ISSUE NO. 1
JULY 6,
OUR
80th YEAR
www.RotaryClubofSantaMonica.org
TWO QUICK-CHANGE ARTISTS TELL WHY
Two
newer members will tell us about themselves at this Friday’s meeting.
They’ll probably explain certain surprising turns their lives have taken.
The
first new member isn’t really a new member. Diane Margolin left our club
when she moved to New York a few years ago. However, she’s now back in
California and we gladly welcomed her back into the fold.
She’ll
catch us up on her New York experiences and what she’s currently up to.
Barry
Bouley’s life also swerved unexpectedly. He was in charge of a big branch of
a New England bank. He resigned, expecting to go to work in the downtown
headquarters of a Los Angeles bank, but changed his mind after one visit
there. In 1989 he managed a soft landing, and is now vice president of First
Regional Bank here.
How
did that happen? This Friday we can hear about it.
COMING
SOON
Our
next four Rotary meetings will feature speakers about –
Long Beach Aquarium – July 13
Santa Monica City Management – July 20
National Enquirer Magazine – July 27
Getty Museum – August 3
OUR
EXPERT ON MOTORBIKES
(One
of a series on new members)
Some
might say that Michael J. Nichols is in a doomed business. He manages
Carlson’s, the big retail store on Fifth Street that sells household
appliances and TV sets. Such retailers used to be numerous. Three-fourths of
them have closed in recent years, undersold by chains such as Circuit City, Best
Buy, Home Depot, Sears and the like.
Nevertheless,
Mike has no thought of leaving Carlson’s, which hired him in 1978. “I enjoy
the challenge of competing with the big guys,” he says. Carlson’s five
full-time salespeople draw salaries rather than commissions, and its seven
delivery trucks are busy. If pressed, Mike will allow that Carlson’s is
“successful”.
Its
success has lasted despite one costly blunder by Mike, he says. “Curly
Polkinghorn, the owner, let me make my own mistakes. About 1983 I thought
renting TV sets was a ticket to big profits. In ten months I rented thousands of
sets. Curly asked me several times, ‘Are you sure we’re on the right
track?’ but he didn’t argue. I ran up about two hundred thousand dollars in
accounts receivable before I realized, ‘We’re not in the TV business,
we’re in the collection business.’”
In
ensuing years Mike brought in profits that covered nearly all the losses. His
life has been marked by mistakes, he sometimes says, but he learned from them.
One
boyhood error was in planning to become a physician, as his father was. “I was
sixteen before I realized I didn’t have enough discipline to be a good doctor.
I wanted something adventurous. I thought I might become a mercenary. Another
big mistake. I went in the Army at nineteen, was sent to Vietnam in the airborne
infantry, and survived enough adventure for a lifetime. The day I got out was
one of the happiest of days of my life.” Mike doesn’t reminisce about his 33
months in the Army.
Returning
home to Appleton, Wisconsin, he enrolled in the University of Wisconsin at Eau
Claire. Another mistake. He got good grades but disliked hitting the books, and
eventually dropped out.
Motorcycles
became a major part of his life. He bought, rode, tinkered, occasionally sold or
traded. He also absorbed enough motorcycle lore to avoid one major mistake: he
never raced, nor steered into busy streets. Thus he has survived intact.
His
war travels had convinced him that mild winters were better than Wisconsin’s
cold ones. One fall day in 1977 he sold his house. He started for California the
same afternoon.
Here,
visiting a sister, he heard of an opening at Carlson’s. “I knew enough about
appliances so I could qualify,” he recalls. “Curly and I liked each other. I
started what I thought would be 90 days of temporary work.”
He
courted and married a neighbor, Jinell Doucet. They now have three teen-age
children, but recently divorced amicably. He and Jinell live in houses only
sixty feet apart and their children have bedrooms in both houses.
Mike
owns five motorcycles. Every few weeks he and one or two sons stow cycles into a
Carlson’s truck and journey north into an area called Hungry Valley, which is
laced with motorcycle trails.
During
one of those expeditions Mike tried to negotiate a fifteen-foot jump on his
cycle. He fell off and slid some distance in dirt. Two of his sons saw the
plunge. They’ve all been somewhat more sedate riders since then. “Taking a
risk on a cycle is one mistake we won’t make,” he promises.