Chapter 6
Where was I?
Anyway, I was taking a ceramics class during my junior year in Mr. Cooper’s class. Mr. Cooper was cool and was a great potter. We did clay turning and goodies like that so it was a pretty easy class. During that time, he asked if I would like to work with him loading hay bails on his farm on the weekends. That sounded pretty cool so I accepted.
That weekend I showed up at his place. There were probably 10 other kids as well waiting to go. Mr. Cooper’s son was in my class so he knew the ropes around the place. We got the quick lesson and were shown to our machines. Basically, we had two groups of guys, four hay wagons and two tractors. The idea was to start in a field that already had the hay baled up lying in the field in rows, have one guy drive the tractor next to the bales, one guy walks along to make sure the bales line up in the chute, and the other three guys load the wagon.
This was pretty efficient and work went along quick. We only tipped a full wagon over once. Mr. Cooper was pretty impressed as well. There was a high turn over rate on kids since it was pretty physical work and we worked until dark. The entire project took 2 month’s.
After the hay was completed, Mr. Cooper asked if I wanted to work more for him doing something different. Summer was again coming and he had started up a river rafting company in town for the coming tourist season. A White Water Guide is what he wanted me to be. Cool again. $15 for a short trip (3 a day) $25 for half day trips (2 a day) or $60 for the full day. I was in. I worked this job for two years on weekends. We did a lot of trips and even took a “Guide Only” trip down the Dolores river. The river was going to be dammed up at the bottom and then part of the valley in that area was going to be flooded. We were to be the last river trip to go in. The trip lasted a week and went through some great scenic areas. There were places where we traveled through sandstone caves that the river had carved it’s way through which had tons of Indian writings all over the ceilings and caves, and places in the river that were so calm that you could see huge fish lying on the river bottom, and sites for camping everywhere. The only way to get to this place was by raft and now it was going to be flooded. We took most of the time we had and trained on river rescue and whitewater rescue, exploring, swimming, and just messing around.
Yep, That’s me and the Dolores River
When summer came around (my junior year was now over), I decided to go and get a job at the biggest resort on Durango.
Tamarron was located 15 miles North of Hermosa and ¼ mile from Purgatory ski resort. A few of my friends were going to be working there as maids and housemen. A houseman is the guy who goes around and stocks the maid’s carts and helps them out with any heavy lifting.
It was during this time that I met another guy named Wade. Wade and I became good friends and ended up driving up together to go to work and were put on the same team. It was good work and it kept us busy. The resort had normal rooms like any hotel but then it had suites and penthouses also. Don’t get me wrong here, even the normal rooms were top dollar if you wanted to stay. At that time, I think the rooms went for $115 a night and the penthouses went for $400 a night. All the big wigs and movie stars stayed here when they were in town. The cool thing about working here was when guests would leave; they would always leave things behind. Not just trash and junk but things like scratched up skis, full bottles of wine, clothes, etc. We always made good hauls with the penthouses.
I remember one day when Wade and I were over at the condo units cleaning. The condo units were separate from the main building and were rented for family condos. Wade and I came to one of the units and knocked like we were supposed to. You have to knock in case the guest is still there of course.
The guy inside said come in so we did. Now I don’t know about other people but if I’m in close quarters with another person I don’t know, I try to make a little small talk between us so It’s not so awkward walking around. Since we were cleaning the guy’s place, doing dishes, making beds and all, I thought I would at least say hi. Well I did. The gentleman in the unit was sitting at the dinning table in front of an old typewriter tapping away. When I said hi, he came back with the same hi and asked how our day was going. Well one sentence turned into another and soon all three of us were talking away and working. When Wade and I were done and were leaving to go, I said goodbye. The guy looks up from the typewriter and asks if we would like to stay for breakfast.
Hey, Wade and I had been working hard and it was break time anyway so what the heck, a free breakfast. We sat down and the guy goes to work in the kitchen whipping up eggs, bacon, pancakes, etc. I’m impressed, and talking. While I’m talking, Wade pulls out a paperback book from his back pocket that he had been reading for weeks...a Louis L'Amour western.
As we are eating, I ask the stupid question...”So are you a writer”? “Yep” he says. “So, what kind of things do you write”? “Lots of things, mostly western novels, books and stuff”. “I come to Durango cuz I have family here and I get some good ideas from the place and people...got any ideas”? Do I have any ideas he asks? “So what are you working on now”? I ask. “It’s a book called The Iron Marshall,” he says. Then he introduces himself. “Hi I’m Louis L’Amour”. Wade falls over backwards in his chair literally. OK, I’m feeling stupid...Louis L’Amour! only the most famous western writer of the day and I’m having breakfast with him!. The book Wade is reading even has a picture of the guy on the back cover and Wade didn’t notice. Nobody was going to believe this. Wade of course had to have him sign his book. I didn’t have anything right off hand so Mr. L’Amour took one of the guest paper pads off the desk and signs it for me. It had to be the best breakfast I’ve ever had. I kept that autograph in my wallet so long that the ink started bleeding through. Now, it’s cool enough to meet one famous person in your life let alone have breakfast with them, but later on in my life, Mr. L’Amour comes back again.
It was when I was in college at Fort Lewis. At the time, I was 20 years old. I was taking a literature class and had gotten to know the girl sitting next to me. After time, we started going out once in awhile just to mess around, go to movies, etc.
One night I took her to a restaurant downtown (it was a Mexican food place and I can’t remember the name). Anyway, when we walked in, the place was obviously packed and there wasn’t any tables left. As we were leaving, we heard some people shouting to us. My date turned around and said that she knew the people and that we should go on over and join them...so we did.
As we came up to the table, there he was Mr. L’Amour. My date walked over to him and gave him a big hug and said, “Hi Uncle L’Amour, How are you?” What’s even weirder is the fact that he still remembered me from Tamarron. He got a big chuckle when I pulled out the autograph from my wallet that I was still carrying around. Needless to say, dinner was on him. I don’t even know who all of the other people were but I hate to guess. How many other famous people were sitting there that I was too stupid to recognize?
Louis L’Amour’s Autograph from 1977
OK, I’ve skipped around here, let me get back on track.
Well, The summer went by and school started yet again. My senior year 1978.
My class load was really light...I mean really light. I came to school at 8:15 in the morning and took one class. This class was 3 hours long. It was Woodshop / Cabinetmaking. I had taken woodshop since my freshman year and was getting pretty good at it. Mr. Clark was the best. He reminded me of a bald Santa Claus and was always a nice guy. The one thing that has always stuck out in my mind that I learned from him was to always return tools to the owner or cabinet in as good as shape as you found them or better. I still do that today.
After class, I would make my way over to Taco John’s where I was again working. It was nicer now since I had a vehicle to get around. At this time, I had also started sharing Bob's Apartment with him. The other Bob had moved out and Bob needed a roommate. This was cool. The apartment was down on 22nd street so traveling was short. It was better than going all the way out to the valley. This was officially my first apartment...man I was cool. Unfortunately, Neither Bob nor I were much at partying. We worked too much to have much free time. Besides, when we were at Taco John’s, everybody we knew would end up over there anyway. Taco John’s was always the hangout for people.
If Bob and I did have time at the apartment, we would make tapes on his reel to reel. We came up with “The Bob and Jim show” and played tapes at the annual Christmas party. I used to have a couple of pictures of the show but I can’t find them right now.
The show actually played on live air in Durango one Christmas season. A friend of Bob’s was a DJ there so he gave us some plugs. We did the same things as “The Bob and Tom Show” does nowadays but a lot tamer. Well, that was just to pass the time.
One Saturday morning after both Bob and I had worked late and closed Taco John’s, Bob had gone out with some friends and actually drank a little too much. Needless to say, when he came in at 4:00 that morning, he was in no mood for anything but sleeping.
At 7:00a, the doorbell rang. I had my room door shut as usual and wasn’t going to get up for any reason. I figured if I ignored it, they would go away. A second ring goes by. Then a knock. Then another knock. About this time Bob starts yelling for them to go away. Another doorbell ring. That was it. All I could do is hear the commotion going on as Bob whips his door open from across the hall and starts stomping into the living room. As he came around the corner though, he slammed his little toe into the corner of the wall and ripped off the toenail.
He’s screaming and cussing and hopping around mad as a scorched piglet. I’m up now and I’ve opened my door to see what’s going on. He finally makes it to the door, whips it open and yells, “What the hell do you want?” Standing at the door is a skinny little dork with a black book in his hands. He says, and I quote, “Hello, we are Jehovah Witnesses going from door to door in the neighborhood letting people know that they will find peace and happiness in their lives today”...Unquote. Bob stands there on one foot while holding the other foot bleeding and dripping, hung over, pissed, in his underwear, stunned. Like any good neighbor, he grabs the door and slams it on the guy’s face without saying a word and falls to the floor. I covered him up with a blanket about an hour later.
I’ve never been drunk. However at one time I did have the occasion to drink 29 Strawberry Daiquiris. I’m glad you asked why.
I was in a band you know. Remember Steve, the keyboard player? Well, he also had a job at night playing the piano in a place called “The Quiet Lady”. This was a lounge area that set off from the main dinning area of the Strator Hotel in town. The Strator was built way back in the 1800’s and had been refurbished into its original state. The place was beautiful. It’s been in several movies. Anyway, While you wait for your dinner table to be ready, you can come in and have a drink and relax. At the piano playing the lounge type music was Steve. He was good.
One Halloween, Bob, and myself were visiting Steve and Paula. Paula was another friend of mine who worked there as a bartender. She was two years older than us and was a blast to be around. I think she had a thing for me. Anyway, it was the weekend and the place was packed as usual. We were sitting in our usual place up front by the piano. Steve started playing a Dan Folgleberg Tune called “Ghosts”. It was appropriate for the season. After playing the tune to a silent audience, One person started clapping. You don’t usually clap in the lounge. The guy comes up to our table and sits down, then shakes Steve’s hand and says, “Perfect. You played that exactly how I wrote it and wanted it to be played”.
“Oh! Well hello Mr. Folgleberg”, Steve spits out. (I told you there were lots of celebrities in this town). The guy says, “My friends call me Dan”. This was cool. I had all of this guys tapes. Well after that, we saw Dan almost every weekend at the lounge. He was always entertaining or being entertained by someone. Most of the time he would come in and take Steve’s place and play a few tunes. He liked playing there because not too many people knew he was there and he could practice his new songs on us without being interrupted.
OK, the Daiquiri parts. One night after Dan came in, Him and I started talking trash about who could drink more. I told him the worst I could do was Daiquiris or Amaretto Sours. We did the Daiquiris. The deal was, whoever drank the most of course won and the loser had to pay. No problem. Dan had all night to kill and so did I. Paula was at the bar serving so she was getting into it too. We started at 7:30.
At 1:30, the place was doing last call. 2:00 was closing time. I’ve never gone to bathroom so much in my life. Those things go right through you. Dan and I were fighting to get in the bathroom first it was so bad. In the end, I handled 29 of those puppies. Dan however had 32. Let’s see 61 drinks at $2.50 a piece equals...Way too much! I was surprised at the fact that I wasn’t to affected by the amount that I had just drunk. I think Paula started watering them down somewhere around 15. If I could add up the total in my head, I was doing well. Dan ended up paying for the drinks though. He said he was going to all along and that he hadn’t had this much fun just being himself without the crowds and hassle in a long time. We kept in touch for some time afterwards. He lived over in Pagosa Springs about an hour away. Every once in awhile when we saw him, he would throw some passes at me and tell me to come see him play...we would go drinking afterwards. I never did get a chance to go.
Dan Folgleberg at the time I knew him in Durango 1978
Well, time went by, winter came and went and before I knew it, I was graduating. I actually made it. I was glad too because back in my freshman year, I had bought my high school ring with the date 1978 on it. I still have that around somewhere in a box I’m sure. Graduation was no big thing. We had it outdoors at the fairgrounds in the afternoon. Afterwards, a lot of people were going to various parties and such. Wade and I decided that packing up some steaks and beer, hiking up the mountain, and having an overnight campout would be more fun. Gary and Carl joined in also. So much for graduation festivities.
I never was much of a party person either. Nobody ever understood that too much since I was in the band. There were always big parties afterwards when we played. I just packed up my gear and went home or went to a movie.
I don’t remember specifics about the summer that year. It was work as usual at the river-rafting job. I also acquired a job on the train like I stated earlier. I took quite a few trips on this bad boy that year. If you ever get a chance to ride, you need to. The train makes a few stops along the route to Silverton. Once for water before going up the grade, and two more times to let people off or pick people up from different camps in the canyon. The one I remember most was called “Ah Wilderness”. It’s tucked in the canyon and the only way to get there is either by hiking in or taking the train. The train is quicker by far. I’ve always wanted to work there as a hand doing something or maybe being the caretaker in the winter. Dad and I took the 45.5-mile hike to Silverton one year. It took 4 days to do so. You don’t have much choice but to follow the river the entire way. There’s not a lot of area to wander off to. There’s good fishing on the way and lots of waterfalls. We didn’t bring to much food since we were going to eat fish that we caught at night. Unfortunately, dad got tick fever along the way. We made it all the way into Silverton just in time to catch the train back home. Someday, I would like to take that trip again without the ticks.
At this point in my life, I had never really given much thought to my future and what I was going to do with myself. That’s right, I was stupid. I did know however that I should at least make the attempt at college for a year.
My Uncle Tom happened to be attending a college in Houston Texas at the time. The college was called Gulf Coast Bible College. This of course made mom real happy since she thought this would be good for me. I had grown up in the Baptist church realm. Church to me was always more of a social outing more than anything. I did the Sunday school routine as a little kid and then went on to do the teen thing and youth group routine. I would also attend the actual church services as well. All I remember about them is the pastor way up in the front doing his speech and pounding on the pulpit once in awhile. I know there was messages in there but I couldn’t hold interest long enough to find out what it was. Let’s face it, It was boring! Very formal and stuffy also.
Anyway, I didn’t see the harm in attending one year out of my life and it would be fun to get out of the state and go somewhere I hadn’t been before. Mom and dad took time out from work and the three of us drove on down. I took the bare essentials on this trip. I figured I could get what I needed when I got there.
I had never been to a big city before. Colorado Springs was big but spread out over a large area and didn’t have honest to gosh skyscrapers or clover leaf freeways. This was totally different. It creeped me out basically. Luckily, the college was on the Northeast side of the central city in a less crowded area. Unfortunately, The area the college was in was called “The Heights”. In short, The Heights was the ghetto.
The college grounds took up approximately 2 blocks. All around the nicely landscaped campus were neighborhoods consisting of run down HUD homes and shanty’s. The girl’s dorm was tucked in between two of the campus buildings in the center of campus. The boy’s dorm was located at the furthest corner of the two blocks. The dorm had once been a two-story apartment building and had been converted into a 15-room dorm. Each room held 2 guys. Across the street were homes in which the residents would hang out doing drug deals and showing off the wonderful guns tucked into their waistline. On several occasions, gunfire was heard during the nights to come. Most of the cars in the small parking lot facing the street were broken into at some point in time. We would have to do our clothes in the laundry room at the end of the dorms in shifts also. If you left things unattended, you would find them being worn by the people on the other side of the street, and they let you know they had them by parading around. We were told by the campus faculty to let it go. After all, we were a Christian bible college and we need to act like it. I was pretty sure that being trampled on and not doing anything or being a doormat wasn’t in the bible anywhere.
The college was part of the “Church of God”. This was a bit different than I was used to. I realize now that I grew up in a “Conservative” Baptist church...very mellow. This place was a very UN-conservative type organization. People here would be falling on the floor waving their hands around shouting “Praise the Lord” and “Hallelujah” during services. Crying aloud and moaning was also acceptable. The director and pastor of the college was a good fire and brimstone type guy when he got up and talked. He yelled and beat the crap out of that pulpit better than anybody. It drove me crazy.
None of the faculty liked me too much. I came to school to learn what I could and I didn’t think I had to wear a full 3 piece suit and tie everyday in the muggy heat to do so. I didn’t dress bad either. I wore nice jeans, a button up shirt, and tennis shoes. What’s wrong with that? I got a lot of the “you’re a disgrace” looks from teachers and students when I would walk by. Mr. Trick who was my “Old Testament Survey” teacher told me to leave the class one day after a dress code discussion in class. I asked him “If Jesus walked in the class right now in his one-piece dirty cloth robe, dirty feet, and sandals, long hair, beard and moustache, would you kick him out of class for dress code violation”. He wasn’t amused. I thought it was a good question. Soon though, I had made a few friends who started dressing my way (normal) and we hung out together.
Three of us found jobs with Pinkerton Security. I was in need of money and it seemed like a good way to get some. We went to school from 8:00a to 3:00p. After school we would take one of the guy’s car to work and be there by 4:00.
The job was pretty cool. We all three worked in a building complex called the Americana Buildings. There were three of them. The Ling Tower was a 17-story tower. The Riviana Tower, which I worked in, was also a 17-story building. The tallest building was the American General Tower at 25-stories.
All I had to do was sit at the guard desk in the main lobby when I arrived and do PR work with the people who worked there or who would be coming in and out. I would check people in, or make calls to people Etc. At 5:30, the Towers were 99% empty of people. At that time, I would go around and lock all of the exit doors, turn off all lights in the building, and do my “rounds” every hour. After this, I had until midnight to do homework and mess around.
One weekend that I remember, two of us were doing double shifts. We came in at our usual 4:00 on Friday afternoon, but instead of leaving at midnight, we kept working until 8:00a on Saturday morning. At around 5:00a on Saturday morning, I got a call on the radio from Gary at the Ling Tower. He told me to come outside and meet him at the front of the buildings.
The front of the buildings faced a large grass park that had a large 4-tier fountain, benches, and a walking trail. The fountain was huge. You would have to climb the tiers if you wanted to reach the top and the bottom bowl was probably 2 feet deep and 30 feet in diameter. It also had several ground effect lights of different colors that lit it up at night.
When I met Gary in the front of the buildings, I found out why he wanted to see me. During the night, someone had taken ten or so large boxes of laundry soap and a big bottle of blue food coloring and put them in the fountain. The soap, color, and the falling water had made the largest, prettiest bubble masses I’ve ever seen. There were so many large blue tinted clumps, that they had escaped the confines of the fountain and were blowing gently along the grass. These things were as big as Volkswagens. If the vandals were hoping to get a reaction from us, they got their wish. Watching the beautiful blue tinted clods of bubbles as the sun was coming up, lighting up the sky with an orange hue, and the ground effect lights making the bubbles sparkle, almost brought a tear to my eye. We were amazed. All we could do is clap. I felt like singing "God Bless America”. We picked up the empty boxes and bottle and went in.
I managed to save up a good chunk of money during this time and I also seemed to loose other things like weight. During the first nine weeks of school, I somehow managed to loose 60 pounds and 10 inches from my waist. At one point, I literally had to hold my pants up when I walked to keep them from falling down. Don’t ask me how I did it. I guess puberty set in late or something. When I went home for Christmas, mom and dad didn’t recognize me at the airport. Until now, my social life had been non-existent. My work schedule in High school left no room for “love-life”. In college however, I did happen to meet a girl named Susan.
Anyway, I was taking a ceramics class during my junior year in Mr. Cooper’s class. Mr. Cooper was cool and was a great potter. We did clay turning and goodies like that so it was a pretty easy class. During that time, he asked if I would like to work with him loading hay bails on his farm on the weekends. That sounded pretty cool so I accepted.
That weekend I showed up at his place. There were probably 10 other kids as well waiting to go. Mr. Cooper’s son was in my class so he knew the ropes around the place. We got the quick lesson and were shown to our machines. Basically, we had two groups of guys, four hay wagons and two tractors. The idea was to start in a field that already had the hay baled up lying in the field in rows, have one guy drive the tractor next to the bales, one guy walks along to make sure the bales line up in the chute, and the other three guys load the wagon.
This was pretty efficient and work went along quick. We only tipped a full wagon over once. Mr. Cooper was pretty impressed as well. There was a high turn over rate on kids since it was pretty physical work and we worked until dark. The entire project took 2 month’s.
After the hay was completed, Mr. Cooper asked if I wanted to work more for him doing something different. Summer was again coming and he had started up a river rafting company in town for the coming tourist season. A White Water Guide is what he wanted me to be. Cool again. $15 for a short trip (3 a day) $25 for half day trips (2 a day) or $60 for the full day. I was in. I worked this job for two years on weekends. We did a lot of trips and even took a “Guide Only” trip down the Dolores river. The river was going to be dammed up at the bottom and then part of the valley in that area was going to be flooded. We were to be the last river trip to go in. The trip lasted a week and went through some great scenic areas. There were places where we traveled through sandstone caves that the river had carved it’s way through which had tons of Indian writings all over the ceilings and caves, and places in the river that were so calm that you could see huge fish lying on the river bottom, and sites for camping everywhere. The only way to get to this place was by raft and now it was going to be flooded. We took most of the time we had and trained on river rescue and whitewater rescue, exploring, swimming, and just messing around.
Yep, That’s me and the Dolores River
When summer came around (my junior year was now over), I decided to go and get a job at the biggest resort on Durango.
Tamarron was located 15 miles North of Hermosa and ¼ mile from Purgatory ski resort. A few of my friends were going to be working there as maids and housemen. A houseman is the guy who goes around and stocks the maid’s carts and helps them out with any heavy lifting.
It was during this time that I met another guy named Wade. Wade and I became good friends and ended up driving up together to go to work and were put on the same team. It was good work and it kept us busy. The resort had normal rooms like any hotel but then it had suites and penthouses also. Don’t get me wrong here, even the normal rooms were top dollar if you wanted to stay. At that time, I think the rooms went for $115 a night and the penthouses went for $400 a night. All the big wigs and movie stars stayed here when they were in town. The cool thing about working here was when guests would leave; they would always leave things behind. Not just trash and junk but things like scratched up skis, full bottles of wine, clothes, etc. We always made good hauls with the penthouses.
I remember one day when Wade and I were over at the condo units cleaning. The condo units were separate from the main building and were rented for family condos. Wade and I came to one of the units and knocked like we were supposed to. You have to knock in case the guest is still there of course.
The guy inside said come in so we did. Now I don’t know about other people but if I’m in close quarters with another person I don’t know, I try to make a little small talk between us so It’s not so awkward walking around. Since we were cleaning the guy’s place, doing dishes, making beds and all, I thought I would at least say hi. Well I did. The gentleman in the unit was sitting at the dinning table in front of an old typewriter tapping away. When I said hi, he came back with the same hi and asked how our day was going. Well one sentence turned into another and soon all three of us were talking away and working. When Wade and I were done and were leaving to go, I said goodbye. The guy looks up from the typewriter and asks if we would like to stay for breakfast.
Hey, Wade and I had been working hard and it was break time anyway so what the heck, a free breakfast. We sat down and the guy goes to work in the kitchen whipping up eggs, bacon, pancakes, etc. I’m impressed, and talking. While I’m talking, Wade pulls out a paperback book from his back pocket that he had been reading for weeks...a Louis L'Amour western.
As we are eating, I ask the stupid question...”So are you a writer”? “Yep” he says. “So, what kind of things do you write”? “Lots of things, mostly western novels, books and stuff”. “I come to Durango cuz I have family here and I get some good ideas from the place and people...got any ideas”? Do I have any ideas he asks? “So what are you working on now”? I ask. “It’s a book called The Iron Marshall,” he says. Then he introduces himself. “Hi I’m Louis L’Amour”. Wade falls over backwards in his chair literally. OK, I’m feeling stupid...Louis L’Amour! only the most famous western writer of the day and I’m having breakfast with him!. The book Wade is reading even has a picture of the guy on the back cover and Wade didn’t notice. Nobody was going to believe this. Wade of course had to have him sign his book. I didn’t have anything right off hand so Mr. L’Amour took one of the guest paper pads off the desk and signs it for me. It had to be the best breakfast I’ve ever had. I kept that autograph in my wallet so long that the ink started bleeding through. Now, it’s cool enough to meet one famous person in your life let alone have breakfast with them, but later on in my life, Mr. L’Amour comes back again.
It was when I was in college at Fort Lewis. At the time, I was 20 years old. I was taking a literature class and had gotten to know the girl sitting next to me. After time, we started going out once in awhile just to mess around, go to movies, etc.
One night I took her to a restaurant downtown (it was a Mexican food place and I can’t remember the name). Anyway, when we walked in, the place was obviously packed and there wasn’t any tables left. As we were leaving, we heard some people shouting to us. My date turned around and said that she knew the people and that we should go on over and join them...so we did.
As we came up to the table, there he was Mr. L’Amour. My date walked over to him and gave him a big hug and said, “Hi Uncle L’Amour, How are you?” What’s even weirder is the fact that he still remembered me from Tamarron. He got a big chuckle when I pulled out the autograph from my wallet that I was still carrying around. Needless to say, dinner was on him. I don’t even know who all of the other people were but I hate to guess. How many other famous people were sitting there that I was too stupid to recognize?
Louis L’Amour’s Autograph from 1977
OK, I’ve skipped around here, let me get back on track.
Well, The summer went by and school started yet again. My senior year 1978.
My class load was really light...I mean really light. I came to school at 8:15 in the morning and took one class. This class was 3 hours long. It was Woodshop / Cabinetmaking. I had taken woodshop since my freshman year and was getting pretty good at it. Mr. Clark was the best. He reminded me of a bald Santa Claus and was always a nice guy. The one thing that has always stuck out in my mind that I learned from him was to always return tools to the owner or cabinet in as good as shape as you found them or better. I still do that today.
After class, I would make my way over to Taco John’s where I was again working. It was nicer now since I had a vehicle to get around. At this time, I had also started sharing Bob's Apartment with him. The other Bob had moved out and Bob needed a roommate. This was cool. The apartment was down on 22nd street so traveling was short. It was better than going all the way out to the valley. This was officially my first apartment...man I was cool. Unfortunately, Neither Bob nor I were much at partying. We worked too much to have much free time. Besides, when we were at Taco John’s, everybody we knew would end up over there anyway. Taco John’s was always the hangout for people.
If Bob and I did have time at the apartment, we would make tapes on his reel to reel. We came up with “The Bob and Jim show” and played tapes at the annual Christmas party. I used to have a couple of pictures of the show but I can’t find them right now.
The show actually played on live air in Durango one Christmas season. A friend of Bob’s was a DJ there so he gave us some plugs. We did the same things as “The Bob and Tom Show” does nowadays but a lot tamer. Well, that was just to pass the time.
One Saturday morning after both Bob and I had worked late and closed Taco John’s, Bob had gone out with some friends and actually drank a little too much. Needless to say, when he came in at 4:00 that morning, he was in no mood for anything but sleeping.
At 7:00a, the doorbell rang. I had my room door shut as usual and wasn’t going to get up for any reason. I figured if I ignored it, they would go away. A second ring goes by. Then a knock. Then another knock. About this time Bob starts yelling for them to go away. Another doorbell ring. That was it. All I could do is hear the commotion going on as Bob whips his door open from across the hall and starts stomping into the living room. As he came around the corner though, he slammed his little toe into the corner of the wall and ripped off the toenail.
He’s screaming and cussing and hopping around mad as a scorched piglet. I’m up now and I’ve opened my door to see what’s going on. He finally makes it to the door, whips it open and yells, “What the hell do you want?” Standing at the door is a skinny little dork with a black book in his hands. He says, and I quote, “Hello, we are Jehovah Witnesses going from door to door in the neighborhood letting people know that they will find peace and happiness in their lives today”...Unquote. Bob stands there on one foot while holding the other foot bleeding and dripping, hung over, pissed, in his underwear, stunned. Like any good neighbor, he grabs the door and slams it on the guy’s face without saying a word and falls to the floor. I covered him up with a blanket about an hour later.
I’ve never been drunk. However at one time I did have the occasion to drink 29 Strawberry Daiquiris. I’m glad you asked why.
I was in a band you know. Remember Steve, the keyboard player? Well, he also had a job at night playing the piano in a place called “The Quiet Lady”. This was a lounge area that set off from the main dinning area of the Strator Hotel in town. The Strator was built way back in the 1800’s and had been refurbished into its original state. The place was beautiful. It’s been in several movies. Anyway, While you wait for your dinner table to be ready, you can come in and have a drink and relax. At the piano playing the lounge type music was Steve. He was good.
One Halloween, Bob, and myself were visiting Steve and Paula. Paula was another friend of mine who worked there as a bartender. She was two years older than us and was a blast to be around. I think she had a thing for me. Anyway, it was the weekend and the place was packed as usual. We were sitting in our usual place up front by the piano. Steve started playing a Dan Folgleberg Tune called “Ghosts”. It was appropriate for the season. After playing the tune to a silent audience, One person started clapping. You don’t usually clap in the lounge. The guy comes up to our table and sits down, then shakes Steve’s hand and says, “Perfect. You played that exactly how I wrote it and wanted it to be played”.
“Oh! Well hello Mr. Folgleberg”, Steve spits out. (I told you there were lots of celebrities in this town). The guy says, “My friends call me Dan”. This was cool. I had all of this guys tapes. Well after that, we saw Dan almost every weekend at the lounge. He was always entertaining or being entertained by someone. Most of the time he would come in and take Steve’s place and play a few tunes. He liked playing there because not too many people knew he was there and he could practice his new songs on us without being interrupted.
OK, the Daiquiri parts. One night after Dan came in, Him and I started talking trash about who could drink more. I told him the worst I could do was Daiquiris or Amaretto Sours. We did the Daiquiris. The deal was, whoever drank the most of course won and the loser had to pay. No problem. Dan had all night to kill and so did I. Paula was at the bar serving so she was getting into it too. We started at 7:30.
At 1:30, the place was doing last call. 2:00 was closing time. I’ve never gone to bathroom so much in my life. Those things go right through you. Dan and I were fighting to get in the bathroom first it was so bad. In the end, I handled 29 of those puppies. Dan however had 32. Let’s see 61 drinks at $2.50 a piece equals...Way too much! I was surprised at the fact that I wasn’t to affected by the amount that I had just drunk. I think Paula started watering them down somewhere around 15. If I could add up the total in my head, I was doing well. Dan ended up paying for the drinks though. He said he was going to all along and that he hadn’t had this much fun just being himself without the crowds and hassle in a long time. We kept in touch for some time afterwards. He lived over in Pagosa Springs about an hour away. Every once in awhile when we saw him, he would throw some passes at me and tell me to come see him play...we would go drinking afterwards. I never did get a chance to go.
Dan Folgleberg at the time I knew him in Durango 1978Well, time went by, winter came and went and before I knew it, I was graduating. I actually made it. I was glad too because back in my freshman year, I had bought my high school ring with the date 1978 on it. I still have that around somewhere in a box I’m sure. Graduation was no big thing. We had it outdoors at the fairgrounds in the afternoon. Afterwards, a lot of people were going to various parties and such. Wade and I decided that packing up some steaks and beer, hiking up the mountain, and having an overnight campout would be more fun. Gary and Carl joined in also. So much for graduation festivities.
I never was much of a party person either. Nobody ever understood that too much since I was in the band. There were always big parties afterwards when we played. I just packed up my gear and went home or went to a movie.
I don’t remember specifics about the summer that year. It was work as usual at the river-rafting job. I also acquired a job on the train like I stated earlier. I took quite a few trips on this bad boy that year. If you ever get a chance to ride, you need to. The train makes a few stops along the route to Silverton. Once for water before going up the grade, and two more times to let people off or pick people up from different camps in the canyon. The one I remember most was called “Ah Wilderness”. It’s tucked in the canyon and the only way to get there is either by hiking in or taking the train. The train is quicker by far. I’ve always wanted to work there as a hand doing something or maybe being the caretaker in the winter. Dad and I took the 45.5-mile hike to Silverton one year. It took 4 days to do so. You don’t have much choice but to follow the river the entire way. There’s not a lot of area to wander off to. There’s good fishing on the way and lots of waterfalls. We didn’t bring to much food since we were going to eat fish that we caught at night. Unfortunately, dad got tick fever along the way. We made it all the way into Silverton just in time to catch the train back home. Someday, I would like to take that trip again without the ticks.
At this point in my life, I had never really given much thought to my future and what I was going to do with myself. That’s right, I was stupid. I did know however that I should at least make the attempt at college for a year.
My Uncle Tom happened to be attending a college in Houston Texas at the time. The college was called Gulf Coast Bible College. This of course made mom real happy since she thought this would be good for me. I had grown up in the Baptist church realm. Church to me was always more of a social outing more than anything. I did the Sunday school routine as a little kid and then went on to do the teen thing and youth group routine. I would also attend the actual church services as well. All I remember about them is the pastor way up in the front doing his speech and pounding on the pulpit once in awhile. I know there was messages in there but I couldn’t hold interest long enough to find out what it was. Let’s face it, It was boring! Very formal and stuffy also.
Anyway, I didn’t see the harm in attending one year out of my life and it would be fun to get out of the state and go somewhere I hadn’t been before. Mom and dad took time out from work and the three of us drove on down. I took the bare essentials on this trip. I figured I could get what I needed when I got there.
I had never been to a big city before. Colorado Springs was big but spread out over a large area and didn’t have honest to gosh skyscrapers or clover leaf freeways. This was totally different. It creeped me out basically. Luckily, the college was on the Northeast side of the central city in a less crowded area. Unfortunately, The area the college was in was called “The Heights”. In short, The Heights was the ghetto.
The college grounds took up approximately 2 blocks. All around the nicely landscaped campus were neighborhoods consisting of run down HUD homes and shanty’s. The girl’s dorm was tucked in between two of the campus buildings in the center of campus. The boy’s dorm was located at the furthest corner of the two blocks. The dorm had once been a two-story apartment building and had been converted into a 15-room dorm. Each room held 2 guys. Across the street were homes in which the residents would hang out doing drug deals and showing off the wonderful guns tucked into their waistline. On several occasions, gunfire was heard during the nights to come. Most of the cars in the small parking lot facing the street were broken into at some point in time. We would have to do our clothes in the laundry room at the end of the dorms in shifts also. If you left things unattended, you would find them being worn by the people on the other side of the street, and they let you know they had them by parading around. We were told by the campus faculty to let it go. After all, we were a Christian bible college and we need to act like it. I was pretty sure that being trampled on and not doing anything or being a doormat wasn’t in the bible anywhere.
The college was part of the “Church of God”. This was a bit different than I was used to. I realize now that I grew up in a “Conservative” Baptist church...very mellow. This place was a very UN-conservative type organization. People here would be falling on the floor waving their hands around shouting “Praise the Lord” and “Hallelujah” during services. Crying aloud and moaning was also acceptable. The director and pastor of the college was a good fire and brimstone type guy when he got up and talked. He yelled and beat the crap out of that pulpit better than anybody. It drove me crazy.
None of the faculty liked me too much. I came to school to learn what I could and I didn’t think I had to wear a full 3 piece suit and tie everyday in the muggy heat to do so. I didn’t dress bad either. I wore nice jeans, a button up shirt, and tennis shoes. What’s wrong with that? I got a lot of the “you’re a disgrace” looks from teachers and students when I would walk by. Mr. Trick who was my “Old Testament Survey” teacher told me to leave the class one day after a dress code discussion in class. I asked him “If Jesus walked in the class right now in his one-piece dirty cloth robe, dirty feet, and sandals, long hair, beard and moustache, would you kick him out of class for dress code violation”. He wasn’t amused. I thought it was a good question. Soon though, I had made a few friends who started dressing my way (normal) and we hung out together.
Three of us found jobs with Pinkerton Security. I was in need of money and it seemed like a good way to get some. We went to school from 8:00a to 3:00p. After school we would take one of the guy’s car to work and be there by 4:00.
The job was pretty cool. We all three worked in a building complex called the Americana Buildings. There were three of them. The Ling Tower was a 17-story tower. The Riviana Tower, which I worked in, was also a 17-story building. The tallest building was the American General Tower at 25-stories.
All I had to do was sit at the guard desk in the main lobby when I arrived and do PR work with the people who worked there or who would be coming in and out. I would check people in, or make calls to people Etc. At 5:30, the Towers were 99% empty of people. At that time, I would go around and lock all of the exit doors, turn off all lights in the building, and do my “rounds” every hour. After this, I had until midnight to do homework and mess around.
One weekend that I remember, two of us were doing double shifts. We came in at our usual 4:00 on Friday afternoon, but instead of leaving at midnight, we kept working until 8:00a on Saturday morning. At around 5:00a on Saturday morning, I got a call on the radio from Gary at the Ling Tower. He told me to come outside and meet him at the front of the buildings.
The front of the buildings faced a large grass park that had a large 4-tier fountain, benches, and a walking trail. The fountain was huge. You would have to climb the tiers if you wanted to reach the top and the bottom bowl was probably 2 feet deep and 30 feet in diameter. It also had several ground effect lights of different colors that lit it up at night.
When I met Gary in the front of the buildings, I found out why he wanted to see me. During the night, someone had taken ten or so large boxes of laundry soap and a big bottle of blue food coloring and put them in the fountain. The soap, color, and the falling water had made the largest, prettiest bubble masses I’ve ever seen. There were so many large blue tinted clumps, that they had escaped the confines of the fountain and were blowing gently along the grass. These things were as big as Volkswagens. If the vandals were hoping to get a reaction from us, they got their wish. Watching the beautiful blue tinted clods of bubbles as the sun was coming up, lighting up the sky with an orange hue, and the ground effect lights making the bubbles sparkle, almost brought a tear to my eye. We were amazed. All we could do is clap. I felt like singing "God Bless America”. We picked up the empty boxes and bottle and went in.
I managed to save up a good chunk of money during this time and I also seemed to loose other things like weight. During the first nine weeks of school, I somehow managed to loose 60 pounds and 10 inches from my waist. At one point, I literally had to hold my pants up when I walked to keep them from falling down. Don’t ask me how I did it. I guess puberty set in late or something. When I went home for Christmas, mom and dad didn’t recognize me at the airport. Until now, my social life had been non-existent. My work schedule in High school left no room for “love-life”. In college however, I did happen to meet a girl named Susan.
posted by rescue8314 | 9:11 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home