SLO LIFE Magazine Feb/Mar 2019

ake it from the top, Dave. Where are you
from? I was born in Teaneck, New Jersey.
My family was all New Jersey-based. I’m
the youngest of three sons. My father was
in retail, and he bounced around, mostly
up and down the east coast; but in 1960,
I would’ve been seven years old, he took
a job in suburban Chicago. So, in August T1960, we became the Midwestern branch of the family. Even though I was
born in New Jersey, I consider myself to be a native of Chicago. I’ve always
had trouble with my vision. I was born with cataracts in my eyes. When
my mother was pregnant with me she got chicken pox for the second
time, which somehow caused this issue. For the first few years I was fine,
but then my family realized that I couldn’t tell the difference between
my dad and my uncle. I wore these really thick Coke-bottle glasses. I
was never bullied, but it was a constant source of ridicule. That’s when I
developed humor as a defense mechanism.
What was it like growing up in the Windy City? I grew up in the
suburbs. I went to Eastern Illinois University on a debating scholarship.
I got a master’s at Illinois State. I thought I was going to be a college
professor. I taught at Concordia College in Minnesota, University of
Utah, DePauw University in Indiana, and then University of Tulsa. I was
teaching media, it was communications and media; mostly media history
and media law and media theory. But, I wasn’t actually doing anything
in media, and I never had. I was just teaching it. I was a historian and
could tell you all about the history of CBS and the FCC and the fairness
doctrine. I knew all that stuff, and have since forgotten everything. I
attended all of the academic conventions. I distinctly remember one in
Chicago, which turned out to be my last. I did all of the social events
there; socialized at the bar, sat on one of the panels, then I woke up the
next morning and had one of those look-in-the-mirror moments and said,
“Is this it?” I was 34 years old, living in Oklahoma, and miserable.
What did you do? I picked up the phone and called the university
counseling center. I said, “Look, I’m not suicidal. I’m not depressed. I
just need someone to talk to.” So, they tell me that I should call this guy
named Terry. It turned out that he used to be the director of the center,
but he was fired because he refused to wear a tie to work. I said to myself,
“That’s the guy.” When we first met, he sat me down and said, “Okay,
what is it you want to do?” I told him that I had always wanted to live in
California, and I’ve always wanted to be a writer or something creative.
He said, “Okay, this is our strategy: You’re going to finish out your year at
the University of Tulsa; you’re going to quit your job; you’re going to move
to California to do something creative.” We would meet twice a month
to refine my plan. And sometime during this process, I came across a job
notice for a one-year, non-renewable lecturer position at Cal Poly. I had
never heard of Cal Poly, never heard of San Luis Obispo, but I figured it
would give me a foothold in California, so I applied. They interviewed me
over the phone.
So, when was this exactly? This was 1987, August. I did everything in my
power to make sure they wouldn’t hire me back. It’s like the singer Roy
Orbison said, “If you have something to fall back on, you always will.”
So, I didn’t just burn bridges at Cal Poly, I actively set a blowtorch to
them. I wanted to make sure that I didn’t settle into academic life again
because I knew it would make me miserable and push me further away
from my dream, which is to write. But, it got me to California and I was
determined to keep going. Right out of the gate, I put my writing to
the test when I entered a stand-up comedy contest. It was an incredible
feeling when I actually won the thing. It validated everything Terry had
said, the guy back in Tulsa who told me I needed to follow my dream. I
called him afterward to share the news. He was so proud of me. Without
question, he had changed my life.
You have to tell us about the comedy routine. Alright. So, I had a stuffed
rabbit named Peter, a toy rabbit, and I had my rabbit do impersonations;
and for the last impersonation, I did this bit about the local KSBY News
anchor, Rick Martel. The place went nuts. It went nuts. But here’s the deal.
It’s the only time as a communication professional that I screwed this
up—because it was a painful lesson—but since I had won, I was asked
to come back another night to open for three professional comedians. I
changed my act. I didn’t do the same routine I won with. I did something
completely different, and I bombed. I was so bad. And to make it worse,
I was single at the time and sharing a place with a Cal Poly student,
basically renting a room. After the routine, I went to the bar and drank
way too much and then I walked home. On my way, a police officer stops
and questions me. They were looking for someone on an attempted rape.
Anyway, when I finally get to my house, I opened the door, turned on
the lights, and all my furniture was gone, everything. It was completely
cleared out. Apparently, this guy was unable to pay the rent that month, so
he moved without telling me and he took all the stuff. One of the worst
nights of my life.
Wow, I guess so. By this time, I had written a couple of screenplays and
was trying to sell movie scripts or get an agent or whatever, so I used
the little bit of money I had saved teaching at Poly to move to L.A., to
Venice. I got a job working at a department store in Santa Monica called
Henshey’s. I worked in the stationery and book section making five bucks
an hour. I kept writing screenplays this whole time, but they were all
terrible. Just awful. Then I met this woman, Charlotte Alexander, who
I eventually married and later divorced. I was living in Venice; she was
living in Indiana. I went back for a couple months to live with her, and
while we were together, we decided to get married. She got me a job at the
local newspaper, without any experience at all, because it was Richmond,
Indiana. Small town. They sent me to city council meetings. I bombed. Oh
my God, I bombed. I didn’t know what I was doing. Then they gave me a
chance to write feature stories, profile people, and I found my voice.
So, what came next? Three months later, we come back to San Luis
Obispo. We were house sitting for a former student of mine, who was my
age. I took the clips from my newspaper job in Indiana, and I went into
the Telegram-Tribune. They gave me a three-day trial. The city editor loved
my writing, and so he gave me a test. They give you a current events test,
and I was the only reporter there that could name all nine Supreme Court
justices. [laughter] So, I’m working at the Trib and continuing to write
screenplays on the side. They were terrible, just awful, and I was getting
more and more desperate with each. Until, finally, I gave up. Quit the
movie writing. And, that’s about the time that I heard about an opening
at the radio station. KVEC was looking for an afternoon host in the 2
to 4 p.m. timeslot. I went in for a meeting and they said, “We’ll get back
to you.” It took them forever, at least a couple of months, before I heard
anything. They offered me the job because I don’t think they could find
anyone else willing to work for $12,000 a year with no benefits.
Tell us about your first day. On the first day, I walked into the station and
they said, “The morning host just quit. You’re going to take over her show.”
I didn’t know anything about radio. Didn’t have any experience. So, I was >>
FEB/MAR 2019 | SLO LIFE MAGAZINE | 45