Where were you in ’78? I was 21 years old, trying to make a place for myself in a world of adults.  My clients were musicians, but the people who paid me were businessmen, and I had to make a good impression.

That meant button up shirts, a nice pen in my pocket, and the ultimate professional accessory . . .  a real leather briefcase.  Fifty dollars was a lot of money for me then, but I must have chosen well ‘cause it’s still in good shape today . . .

Outside – quiet and conservative.

Inside – rock and roll passes and sound engineer business cards told the rest of the story.  No corporate drone here! 

Underneath, I had a receipt book so I could get money, diagrams of amplifiers I might have to fix, schematics for things I'd just thought up, and bills I struggled to pay.  It was a hand to mouth living in those days, but it was a fun time, too.  It was a time of sadness, excitement, discovery, and adventure.  I probably should have died a dozen times over, but I'm still here.  There aren't any pictures from those days because there wasn't any time for photos. I had to work! And work I did.   

Those shows were the stuff of dreams for a sixteen year old failure and a high school dropout.  Yet they all came true, five short years later. But like all dreams, they changed and evolved.  

Ten years later, I’d left music behind and I was an electronics executive

Ten years later, I’d left electronics behind and I was restoring and fixing cars

Ten years later I was photographing performers and thinking about writing a book

I could never have predicted any of that, when I bought that briefcase.  I remembered it all when my mother and my wife Maripat found it stored away, and brought it back to life for my birthday.  It just goes to show . . . . you really never know . . .