleys. Even the poor Signal was involved, offering free publicity for his bogus “world’s richest gold mine” and Ponzi schemes. Funny. With so many people after him, he was arrested in Florida for failing to return a rental car. After serving three years of a nine-year sentence, he retired to a modest community outside Palm Springs and there, strangled his wife and committed suicide.

From the You-May-Already-Be-A-Weiner Department, were Harold and Kathy. They were the darlings of SCV society and were even co-chairs of the Boys & Girls Club Auction. Their smiling countenances were hung around the valley as if they were the kindly despots of some sand sheikdom. People were shocked when the couple were convicted for a white collar crime.

On the bright side, they at least put Santa Clarita on the map. It was one of the biggest real estate fraud schemes in California history.

My personal favorite conman was Y.M. Yant, a flamboyant scam artist who duped senior citizens out of their life’s savings with a salted oil well scheme. That’s not why Yant’s my favorite. It was the dumb luck fabric of his life. You see, he served time in Folsom, something like 13 years, for various fraud schemes. He came back to the SCV in the late 1940s and tried to pull another “gusher” scam. The problem? He accidentally dug a well on one of the richest oil deposits on earth in Placerita Canyon. All those years, he was sitting on a fortune and never knew it.

It’s certainly not comforting, but at least, predictable. Somewhere, down the line, this year or maybe in 10, there will be another Schindler the Swindler or Weiners to razzle-dazzle the Santa Clarita.

They will drive fancy cars. They will be somebody’s neighbor.

Champagne corks will be popped. Backs slapped. Fawning society photos snapped. Awards given.

And bank accounts pilfered and hearts broken… 

(John Boston has 119 major writing awards, including one from the National Newspaper Columnists Association for blogging. His commentaries represent his own opinions and not necessarily the views of any organization he may be affiliated with or those of the West Ranch Beacon. For more Boston stuff to read, visit thebostonreport.net.)