A Barking Dog

I’m about ready to start to head down. I’ve removed nine full sized Hefty bags of clothing, mostly gig shirts. Some good ones too, they’ve just gotten too small over the last couple of years. Or perhaps I’ve grown out a bit. I thought about giving them to the shop rats at my pals next to the BBQ joint, but would rather donate them. They (or you) should be able to get them for a couple bucks each at Seattle Goodwill and the money goes to a good cause.

There were also more than a dozen file storage boxes, some dating back to 1988 and containing info from PA companies long out of business. There were a few boxes of my personal files from the building of the last PA company (the one by the BBQ joint) that has become the power player in this area and now tours the globe on a regular basis with select clients. It was nice to review how the four of us (Mark, Jon, Rob and myself) were able to pull it together with very few resources. It was very cool to be a part of that. I’ve started a series of shorts documenting it. Hopefully I’ll finish them soon. It was in the days before email for the masses. We did most everything by fax. Lot’s of paper.

Tours from years past, laminates, interaries, luggage tags, set lists. Hard to believe I squirreled all this shit away for the last 15 years or so. I kept a few lams and set lists and all the interaries, but the rest I tossed. I found two boxes of AES reprints and publications, including the excellent Dick Heyser anthology. I’m keeping those. Books. Books, books, books. I’m keeping my 104 O’Reily books though have sold or donated another 40 or so. Of course I’ll keep the now collectors item Screaming Life, Charles Peterson’s excellent photo essay that my pal Dansound gave to me a few years back. There’s also the note from the local band guys expressing thanks for the support for a benefit cause. Too bad one of them killed himself more than 10 years ago. There are a few notes and pics from the couple of chicks that sing and play guitar that grew up not far from here. They kind of paved the way for women in rock. Forgot I had those.

Moving is a pain, but I would have had to move anyway. When I returned from the last jaunt, I was met with a notice that the building had been sold and was being converted to condos. I saw that coming. The so called “luxury apartment” market in this area has dwindled and those building have been being converted to condos. You can buy your half mil one bedroom or you can move. I’m glad I’m moving.

In the next few hours I’ll be migrating the Internet services at Roaddog Manor to a rented server at Serverbeach. The mail will que but won’t deliver for a few hours and there may be some issues later tonight accessing A Barking Dog. By the morning all should be fine. Charlotte may be offline for a few days until I get down to Vegas and start to settle in. It’s a bummer because the guys that run the LAB archives now have been so lame. As for The Roaddog Forum, unless someone can offer a compelling reason to keep it, I’ll be taking it offline. There have only been a handful of posts this year and if people wish to use it, I’ll keep it up. But I don’t want to keep it up if no one wants to use it.

See y’all when I get to Vegas.

The weekend after Labor Day 1980 was my first paying gig. I was the grunt at a local festival. I think I got twenty five bucks and lunch. For the next couple of years I loaded my mini truck with band gear and whatever PA we had hacked together at the time and did the OC/So Cal punk rock club scene. At that time we all had day jobs. We made records, did gigs and went on weekend or weeklong jaunts on the West Coast and So Cal. About a year and a half later I lost my day gig, a victim of the oil industry crash of the early ’80s. In my exit interview from Fluor the interviewer asked what I planned to do and I said I had every intention of staying in the petrochemical process design industry and finish my mechanical engineering degree. It wasn’t a secret that I was involved in the local music biz. At one time I was put on report for not working manditory overtime due to my commitments doing one of my first records. At the exit interview it was asked if I was still interested in the music biz. I said I was, but that engineering was my main focus. I thought it strange afterward, as I was departing she wished me luck and much success in the music biz. It turns out that during that crash, guys with 10 years experience in the biz couldn’t buy a job. A nearly 20 year old that left engineering school to take the job and who seemed more interesting in the music biz didn’t stand a chance.

I spent the next several months doing local gigs for little or no money, hanging with the high school aged girlfriend, living at home, burning through my unemployment insurance. I was managing a couple of bands and had a small record label, though they really generated little income other than mostly pay for themselves. During that time, the manager of one of the bands I worked with got a gig running a new full service production company, that also had a studio, label and mobile divisions. I did the odd show with them and worked in the shop for free. I started to realize I wasn’t going to get a petrochem gig, and at this point I didn’t want one. I wanted to make my living in the music biz. I enrolled in the music biz/recording arts program at Golden West College. Eventually I had to go back to work and got a gig working graveyard for the local newspaper as the Assistant District Manager for adult paper carriers. We worked six days a week, from 2 AM until mid morning, often until noon. It still allowed me to work gigs. I hated it, though.

One fall morning, after my shift, I got “the call”. One of the the house bands at the production company, the pet band of the owner needed a guy for the tour promoting their major label debut. They thought they would do it with one guy but couldn’t. They had a small PA and lights and were doing club gigs and support gigs for larger hair farmer bands that were popular at the time. They wanted me to fly to Tucson that morning, do the gig that night then drive with two other guys the 24′ Ryder to El Paso. A hundred and fifty bucks a week, seven dollars a day PD. Plus all the beer, pizza and 80’s hair band rock chicks we wanted.

That was pretty much what started it some years ago. Through some breaks, favors and hardwork I was able to get to a point to do this full time and make a living. There were (and occasionally still are) some rough parts but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Bob Denver, best known as The Skipper’s “Lil Buddy” Gilligan has died from complications from cancer treatment in a North Carolina hospital. Gilligan was alway my fav. He meant well, but it didn’t always work out. Why didn’t Gilligan and Mary Ann ever hook up? They would have been the perfect couple. In TV Land only, of course. And if you remember Maynard G. Krebs the first time (other than from Nick at Night reruns), that means one thing. You’re old.
Looks like Gilligan finally made it off the island…