In 1978 I left Mill Valley and Marin county for good and headed south on my Honda 550-4 motorcycle with my sleeping bag and my karate gi and weight training belt, headed for my new destiny. I left behind everything. My mother had died of lung cancer, the karate school had closed and I had turned over all my weight training equipment to my good friend, Grand Master Gene Orro. I was completely unburdened at 31 years of age and ready for a new life.
When I arrived in the beginning of July I stayed out at my cousin's place in Northridge. l slept in my sleeping bag on the back patio. I had some cash stashed so I took the rest of the month of July to just kick back. Three times a week I'd head out to Topanga Canyon Boulevard, drive through the canyon to Pacific Coast Highway and head on down to Santa Monica to Gold's Gym on 2nd Street. There was only one Gold's Gym back then, it had moved from Pacific Speedway in Venice to its new location in Santa Monica. I'd workout there then go have lunch and head out to Venice Beach, park my bike in the parking lot and hit the beach. I'd spend the afternoon swimming in the surf and kicking back on the beach.
In the evenings I'd hang out at The College Inn, a local beer bar in Northridge.
It was an ideal life but the cash was fast running out.
I wanted outdoor work. No more restaurant work or work that I had to do on weekends. In those days you could go down to the Department of Employment before they opened and work casual labor. You were supposed to sign up but that was bullshit. You go early before the place opens and contractors in trucks would come by and hire you for that day. Cash under the table. And some jobs would last several days.
So I had me a partying weekend then the following Monday at five in the morning I got on my bike and headed down to the Employment Department. Way before the sun came up. There was a bunch of guys already there. Many, alcoholics who would sleep in the bushes. They'd be drinking Budweisers to get their stomachs settled so they could work. Conversations would revolve around various jobs they had had. About who was good to work for and who the assholes were.
The first pickup truck pulled up. A contractor talked to several of us about a job moving a lot of dirt. He gave us a location to go to. Guys who had cars scrambled. I hopped on my bike and headed over to the location.
Me and several other guys got to the job site, a house being built. But two other guys who had got wind of the job had gotten there first and they snaked the job from us.
Assholes!! That's what we said. In the world of casual labor you had to be quick.
Another guy came along in a pickup truck. We walked up to him. He said there was a job for one of us up at the southeast end if the San Fernando Valley up Topanga Canyon Road. The other guys elected to go back to the Department of Employment. So I got on my bike and headed over to the job. It was a huge high end housing tract being built. I parked my bike and walked up to the general contractor and told him I'd been sent over. He put me to work immediately packing lumber, digging trenches and anything else that needed doing.
Hauling lumber was a real mother of a job. There was this one carpenter who was pretty cool. His name was Richard. But there was this other carpenter, a surfer looking dude who was a real asshole named Ken. He took an immediate disliking to me. Rode my ass. Just an asshole. One time when everyone broke for lunch Richard asked me if I wanted to join all of them at McDonald's. Ken the asshole was real quick to say, "Just give me the money and I'll bring you whatever you want."
It was really obvious he didn't want me with them.
One time during a break I sat down near him and he quickly got up and moved away from me like I had the plague. A real asshole.
