34- Jekyll and Hyde – 1979 and 48 – Northern Lights – 1978 – Renaissance

Jekyll and Hyde - Renaissance

Northern Lights - Renaissance 

            For the life of me I can’t remember how I learned about Renaissance. It was likely they were mentioned in an article in Rolling Stone, which I subscribed to from the mid-70s to around 2005, when I dropped it due to budget constraints.

            I seem to recall reading somewhere that their sound was almost medieval, a rock combination of Jethro Tull and Gregorian chants (or something like that). I checked my collection of back articles I cut out of Rolling Stone and reduced on a copier to 8.5 x 11 and put in a binder and can find no articles about them.

            As a fan of medieval history (23 – Year of the Cat) I thought they’d be worth a listen. In the pre- iTunes days it was hard to get a sample of a group, especially one with no airplay (at least not on any station I was listening to in the mid-80s).

            You would just go out and take a leap of faith and buy an album and hope it was listenable. I found Leo Kottke this way (see What’s All This, Then?), buying an album just because his name was mentioned in a Stereo Review article about Cat Stevens. It didn’t even say what sort of music he performed; it just said Cat listened to him.

            Renaissance has an interesting sound on most of the mid to late 70s albums (some of the early albums have songs that run 9-10 minutes, which is a little too self-indulgent for me) and Annie Haslam has a great voice, showcased especially on “Northern Lights”.

33 – Six Months in a Leaky Boat – 1982 – Split Enz

Six Months in a Leaky Boat - Split Enz -1982

            From another album, “Time and Tide,” that I bought back in the day after viewing the MTV video.

            Reminds me of the summer of 1982 when I was preparing for my entry into Southern Illinois University Law School in August.

            When I went to Blackburn in 1975, my plan was to go to law school and become a Nader’s Raider, but when I went to see my advisor my second day on campus, John Van Gelder Forbes, eminence grise (though, in fact about my age now) chairman of the History department, in his cramped, overflowing office up the back stairs behind the chapel, he told me I had little chance of getting in.

            He said I needed a 3.8 GPA to get in. If I hadn’t been sitting, I would have fallen over; I got light headed as I saw my whole future disappearing into a pipe dream. I was transferring from ECC with a B average (3.0) and there was no way to get to 3.8, even if I went 4.0 for two years, the average would be 3.5 for the four years.

            I was crushed. I went back to my dorm and used the pay phone (the only phone in the dorm with an outside line, there were two other phones in the dorm for intra-college calls) to call home to tell them I was quitting.

            Luckily, my folks talked me off the ledge and told me to try another advisor. The next day I talked with Dr. Richard Piper, of the Political Science (Randy Newman shout out!) department, and he got me back to solid ground by telling me that there were law schools that would take 3.5, or less, so I changed my major to Poli Sci. A few weeks later I saw that I was closer to a Social Sciences degree so I changed to that, and about a month after that I came full circle, back to History, mainly due to Dr. Michael G.R. Kelley, a great, charismatic teacher who would be my major influence at Blackburn.

            My last semester at BU, having been on the Dean’s List all three semesters, I took the LSAT and only got a 610. That, plus my GPA, kept me out of the schools I applied to. So when Dr. Kelley told me he would recommend me for the assistantship at Western Illinois, I jumped at it.

            As I’ve written earlier (6 & 9 – Disarm, 1979, 23-Year of the Cat, 24-Mr. Blue Sky) Western was an interesting time. When I completed my MA in 1979 I was already back at Accutronics, where I stayed for several years until I got the bug again to go to law school. I re-took the LSAT, and with no new prep, improved my score by 100 points. That, plus my 3.90 GPA at WIU, got me in at Southern Illinois law school in 1982.

            SIU Law School was almost brand new in 1982, the building was on their fraternity row and the dorms were directly across the street. As a reader, I looked forward to throwing myself into law school. Little did I know that I’d be reading from the time I got up, around 7 AM, to midnight, most days. I was reading case law, text books, and law journals, spending most of my waking hours in the Law library. I was swamped.

            And the classes for the first year student were all mandatory, Contracts, Torts, Property, Legal History, and Legal Writing. Torts was taught by a professor who had seen the “The Paper Chase” too many times, I think. He would look down at his seating chart, call out a name, then when he was through with the first person, he would continue down that row. When called upon, you would stand up and he would begin to throw hypotheticals at you, until you were so addled he’d finally feel pity and pull the hook out of your mouth and move on to the next person. (I’m sure not every student felt that dread, as he came down your row, but I sure did)

            I had previously had only one experience like that in college. At BU, as a History major, I was required to take American Constitutional Law with John Van Gelder Forbes. Dr. Forbes, and his wife Lydia, the head librarian at Lumpkin Library, were institutions at BU. During WWII, Dr. Forbes was a conscientious objector, he was a Quaker, which must have been a hard row to hoe.

            My senior year, BU brought a comedian on campus for a show, John Roarke, a gifted mimic, who did a great Groucho. I don’t know if he was told that Dr. Forbes’ wife was named Lydia, but he sang Groucho’s signature song, “Lydia, the Tattooed Lady”

            Lydia, oh Lydia, say, have you met Lydia?
            Lydia the tattooed lady
            She has eyes that men adore so
            And a torso even more so
            Lydia, oh Lydia, that encyclopedia
            Lydia, the queen of tattoo
            On her back is the Battle of Waterloo
            Beside it the Wreck of the Hesperus, too
            And proudly above waves the red, white and blue
            You can learn a lot from Lydia

            When her robe is unfurled, she will show you the world
            If you step up and tell her where
            For a dime you can see Kankakee or Paree
            Or Washington crossing the Delaware

            Lydia, oh Lydia, say, have you met Lydia?
            Lydia the tattooed lady
            When her muscles start relaxin'
            Up the hill comes Andrew Jackson
            Lydia, oh Lydia, that encyclopedia
            Lydia, the queen of tattoo
            For two bits she will do a mazurka in jazz
            With a view of Niagara that nobody has
            And on a clear day, you can see Alcatraz
            You can learn a lot from Lydia

            Come along and see Buffalo Bill with his lasso
            Just a little classic by Mendel Picasso
            Here's Captain Spaulding exploring the Amazon
            Here's Godiva but with her pajamas on

            Lydia, oh Lydia, that encyclopedia
            Lydia, the queen of them all
            She once swept an admiral clean off his feet
            The ships on her hips made his heart skip a beat
            And now the old boy's in command of the fleet
            For he went and married Lydia

                        (words and music by Harold Arlen and Yip Harburg)

            Quite the scandal, I recall.

            Con Law was an 8AM course on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. (At BU, Tuesday and Thursday AM classes also met on Saturday. Because everything on campus was student run, through the work program, Saturday AM classes kept you on campus until noon, at least. Afternoon classes on Tuesday and Thursday were longer, since they didn’t meet on Saturdays).

            For our Final exam the first semester (it was a two semester class) we would have an oral test. Each student would be asked to stand to answer two questions. A large part of your grade depended on your answers. Dr. Forbes also had another requirement for this class; you had to memorize the first ten amendments of the Constitution and go to his office and write them down with no mistakes.

            For the final exam, he asked the men to wear a shirt and tie and the ladies dresses. I got a bug up my butt for some reason and refused to wear a tie (I hadn’t brought one to school with me and I wasn’t about to go out and buy one for one day) so I wore a sweater. He never mentioned it and the exam went OK. I think he gave an A to everyone that semester.

            The good thing about the Torts class at SIU was he followed his seating chart religiously, and you could work out whether he was going to get to you on a particular day. One day, however, he called on me once and I sat down thinking I was through for the day when, several minutes later, he called on me a second time. Crap! I stood up again and he peppered me with hypotheticals until he let me loose.

            I had never examined my reason for studying law, beyond working for Ralph Nader, but this experience let me know that my future was not likely to be in a courtroom. Lacking the ability to think quickly on my feet, I probably would not be the reincarnation of Clarence Darrow or “Judd for the Defense” or even Lionel Hutz.

            After the class, several people came up to me and asked, “What did you do?” to get called on a second time. I never knew. No one else had ever been called on twice in the same class period. I had not had any contact with him outside the class and had never been anything but terrified in his class.

            I wish I could remember what the hypotheticals were about, but luckily my mind is pretty blank about much of my time in law school. All I remember about Torts is that you can’t use life threatening force to protect property, i.e., a guy set up a shotgun aimed at the front door of an empty property so that someone breaking in would be shot as he came through the door. A thief did, was shot, and successfully sued the guy whose house he was breaking into,

            I remember nothing from Property, Contracts, or legal History.

            I do remember going out to the movies in Carbondale. I vividly recall “The Road Warrior”, “Pink Floyd’s The Wall”, and, especially, Stephen King’s “Creepshow”. A group of people behind me went nuts during the section with E.G Marshall and his battle with cockroaches, yelling directions to the screen, “No, don’t go there, don’t open that door!”

            At SIU that year I also had my first exposure to William Windom doing James Thurber. I had been an avid reader and collector of Thurber’s books, along with those of Robert Benchley and S.J. Perlman, and had been a big fan of Windom in “My World and Welcome To It” a TV show where he played a character based on the writings of Thurber, as a put upon married man who fantasized, much like that great Thurber character, Walter Mitty.

            I saw him do a different one man show of Thurber, in Aurora’s Paramount Theater, several years later.

            The main thing I didn’t like about law school was you had no idea where you stood throughout the semester, there were no tests or quizzes, your whole grade was determined by the final exam.

            Also, I never “got” legal writing. I had written a Master’s Thesis and had it accepted, but legal writing is different, and I had a hard time with it. There was a format that had to be followed and I was unable to make my writing fit it, for some reason, certainly not for lack of trying.

            When I took the finals I was burned out. I looked forward to getting back into the real world where I could read junk that had nothing to do with the law and watch crap on TV.  I did not have a good feeling about the tests. In the law, there is no right or wrong answer. You have to be able to argue both sides of any issue, ‘cause you have to be able to argue the position of whoever’s paying your fees.

            When I came back to school after Christmas/New Year’s break, I checked my results and they were dismal. You couldn’t flunk out after one semester, but I was near the bottom of every list. I went to my room, got my stuff, loaded up my 1979 Mustang, sold my books back to the book store, withdrew from school, and drove home, tail between my legs.

            I didn’t go back to Accu right away (see 3- No More Lonely Nights), but my dreams of being a Nader’s Raider were over.

32 – Here Comes My Baby – Cat Stevens – 1967

Here Comes My Baby - Cat Stevens

            Hearing this song, written when Mr. Stevens was 18 years old, takes me to a specific place and time:  Accutronics in my first month there, January 1974. I had been hired to be a shear operator for the grand salary of $2.65/hour. The normal start rate was $2.30/hour, but I was a college student so they thought I might have some smarts.

            The main job of the shear operator was shearing, obviously, though I was also required to unload skids of laminate, the copper covered material that’s the basis of all printed circuit boards, and load and unload 55 gallon drums of ferric chloride, the acid used to etch copper from the laminate to create the circuit traces on the boards.

            What the job entailed was taking large sheets of laminate, ranging from 36”x48”, up to 36”x72” and cutting them into smaller process panels (12x16, 14x18, etc.) to be imaged, etched, and punched. The material of choice in 1974, for most of the boards we built, was a laminate called XXXP, which was paper/phenolic based. It needed 10-15 seconds under a quartz heater lamp before shearing.

            My very first day, the supervisor put me on a smaller, manual shear, to shear some process panels into strips for the punch press operator to feed into the die. He just showed me where to shear and left me alone to shear panel after panel. Each time I’d step on the lever the blade would come down and make a crackling “zzzzip!”, and the strip would fall into a wooden box on the other side. It was my first 10 minutes in the shop; I thought it was supposed to sound like that.

            The material was manufactured by Dynamit Nobel and was the most brittle and dangerous material around then (dangerous because if you didn’t heat it enough the shear would fracture it into razor sharp edges. I brushed up against a stack with my hand once and was shocked when I saw about 10 cuts on my knuckles that bled like a stuck pig)

            Then, a roving inspector, a wonderful lady named Henrietta, came by to check on me and said, “You’re not heating these up. The shear is fracturing every piece!” I looked down at the pile of cracked strips and said,”No one said anything about heating them!” She went off to get the supervisor, who then showed me the heater box you were supposed to use to heat up the panels, and on I went.

            On the power shear, the one I was hired to run, we had a quartz lamp that hung perpendicular from the wall, and was adjustable in height. You would look at the shear order, set the shear bar to the required width with a crank that moved it, and then manually set the back gage to the size of the final cut, usually the same distance. (A six foot sheet would typically have 4 – 18” cuts in its length, and 3- 12” cuts in its width).

            At the time I worked it, it was a two man operation. I would heat each of the 3 cut areas, and then feed it through the shear to a guy on the other side who would grab it and hold it against the bar on his side, I’d step on the pedal and the motor would drive the blade through the material, making a clean cut. I’d push it through again for a second, and then a third cut, then pull it back against the bar gage on my side making the final cut. All within about 10 seconds, so the material would not cool and fracture.

            Many of the jobs at Accutronics back then required two people, one to feed, the other to catch. This changed as time went on and automation came in (Today, almost all laminate comes pre-cut from the vendor). Nowadays most processes have a machine to feed the boards and an accumulator at the other end to catch and stack them. You just need a person to set up the line itself and it runs on its own.

            However, the labor intensive nature of the jobs back then caused you to have to make conversation with your partner. Usually, I had a radio playing (as did a lot of other people) and you’d talk about music or have trivia contests. Anything to pass the time.

            One day they had this sort of biker dude work with me. I was 19, naïve, a little scared of the guy in T-shirt and engineer boots. I wore, and wear to this day, button down shirts and either Converse suede One-Stars, Red Wings, or desert boots.

            Steve B. (the biker dude) and I sheared away and then the Tremeloes’ version of this song came on. “I like this song,” said Steve. “You know who wrote that?” I asked, starting a trivia contest. After several guesses I told him, “Cat Stevens.” “No!” “Yeah, when he was about 18” “I never knew.” And I went on to describe Cat’s early pop star career, tuberculosis, and rebirth as sensitive singer-songwriter in 1970. It was the beginning of a work friendship that lasted until Steve left a year or so later.

            Accutronics in the 1974-1980 time period was a very fun and interesting place to work.  Cary, Illinois, had a few businesses, but no Mickey D’s or other fast food places. High school and college aged kids went through Accu as a rite of passage almost, along with a group of bored housewives and mothers who also passed through there.

            Most of the college aged kids stopped through on their way to something better, whether it was college or a different job. Nobody planned on staying there forever, especially me, but here it is 40 years later and I’m still in the biz.

            But like I said in “To Be What You Must…” (number 11), I wouldn’t have it any other way.

            This song also reminds me of another friend I made almost 20 years later, at Dynacircuits, Oscar. S. They used to play music over the PA in the office. One day the Tremeloes’ version came on and I asked Oscar, “Know who wrote this?” starting up a little trivia quiz to pass the time.”No.””Cat Stevens!” “Who?” “Cat Stevens!” “Never heard of him.”

            It became a running gag for years after with Oscar at the two other board shops we worked together at. Some song would come on the radio, maybe AC/DC, I’d ask Oscar, “Who wrote this?” he would reply, “Cat Stevens?” and laughter would ensue.

31 – Everyone’s Gone to the Moon – Jonathan King – 1965

Everyone's Gone to the Moon - Jonathan King

            I don’t know what it is about this song, maybe it’s the use of swirling orchestral strings, but it always saddens me a little when I hear it. Still, I like it for the feelings and memories it invokes. It reminds me of the mid 60’s when I was 9-10 and the future seemed so bright. And then here comes Denny Downer, whining about everybody abandoning him (us?) for the moon,

            I was a huge space program fan as a kid, and that future was not to be dissed. I had large scale models of both the Gemini and Apollo capsules. In fact, the Apollo was the top third of the Saturn V rocket and contained both the capsule and the LEM (Lunar Excursion module). It was about 2 feet high and was pretty cool.

            It blew up “real good” several years later (along with my Star Trek Enterprise, Klingon warship, and flying sub (from “Voyage to See What’s on the Bottom”) models)), when I got a hold of some firecrackers. Probably blew up my kids’ college fund with those five models.

            It also triggers memories of my aunt and uncle who lived in Marengo, Illinois. At the time, their house backed up on a farm (now completely built up with houses). It seemed they were in the middle of nowhere. It was about a 45 minute drive from Algonquin, mainly through farmland. Though their house was newer (mid-1950s, I think), the neighborhood was built into an area with huge, old growth oak trees.

            I still have occasional dreams about that house for some reason, though I haven’t been in it in over 40 years. It was a simple three bedroom ranch who’s each room was larger than our three bedroom ranch in Algonquin, but in my dreams there are hidden rooms that made the house go on and on, though I’m sure if I saw it today it would seem much smaller.

            They had a barbed wire fence at the back of their lot that was electrified, scary to a little kid. I recall overhearing a story about a girl who was out in the winter snow with only her PJs on, and when she climbed over the fence to escape her pursuers, she cut her feet on the barbed wire and she was tracked by her bloody prints in the snow (I overheard only part of this story and the image that sticks in my head is the blood in the snow).

            It also triggers memories of seeing the Beatles’ first appearance on the Ed Sullivan show there (they had a partially finished basement for TV viewing, unlike my other four aunts, or us) when I was nine. I remember my parents commenting (I think it was required) on how “long” their hair was. This song also reminds me for some reason of Freddie and the Dreamers, another British Invasion band that was on Ed Sullivan several times, doing a goofy dance called, unlikely as it seems, “The Freddie”.

            It also reminds me of the first “adult” joke I ever heard, from my uncle Wayne. He told it to me and my cousin, David, at one of our family get togethers. (My dad had five sisters, and all lived within a 25 mile radius of Elgin, and we would get together at holidays and for picnics. There were 13-14 cousins, I think).

            I was about 11 or 12 when he told us…..

                        “This guy goes out to buy a car and the salesman takes him on                    a test drive of a new sports car. He punches the gas pedal and the car goes 
                        from 0-60 mph in five seconds, screaming around the countryside, they       
                        approach a rail crossing and, out of nowhere, a train appears. The salesman 
                        slams on the brakes; the car stops a foot from the speeding train.

                        “Smell that?” the salesman asks, “That’s tire rubber, best tires on the road!”

                        The guy buys the car and takes his buddy out for a spin. Going 0-60 in
                         five seconds, screaming around the countryside, they come up on the same
                         railroad  crossing and out of nowhere a train appears. The guy slams on his
                         brakes and the car stops a foot from the passing train.

                        “Smell that?” the guy asks his buddy.

                        “Smell it? I’m sitting in it!”

            I looked at my cousin, he looked at me, we didn’t get it.

            My uncle Wayne said, “He pooped in his pants he was so scared!”

            We exploded in laughter, bending over at the waist, holding our stomachs, bobbing up and down in unison.

            It was great to be considered adult enough to hear such sophisticated humor!

 

30 – It’s Money That Matters – Randy Newman – 1988

It's Money That Matters (Live on SNL)

            This song is from one of my favorite Randy Newman albums, 1988’s “Land of Dreams.” I seem to enjoy quite a few artists whose voices are, shall we say, challenged. Randy Newman would be exhibit A, but no one else can sing his songs as well (I’m not talking about his work in films, “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” (Toy Story), etc., which are usually sung by better singers).

            Even though I was introduced to Randy Newman by David Steinberg’s rendition of “Political Science (Let’s Drop the Big One)”, Newman’s version is the best, I’m also ignoring “Mama Told Me Not to Come” by Three Dog Night, their version is superior.

            Other artists I like who maybe don’t have the best voices:

            Jimmy Webb – Singer, songwriter, I like his versions of his hits, sung by others on the hit version, and I’ll write about them as they come up on the Zune.

            Leo Kottke – I like his voice, too, even though he famously calls it sounding like “geese farts in a fog” on the liner notes of “Mudlark”. There are several vocals here on my Zune which I’ll be discussing in future postings.

            Billy Corgan – Very distinctive voice, somewhat whiny, but I like Smashing Pumpkins for other reasons as well.

            Steve Dahl – “Margarita”, good song, voice…OK.

            Trevor Horn – vocals, songwriter, The Buggles, an acquired taste.

            Warren Zevon – adequate…

            Mark Knopfler – Great duet with James Taylor on “Sailing to Philadelphia,” coming soon on Kaffred’s  Zune

            Maybe it’s because I’s easier to sing along with voices slightly better/worse than mine?

29 – I’ve got a Thing about Seeing My Grandson Grow Old – Cat Stevens – 1970

I've Got a Thing About Seeing My Grandson Grow Old

             I first heard this song in 2002 when the Cat Stevens Box Set came out. The song itself comes from the “Mona Bone Jakon” sessions of 1970, when his sound became more introspective following his year long bout with tuberculosis.

            It reminds me of my short stint at Sonic, which I talked about a little in the very first posting (“What’s All This Then?”). I had come back there and spent some of my time downloading songs from Grokster. We were slow, the main reason we were shut down after only being in business 10-11 months.

            I remember the box set was a revelation, in that there really hadn’t been anything new from Cat (now Yusuf) since “Footsteps in the Dark”(1984), a best-of compilation that finally gave us the songs from “Harold and Maude”(there it is again) that had never appeared on any album (17-If You Want to Sing Out…). There are several songs that I’d never heard before, (“If Only Mother Could See Me Now”, “The Joke,”  and “The Day They Make me Tsar”)including his version of “Portobello Road” an early song I had only heard covered by his guitarist Alun Davies on his album “Daydo”.

            There’s even a duet with Elton John, a song called “Honey Man”, I like each of them separately, but their voices don’t blend well, to my ear.

            Had this song  (I’ve Got a Thing…) been released as a single, I’m sure Wally Phillips would have been able to wring several days out of Cat’s pronunciation of vitamin (see also, 27-“Morning Has Broken”). He uses the British pronunciation of vitt-a-min, as opposed to the American vite-a-min,

            Anyway, it’s a nice sentiment, but at 58, with a 3 year old and a 7 year old, seeing a grandson grow old may be problematic.  Maybe something along the lines of “Seeing My Grandson Change My Depends” is more likely in my future.

28 – Viva La Vida – Coldplay – 2008

Viva La Vida - Coldplay

            I think this is the newest song on my Zune, bought from the Zune Marketplace.  I don’t have any idea what the rest of the album sounds like, I only bought the song. Kind of like buying a single at the Ben Franklin back in the day. (For you young whippersnappers out there, the Ben Franklin was a five and dime store, kind of like the Dollar stores of today, but they also sold 45 rpm singles as well…”What’s a 45 rpm single old man?” “Shut up”)

            I absolutely love this song, I don’t know why. It gets multiple plays every time it comes on the Zune and I sing along every time as well. I don’t know what it’s about, or what the lyrics mean, but it has a great chorus, perfect for singing loudly in an echoing room…

                        “I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringing,

Roman cavalry choirs are singing,

Be my mirror, my sword and shield,

Missionaries in a foreign field…”

            Meaning: Huh?

            It reminds me of a specific time, March-August 2009. In March, the company I worked for in Cary, Bartlett Manufacturing, went belly up. The owner gave up and shut it down, throwing 60+ people out of work. This was about 5 months after we took a 28% pay cut (which I am still trying to climb back from) to help keep it running. He had entered into an agreement with the owner of another shop in Round Lake Beach and they were supposed to keep Bartlett open for 3 months until the work there transitioned to Round Lake, but he decided to just give up and shut it down, blaming the Chinese.

            Most of the supervisors and managers at Bartlett had been offered positions at Round Lake, but I had not. I had worked there (Round Lake Beach) five years earlier for 6 months until one day I was fired. The explanation was that I had “blown off” a customer in for a visit, but I am still convinced L.S. (see Update posting) had something to do with it. I had asked another manager to cover for me with the customer as I had a particularly tricky corrective action to finish for their biggest military customer. It was for an issue that occurred a year before I got there and was very serious. I thought the CAR (corrective action report) was more important than the customer visit. I was wrong.

            Regardless, I was not expecting to get an offer to go to Round Lake. But on the very last day of Bartlett Mfg., the owner of the shop in Round Lake asked to talk to me. He started by apologizing for my getting fired (I had been fired by his President, not him), saying he had been told what they thought he wanted to hear, which he subsequently came to believe was not the whole truth. I was floored. He then offered me a job with his company, but not as a Quality Manager, since he already had one, but in a position TBD.

            This led to one of the most interesting periods in my career.

            At first, I helped the QA manager at Round Lake as a quasi-quality engineer, helping him put together PPAPs, FMEAs, and Control Plans (a bunch of paperwork gobbledygook required by Bartlett’s automotive customers, which Round Lake had no experience with at this time)

            After the closing of Bartlett it quickly became apparent that since none of the people from the punch press department took positions in Round Lake someone would be needed to run orders out at Bartlett until the presses could be moved to Round Lake, to a 17,000 sq.ft. building down the block being prepared. Among those who took jobs in Round Lake only the former president of Bartlett and I had ever set up dies and run the punch presses. The former president only stayed for a month before he left to open a rep firm, leaving me.

            I had not set up or run a press in about 15 years, when I had helped Gary Kelly (see #1-mmmm.mmmm) build boards in a small shop he set up in Elgin, less than a mile from where we then lived. I worked at Dynacircuits during the day, and then worked 4-5 hours every other night for cash at Gary’s, setting up and running silk screening, setting up and running a punch press, and doing some visual inspection.

            So, for the next 5 months, as the Bartlett building was being gutted around me, I would drive from Elgin to Cary to run the presses, and then run the finished boards up to Round Lake for inspection and shipment. There were only 3-4 other people in this 73,000 sq. ft. building, and I was by myself, pushing 500 lb. dies around and setting up 110 ton presses, running the presses, listening to my Zune in the huge echoing (thought I wouldn’t explain that, huh?) punch press room pumped through a stereo boom box I found in the abandoned front office. The phone system was disconnected so the only contact with the outside world (and the others in the building), should something happen to me, was with cell phones.

            I was 54 years old, with a bad hip, doing more physical work than I’d done in years. And it was fun! And “Viva La Vida” was a great accompaniment.

            Note: If anyone out there knows how I can link some video I took of myself (I put the video camera on a ladder as I struggled with dies and ran punch presses)doing this work, I’d greatly appreciate it.