Occupation, or Not

Kaleidoscope

Kaleidoscope Records shipping department 1988-1990

I held a number of part time jobs during the Atlantic run. I think it was the poorest I’d ever been on my own. The band lived really well while on tour, but when home, funds dried up in a hurry. Tour support with twenty dollar per diems was the only income. There were no royalties and we were forbidden to sell our own music at concerts. T-shirt sales were on the razor’s edge of the profit/loss line. So, a $5 an hour job at a record distributor was not too little to ignore.

Kaleidoscope Records, Des Plaines, Illinois. Nick, the Greek Tony Soprano boss type who hired me on Bettina’s (?) recommendation. Not always happy eyes, but frequent goofy grin. Answered to his silent partner and money source, Shirley (only saw her a few times). What I remember in the next paragraphs may be spotty. What happened at Kaleidoscope stayed at Kaleidoscope. No written records exist other than the essential read, You’re With Stupid, in which Bruce Adams recounts his experience.

I arrived on day one knowing nobody. Looking back all these years, I recognize most of my favorite lasting friends are from that short period of time. Dan Koretzky was head of shipping and after meeting Nick (“You’re my favorite guitarist”), I reported as the new shipping clerk. Dan, who in a few years would co-found Drag City records, was the guy who he would always be. Driest of wit, cuttingest of wit, wittiest of wit, who would generally pose a question before giving a directive, Dan was extremely competent and a perfect manager. He got shit done and everybody pulled toward his goals. The goal was to have everything the salesmen sold that day picked and packed in a box for the end of day U.P.S. pickup. Late salesmen (the enemy) orders were mocked and scoffed at, but we got them out. The price they paid was the shipping department’s wrath. We were like the modern IT department snobs. Ultimately, you needed us. And like I said, the pay was $5/hour. Attitude.

I can’t remember the order of who came into shipping when, but I know Garrett and George were there before me. Garrett was a good-natured well meaning dance clubby kind of guy. Hip in his crowd maybe, but this was not his crowd. Got the brunt of George’s “jokes.” George was just out of the local high school, knew Shirley, and loudly announced on his arrival, “Halsted!” Halsted, as in the street, Halsted as in Boys-Town. George was letting us know we were all “fags.” Music nerds and fags. George was the kind of asshole jock who may or may not have ridden up and down Halsted for fun, looking to kick somebody’s ass. George’s yearbook might have predicted “most likely to be at a J-6 riot”. But somehow, we worked together, and laughed off most of what he said. We mocked him back.

Business got very brisk. Grunge and Sub Pop were taking off, still pre-Nevermind. Distributors like ours were cutting into major label dollars. We hired a ton of people. Dave Marr, Brendan Murphy and Alex Iko (we called him “Axel”) were Lincoln Park High friends of Dan’s. We had a blast together. We played the music loud back there and the jokes and insults greased the day. Alex had a crush on one of the girls who worked near the front offices, Suzy. Michael Gerald of Killdozer (maybe the funniest of everybody!) was hired for shipping! And then the Texans arrived. Originally from the band, Scratch Acid, new arrivals at Kaleidoscope were singer David Yow and bassist David Sims. They were in the nascent stages of Jesus Lizard and we got Yow in shipping while Sims went to accounting. That 100 yard stare that D Wm. Sims possesses on stage also seems to work on numbers. Yow was a riot and quite possible the sweetest, kitty-cat loving pussy cat I’ve ever known. I still want to just hug him. One time he came rushing up to me holding a box he was packing, brimming with white packing peanuts, holding it in front of him and pleading with me to find a c.d. he was looking for. “C’mon, David, I thought, as I reached deep into the box, scraping aside the peanuts only to discover that David had made a hole in the box and had inserted his penis for some sap to find. Good one, David. Long before Timeberlake/Samberg. I’ve seen David’s genitals far more than seems reasonable. The “bloomin’rose” of Texas. Yow also handled the grill at my very wild 33rd birthday party. His skirt steak tacos will never be matched.

We were hard on Sales. The Texans not from Scratch Acid, Patrick and John, were all over Wax Trax, which made the most money, and were really good at their jobs. They got the most shit from shipping. I must apologize. While I did not directly partake in the hard time thrown their way, I feel complicit. And sorry. Very nice guys. The aforementioned Bruce was there (Dan called him Gomez—Adam’s family?), he had a healthy sales niche carved out and then there was Charlie. Nobody would give Charlie shit, Charlie was a guru. On his last day, soon to open The Quaker Goes Deaf store in Wicker Park, Charlie stripped naked and took a couple laps throughout the building. Dan moved up to sales at some point with Garrison and I was put in charge of the packing tape crew. I got bumped to sales at the end, but my heart was forever in shipping.

By the end, Janet Bean was also there with Diane working with David in accounting. Nick had Janet sit where he could leer at her. One time, he plopped a clothes catalogue on her desk and told her to pick out a nice bathing suit. She was eating lunch, prompting him to comment, “Never eat a banana in front of a Greek man.”

The one tragedy that occurred in my time there happened after David’s arrival. Axel’s crush, Suzy, and Yow hit it off. Eventually married. Axel broke. He was despondent. I wrote a song. And that should help with the timeline of this chapter.

Most fun job ever!

I’m including the photo of a 7” single I bought while employed—we got discounts on Friday, spending our paychecks on more records. This one was signed by David Yow.

Two years. Retired.