Van Log, 1994: A Collective Narrative

Van Log '94.

May, 1994: Brother Todd and I, along with our friends Mel and Laura, left our hometown of Columbia City, Indiana, to embark on a cross-country road trip to Valdez, Alaska. Officially, we made the journey to work in the fishing industry, but it was also about getting some kicks and enjoying a change of scenery. We drove Todd’s green 1974 Ford Econoliner van, complete with a fried egg decal on the side and orange shag carpet on the interior walls.

Van Log: We brought along an audio cassette tape recorder to log any comments or observations we felt were worth remembering. The recorder, along with the collection of nine or ten audio tapes we made, became known as the "Van Log."Van Log 1994 is a collective narrative, much like Wikipedia. Instead of identifying individual speakers when transcribing the audio tapes, I blended everyone’s statements into one running commentary. The same paragraph might incorporate statements from any or all four of us, or it could even include comments from a fifth or sixth person who happened to be around the tape recorder at the time. Van Log '94 is perfectly coherent without identifying each individual speaker, though I occasionally placed conversational dialogue in quotation marks to indicate when a conversation was taking place between two (or more) people.

We were all unseasoned travelers at the time, and what might come across as naive, irresponsible, or even stupid in these logs was, in reality, just careless youthful exuberance and (possibly misdirected) lust for life in all of us. Some of the things we did were embarrassingly stupid, but that was part of the adventure—learning through experience, no matter how misguided at times.

Forward by Todd               South Dakota, pt. 1               Washington

Leaving Indiana                South Dakota, pt. 2               British Columbia

Illinois                               Wyoming                               Hyder, AK (side trip)

Wisconsin                         Montana                                Yukon Territory

Minnesota                         Idaho                                     Alaska

                                    

Mr. T's Birthday

Here's a photo collage of my friend Wendy and I celebrating, "Mr. T's Birthday." We were really just enjoying the novelty of a rubber Mr. T head attached to the end of a walking cane accompanied by various fast foods.

Mr. T's Birthday.

Whopper w/ Cheese: An Entirely Different Sandwich

College diploma & BK uniform;
Summer, 1993.

After graduating from college, I briefly worked at Burger King to get by while I looked for a better job. During this time, BK was offering their Whopper for 99 cents, which was normally around $2.25 or something like that. The Whopper with Cheese, however, retained its original price of $2.49 (or whatever) because the manager claimed it was “an entirely different sandwich” and was not subject to the regular Whopper discount.

Justifying that arrangement and explaining the distinction to customers made my first week of work pretty annoying. It was a customer service nightmare because people kept ordering the 99-cent Whopper and requesting cheese on it, then freaking out when they were charged $2.49 instead of the expected $1.09. They’d look at me in disbelief and say, “You’re trying to charge me $1.50 for a piece of cheese?”

Then I was required to say, “Yes, we are,” and explain to them that the Whopper with Cheese was an entirely different sandwich, which was not on sale at this time. I felt like a real dick, and in that stupid hat too.

[Originally posted on Rebel Leady Boy, May 14, 2006]

Records of Time

Getting rid of a stack of old Time magazines, Columbia City, IN; March 18, 1993:

A. Our first delivery was to Ballard Wood at the Columbia City Kentucky Fried Chicken. We gave him (or more literally, gave his manager) the December 25, 1989 issue of Time with Tom Cruise on the cover. Scrawled in red ink was the personalized message, “For Ballard, Love Ya”.

B. The second delivery was delivered with legal sanction after a girl at the Kentucky Fried Chicken had interpreted the Tom Cruise issue of Time magazine as a “pornographic book” and called the police who were glad to learn that we were only getting rid of our old Times. It was at this point when we received legal sanction and the Law suggested writing “For Ya” instead of “Love Ya” on the cover of future issues. We decided to avoid the problem entirely and wrote instead, “Time, Time, Do You Have Enough Time?” on the cover of the December 11, 1989 issue of Time (the cover was very good and depicted both George Bush and Gorbachev) and delivered it anonymously into the mailbox on the intersection of 9 and 14.

C. The third delivery was for the Yoders and was, more specifically, the January 15, 1990 issue of Time featuring an Antarctica cover story with a gorgeous penguin on the cover. We added, “Time, Time, Do You Have Enough Time?” in red ink.

D. The next delivery was one of the most appropriate ones of all. We found the January 1, 1990 “Man of the Decade” issue which boasted a huge close-up of Gorbachev’s face in a stately greyish silver hue. It looked just like Bob Britain, and in fact that’s exactly who we delivered it to, with “Bob, Bob, Do You Have Enough Time?” scrawled across the massive face. It was a very good tribute to Bob we thought.

E. The January 22, 1990 issue of Time (the one with the “Murder in Boston” cover story) was delivered in person by myself to Quincy’s pool hall (to Todd Wise in particular) with the message, “Quincy’s Quincy’s Do You Have Enough Balls?” written on it. I was very embarrassed to deliver this to them in person.

F. A random mailbox on Airport Road received the February 26, 1990 issue of Time with the curious message, “Time, Time, Do You Have Enough Time?” written on the cover.

G. This is delivery “G”, but in reality FOUR deliveries were actually left here because it was Chad Fry’s house. I’ll describe them all individually.

1. The first was for Chad and was the February 5, 1990 issue of Time featuring a “Mandela: Free `at Last” cover story. We added, “Chad, Chad, Go! GO! GO!” in red marker.                2. The March 2, 1990 issue was dedicated to Travis Fry, the cover dealing with Soviet Disunity. We added in red ink, “Travis, Travis, Do You Have Enough Time?”               3. We saved the “Starting Over” February 19, 1990 issue of Time for Denny and wrote in black, “Denny, Denny, Do You Have Enough Time?”               4. Finally, we gave Kathy the March 5, 1990 issue of Time which dealt with the subject of  “Gossip”.  We, in all respect wondered, and added in red, “Kathy, Kathy, How Much Can You Take?”

H. Julie Kissinger was the recipient of the December 4, 1989 issue of Time which dealt with the subject of “Women in the 90s”. We added the question, “Time, Time, Do You Have Enough Time?” to the original cover. I think we missed her mailbox, but she should have found the magazine anyway. It was laying in plain sight at the base of the mailbox. I wish we would have put it in the mailbox properly. But I wouldn’t consider that to be a mistake, its just a personal improvement that I would have made if I weren’t outvoted by the others.

I. The February 12, 1990 issue of Time featured a cover story about, “The Germans” and we gave this one to Jet and Anne Thompson along with the question, “Anne, Anne, and Jet, Jet, Which Side Are You On?” There was controversy in the van about adding Anne to the message, but I did and we couldn’t really just scribble her name out once it was written.

J. A glorious delivery was made to the home of Duane and Mel. We left them the “When Tyrants Fall” issue of Time (the specific date of which has been lost in our records), to which we added, “Time, Time, Do You Have Enough Time?”.

K. Mr. Longenbaugh received the January 29, 1990 issue of Time (an issue dealing with the NRA). We originally meant to give it to Bryan, so it said, “Bryan, Bryan, Do You Have Enough time?” on the cover.

L. A December 1989 issue of Time, an issue addressing the problem of “Money Laundering” was delivered to Mrs. Stroup. On the cover was written, “Senora! Senora! Donde esta su penis?” Before each “Senora”, an upside-down exclamation mark was added in the Spanish style. I also jotted a little bit more Spanish on the back cover, but our record of this is lost. I just thought I’d mention it. It was no big deal.

M. The March 26, 1990 issue of Time (featuring “The Germans”) was intended for Shane Yunken, but was left in the yard of one of his neighbors instead. We wrote “Time, Time, Do You Have Enough Time?” on the cover.

N. The November 27, 1989 issue of Time was left out for the Ivys. The cover story dealt with “Art and Money” and we asked the question (in writing, not in person), “Time, Time, Do You Have Enough Time?”. It was left on a pile of debris in their yard.

Das Heilander Techno Tapes

Around 1993, my German friend from college, Rob, let my friend Wendy tape a ton of his techno music.  She shared copies of the cassettes with me and I made these tape covers using photocopies of photos of Rob, white highlighter, and colored markers.  

Saving them here, so I don't have to save the actual tapes.

Das Heilander, vol. 1.

Das Heilander, vol. 2.

Easter, 1992

Sitting across the street from a church, eating easter candy.

Easter, Apr. 19, 1992.

(L to R: Johanns, me, Jason S., Brother Todd).

Every Meximelt

Personal ad placed in the Valentine's Day edition of a local newspaper (Bloomington, IN; Feb. 1992). It is a message from Larry to Laura Lynn. I'm guessing Larry was a Taco Bell employee and Laura Lynn was a customer.

At one point, Larry had apparently taken a photograph of Laura Lynn during one of her visits to his establishment & published it in the local newspaper along with a personal message of love. 

Laura Lynn,

You don't know me, but I love you.

I work at Taco Bell.

I was thinking maybe you love me too,

because you're there so much.

It's your smile I see when I melt the cheese on every Meximelt.

Please be mine.

Larry

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Mar. 9, 2004]

More Smiles Per Gallon

I used to refer to this Sunoco sign as, "the face that haunts my nightmares." It seemed to be posted everywhere in Bloomington, Indiana in 1992.

Christmas Caroling, 1991

In 1991, Janel and Brandon joined Todd, Jonnie, and Mel on a spur of the moment Christmas Caroling spree throughout Columbia City. The greatest thing about this night was the fact it was unplanned and entirely spontaneous. We were knocking on people’s doors and sharing the yuletide spirit with friends and strangers alike. 

Christmas Caroling, 1991.

The only outsider account I’ve heard regarding this night came from an acquaintance that lived in an apartment complex we had visited. They did not answer the door when we knocked, but we sang gloriously in the corridors of the apartment building anyway. We later asked this person why they weren’t home and they replied, “I was home. I was actually sleeping. I remember hearing what sounded like a bunch of drunks singing, Here comes Santa Claus, Here comes Santa Claus in deep voices outside. I did not answer the door and tried to go back to sleep.”

Once we had visited everybody in our immediate vicinity, we piled into a car and drove to the center of town where we spread joy to a handful of other homes and to the local Pizza King. The last house we visited had a full-blown Christmas party in effect!  We went in for some punch, Brandon spilled his all over the table, and then we left.

5 Johns in the John

Growing up, most of the jobs or classes I’ve been part of almost always had more than one guy named John. To keep things straight, we’d usually have to add the first letter of each John’s last name—John S., John M., and so on.

Things were no different in 1991when I was working at a fish camp in Valdez, Alaska. There were several Johns working there, and one day we found ourselves swapping stories about how common our name was. Note: I use the common pronunciation, “John,” but my name is actually spelled (correctly) - Jon, without the silent “h.”

That’s when we had a collective notion to take a commemorative photo of all the Johns on the crew. The setting of course was in the men’s restroom – also known as the John.

As a bonus, there was a Japanese man pissing in the background, though he almost certainly was not named John.

L to R: Big John, Blond John, Me, Bearded John, & Jon A.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Feb. 2, 2004]

Transmitting Knowledge

 Talking deep shit in Nautilus tent city.

Blood Print

 The only evidence. One cool thing I had was the fact I had all my crew members put their fingerprint in salmon blood into my journal and autograph it.  It was a glorious collection until the backpack that held the journal was stolen from the breakroom and I was never able to complete the project. Sad trophy that never was.

Fish Heads

Bearded John in a tote full of salmon heads. He charged $1.00/photo. Not bad!

Freezer Crew

Freezer Crew are respected. With James A., Nautilus Marine, Valdez, AK.

 

111 for 1

Probably the only existing image of the short-lived, homemade, 
campground bar. Valdez, AK; Summer, 1991.

One fishless day in Valdez, when work was slow, a few campsite entrepreneurs decided to make the best of it. Using old pallets and scrap plywood, they threw together a makeshift bar.

They stocked up on cheap beer, a couple bottles of whiskey, and a big tin of loose-leaf tobacco. Then they spread the word around the campground—and to any passing tourists:

One beer, one shot, one cigarette — One Dollar!

What a deal! Everyone was thrilled.

There wasn’t a real shot glass to be found, so enormous pours were served in a plastic cap that might’ve come from a can of shaving cream or spray deodorant. Nobody minded. You had to roll your own cigarette, too, but at that price, nobody complained. Some folks skipped the cigarette altogether, figuring a beer and a shot for a buck was already a steal.

It was a great time while it lasted—just a few hours—until the police showed up and shut it down.

Afterward, we tore the bar apart and tossed it on the bonfire.
The photo above is probably the only proof it ever existed.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Apr. 15, 2004]

Valdez Tent City

Bill welcomes you to tent city with freshly washed hair.

Vending Machine Rant

One night in the Nautilus Marine break room, a tall, bearded, drunken hillbilly staggered in to buy something from a vending machine. He was dressed in a camouflaged jacket and rubber boots. He claimed the change machine short-changed him 25 cents which triggered what can only be described as a complete reversion to savagery.

I recorded his comments in a journal I was keeping at the time:

"A tall bearded hillbilly...claims the dollar bill changer only gave him 75 cents back for his dollar. His initial comment was, 'Hey!...It only gave me 75 cents!! But, hey!...That's all I need!' After he finished his snack though, he started beating on the change machine and yelling for somebody to 'Call the fuckin' cops'. 

He tried to write on the wall that the machine owed him money, but his pen was dry; so he hurled it against a nearby table and sat down with his face in his hands. Soon, he started to demand that somebody, 'Call the fuckin' cops'!!"  

"He says, 'If I robbed a liquor store, they'd call the cops on me; but this machine can rip me off a quarter and the cops don't even care.'" 

"Now he's swaying a lot. He can barely hold his head up straight. He's saying, 'Fuck America' and 'God Damn America' over and over and over again. Now he just added, 'God Bless Alaska'!! He'll be asleep soon." 

"Oh! He got a second wind. He's raving (to nobody in particular, just in case anybody's listening) - 'I live like an animal!...I'm a savage!!...If you don't believe me, if you think I'm full of shit, just live with me for a year - I'll show you how an animal lives'!!! ... 'I've been sleeping by railroad tracks and under trucks for years, usually with no heat"! [Jonnie comments: "ha ha, "usually"?] 'We're living in the end times...and when the cities fall, I'll be thriving'!!"

Fuck all. 

Packing Crew, Nautilus Marine; Valdez AK, 1991.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Sep. 27, 2004]

Valdez Sunrise

Sunrise from the dock. Good morning, seagulls!

Alaska, 1990, pt. 1

Homer, AK, 1990.

In early 1990, my friend Paul and I began exploring options for an interesting summer job. Nothing stood out until Paul mentioned his aunt in Alaska and the possibility of working up there. Without hesitation, we decided to fly to Alaska and try our luck in the seafood industry for the summer.

At the time, Paul was a far more seasoned traveler than I was. In fact, it was my very first time on a plane. Alaska made an immediate and lasting impression on me. I was captivated by the sight of mountains in every direction, even in the heart of the city. I also fell in love with the cool summer climate and the eccentric people who called Alaska home.

Before the trip, I brought along a lantern, fully expecting to do some serious camping. Little did I know that Alaska barely gets dark in the summer! Fortunately, we were able to store the lantern at Paul’s aunt’s house.

We also bought a beat-up old car, which we affectionately named "The Abomination." It came with four studded tires for winter, though they weren’t much use during the summer. Thankfully, Paul’s aunt kindly allowed us to store those at her house as well.

The "pup tent", Working for Anne & Mean Gene, Ol' Tom Adams, & Claudia w/ customized rubber boots.

When it came to finding employment, we were completely winging it. Ultimately, we decided to drive out to Homer, where we set up camp on the Homer Spit—a 4.5-mile stretch of land jutting into the ocean. From there, we went door to door looking for work until a company called Keener Packing hired us to dig a ditch.

As it turned out, they initially planned to fire us once the ditch was dug. But, for whatever reason, they took a liking to us and decided to keep us on. We quickly became known as "the Pups" by everyone there, a nod to our complete lack of knowledge about fish or Alaska. Our campsite was affectionately dubbed "the Pup Tent."

Salty Dawg saloon, Paul from California, Melissa, Kennicott, the abandoned mining town.

We stayed in Homer through early July, eagerly anticipating the Fourth of July fireworks display over the ocean. However, the spectacle fell short of our expectations—Alaska’s endless summer daylight made it difficult to enjoy fireworks without the contrast of a dark sky.

By then, we realized we weren’t saving any money, so we decided to try our luck in the salmon fisheries of Valdez, which were rumored to offer plenty of overtime. Some of our co-workers at Keener knew the plant managers at Nautilus Marine. One of them even ran dog sleds with one of the foremen during the winter. They planned to meet us there, as we all prepared to jump ship from Keener.

Continued @ Alaska, 1990, pt. 2

Alaska, 1990, pt. 2

Kennicott, 1990.

On the road to Valdez, we took a 60-mile detour to visit McCarthy and Kennicott, an abandoned mining town. It wasn’t the most convenient stop, but we figured if we didn’t check it out then, when would we? The journey involved a treacherous 30-mile drive down a rough dirt road in the middle of nowhere. By the time we reached McCarthy, we had managed to ruin two tires.

Getting to McCarthy is an adventure in itself; you have to cross a river on a hand tram. So, we lugged our flat tire across the river and found a guy on the other side who specialized in tire repair. To our surprise, he fixed the tire for a surprisingly low fee. Considering how far we were from civilization, he could have charged us anything, but instead, he was shockingly fair.

McCarthy itself had a population of barely twenty-something people. It was quaint, but also a bit eerie, especially considering the dark history: years ago, a resident computer programmer went on a rampage, shooting up the town and taking out half the population, which amounted to about ten people. A real testament to the wild side of life in the Alaskan wilderness!

Plant foreman, "Mad" Max, Paul processing, me processing, & me on boat.

Well, after a pit stop in Anchorage, we finally made it to Valdez. We arrived with recommendations for Nautilus Marine, feeling confident with solid references and mutual acquaintances with some of the plant management. However, as it turned out, in the middle of salmon season, Nautilus hires just about anybody.

Icing salmon on the dock, working & playing in the ice house, packing w/ Erin.

Nautilus was hard work and long hours, but it was also a lot of fun. Every week, the community would host "The Feed" at a local church, where fishery workers from all around could come for a free meal. We also made it a point to have a drink at the bar where Captain Hazelwood got drunk before causing the Exxon Valdez oil spill.

Continued from Alaska, 1990, pt. 1