Jesus Rodriguez knew he was going to come up short on his bills, so on a recent Friday afternoon he took his accustomed trip to a Baldwin Park strip mall.
The produce-truck driver walked into a payday lending business nestled alongside a Chinese fast-food joint and a dental office. He wrote out a personal check for $300 and walked out with $255 cash. The 33-year-old Mexican immigrant basically gave away $45 to get the advance, but he said he didn't see a lot of other options.
"Seen a certain way, it is a lot of money," Rodriguez said as his young daughter waited nearby, clutching a jump rope. "But it's a help. You can't get a loan like this from a bank."
But Baldwin Park officials don't think such businesses are helpful and are taking steps they hope will drive payday lending and check-cashing businesses away. City officials had voted to enact a moratorium prohibiting more shops from opening. Maybe the rest will just shrivel away, Baldwin Park Mayor Manuel Lozano said.
"These places are like vultures," he said. "In Baldwin Park, we wish they would close up and get out of the city."
Baldwin Park was the latest city to target businesses that conduct payday lending and check cashing; others include San Francisco, Sacramento, Oakland, Oceanside, Pico Rivera and Montebello. Cities across the country and in Canada have mulled or passed restrictive measures on such businesses.
And last year, the Marine Corps and the Navy successfully lobbied the California Legislature to pass a law dramatically reducing the amount payday lending businesses -- common near military bases -- can charge service members. Military commanders said debt from payday loans had increasingly been threatening troops' reenlistment and the security clearance of key personnel.
The Marines and the Navy started their own quick no-interest loan programs to counter the payday lenders -- which, for the most part, have stopped lending to troops, said Marine Maj. Gen. Michael Lehnert.
Critics call it "predatory lending," with businesses opening in largely poor and working-class neighborhoods; the industry calls it serving the underserved.
State regulators say that with 2,500 outlets, the industry seems more visible than ever.
Officials in some cities, including Baldwin Park, argue that the proliferation of such businesses reinforces their reputations as poor communities.
