Act 1 – Gonnections
Scene 5 – The Writer Escapes
In the last episode, our intrepid 23-year-old protagonist was writing contracts for about a million dollars worth of construction work with barely a clue…
But it looked like I was going to get through it. Then, just to make things interesting, the interest-rate fiasco hit in 1980. Predictably, it was tough to sell condos with 15% mortgage interest. The company laid off the project manager and, as the project was nearing completion, the superintendent as well. A couple of subs went belly up. I did whatever was necessary to finish the project, including buying materials at wholesale houses and hiring workers to install them. I still remember Latin names for several of the more common plants used in SoCal commercial projects. I essentially taught myself very basic skills in several trades (irrigation, plumbing, electrical, finish carpentry, drywall patching) because I was the warranty department.
About that time, I had a memorable party at my condo. Leading memory: my former college roommate, Terry Irwin, kissing Josie in the swimming pool. Incredibly, she didn’t leave with him. She did, though, acknowledge something Terry had long bragged about: he’s an excellent kisser. Josie stayed and got her teaching credential from San Diego State in 1980. I sold the condo late that year and, with partners, bought a bigger unit in Mission Valley.
Within a year, Josie ran out of ne’er do wells and moved in with me. And in February 1983, we wed. It was an extravagant affair. She left her teaching job on a minimum day, a Thursday. We went to the County office in downtown San Diego across from the Can-Can Club. I remember every detail. The bureaucrats wore gray. She wore blue. Two friends and their toddler witnessed it. Afterward, we drank champagne at Fat City slightly uptown, and were back to work the next day.
Fat City is gone now, replaced by a hotel. I miss its Miami-Vice, pink-stucco, art-deco, too-cool-for-school ambience. I wonder what I did with my pastel shirts and skinny ties?
Anyway, FLJB finally got out of “The Park” in 1982 by bulk-selling the last dozen or so units. We shifted into commercial development and construction, chiefly industrial and self-storage. That too tapered off, and by spring 1985 I was doing more property management than project management. I learned that the only good news in property management is when the phone doesn’t ring. It was time to move on.
With the help of a friend who worked in McMillin’s commercial-construction arm, I got a job with a commercial contractor, Harper Construction. I was in their tenant-improvement department and reporting to a real nice guy. He was quite experienced and I was learning a lot when he gave notice. So, I ran the department for about six months. As in my later years at FLJB, I ended up supervising two 20- offspring of the owner.
In early 1986, Harper had a renovation job that required a highest-and-best use decision. I hired Don Knox, one of my fellow management trainees at McMillin and who had become a real-estate appraiser. By the time he finished the project, he had talked me into looking into appraisal as a career. I reflected on two things:
- I enjoy writing, and the only writing I was doing in project management was the occasional telegram telling a sub to get on the job, and
- The 40-year-old project managers around me looked 50.
Within a month, I was working for the same firm as Knox. It pays to have gonnections.
Next: Act 2 – For What It’s Worth