Reeling in the Years
My first summer job was a hybrid - a bellman and repair guy - at a large motel in Fresno. Not exactly a dream job, but I was 14. There were two cool things about this gig: first, it’s where touring rock bands stayed; and second, I drove a golf cart to shuttle guests and their bags.
One afternoon, a group I’d only recently heard of called Steely Dan parked their bus in the lot. The band’s manager handed me a list that contained room numbers and (numbered) bags including instruments, and said he’d pay me 50 cents per bag plus leave two tickets for me at the convention center box office. He stiffed me on both and I apologized to a buddy when my dad drove us home.
Of course, when I returned the next day, the bus was gone, en route to Los Angeles, Sacramento or San Francisco.
Within a week or two, I skidded carelessly around a corner of the parking lot and flipped the golf cart. I was fine, nursing skinned hands and a scraped knee, but the manager thought I’d be better off taking the rest of the summer to recover. I cried.
I spent the remainder of my summer days watching the Watergate hearings on TV, which inspired me to become a journalist. In the evenings I learned to play tennis, which is something I still enjoy whenever possible - in the S.F. Bay Area. Hey, Walter Becker and Donald Fagen, I’m still waiting on those tickets!
