{"id":250,"date":"2015-09-01T14:50:35","date_gmt":"2015-09-01T14:50:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.woas-fm.org\/?p=250"},"modified":"2015-09-01T14:59:32","modified_gmt":"2015-09-01T14:59:32","slug":"ftv-the-huron-mountain-years","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.woas-fm.org\/?p=250","title":{"rendered":"FTV: The Huron Mountain Years"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Multitasking isn\u2019t something that arrived with the computer age. \u00a0In the old days, multitasking wasn\u2019t something you could do sitting in one place with the digital platform of your choice in front of you. \u00a0No, in the old days, multitasking usually involved frequent relocation from one jobsite to another.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0There was a two year period of time where I spent my summers working in the kitchen at the Huron Mountain Club six days a week while still playing band jobs two or three nights a week. \u00a0I lived across the street from the Northern Michigan University campus so it made sense for me to live at home while in college. \u00a0I got my share of \u2018living away from home\u2019 experience during the summers of 1971, 1972, and 1973 working at the Huron Mountain Club. \u00a0The first year wasn\u2019t a problem as I was between bands at the time. \u00a0When I talked to the new kitchen manager before my second year, I explained that I would not be able to work at the club if it meant canceling three months of band gigs. \u00a0Ted Pilto, the head chef my first year there who had recently been elevated to the manager position, said \u2018Well, if you think you can do both, we can cover for you as needed\u2019. \u00a0That was a nice gesture on his part, but that is the kind of boss Ted was. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The challenge here was not going to be \u2018can I work two jobs at once\u2019. \u00a0The biggest hurdle would be the commute. \u00a0From my home next to the NMU campus, it was approximately 25 miles to Big Bay along the notoriously twisty County Road 550. \u00a0They had improved the road a great deal from Halfway location to Big Bay, but that didn\u2019t cut down the number of deer who loved to hang around the road sides. \u00a0From Big Bay, there was another ten miles of narrow, paved road to the club gate, beyond which normal civilians were not allowed without club permission. \u00a0From here, the gravel road to the club complex itself made the twisty parts of County Road 550 look like a straight line. \u00a0The drive to town wasn\u2019t terrible in the daylight, but each post gig drive back to the club was between 2:00 and 4:00 AM, depending where we played that night.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0With the help of my work mates, in particular my second year roommate, John MacDonald, I would leave the evening shift early on Thursday, typically 7 PM, and head for Marquette. \u00a0My dad would avoid using his truck if at all possible, which meant all I had to do when I got home was to change clothes and swap my car for the truck full of band equipment. \u00a0If we were at the NCO club at Sawyer, we just left our equipment set up for the three night gig. \u00a0The other three weekends of the month were all populated by one night jobs so we would have to load everything back in the truck and head back to Marquette after each one. \u00a0Luckily, two restaurants were open all night (Big Boy and Sambo\u2019s) so I was able to grab a meal before heading back to Big Bay. \u00a0\u00a0(Cultural side note: \u00a0The Sambo\u2019s chain was founded by <\/span>Sam Battistone<\/span>, Sr. in 1957 and themed after characters in the book <\/span>The Story of Little Black Sambo<\/span><\/i>. \u00a0By the early 1970s, the theme was increasingly seen as racially insensitive and in many urban locations, the name was changed to The Jolly Tiger. \u00a0By the early 1980s, the theme issue and management problems lead to the bankruptcy of the company. \u00a0Some franchises were sold to chains like Denny\u2019s, and all the rest, save the original restaurant in Santa Barbara, CA closed. \u00a0The founder\u2019s son, Sam Battistone, Jr. is the original owner of the NBA\u2019s New Orleans Jazz, now located in Salt Lake City, UT. \u00a0The site of the original restaurant in Marquette is now occupied by the bank located in front of Shopko). \u00a0After catching breakfast or a burger, \u00a0a quick vehicle swap was made and I was on the way back to the club. \u00a0Upon arrival, \u00a0I would flop in bed and grab a couple hours of sleep, work the breakfast shift and then take a quick nap before the lunch shift. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0This whole scenario would be repeated on Friday night, but mercifully, I was able to stay in town after Friday night and actually get to sleep in thanks to my scheduled Saturday day off. \u00a0Of course, there were places to go and important people to meet before departing for Saturday night\u2019s gig. \u00a0The trip back to the club was just as long after Saturday night\u2019s gig, but Sunday breakfast was an hour later than the rest of the week so I got a bonus extra hour of sleep before heading for my first Sunday shift.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The two years I played with the guys from KI Sawyer overlapped the two summers I commuted from the club for band jobs. \u00a0The only two weekends we had off in those two years were at Christmas so I know I spent a lot of time on the road. \u00a0There were some morning when I would open my eyes and my first thoughts would be \u2018okay, where am I and how did I get here?\u2019 \u00a0I employed every trick I knew to keep from dozing off on the late night drive back to the club and the two that worked the best were loud music and open windows. \u00a0At that time of the night, I pretty much had the road to myself, save the critters. \u00a0Having a deer or coyote dart across the road was good for an adrenaline charge that got me wide awake in a hurry and kept me on alert for a good ten miles. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The retired guys who were hired to man the gate house were never happy to see me tapping on their window at 3 AM until I figured out the secret code. \u00a0I would tap on the window with a bottle or can of beer, \u00a0wait for a hand to snatch it, and the gate would mysteriously open without the occasional blue words I would hear the first couple of trips I made. \u00a0I knew I was getting close to my final destination because I met the same family of coyotes on a sharp turn about halfway between the gate and the club. At first, they would scatter but as the summer wore on, it almost seemed like they were waiting for me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Instead of heading for the woods, they would be sitting in groups of three or four on the sand bank on either side of the road and would just watch me motor by.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Living at the Huron Mountain Club was as close to living on a mountain top as I will ever need to experience. \u00a0There were no phones and no TV at the club so we lived blissfully out of touch with the rest of the world (sorry kids, social media didn\u2019t exist then). \u00a0I felt like the town crier on some of my Sunday afternoon shifts when everyone wanted to know what was going on in the world. \u00a0There were two great benefits gained working so far from civilization. \u00a0First of all, I banked most of my kitchen and band salaries because there just wasn\u2019t any place to spend it outside of gas and the occasional pizza at the Lumberjack Tavern in Big Bay. \u00a0Secondly, going back to a normal schedule of \u2018just school and band gigs\u2019 seemed a lot less hectic. \u00a0\u00a0There was a lot of satisfaction derived from both my kitchen and band jobs and I often tell my students \u2018if either had paid better, I probably would still be doing that today\u2019 (and of course, they know that I am kidding – at least I think they do).<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The third and final year I worked at the club, I was asked to report to work the second week of May, a full month earlier than the rest of the kitchen employees. \u00a0There was one chef and a two helpers who fed the maintenance guys who worked on the cabins and club facilities as well as a few members who would come during the off season. \u00a0Ilmi Saari, the older of the two kitchen helpers, was in her early 80s and had begun to slow down a bit so I was hired to help the helper. \u00a0When she was a young woman, Ilmi had worked at the Blaney Park Resort and Golf Club east of Manistique when it was one of the premier resorts in Michigan. \u00a0Her stories of those days were always fascinating and when she found out I would be student teaching after my next year in college, she said, \u2018Do your student teaching in Eben (where she spent her winters) and Ilmi will rent you a room and see that you get good homemade food.\u2019 \u00a0Ilmi loved to listen to the radio when she worked in the kitchen and each morning we had the kitchen radio tuned to her favorite show. \u00a0Ironically, I spent May and part of June in 1973 listening to all the assorted goings on being reported on the Jan Tucker Show – fully two years before I was interviewed for the teaching job I have held in Ontonagon for the past forty years. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0In moments of bravado, I tell myself \u2018I could still do that today\u2019 before the realistic voice inside me says \u2018yeah, for about two days\u2019. \u00a0It is a good bet that had gas prices then been what they are today, I may have had to find a third job just to pay for my commuting. \u00a0Still, I wouldn\u2019t trade the memories of those busy summers for all the tea in China, but that is the way summers go when you are young and frisky! \u00a0<\/span>