A show of hands, please. Mine is staying down (even if I have done so in a pinch). Something is seedy (or is it "skeevy"?) about a pawnshop. Maybe it's because there's a perception the proprietors are buying stolen goods. Fair or not, maybe the movies and TV have put the bad image out there. Or maybe not.
We sometimes tune in PAWN STARS, the reality television show on the History Channel about a pawn business located in Las Vegas. Corey, Rick, Old Man and Chumlee are the colorful, often amusing characters featured. Patrons drop by to pawn or sell an odd assortment of things. On a recent episode, a guy had a replica of the Batmobile for sale (trivia: remember the droll Adam West in the role?). It ran fine for Chumley.
A lady recently back from a Las Vegas trip told my wife how the pawnshop is found in the less desirable part of Las Vegas. There's also a line of curiosity-seekers and tourists snaking out of its doors now. Business is booming, the lady reports.
The small town where I grew up had a small pawnshop. Driving by, I used to see mostly musical instruments set up in the front window display. The shop might be still there. I understand they do well in a bad economy.
Of course, crime fiction writers love to use pawnshops in their dark tales. I did it so much that I had to slap a moratorium on anymore pawnshops for the next three fiction projects. My new book Lake Charles doesn't have one. Where else might have such a seedy reputation? At an abandoned warehouse? Or a truck stop?
I haven't seen one since, up North here. They're gone or well hidden. But down South, pawnshops seem to have prospered, with big box buildings on main highways, brightly lit. A different kind of seedy and no more enticing than WalMart.
For seedy locations, try slots casinos, self-storage facilities, flea markets, and abandoned strip malls.