Back to the story...

Ok, after my brief personal detour, its time to get back to my story about how I got where I am today with my business, Gearhead Records. So its 1989, and I had just quit my job at Pepsi and my attempt to fit into the corporate office world. It really wasn't for me. The Mint Platter took me back in an instant, and I was back to working full time at the record store, pricing used records and the occasional CD (remember, this was before CDs were affordable, so it was rare to find them used), listening to music, and trying to find a way to connect with people in San Francisco and make some friends. When I lived in Oregon, I used to order records from a mailorder company called Black List. They were a volunteer organization, run by some of the San Francisco punks, including people from Mordam Records, Maximum Rock n' Roll Submerge Mailorder, nd Alternative Tentacles. I figured this would be the best way to find people with similar interests, so I went down there to see if I could volunteer. They needed help badly, so after work at the record store, I would go to Black List and pull records and package up orders before going home. But here's the funny thing: no one talked to me! In fact, no one talked to eachother! I would try to make conversation, try to get to know the people working there but it was like talking to a wall. Everyone was very focused on doing their work, and not socializing. It was really frustrating. There was one very sweet man there named John. He was a bike messanger, and we would have philosophical chats occasionally. He was really handsome, and I developed a crush on him. I found out later he was gay.... At least working there, I was finding out about shows that were happening in the city, and where the cool punk clubs were. One night No Means No played, and I got to hang out with Ruth from Mordam, Tommy Strange and several other SF scenesters. I met Harry Sherrill who worked and lived at the Maximum Rock n' Roll house, and we started to strike up a friendship. One night I went to see Gwar. It was at the Covered Wagon Saloon, and the place was about half full. I managed to get right up to the stage and got covered in green Gwar Slime. It was alot of fun, and I didn't feel so alone. But I still was. I didn't have any friends to go hang out with, or just call up and chat with. So I continued working at the record store, going to Black List and trying to connect with people. I was getting depressed though, and very lonely, and was starting to feel very isolated. Harry told me that there was a room opening up in the Maximum house, and it was mine if I wanted it. The rent was right, $200 a month, and I thought maybe if I lived with people, friendships would develop and I wouldn't feel so isolated. So I took the room, and started to move everything out of my cheap 2 bedroom lonely flat. I showed up at the Maximum house with a car full of stuff (I had got a new used car by then, one my dad found for me in Oregon). When I started to move things in, I just assumed people would help me, but no. I still remember walking in with a bunch of boxes, struggling not to drop everything. Tim Yohannon was sitting in the living room with Lily Braindrop, one of the columnists for the magazine. They just stared at me. They didn't even say hi. I felt very awkward, and introduced myself and told them I was moving into the spare room downstairs. They said oh, and just went back to doing what they were doing. No one else was there, so I moved almost all my boxes in from the street by myself. At the very last load, Harry and John Yates (who later started Allied Records) came home and helped me move the last of my stuff in. But it was a miserable welcome for me in my new home, and I ended up not staying the night, but went back to my now empty flat, and spent the night there, feeling worse than I did before. I realized I had made a mistake, and that I was not going to feel comfortable living at the MRR house, so the next day, I called Harry, and told him I was going to move back out. He helped me pack all my stuff up and leave. The other people there just watched me leave, much like the day before when I had moved in. No one moved a muscle to help, or make me feel welcome, so I knew it was the right decision. To this day, I hold the record of living the shortest amount of time at the Maximum house. It makes me smile now, but at the time, I was miserable. And so lonely. Maybe I had made a mistake moving to San Francisco after all. I was broke, depressed, and getting a little bit scared. It was probably time to admit defeat and move back to Oregon.