By the summer of ’69, I was broke. Despite working every conceivable, worthless dead-end job, from counting ball bearings to baking “surprise-filled” doughnuts for the First Baptist Church of Van Nuys, I had absolutely nothing to show for my efforts. I was twenty years old, fresh out of the Navy, and ready to start my college education at Los Angeles Valley College in the fall. I was desperate for any job that would take me. Any job. My best friend Tom was working at a local shoe store called Thom McAn’s. He told me they just had an opening. Would I like to apply? He’d worked there for four years…
