April 26, 2013

48 of 65

Ch…Ch…Ch…Changes

A short time before I graduated from high school, my parents embarked on a new career. They opened a sporting goods store called Sportline in the Arvada Plaza Shopping Center. It was a brave thing for them to do. They had no experience in that business and opening the store took most of their savings. This all occurred as they anticipated having one or more of their children in college for the next eight years.

I worked all the time I was in college to pay my own way as much as possible. That first summer after high school, my job was – no surprise – to help run Sportline. I picked up inventory from suppliers’ warehouses, stocked the shelves, waited on customers, swept the floors, cleaned bathrooms. In short, I did whatever was necessary for the business to succeed. After a few months, I moved to Boulder to attend college.

Between the time I started college in September of 1966 and the end of my freshman year, my perspective on many things had changed. It was not so much that I had matured or been exposed to more urbane thinkers at the university. It was more that the American culture had changed, and was changing, rapidly.

There were nearly half a million American troops in Vietnam, and, on average, 15 to 20 of those young men were killed each and every day. The public, especially those of draft age, was becoming more radicalized and politicized, showing anger and disapproval through demonstrations and protests. Heavyweight boxing champion Muhammad Ali refused induction into the Army, saying, “I ain’t got no quarrel with them Viet Cong. . . . They never called me ‘nigger.’”

Some actor named Ronald Reagan was elected governor of California. He was a conservative Republican who, within six months of his inauguration, signed controversial legislation liberalizing abortion.  Go figure.

The Six Day Arab-Israeli War began and ended, though a much longer War of Attrition was begun between Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organization and Egypt, which sought the return of the Sinai Peninsula it had lost in the Six Day War.

Thurgood Marshall was appointed the first African-American justice on the Supreme Court. As a counterpoint, barely a month later a major race riot broke out in Detroit. It lasted nearly a week, leaving 43 people dead, more than 1,000 injured, more than 7,000 arrested and some 1,400 buildings burned.

A major cultural event was the release of the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album. I have heard commentators describe how that album changed the direction of music and of popular culture. It was important, I will agree. However, it was only a part of an amazing assortment of music that hit nearly all at once. Within 90 days before Sgt. Pepper, the first Grateful Dead Album was released; Don’t Look Back, D. A. Pennebaker’s documentary focused on Bob Dylan, opened; and the Mothers of Invention released Absolutely Free – not to mention debut albums by the Doors and Jimi Hendrix and David Bowie. Within the 90 days following Sgt. Pepper’s release, there were impressive new albums by Aretha Franklin and Stevie Wonder and the first Pink Floyd album.

Through that summer, I was observing these changes from the Arvada Plaza Shopping Center (“while the juke box kept on playing Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”).* Once again, my summer job was at Sportline. Business had increased since the previous summer and I finally felt confident that my parents would be successful.

In July, the shopping center put on a sidewalk sale to bring in customers. In my own weird way, I tried my best to bring people to our store. For instance, we included a sale on baseball bats. I took an old bat, and after I had sawed off the end, I displayed it next to a sign saying, “Bats – 1/3 Off.” One of the first customers who passed the store looked at my display and said. “No wonder they’re trying to get rid of those bats. Look at that one.” Was I being too subtle, I wondered.

Another item was a hard rubber ball called a Super Ball. Normally those sold for 79 cents, but – just to see what would happen – I put them outside sell for 99 cents. Before too long, a gentleman came by and asked to buy two. I felt guilty as I walked with him to the cash register, so I told him the real price was 79 cents. “I marked them up,” I said, “as a kind of psychology experiment.”

He gave me one of those “if looks could kill” looks and said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Psychology, huh? Why don’t you take your psychology to Detroit and see how far it gets you?” This was only days after the Detroit riots.

Then he just stood there for a minute. I could almost see his thoughts as he tried to decide what to do. He didn’t want to look stupid or uninformed in his purchase. However, he certainly didn’t want me to feel smug about my” psychology experiment.” “I only want one of these,” he finally said.

“I understand,” I replied. “I assume you want it for the 79 cent price.” There was another of those looks as he paid and quickly left, probably never to return.

Throughout the rest of the sale, whenever I sold a Super Ball, I told the customer that because it was a special sale, I would reduce the price to 79 cents despite what the sign said. Those customers seemed happier when they left.

The moral of this story should be obvious – and if you think I should have been ashamed of myself, I was.

Another of the changes that had occurred over the previous months was I had switched my college studies from Engineering to Arts and Sciences. I wanted to be creative and to expand my consciousness along with the cultural expansion occurring all around me.  Engineering was much too structured and business-like for me just then. When it was time to enroll for Fall Semester classes, I had to decide what major I would pursue. I thought seriously about what I wanted to do with my life, finally choosing to major in a field I believed could truly affect many people’s lives. I chose Psychology.

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* The lyrics are from a song called “Summer Rain” that was a hit for Johnny Rivers in late 1967.  Many people seem to believe the song was written by Rivers, but it was not.  The author was James “Jim” Hendricks, and some people confuse him with Jimi Hendrix as well as with Johnny Rivers.  Hendricks is probably most famous for being the husband of Mama Cass Elliott of the Mamas and Papas for several years.  He and Cass were founding members of a successful New York folk group, the Big Three.  They were also part of the Mugwumps with Denny Doherty, another member of the Mamas and Papas, and John Sebastian and Zal Yanovsky, who later formed the Lovin’ Spoonful.  Although he never achieved the commercial success of those other band members, Hendricks has put out more than 50 albums of mostly Christian music from his home in Nashville.