Professional Disc Jockey

I don’t travel a whole lot for work, but I do travel perhaps more than most other mobile DJs.  I say travel, and I mean out of state or to the next metropolitan area.  Of course we travel, we’re mobile DJs, it’s right in the title… IT’S THE FIRST WORD!  I just got back from a road trip for DJ jobs in Colorado and Utah with a renewed understanding of why so many rock stars have written wistful songs about life on the road.  It can be disorienting.

When I first moved to Arizona 7 years ago, I was traveling to Los Angeles just about every weekend for about 18 months for jobs that I had booked before I moved.  I was getting fuel in Blythe California on one of those trips after a bout a year of living that way and as I went to get back on the freeway, I was completely unable to determine, where I was, where I was going, where I had been and the freeway sign wanted an answer- east or west young man?  I had to pull over and close my eyes and collect myself for 30 seconds.  Even though I was able to collect myself from a purely intellectual standpoint, I was still disoriented from an emotional standpoint and that feeling lasted for an hour.

Someone asked me on this trip when were talking about this, among other things, if I missed California. I often arrange for my California trips to include lunch with Bill in Upland or Sue in Chino Hills or Scott in Brea.  I’ve still got some fiercely loyal customers in Southern California and some dear friends and my 22 year old son, Javin, lives there, and so because of that, even after 7 years, it can still seem like home sometimes but that feeling continues to fade. It’s relatively easy to make acquaintances in a new place but it takes some time to make a few friends- people that are part of your inner circle.  It’s just the passage or time, the making of new friends, falling into new routines, getting the lay of the land, finding restaurants and shops and other places that you love.  I’d say it took a good 3 years for Phoenix to feel like home and then the next time I went to LA for a DJ job, it no longer felt like home.

I guess the next question is this: Is home a place?  Or a feeling?  When you visit your mamma at your childhood home and you feel those feelings of home, were they waiting there for you- waiting to release upon your arrival?  Or did you bring them with you?

I ask that question because of an interesting observation I made while packing for this trip.  On event day, I stand in front of the closet and wonder what I’m going to wear on stage that night.  What is the nature of the event?  What are my customers expecting?  What am I feeling?  I usually get it right.  For this trip, since I would be driving two days and resting one day before the event, that moment had to happen 3 days early and I couldn’t feel it! I ended up packing 4 stage outfits for two events.  So there was a rather thick suit bag hanging behind my seat.

It’s an interesting beast traveling for work as opposed to traveling for pleasure.  I was not driving a comfortable driving machine- although my Chevy Astro Van has been a battle axe and taken me 13 times around the planet safely and almost without incident.  It was a work van loaded to the gils with sound and lighting equipment- my tools.  The bigger point is the head space that one must be in.  Most people road trip to get away from something.  Get away from work, from the heat, from the rain, from the snow, to visit Gramma, to see the sights, etc.  As described, the nature of my work is that I take it to a different place for every event.  Even when I work someplace that I’ve worked before or even if I’ve worked there many times, it’s a different room set up with a different timeline and a different customer who has different tastes and family traditions and I have to figure it out quickly and work with it- and I have to bring that expertise with me.  It was even more so when I was traveling to another state.  The owner of the steel company that I used to work for had a small plane and I got to fly with him on several occasions because he was an older man and didn’t have the strength to pull that plan out of the hangar by himself.  Even though he had flown for years and years, he would put his preflight checklist on his lap and read it and do it because the payoff if something gets missed may be your life.  I double checked my quality control regimen to make sure that I had everything that I needed because if something was left behind, there would be no help for me.

I do love driving and I love the road.  I do not love traffic however, and I’m thankful that I don’t commute for a day job and fight that traffic 5 days a week morning and night.  It’s not really even the traffic that I despise, it’s the one or two aggressive idiots in that traffic that just have to be in front of somebody and get there 6 seconds ahead of you and they make dangerous moves.  I’m usually going into the city at 4PM when everybody else is coming out and I’m heading home at 2AM when everybody is nestled in their beds.  Those late night drives when the freeways are relatively empty have always been about my favorite time of the week- in Los Angeles for all those years and here in Phoenix.  I can collect my thoughts and review the last week and consider and start to plan the next and somehow figure out the secrets of the universe.  Even though I am dog-tired, I’m usually pumped up from the adrenaline of the stage and the work out of loading out the sound and lighting equipment and that usually carries for an hour or so after I get home- no matter how sleepy I am, I can’t sleep until that  adrenaline wears down a bit. If I do get sleepy while driving, a cherry coke is a huge wake up for a guy who doesn’t drink coffee or other caffeinated drinks any other time.

I left a day early

People believe their computer/smart phone screen more than they believe their eyes and ears.

idiot who is the arbiter of culture

road trip to get away… taking work with me.  head space

Minnesota-  felt one quarter turn off

Rock star 22 hours of nothing, 2 hours of stage… Stewart Copeland… sweaty shirt towel and shower.

Last week, I had a great pleasure of providing sound reinforcing and music for a giant vow renewal ceremony on Valentines Day in Fountain Hills AZ with Larry James pronouncing the service. This event had the potential to attract 3 or 4 thousand people as they were attempting to break a record for a vow renewal ceremony at 1088.  (1087 couples in Miami FL in 2009)

Most of the events that I do are for around 400 people or less. When you have more than that, you need to have a larger sound system and really be moving some air to be heard. I can expand my sound system to accommodate about 1200-1400 people for music and dancing or maybe even 2000 if it is a speaking event where you can count on the crowd being fairly quiet as opposed to dancing and shouting like they would if music were playing.  I was a bit concerned after I committed to doing the vow renewal ceremony whether I had enough sound hardware to make it the lovely event that I hoped it would be if they really did attract 4000 people.  They ultimately had about 2000 people, 762 couples renewing plus family and friends attending. I think it was certainly a record for Arizona, if not the entire Western U.S. 

When I arrived, I was directed to set up my workstation on one side of the stage so as not to block the view of the fountain from the amphitheater off the opposite side of the stage.  Even though I was going to set up on one side or the other anyway, I still intended to put a couple of speakers on stands on each side to be above people’s heads and I would have the advantage of being able to rotate them towards the check-in area for announcements in advance of the service.  Against my better judgement, I put only 2 speakers on stands, one on each of the far edges of the amphitheater to avoid blocking the view of the lake and the fountain in the background. Another 6 speakers plus a big sub woofer were placed on the ground.  As the ceremony was about to begin, the crush of people that gathered around that stage rendered most of the power of those speakers on the ground useless- all of the sound was absorbed in a thousand knees!  It was still functional.  I walked around the whole crowd and could hear well enough, but it wasn’t the 100% that I would have liked as a sound guy. 

I tell you all that so that I can tell you this.  Larry James, who performed the ceremony that day, is a local wedding officiant and he also writes books, blogs and does public speaking.  We have done a couple of weddings together in the time that I’ve lived in Phoenix and it’s always a pleasure to see him at industry functions and say hello.  We had a moment to chat after the festivities and he said he had greeted so many guests, many that had been married by him some time in the past, and that he overspent his voice and he further confided in me that he had been nervous with so many people! I had been a bit nervous too, for other reasons described above.  I spoke to the same people, during gathering time. but I was making house-keeping announcements and thanking vendors who had donated goods and services to the event- nobody was really listening to me, but they WERE listening to Larry!   Here’s a guy who is well-read, well-travelled, established in his career, adding to expertise from previous careers, handsome brute, fit and trim, well-spoken, respected by the community and his industry, master of his craft. and he was nervous! Isn’t that wonderful??!? 

Officiant Larry James and event creator and host Stehpenie Bjorkman and myself.

I’m flattered that he felt comfortable telling me that, but I’m even more happy to know that he felt that.  Most people would rather die than speak in public.  I enjoy that part.  There are other things that make me nervous about a performance.  I’ve been a DJ/musician/entertainer for 33 1/2 years now and I know it sounds cocky, but I have invested thousands of hours becoming a master of my craft and I still get nervous going in to an event.  I’ve found that if I feel a bit of nervousness, or if I feel some level of worry over some of the event details or important cues, it translates into adrenaline and I do a better job.  It adds to my focus and because of the second nature of my abilities, my tools become an extension of my mind and hands and I rise to the occasion.  If I’m too comfortable- if it’s an easy event, the customer is flexible and easy-going, the event doesn’t have a lot of details to fuss with… I may not have that extra drive or mental focus or physical adrenaline push to do a good job. 

I always put myself through a rather strict quality control regimen for each event. It starts on Monday morning reviewing the events coming up in the next 10 days.  Will dry-cleaning for any stage clothes be done and picked up in time?  Do I have the specific songs needed and does any music need editing for profanity or anything?  Have I checked pronunciations of difficult family names or any other ethnic or religious words that I don’t understand?  Were there any needed equipment repairs noted on previous gigs that need to be fixed?  (I use a tag out/lockout sticker when I note a piece of equipment not working properly so that I remember to fix it or replace it before the next event)  Have I double checked load-in time?  Event start time?  What sound and lighting equipment do I need to bring? Any freeway closures this weekend?  Have I spent some time on any new or unfamiliar music so that I know beats per minute, energy level, how it starts and stops, any dramatic elements?  Have I received or arranged final payment for the event? 

I used to work in the steel business in LA and the owner of the company had a small plane and we would run company errands in that sometimes.  He was in his 70s and had flown for years but every time he sat down in that cockpit, he opened up a written quality control manual and put himself through the paces to make sure everything was working properly and it was safe to fly that thing and that nobody inside or standing near the plane would get hurt. 

Now, nobody is gonna get hurt if a DJ messes up a cue, but it’s the difference between good and great.  A great DJ isn’t going to miss a cue- at all- ever!  The music and the elements of the event are going to be right.   I often tell customers to imagine a dry cleaning service- you take your clothes there, they do a great job, they are in your neighborhood, the price is right, they are friendly and conscientious.  You go back in 3 weeks, and next month and next year because they are a good dry-cleaner.  Then, after many years, they tear something, they stain something or they lose something… you are unlikely to throw them out because you have lots of otherwise stellar history and you could just say, “well, it happens.”  (if they are conscientious, they will do their best to make it right anyway.)   With a DJ for a big event like a wedding, today can’t be the day that you figuratively lose a nice jacket at the dry cleaners. 

How often does one hire a DJ? Once or twice in lifetime? You don’t have a period of years to develop a relationship that would allow a major mistake.  It has to be right on event day!  The bride has dreamed about this day since she was 9.  Mom shed tears of joy as the wedding dress was selected and fitted.  Thousands of dollars have been spent on other decor and food and other event professionals.  Every effort should be made to put on quality entertainment. 

Now, I HAVE played for families or corporations over a period of years in my history with Sweet 16, engagement, wedding, graduation, another sisters wedding, a family Christmas party, yet another siblings wedding etc.  Or on the corporate side, a Grand Opening or retail promotion, a corporate awards banquet, a mixer dance after a team-building seminar, then a company picnic, then a holiday party, then another grand opening as they have more success. I have some fiercely loyal customers but just because they have that loyalty doesn’t mean that they always have an occasion to hire me every month like you would use a dry cleaner. I contend that the reason for such loyalty to me is a combination of my personal passion, my love of music and my love of people (and I suppose that allowing myself to feel some nervousness is part of that passion) combined with a dedication to a regimen of providing quality.  The events go right!

I thought Larry did a great job that day.  It was well-written and expertly delivered, it was humorous, it was emotional and it was exactly the right length.  I know Larry had prepared his remarks, edited them and reworked them and had rehearsed them.  He said it was 22 minutes in front of a mirror and he came in at just under at 21 minutes.  He was on time, dressed, and he delivered a knock out!  I’ve been at it for a lot of years and I still get emotional at such things.  Standing fairly close to me was a couple in their 70s holding hands.  He wasn’t the specimen of male physicality that he had been when they married- I suspect he had perhaps had a mild stroke in recent years.  They held hands and looked lovingly into each others eyes and promised to continue loving like that had for so many years already.  There were couples that had been married 6 weeks and some for 6 decades.  The emotion was palpable! 

I hope there is something going on in your life that makes you a bit nervous.  If not, are you doing anything important in the world?  Embrace the fear and use it to rise to the occasion.  I’m glad that Larry was nervous, it added to the magic!

The topic of the value of background music has been addressed by me in this forum before and I witnessed a prime example of its power at a recent wedding.  There was an outdoor wedding ceremony on the second Saturday in January and that should not sound abnormal for people from Arizona but we experienced record-breaking cold temperatures that week.  Nights were in the 20s and days were barely reaching into the 50s.  Trees froze, pipes burst, one car skidded through a patch of ice on the street near a prominent auto dealership in downtown Phoenix and totalled a Camaro and a Corvette on the lot. They don’t really sell “Winter” coats in Arizona.  The cold wasn’t much by Toronto or Minneapolis standards, but it’s something we are not acclimated to or prepared for around here.  One young bridesmaid stood at attention and was shivering so severely in her tiny spring dress that I though she might collapse- at least the goose pimples on her arms and legs might have poked somebody’s eye out.  I hope it didn’t ruin any pictures, but I gave her my jacket for the 15 minutes of the ceremony because I was standing nearby on sound duty. I walked up behind her and took it back just as the minister was introducing the new Mr. and Mrs.  I was cold too, but at least I had long sleeves and long pants… I was glad to get the jacket back too. 

I’m telling this story because of an interesting observation.  Normally, this golf club would have the ceremony on the lawn, as this one was, and then retire to the patio for cocktails while the family portraits were taken and then the guests are invited inside for dinner and dancing later.  Because of the biting cold, the guests were invited inside right away to have cocktails and hors d’oeuvres.  I have a small sound system for ceremonies that can be moved to a patio or foyer in the time it takes for guests to make the short walk but since I was switching to my big sound system already inside, I just wanted to put away a couple of microphone stands to have them out of the way of the professional photography.  In the 3 or 4 minutes it took me to get inside to start some music on my big system, the entire crowd had made it inside.  I came in shortly behind them with a microphone stand in one hand and a couple of cables in my other hand and noticed that they were all whispering like they were in a church.  I chided them about it and then loudly and laughingly said, “Let me get some music on quickly so you guys will feel comfortable talking.”  They laughed tepidly with me but remained silent until I got behind my workstation and cued a song.  It didn’t take but 15 seconds for them to begin talking with their normal voices.  It wasn’t even one minute before there was laughter and people gesturing largely with their hands and touching peoples arms or shoulders as they talked.  Nobody ever wants their voice to rise above the din.  The music masks each voice and people feel comfortable talking.

Please forgive a bit of an off-colored story here- not profane but PG-13 perhaps.  When I was married many, many years ago.  We were at a family celebration dinner at a favorite Riverside California Chinese restaurant after a graduation or birthday or something.  There was lots of shouting and laughter and good times. We weren’t the only ones, it was the attitude of the restaurant and its other patrons as well.  The restaurant served a drink called a Double Scorpion that is served in a giant half shell and made to be shared with two long straws.  My sister-in-law was sharing that with a man she was dating at the time and the bartender hadn’t really worked it over with the blender as he or she should have and there were chunks of ice that jammed up the straw.  My sister-in-law drew attention to that fact very loudly at a moment when the noise level in the restaurant happened to drop off.  She shouted, “I keep sucking on it, but it won’t come!”   That further silenced the crowd and then it turned to uncomfortable laughter and then genuine laughter- at least at our table. An outburst like that in many other social settings would have been terribly embarrassing for all involved but proper background music would have saved the day.

I’m not much for New Year’s resolutions but it’s kind of a natural time to consider your lives when the people of the world mark the passing of years together.  Does what I do really matter?  Am I contributing something to society?  Am I just paying the bills?  Am I doing this because it’s the only thing I know? 

I’m so grateful that I’m in a position to say no to customers once in a while- to turn away a difficult customer or someone that is otherwise willing to open their wallet to me but who I don’t wish to work for.  I have confidence that I will be working on any given weekend somewhere- but maybe not for THIS customer.  Even if I do miss a weekend, it’s not a financial crisis.  I can usually weed out the “bridezillas” in the consultation process.  I don’t get them often because I think I’ve surrounded myself with conscientious event planners and venue operators that refer me and for whom such people don’t become their customers either.  Every once in a while, a bridezilla gets past me but not often.  (I say bridezillas, but there are other types of difficult customers in corporate events and any other social occasion and these same thoughts apply.) When one slips through, and this sounds cocky I suppose, but I command enough respect that they don’t act up or press any buttons when I’m working.

Generally, I live life on the importance theory.  If the wedding or other event is not important enough to them- such that they will not act poorly during it- it can’t be MORE important to me.  That philosophy is tempered however by the fact that my next couple of customers are in that room and I have to act well from a marketing standpoint, contractual standpoint, from an ethical and moral standpoint and, well, that’s what decent people do, they act well in spite of other people not acting well.

I had a bride a couple of years ago that I thought was a real sweetheart.  She had been widowed some years before and this was her 2nd marriage and I was really looking forward to her wedding.  In the 2 or 3 times that we met to work on details, I started having some doubts.  She wasn’t belligerent or anything, but I started to think she may have had a drinking problem or was even using drugs or something.  She was really uneven and loopy and even did a couple of embarrassing things that made me uncomfortable.  It was way too late to send her packing at this point so I pressed on.  In the days leading up to the event, while working on final details, and I mean the little behind-the-scenes details, I learned about several tragedies that had happened in her family and in the extended family in addition to the tragedy that had taken her 1st husband.  This was a family that had suffered a lot in the last 3 years.  There were accidents, a suicide, disease, loss of employment and there was the blame and guilt and other feelings that go with such things.  This family NEEDED a happy occasion and this wedding was it.  (She was taking some prescribed drugs under the care of a doctor and they were having a hard time finding the right dosage at the time.)

So how do I help them celebrate this wedding without disrespecting all of the hurt?  I remember when Saturday Night Live went back on the air a few weeks after the 9/11 Terrorist attacks.  They began the show by honoring those who lost their lives and the brave fire fighters and policemen and then producer Lorne Michaels asked Mayor Rudy Giuliani, “Can we be funny?”  Mayor Giuliani said with a straight face, “Why start now?” and the audience cheered wildly.  There’s a technique that I learned from an actress that I knew in LA many years ago.  She said you don’t ‘act’ drinking a glass of water, you just drink the glass of water.  You don’t ‘act’ walking across a room, you just walk across the room.  You don’t ‘act’ speaking to your friend, you just speak.  You speak the moment.  That concept of speaking the moment has really served me well.  The concept came up similarly in a Master of Ceremonies seminar I participated in once.

I simply spoke the moment.  I allowed a few tears, acknowledged it, but kept it from becoming a memorial service as opposed to a wedding celebration.   I helped them know that it was OK.  That celebrating and dancing and laughing and feasting and hugging each other and singing along to every word and really getting into it didn’t somehow disrespect the hurt or the losses.  Funny thing is that I didn’t really ‘speak’ it.  I showed them.  I led the way.  Each of my announcements and each gesture and every song choice was very calculated and deliberate.  I knew my craft and I knew it well.  It WAS in every way, the happy occasion that they needed.  I hope that it gave them a year or two of fuel towards the healing going forward from that day.

Could a hobbyist or other beginner DJ have done it?  Maybe.  I look back at where I was 25 or 30 years ago, playing at drunken backyard parties and weddings at the crummy decrepit no-name fraternity hall or wherever and I say no!  I didn’t have the expertise to do it.  There would have been ended up being lots of tears and there might have been some little accusations and arguments in the lobby and everybody would have left shortly after dinner- frustrated and sad- from a wedding that should have been a happy occasion!  

When I play piano at a restaurant or bistro or something, the opening notes of any given song may be met with absolute jubilation.  People can be instantly moved to tears by a few notes of a loved song.  They are tears of joy, of course.  It’s a song that has deep meaning to them.  The lyrics of that song got them through a tough time in their life and they celebrate where they are now relative to where they were then.  A restaurant experience isn’t the same structured occasion that a wedding or corporate event is, but they came there to feel better about something. It may be on an entirely subconscious level but when they leave they feel better and I contend that it was the music.  There are spiritual, mathematical, ethereal components of music that help us rearrange the hurt somehow.  It files the hurt further back in our minds somewhere and we either pull some more pleasant memories to the forefront or move the hurt to the back and replace it with the memories of this night instead. Theres a song by Lawrence Gowan about letting go of the past and making way for the good: “Every time I lent a hand, the angels sang some Dixieland.  With every hug and every kiss, another hurt dropped off the list.”    

Why would a retailer spend $50,000 on a big grand opening celebration with music being the headline feature?  Well, because it will add to sales not just at the time but it creates good-will among potential full-time customers going forward.  They’ll get every penny of that back in increased sales over a period of time.  Why have a DJ at a weeknight retail promotion for several hundred dollars?  It creates a bit of excitement, it draws a crowd and then nothing draws a crowd like a crowd.  People see others having fun and they can’t allow those people to have MORE FUN THAN I AM HAVING… I GOTTA GET OVER THERE AND BE PART OF THAT CROWD!  I played at a retail promotion last year where the sales goal was $127,000 dollars in cosmetics in a day.  Store management was monitoring the cash registers at hourly intervals throughout the day and they came to me to tell me that there was an absolute and measureable difference in sales within 15 minutes of DJ music and energetic announcements.  Customers didn’t walk by the counters, they danced by the counters and opened their wallets at the cash registers.  In a 12 hour sales day, half of the sales were generated while I was playing music in the last 3 hours.  Was it worth my professional fee of $800 for 3 hours on a weeknight?  Absolutely!

I’m no fan of politicians but after the 9/11 Terrorist attacks, several members of Congress stood on the steps of the Capitol and spontaneously sang “God Bless America”  Why music and not some other expression?  Was music was perhaps even more universally acceptable than prayer in that situation? 

There’s a world-class museum in Scottsdale AZ called the Musical Instrument Museum and I’ve spent about 5 afternoons there in the year that they’ve been open and I still don’t feel like I’ve seen it all. There are historic musical instruments from all over the world and from every ethnicity and nationality. One thread that I’ve been able to discern in my visits is that even in the face of complete oppression or poverty, the people find some way to make music.  They’ll use tin cans, sticks, dried vegetables, animal bones, animal skins or whatever they can find.  The most interesting instruments and musical styles that I’ve seen there have come from or been born in poverty or because of some tyrant dictator telling a people that they can’t have music.  It finds a way!

There’s a story about a farmer who was getting up in years and knew he would soon be “gathered up to his people” as it says in the Old Testament.  He wished to bequeath is property to one of his three sons.  He proposed that whichever of his sons could fill the barn with any commodity of their choosing could have their father’s life work as an inheritance.  The oldest son set about buying up all of the firewood in the region and filling the barn.  After a week or so, he exhausted his resources and there was frankly no more wood to be found in the region and the barn was only about 2/3 full.  He had to pull the wood out and give the middle son a chance.  The middle son set about buying up all of the bales of hay in the county and the region.  After about a week, he had exhausted his resources and there was no more hay to be found and the barn was only 3/4 full.  He had to pull out all of the hay and make way for the youngest son to have a crack at it.  The youngest son felt that after the noble attempts of his two older brothers that ended in failure, that there was no way he would be able to do anything that would succeed where his brothers hadn’t.  He went in to the barn and closed the door and sat down in the middle of that big space and lit a candle and he cried.  The light filled the barn!  And the farmer gave the youngest son all of the inheritance. 

There are a couple of brilliant bakers in this town that make beautiful and delicious wedding cakes, but they dont’ “fill” the room.  I’ve seen genius event designers bring incredibly colorful and interesting event decor that doesn’t “fill” a room.  I’ve seen guests eat a celebration feast prepared and served by the best chefs in the West- and those plates didnt’ “fill” the room.  Music always fills the room.  All of the elements come together to make a lovely event and it’s the music that ties it all together.  Those cold wedding guests, whispering like they were in an elevator, didn’t start celebrating that wedding until music allowed or instructed them to do so.   

If you don’t push back the sofa in your living room and dance once in a while, you are missing out on one of the great joys of life.  So… does what I do matter?  Abso-floggin’-lutely!

People often don’t know that they’ve just seen a great DJ, but they sure know when they are experiencing a bad one and it can be excruciating.  What often makes it great is not the inclusion of good things but rather the absence of bad.  A guest may not have been a fan of a given song, but no song had offensive lyrics.  The DJ and music volume were not overbearing, they were just right. The event moved along nicely and the DJ made proper announcements as to what was coming, but it never seemed like an interruption to the conversations at hand. 

As you begin planning wedding entertainment, you’ll find prices varying wildly from hobbyists or beginners for less than $500 to respected and seasoned professional DJs for more than $2000. Fast food will get you fed cheaply but do you want fast food at your wedding?  The best steak house in town (experienced DJ) is certainly more expensive but it provides quality and expert service more representative of an important occasion such as a wedding.
 
The minimum expectation for DJs is alarmingly low. “Do you have two speakers? Great! You’re hired!”   Sadly, the public has resigned itself to low quality with a shrug and a remark that “It’s just the way DJs are.”   Not so. 

Great entertainment adds the following:  The DJ understands and represents religious, ethnic and family traditions with confidence and respect. Avoids cheesy, clichéd, overused, outdated or off-colored songs, jokes, gags or games. No microphone noise or dead air. Important songs are cued and on time. Family names are known and pronounced correctly. Wires and road cases and any other unsightly equipment is put away or covered. Doesn’t say or do anything that draws attention to difficult event situations. Background music is just under the volume of the talking. Works in concert with other event professionals on site. In advance of the event, he or she returns calls and other correspondence promptly and during the event responds to instructions courteously. Music represents the tastes of the bride and groom and yet other generations, ethnicities and tastes are included. Customer knows exactly what equipment and services to expect and the cost. Lighting is colorful and adds body and motion but it’s not shining in the faces of the guests or making the room spin. He or she is well-spoken and classy.

May your wedding be filled with tears of joy, feasting, hugging, singing and dancing at the hands of a great DJ! 

“Standing on a corner in Winslow Arizona.  Such a fine sight to see!  It’s a girl my Lord, in a flat-bed Ford, slowin’ down to take a look at me.”  ~Jackson Browne and Glenn Frey

In my travels, and professional and personal interactions with people throughout my life, when the topic of my early years in Winslow comes up, there’s almost always a reference to the Eagles song.  It’s just our humanity trying to connect and find commonality.  I don’t particularly tire of it.  I do resist the temptation myself when meeting somebody from a place immortalized in song or named after a classic rock song- “Hi, my name is Rhiannon”  “Oh, like the Fleetwood Mac song…” or “Hi, my name is Lorelei.”  “Oh like the Styx song…” I try to ask something that they haven’t probably heard before to engage them and ignore the obvious.  I always entertain the Winslow/Eagles conversations that follow, with their insights and connections, but I haven’t heard anybody say anything new on the subject for almost 3 decades now.  It’s not clear if songwriter Jackson Browne or Glenn Frey of the Eagles ever really stood there at any time, (probably not) but after this long, they owe me personally all other Winslow citizens past and present a proper Eagles concert. 

I paid a visit to Winslow, my hometown, this weekend. Somebody from High School connected with me on Facebook a couple of years ago and then about 8 months ago, I got a call that she always loves to see my professional DJ adventures on Facebook and that she sees that my customers seem to love me and I seem to have some technical expertise as an entertainer and that it’s clear that I also love what I do and that her daughter was getting married and (deep breath) would I come to Winslow and play for the wedding?
 

Further, for my Christian friends and family and other conservative types, this posting will be rather candid. Not profane at all, but just raw and uncensored. You’ll learn some things about me you didn’t know before and it may be shocking.  I’ve left out names but even if you think you see yourself, just know that I love you for the lessons I learned from you. 

In English, we would say,”I’m from Winslow.” In Spanish, that would be expressed more like, “The place where I spent my primary years is Winslow” I think that’s actually rather profound since my primary years in Winslow made really did make me who I am- for better or for worse.  As I am maturing as a man, I’m mellowing and finding myself hugging people hello more often and allowing people their humanity in a more loving way, I look back and see that so much of the good and bad that is in me started being good or bad IN Winslow Arizona.  Of late, I’m just trying to enhance the good and throw as much of the bad over the edge that I can.

Arizona is such a beautiful state!  My experience in the Boy Scouts of America and being the son of fellow outdoor lover, Vance Whipple, gave me a great love for this place and I have spent still more time and miles hiking, mountain biking and driving around exploring it.  Most people who drive through Arizona may do so on Interstate 10, The Christopher Columbus Transcontinental Highway, through the low desert, or on Interstate 40, largely through the high desert country and they miss the center of the state which is high-elevation, mountainous forest country.  It’s a nice and green drive to Winslow from the Phoenix area through national forest lands.

 

Here’s a pic of the Little League fields.  I never played baseball owing to my defective sports gene but I always hung around with the other townsfolk for a game in the evening.  They had a concession stand that had snow cones and a newfangled snack at the time called “nachos” and it was deeeeee-LISH!  There was a masonry block restroom that may be the most disgusting bathroom I’ve ever encountered in my 46 years.  That one still holds a place in disgustingdom.  I’m a man and half the time, I don’t have to sit down to do my business but it was really that bad.  The option was to ride my bicycle 5 blocks home and go and then 5 blocks back but I might have missed some of the action.

I saw my first, real, live breast here.  A girl had jumped in the water and it popped the top of her swim suit off and she was jumping around and still playing in the water unawares that she had been exposed.  A girlfriend alerted her a bit too soon for the boys’ taste.  My only regret, at age 14, was that it was THAT (unnamed) girl that was a bit homely and not a model of female beauty and physicality.  Why couldn’t it have been that other (also unnamed) girl that I liked who occupied my teenage dreams or that other (unnamed) one on the cheerleading squad?  But alas, for a 14 yr old boy, it was a bit of a landmark moment.

This is Jefferson Elementary school.  Mrs. Walton for Kindergarten- loved her.  Mrs. Allen for 1st grade.  Mrs. Murray for 2nd grade- hated her.  I remember getting my knuckles whacked with a ruler on more than one occasion for seemingly minor infractions.  I also remember this insight at age 7:  it was a warm spring morning and we were doing a rather menial exercise that I had already advanced beyond.  Mrs. Murray had handed out a worksheet and I remember lifting the top edge of the sheet up and acting like I was reading it but all the while I was scanning my classmates in disbelief, “Is this it?  THIS is school for THE NEXT 10 YEARS?!?!”  Mrs. Murray had a heart attack that summer and passed away.  I was secretly glad.  I hadn’t wished it on her but she had clearly passed her effectiveness as a teacher.  She was cranky and she didn’t inspire us to learn.  Looking back as a man, I was right.  Only a handful of teachers ever challenged me intellectually.  That sounds arrogant or cocky for me to speak it, but it comes from a place of confidence in saying such a thing, plus, it’s my blog.

Mrs. Ceballos for 3rd grade. Miss Orr for 4th grade. Mr McNeil for 5th grade- loved/hated him.  He was a bit of a leftover hippie and, looking back as an adult, he was probably a marijuana user- just a hunch.  We’d sing folk songs with his guitar for a few minutes each morning…  Crosby, Stills and Nash, The Hollies, Joan Baez, etc.  He had a small farm just on the outskirts of the city and there were a couple of lambs born one night and we all took a walk the next morning, after the song time, about a mile out to his house to see the new life.  No permission slips, just going and learning about the world.  Try doing that today!  Lawyers would have a conniption fit! 

I was competing in a 5th grade spelling bee and I know spelling pretty well.  Even in 5th grade, I had a very good grasp on the English language.  My word was “balcony.”  Mr McNeil pronounced it as “belcony.”  I had him repeat it twice, per the rules, and each time, he repeated “belcony.”  I fought my instinct that he was wrong and resigned myself to the thought that that maybe there was a word that I didn’t know.  I spelled it B E L C O N Y and was eliminated.  I’ve always remembered that and have always regretted not trusting my instincts and I curse him for possibly altering the course of my life!  If I had just won that spelling bee, my whole life would have been different. 

I had Mr. Cardon for 6th grade and didn’t love or hate him.  When it came time for the 6th grade boys to field a basketball team to represent our school he indicated that all the boys would be playing.  In spite of my defective sports gene, I dutifully ran up and down the court trying to not ever come into contact with the ball.  In spite of my negative contribution, our team went on to compete against other local teams and when we got to the pinnacle of our success, leading up to an important game, Mr. Cardon had the nerve to instruct the team not to throw the ball to me because I was a butterfingers.  I took great offense!  I would have been happy to sit on the bench and read a book. You force me to be on the team and then complain about my abilities that you knew about going in?!??

This is Washington Elementary.  I didn’t attend there but this place was built when I was in high school to replace an older version of itself, if I remember correctly.  I’m not sure why, but this picture made me remember a bully I had in my life.  I had been teased regularly and assaulted more than a dozen times over the course of the years that I had to cross paths with him.  I’ve had a hard time searching my memory, I’m not sure if he moved away by high school or not, but when I put up this picture of the dome, I remembered hearing that he (the bully), was playing around on a construction site during the night- perhaps this one- or perhaps on a construction site in the place he had moved to (I really don’t remember) and he fell to his death. (Post script- a reader indicated that there was, in fact, a death on this construction site and named him to me.  He was not the bully. Chalk that up to a couple of stories combined in my memory.)

This was and is Winslow Junior High.  My short-lived violin career reached its peak here.  Our orchestra travelled to a couple of neighboring cities for festival competitions and we scored “A”s at every stop.  I’ve forgotten the music directors name but she was passionate about music and it was a pleasure to perform with her at the helm.  Also had a great Science teacher in Mr. Essary and a great Industrial Arts (shop class) with Mr. Gonzalez. 

This was Winslow High School.  This was built in 1925.  It’s boarded up now while the rest of the campus seems intact.  I’m not sure what other purpose it could serve but as a school.

Here’s the new main building about a block away.  Very POSH!

This used to be the tennis courts.  That’s the gymnasium and the weight training center across the way there.  When we played tennis as part of the P.E. curriculum, I could never and still can’t get the hang of how to score a tennis match.  I think my first paying DJ job took place in that gymnasium.  I had no idea that it would become a career, so record keeping in those first few years is practically nonexistent.  One of the school clubs was having a fundraiser dance and sent a couple of cheerleaders to ask me nicely to do the dance for cheap- maybe a plate of cookies.  I didn’t need a plate of cookies but who could resist the attention of a couple of cheerleaders when you are 16 years old?  If any customers are reading this and think that such tactics will still work… OK, go ahead and send some cheerleaders… I”ve always been fond of the Laker Girls-just so you know. 

This was and is the Winslow High School football stadium.  It’s been renamed Emil Nasser Stadium after a beloved coach and P.E. teacher who made 98 lb weaklings like me into men.  He was a good and decent Egyptian man who expected excellence and taught people the skills to get there.  (Post script- a reader indicated to me that Coach Nasser may have been a Syrian man.  He could have been from Antarctica but that doesn’t change that he was a good man.)

This was and is still the racquetball courts. I don’t have anything to say about this.

The indoor swimming pool.  Nothing to say about this either.

This was the Business Education building as part of the high school campus.  I learned to type in there.  Remember what I was saying about my realization in 2nd grade about not being challenged?  I wouldn’t call my typing teacher a challenging instructor, but what a blessing it has been to know how to type quickly and accurately when the world has since gone the way of computers.  Looking back, it was my English teacher, Mr. Howell, who gave me a love for the English language and the gift of communication in both speaking and writing and how beautiful it can be. I had him as a freshman and hated him (but still learned) I had him again as a senior and loved LOVED him.  He challenged me and I rose to the occasion.  Wood shop, metal shop, auto shop, mechanical drawing/drafting and typing, along with music and English were the things that have blessed my life.  Sadly, I came out of high school ill-prepared for life in so many other ways.  I didn’t know what insurance was, I didn’t know how to balance a checkbook, etc.  I wasn’t until 25 years later that I had a brilliant instructor at University of Phoenix here at the Mesa campus that I ‘got’ Algebra.

Here’s the Root Beer Stand.  I had my paper routes until I was almost 15 and then I started working here through the rest of my high school years.  This was my first wage-earning job.  I would get out of class at 11:55 and run down there and work through lunch,  then at 12:50, the boss would cook up something for me, I’d alternate between a nice cheeseburger or a taco tangle or a deep fried burrito and eat it on the walk back to school two blocks away.  I’d be back at 1:00.  School would let out at 3P and I’d work again until they closed at 8P.  We’d mop the floors and get the place cleaned up and ready for the next day and be out of there at about 830. It was called the A&W Root Beer Stand back then.  It’s called Darrell’s Root Beer Stand now, even though Darrell isn’t there anymore.  His son Roland runs the place and Roland’s young son is running around helping out just like Roland did when he was a boy and I was working there.  I had a Taco Tangle this week and a helping of chili fries with cheese and a couple of large root beers.  They haven’t changed the chili recipe in all these years.  I went right back to my youth when I tasted it.  I’ve posted on my Facebook page a few things about Winslow on occasion and the commentary almost always mentions the Root Beer stand.  If they ever changed the recipe, I’m confident that it would blow a gigantic hole in the space/time continuum.

My Junior Prom was here.  This is Bonnie Brennan Elementary School and this gymnasium was brand spanking new at the time.  Owing to my nerdiness in high school, I hadn’t intended to go to the prom but I thought that if I didn’t, it would further prove my nerdiness so I asked a girl that I knew that would say yes even though I didnt’ want to go.  I had a miserable time because I didn’t want to be there.  I think I’ve got a photo buried somewhere that proves that I was miserable.

Here’s a pic of the Elks Lodge in Winslow.  My Senior Prom was held here.  I’m a fast learner and I thought that I would have a better time at my Senior Prom if I had the hottest girl in the place, even though I didn’t want to go.  I asked a girl from the next town that I had met at a church activity.  She would be an unknown and mysterious date, she was very good looking, and since she lived in the next town- she was unaware of my nerdiness.  I arrived here at the Elks lodge and my arrival had the desired effect, she dropped some jaws, but she also undermined my self-confidence in every other way and I had a miserable time.  I was even on a DOUBLE date to take the pressure off, but dating was not my gift and it would not become something that I was any good at for a number of years. 

Vargas field where the high school varsity baseball team plays and I think the men’s city league plays here as well. 

There’s a geological formation about 4 miles northwest of town called Monkey Rock.  I don’t know why it’s called Monkey Rock other than the fact that people go out there to monkey around. I don’t and never have used alcohol, but I know that, of my Winslow contemporaries who do, they probably had their first beer out here. 

I stopped for fuel at this Shell station.  I-40 came through Winslow in the mid 70s and just like in the Pixar film “Cars” it decimated the local economy.  Nobody had to stop on Route 66 anymore.  This was one of the first business to move out to service the freeway traffic.  One of the largest drug busts in Arizona history took place right here.  An alert Winslow police officer saw a wanted man getting fuel and affected an arrest.  Sadly, that officer was later shamed for taking prisoners home to do his yard work or even soliciting sexual favors from young female traffic offenders.  I heard he served 15 years in prison. 

I think that the last time I bought fuel there, the price was less than $1!

Safeway was one of the tenants of a strip mall that opened up to service the freeway traffic on the north end of town.  It’s still there.

This Subway sandwich shop used to be home to a video arcade.  Any monies not claimed by the Circle K were wasted here.  I mentioned addictive tendencies earlier- looking back with some maturity, I was addicted to those early video games too.  Video games have come a long way since Pong, but at their core, they can still be addictive waste of money to a teenager. If I had saved $2000/yr from my paper routes, mowing neighborhood lawns in the summer, and my money from the Root Beer Stand, I would have never had to save again!

This place is still a barber shop.  It has been since the 60s I think.  It was the Smith Brothers when I was a kid.  Two old-school barbers that would shave men’s faces with a hot towel and a straight edge razor and they’d stretch your skin out and do it so well that you wouldn’t have to shave again for three days.  (I wasn’t yet shaving)  I think hair cuts were about $2 or $3.  They did one style of haircut and everybody in town got the same one. 

Here are a couple of shots of the older Whipple’s of Winslow store on Route 66.  The sign is still there but I don’t think there have been any panels in it for years and years.  The panel in the middle with the male and female icons doing some shopping have a very 60s/Mad Men-esque quality to them. 

 

I mentioned my Sunday School teacher from all those years ago.  I didn’t see her on this trip, but I saw her a couple of years ago when I was up there for a funeral.  I asked what it was that kept people living in such a tough place.  Everything that those Mormon settlers said about it all those years ago is still true.  It can seem so God-forsaken sometimes.  She said that Winslow is a seed bed.  There is fertile soil there (good people) and it grows good strong people who then go and do the things that the world needs done.  Some of them stay, some come back, some of them go and do those great things in other places. 

The great philosopher Popeye once said, “I am what I am and it’s all that I am.”  (He also said, “I’m strong to the finish, because I eats my spinach!”)  Instead of fighting against it, I just AM.  I’m from Winslow- and that fact damaged me terribly in some ways, but in other ways, I don’t think I could have made it through my hard-times without some of the lessons learned there. It’s not always people committing evil acts against us.  It’s just life happening to us. 

You may not believe this, but the thought actually crossed my mind as I took a day to reflect on my time in Winslow and look at the place of my primary years with more mellow and seasoned eyes- I thought that I could actually live here and make a go of it.