Working

by Studs Terkel

  He doesn’t—(a pause)—he no longer can really appreciate his job. Again, he’s been at it for an awful long time. He’s been with several firms, he’s restless. He wants to be an individual. But he’s growing older. He’s growing older than he should. Time’s catching up with him. He’s caught up in his environment as well as somebody who got caught up in the mill.

  My stepfather doesn’t express himself. The other day he put an American flag sticker on his car—which some people might think a big deal. When he put that flag on his window, it kind of classed him. There he is, a typical middle-class American. I joked around with him about it, telling him he’s become a capitalist and things like this. But he doesn’t take an open stand. He’s a quiet person who enjoys the natural beauty of life. This can be reflected on these fishing trips he goes on up to Canada, Wisconsin, Minnesota. He enjoys the outdoors.

  I thought, I gotta make a goal for myself in life. I have to try to reach something. In my junior year I got interested in photography as a hobby, which I eventually put quite a bit of money into. This is what I want, something I can enjoy doing, something I can express myself. And it won’t be a drag of a nine-to-five job five days a week for the rest of my life.

  He is about to enroll for a forty-week course at a photography school. “They can’t guarantee a job, but she said they place every one of their students within two days after they leave.”

  It’s something where I’ll be able to take my camera . . . I hope I get in advertising. I can develop the pictures myself. I can see the result of my work. I’ll know if I’m good, if I’m doing bad. I enjoy taking pictures of scenes, of people, of creating moods. I want to create a better mood than the next guy, so they’ll use my pictures. If I’m put in as a photographer for a certain company and there’s no competition—no matter how the picture comes out, they’ll have to use ’em if I am the only one—this is what I don’t want. Because you’re caught up in a rut. I have nothing to strive for, no one to beat. And if I can’t beat no one, I don’t want to play. (Laughs.)

  Competition has always been an aspect in my life. I hate to lose and I love to win. Competition has been involved in me since grammar school. It gives a person a goal. It makes you push yourself to be better. Some people are satisfied with placing second or third in life. I don’t. I want to be the best at it and I don’t want to be overtaken.

  I was short in football and many people thought I wouldn’t make it. But I didn’t let that take advantage against me. I worked hard. I put a lot of time into it. All year round we were constantly playing football. When I got on the varsity team, I weighed about 130. I felt it an advantage to be small. I turned what a lot of people thought was a handicap into an advantage. I worked on speed, on brain over brawn. I’m not gonna knock that big guy over, so I’m gonna work on how I’m gonna get around him. It was almost like a business. You had to know what you have to do, what your opponent can do, and try to beat him at his weakness. Knowing your enemy is half the battle.

  You noticed the American flag on my lapel, which I wore every day for a year now. I got four stickers all over my car. I think America is the greatest country in the history of the world. One of the reasons? Free enterprise. You can go to your heart’s content in life. You can set your goals anywhere you want to set ’em in America. This is all part of the American spirit, to compete, to be better, to be number one. To go as far as you can. If the next man can’t go that far, don’t stop and wait for him. Life will pass you up.

  There are times when I shoot my mouth off and times when I shouldn’t. I don’t want to create hard feelings about me, especially at the store. I was careful what I’d say and who I’d say it to. The length of my hair, I kept it clean, I kept it combed, it didn’t fall in my eyes. But it was covering my ears a bit. I was classified right away as a radical. Management didn’t come right out and attack me, but I couldn’t help feel something behind closed doors was going on about it.

  And I was wearing a conservative suit, and I had the flag on my lapel. But I was still heckled about my hair. I didn’t wear my hair to be a leftist, I’m a right-winger. But I wanted to see what it was like. I enjoyed it for a while, but last Friday I got a haircut. Now it’s straight where I had it most of my life. I like it better. At the store I felt a warmer feeling.

  Oh, yes, I can see myself in the future with a family, with a home, being called a typical middle-class American. I don’t see myself going up to the upper class. I don’t feel the need to. I’m going to prevent myself from being lower class. I would like to stay just middle class. I feel you can get a better taste of life.

  My—quote—dream girl—unquote—has long brunette hair, doesn’t have to wear a lot of make-up or put a lot of spray on her hair, because she’s going to be naturally pretty. She’ll be natural in the way she’s dressed. I want her to have a lot of personality, because when she’s fifty and I’m fifty and we’re going up the ladder (laughs), there’s going to have to be a lot more than just looks. It’s going to be someone I can communicate with, who needs my guidance and my leadership. And she’s someone I can depend on. And she’ll be a good mother. At first she’ll probably be working. She can stay home for our first child and from that time on. I feel that her place is to take care of the house, to have my dinner ready when I come home. I hope to have three children, two boys and a girl. And I hope my daughter will grow up like her. My daughter will be protected by the two boys. She’ll have security in them if I shouldn’t be around. Plus I think it’s great to have two boys in sports.

  Competition I hope is one of the things I can communicate to ’em. It creates a feeling of pride in yourself. When I’ve been beaten in a sport, I respect the guy. It’s important that when you’re beaten you should be gracious about it. But I really don’t think about losing. Winning’s the only thing.

  I would like a colonial house of some sort, possibly one that leans toward a Mediterranean style. I like a lot of bold things in my house. I’d like a nice recreation room in the basement, possibly a pool table. I hope my wife can play pool.

  Eventually, I’d probably go into my own business. Once I get into something I’ll strive to be the leader in it. I want to be in command. Like the football team. I strived to be a captain. My junior year I was. I enjoyed being looked up to, to be expected to come up with the answers. I don’t want to be on the bottom. I want to go for the top. I want to win.

  BUD FREEMAN

  He is sixty-five years old, though his appearance and manner are of William Blake’s “golden youth.” He has been a tenor saxophone player for forty-seven years. Highly respected among his colleagues, he is a member of “The World’s Greatest Jazz Band.” It is a cooperative venture, jointly owned by the musicians, established jazz men.

  “I’m with the young people because they refuse to be brainwashed by the things you and I were brainwashed by. My father, although he worked hard all his life, was very easy with us. Dad was being brainwashed by the people in the neighborhood. They’d come in every day and say, ”Why don’t your boys go to work?” So he made the mistake of awakening my brother at seven thirty. I pretended to be asleep. Dad said, “You’re going to get up, go out in the world and get jobs and amount of something.” My brother said, “How dare you wake us up before the weekend?” (Laughs.) I don’t recall ever having seen my father since. (Laughs.)

  I get up about noon. I would only consider myself outside the norm because of the way other people live. They’re constantly reminding me I’m abnormal. I could never bear to live the dull lives that most people live, locked up in offices. I live in absolute freedom. I do what I do because I want to do it. What’s wrong with making a living doing something interesting?

  I wouldn’t work for anybody. I’m working for me. Oddly enough, jazz is a music that came out of the black man’s oppression, yet it allows for great freedom of expression, perhaps more than any other art form. The jazz man is expressing freedom in every note he plays. We can only please the audience doing what w
e do. We have to please ourselves first.

  I know a good musician who worked for Lawrence Welk. The man must be terribly in need of money. It’s regimented music. It doesn’t swing, it doesn’t create, it doesn’t tell the story of life. It’s just the kind of music that people who don’t care for music would buy.

  I’ve had people say to me: “You don’t do this for a living, for heaven’s sake?” I was so shocked. I said, “What other way am I going to make a living? You want to send me a check?” (Laughs.) People can’t understand that there are artists in the world as well as drones.

  I only know that as a child I was of a rebellious nature. I saw life as it was planned for most of us. I didn’t want any part of that dull life. I worked for Lord and Taylor once, nine to five. It was terribly dull. I lasted six weeks. I couldn’t see myself being a nine-to-five man, saving my money, getting married, and having a big family—good God, what a way to live!

  I knew when I was eight years old that I wasn’t going to amount to anything in the business world. (Laughs.) I wanted my life to have something to do with adventure, something unknown, something involved with a free life, something to do with wonder and astonishment. I loved to play—the fact that I could express myself in improvisation, the unplanned.

  I love to play now more than ever, because I know a little more about music. I’m interested in developing themes and playing something creative. Life now is not so difficult. We work six months a year. We live around the world. And we don’t have to work in night clubs night after night after night.

  Playing in night clubs, I used to think, When are we going to get out of here? Most audiences were drunk and you tended to become lazy. And if you were a drinker yourself, there went your music. This is why so many great talents have died or gotten out of it. They hated the music business. I was lucky—now I’m sixty-five—in having played forty-seven years.

  If jazz musicians had been given the chance we in this band have today —to think about your work and not have to play all hours of the night, five or six sets—God! Or radio station work or commercial jingle work—the guys must loathe it. I don’t think the jazz man has been given a fair chance to do what he really wants to do, to work under conditions where he’s not treated like a slave, not subject to the music business, which we’ve loathed all our lives.

  I’ve come to love my work. It’s my way of life. Jazz is a luxurious kind of music. You don’t play it all day long. You don’t play it all night long. The best way to play it is in concerts. You’re on for an hour or two and you give it everything you have, your best. And the audience is sober. And I’m not in a hurry to have the night finish. Playing night clubs, it was endless . . .

  If you’re a creative player, something must happen, and it will. Some sort of magic takes place, yet it isn’t magic. Hundreds of times I’ve gone to work thinking, Oh my God, I hate to think of playing tonight. It’s going to be awful. But something on a given night takes place and I’m excited before it’s over. Does that make sense? If you have that kind of night, you’re not aware of the time, because of this thing that hits you.

  There’s been a lot of untruths told about improvisation. Men just don’t get up on the stage and improvise on things they’re not familiar with. True improvisation comes out of hard work. When you’re practicing at home, you work on a theme and you work out all the possibilities of that theme. Since it’s in your head, it comes out when you play. You don’t get out on the stage and just improvise, not knowing what the hell you’re doing. It doesn’t work out that way. Always just before I play a concert, I get the damn horn out and practice. Not scales, but look for creative things to play. I’ll practice tonight when I get home, before I go to work. I can’t wait to get at it.

  I practice because I want to play better. I’ve never been terribly interested in technique, but I’m interested in facility. To feel comfortable, so when the idea shoots out of my head I can finger it, manipulate it. Something interesting happens. You’ll hear a phrase and all of a sudden you’re thrown into a whole new inspiration. It doesn’t happen every night. But even if I have a terrible night and say, “Oh, I’m so tired, I’ll go to sleep and I’ll think of other things,” the music’ll come back. I wasn’t too happy about going to work last night because I was tired. It was a drag. But today I feel good. Gonna go home and blow the horn now for a while.

  Practicing is no chore to me. I love it. I really do love to play the horn alone. They call me the narcissistic tenor (laughs), because I practice before the mirror. Actually I’ve learned a great deal looking in the mirror and playing. The dream of all jazz artists is to have enough time to think about their work and play and to develop.

  Was there a time when you were altogether bored with your work?

  Absolutely. I quit playing for a year. I met a very rich woman. We went to South America to live. We had a house by the sea. I never realized how one could be so rich, so unhappy, and so bored. It frightened me. But I did need the year off. When I came back, I felt fresh.

  The other time was when I had a band of my own. I had a name, so I no longer worked for big bands. I was expected to lead one of my own. But I can’t handle other people. If I have a group and the pianist, let’s say, doesn’t like my playing, I can’t play. I don’t see how these band leaders do it. I can’t stand any kind of responsibility other than the music itself. I have to work as a soloist. I can be the custodian only of my own being and thinking.

  I had this band and the guys were late all the time. I didn’t want to have to hassle with them. I didn’t want to mistreat them, so I said, “Fellas, should we quit?” I wouldn’t let them go and stay on myself. We were good friends. I’d say I’d quit if they didn’t come on time. They started to come on time. But I wasn’t a leader. I used to stand by in the band! A bit to the side. (Laughs.) Now we have a cooperative band. So I have a feeling I’m working for myself.

  I don’t know if I’ll make it, but I hope I’ll be playing much better five years from now. I oughta, because I know a little bit more of what I’m doing. It takes a lifetime to learn how to play an instrument. We have a lot of sensational young players come up—oh, you hear them for six months, and then they drop out. The kid of the moment, that’s right. Real talent takes a long time to mature, to learn how to bring what character you have into sound, into your playing.65 Not the instrument, but the style of music you’re trying to create should be an extension of you. And this takes a whole life.

  I want to play for the rest of my life. I don’t see any sense in stopping. Were I to live another thirty years—that would make me ninety-five—why not try to play? I can just hear the critics: “Did you hear that wonderful note old man Freeman played last night?” (Laughs.) As Ben Webster66 says, “I’m going to play this goddamned saxophone until they put it on top of me.” It’s become dearer to me after having done it for forty-seven years. It’s a thing I need to do.

  KEN BROWN

  He is twenty-six. He is the president of four corporations: American Motorcycle Mechanics School, Evel Knievel’s Electrocycle Service Centers, Triple-A Motorcycle Leasing, and AMS Productions.

  The first: The largest motorcycle mechanics’ school in the country. “I started out before they had any. It’s a 350-hour course, twelve weeks, six hours a day. It’s three hours on the night shift, twenty-four weeks. Now we’re having home study courses. We’re doing new courses on the Wankel rotary engine. They’re gonna go big in the next five years. Most of your cars are gonna have ’em. They don’t pollute.”

  The second: A franchise—“service centers and accessory sales. The machine I designed for Sun Electric tests motorcycles and electronically spots the problem. I’m partners with Evel Knievel.67 We’re going nationwide. We expect to have them in every city. I’ve got fifteen salesmen around the country selling franchises. You walk in, get your motorcycle tuned up, and buy accessories. We sell ‘em the initial package, we set ’em up, we have our own design for the buildings and everything. It’s g
oing to be like McDonald’s or Kentucky Fried Chicken.”

  The third: Another franchise—“You can lease a motorcycle just like you can an automobile for a season, a month, a day. We’re going nationwide here also.”

  The fourth: It’s for shows where Knievel performs. “We have three salesmen selling program ads and booth space. This year we’re doing ten shows. At show time you need about fifty people.”

  “In the next few years there’s gonna be a lot of big things going on. It’s just going to skyrocket. In the last year I had plenty of ups and downs. When you’re down you’ve gotta keep climbin’ six times as hard.”

  I’m enjoying what I’m doing. I’ll make a good chunk of money in one thing, stick it back in the other thing, and just watch it grow. I’d get more out of it than hoarding it away somewhere. I’d say I’m better off than most twenty-six-year-old guys. (Laughs.)

  Any one of these companies would probably be twice as big if I put all my time into it. But it wouldn’t be a challenge any more. There are some new ideas I’m working on that are really something. I don’t even know whether I should say anything . . .

  I started working pretty young. When I was six I had my first paper route. At nine I worked in a bicycle repair shop. At the same time I was delivering chop suey for a Chinese restaurant. I worked as a stock boy in a grocery store for a year. This had no interest to me whatsoever. This was all after school and weekends. I always liked the feeling of being independent. I never asked my parents for financial help. Anything I wanted to buy, I always had the money. I didn’t have them watching over me. They wouldn’t have cared had they known.

  I was lucky in school. Subjects everybody had trouble with—mathematics, algebra—they just came natural to me. I never did any studying. I was more interested in my work than in school. I liked drafting and machine shop. History and English bored me.