Nick Harris Detective Academy

Mark Laikind has never fired a gun during his 17 years as a private investigator. He has never even fired his tear gas canister, which he packs every day in a tiny leather holster clipped to his belt. Laikind shatters one private-eye myth after another while teaching at the Nick Harris Detective Academy in Van Nuys. Students at the school, who are enthralled with the macho image of the detective, are routinely put off by two techniques that Laikind uses while on a stakeout--crying and running.

Mark Laikind has never fired a gun during his 17 years as a private investigator. He has never even fired his tear gas canister, which he packs every day in a tiny leather holster clipped to his belt. Laikind shatters one private-eye myth after another while teaching at the Nick Harris Detective Academy in Van Nuys. Students at the school, who are enthralled with the macho image of the detective, are routinely put off by two techniques that Laikind uses while on a stakeout--crying and running.

In this week's Footnotes: Unless you're independently wealthy, it's always best to plan your escape while you're still employed. So learn to cope with that dark, damp cloud of desperation that greets you every morning when you arrive for work. Maybe changing jobs is not enough; maybe you want to change careers. * The West Valley Occupational Center, 6200 Winnetka Ave., Woodland Hills, (818) 346-3540, offers a variety of classes to prepare you for a new vocation.

When it came to learning how to be a detective, fictional private eyes like Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe got their diplomas from the school of hard knocks. But many real-life private investigators are learning the tricks of the trade in a more conventional fashion through schools like the Nick Harris Detective Academy.

With some skepticism I looked up the Van Nuys office of Nick Harris Detectives last week to attend a briefing on the agency's plans to give us a schmaltzy Christmas. "Tears will fall, hearts will beat fast, there will be a special joy this Christmas for three lucky persons," an invitation promised brashly. Obviously, Milo Speriglio, director of the agency, doesn't shrink from using the spirit of Christmas to spread his agency's name. He's done quite well at that in the past.

During the past year, Susan Morrow has purchased the three items she considers necessary for survival in Los Angeles: a 9-millimeter pistol that she keeps under her bed, a stun gun that she carries in her car and a brass whistle that she keeps on her key ring. Morrow had hoped to add pepper spray to her arsenal Tuesday, the first day the spray was made available to the public in California. She called gun stores. She called shooting ranges. She called self-defense firms.

Forget the images of Philip Marlowe or Sam Spade--hard-drinking private eyes who were quick to use their fists or pull the trigger. Today's private investigator is more likely to resemble Dale Upton, a bearded, bespectacled man who quickly admits he would rather turn and run than shoot it out. "No job is worth dying for," said Upton, lead instructor and investigator of the Nick Harris Detective Academy in Van Nuys. "That's the first lesson."

At the Concorde Career Institute in North Hollywood, enrollment for its yearlong medical and dental training programs has more than doubled from a year ago. That's partly because the school recently began offering new courses for surgical technicians and vocational nurses. But mostly, the increase to 450 students from 220 at this time last year is an effect of the recession, said Robert Gray, Concorde's director of admissions.