I worked at Payless NW in the Fall of 1978, right after my seasonal summer job at the Douglas Fire Protection Association ended in September. I don’t really remember how I got the job, probably through the job service, which was a county government office. I used to haunt it, looking for entry level jobs I could do. I applied, went for an interview, and didn’t get the job. I was not really that bummed. I probably didn’t think of it much at all. I was 18 years old, liked to stay up late and listen to records. And get up late too, which made me unfit for a job in the woods, in the logging industry that my father and brothers were employed by. I was interested in getting a job at the radio station my friend Kent Rochester was working at, the Lil’ Nifty 950, AM radio that went off the air at dark. Back in those days you used to have to have a license, granted by the FCC to work as a DJ at an over the air radio station. I went up to Portland to take the test, and was able to get the provisional license that allowed you to be on the air, but not to be a fully credentialed engineer. I still have no idea how I was able to do any of this stuff. I certainly didn’t study for it. I wasn’t going to college. I hadn’t even gotten a diploma at Sutherlin High School ( home of the Bulldogs) even though I participated in the graduation ceremony. I felt like I was dreaming through life, doing things to do them, with no forethought or planning or anything.
So after failing to get employed by Payless, I half heartedly stumbled around my childhood home on Plat B, and probably irritated my father by not beating the bushes looking for work. A few days later I got a call from the store manager, Len Buchholz, offering me a job assisting the appliance delivery man. I accepted.
It was easy work. I thought I was a delivery guy, and even made a few deliveries by myself. Later that month, as I was hand carting a fridge out to the delivery truck, the store manager told me I was to report to the assistant manager for my new schedule. I told him I was happy doing the job I had. He looked at me as one would look at a particularly dim witted student, and told me that job was over. I realize now that he just stuck me on delivery to keep me on hand for the job I had originally applied for, and to prevent me from getting another job. Which is hilarious considering how unmotivated I was. It’s hard to convey how unaware I was of how things worked. How things were arranged and accomplished in the real world. I just did my thing and let the world go on its way.
I showed up for my new schedule, and learned how to work retail. I ran a cash register, stocked shelves, and unloaded the freight truck. It never occurred to me that I was accomplishing anything, and never thought I was embarking on a “career” in any way shape or form. I was 18 years old, and just like school I just showed up every day and did what I was told, although getting paid was a lot better than getting grades. The holiday season came to an end, and the store manager came and asked me to stay on, and I told him no. I was going to get a job at the radio station. He wished me luck. So I guess I did have plans, as unrealistic as they were.
Kent and I were operating a mobile DJ outfit, called Mudshark Sound. It was formed by Kent and his brother Mark, along with Steve Nordby, who was another Sutherlin High alumnus. They also had a band, which met up in the Rochester recreation room. When I fell in with them, I followed along. They were always thinking of things, and I thought whatever they were doing were good ideas, so I was more than happy to help, even though, again, I had no idea what I was doing. Outside of a vague notion that I wanted to play music for people somehow. Whether it was being a DJ, or being in a band, I didn’t care. I was hampered by a lack of knowledge of what I was doing, and the lack of discipline to accomplish it. So, I just wished for it.
But thanks to Kent’s efforts, we got some gigs playing music for school dances, first at Sutherlin, then, thanks to Kent’s letter writing and advertising, we got gigs at other schools. Mostly small towns, we were never able to break into the big “ROSEBURG” market. None of this was due to my effort. I was fortunate to be able to ride on others coattails.
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WORK ETHIC
I grew up with people that worked a lot. My father often worked Saturdays and Sundays, fixing the equipment that was used during the week. This often entailed long drives into the mountains where the log harvesting was taking place. Where I was raised the timber industry was huge, and our family rode the waves of boom and bust for decades. Both of my brothers were loggers, and like my father, operated nearly every piece of equipment used, and did every job on offer. Truck driving is deeply embedded in my cultural heritage.
I spent a lot of time with my father on those trips to the woods, helping him sometimes, learning how things were put together. Handing him wrenches. Cleaning parts. Holding a light! I also spent a lot of time ranging around the unit, which was what the area that was being logged was called. I learned a lot from doing it, and imagined that I would approach working with the same ethic that my father displayed. But I knew it wasn’t in the woods. I never liked getting up early, mostly, but also heavy equipment and working outside didn’t capture my imagination. My father’s greatest dream was for me to be a diesel engine mechanic, because a good mechanic was never out of a job. I really didn’t like having dirt underneath my fingernails though, so that was a problem. Plus, whatever it was suggested that I do, my almost immediate and unreasoned response was “ NO. NOT THAT!” Even when a more reasonable response was warranted. I was “proven right” eventually, when mechanics were replaced with technicians, and small business owners became entrepreneurs, anxious to scale, and sell out to venture capital. My best advice to anyone who cares to listen: learn to do something you can barter. It’s too late for me. All I can do is bloviate on the internet, and write a book, or something else that is useless. Like playing music for the 25 people who want to hear it.
Nothing is wasted effort, if you learn something from it. I’ve spent a lot of time over the last 16 months or so, thinking about what I’ve done, trying to let go of the shame of failure, of the missteps and ignorant moves. Life is a continuum of success, mixed with foolishness. You do what you can, with what you have, when you have it. Tools, information, community, money. All of it is temporary, all of it can evaporate. Friendships, partnerships, occupations. All of them can disappear in a moment.
We remain to be seen. Say hello to your future.
Shaky character, that Kent Rochester. No good can come from hanging around that guy. I remember the Payless job, you started facing all your paper money after that. I didn't remember they carried appliances like refrigerators though.
I kinda needed to read this right now. Thanks.