Frank, the Bike Shop, and Me

Frank, the Bike Shop, and Me

 Frank and Me in the yard behind his apartment on Patterson Alley

“I'm a business man.” This was how Frank described himself when I met him at a potluck in 1975. He was part of a group of counter-culture friends I hung out with when I lived in Eugene, Oregon. In the counter-culture world this kind of description of oneself would be like someone telling you they favored socialized medicine at a Young Republicans gathering. It certainly made him stand out and while I didn't dismiss him I didn't find myself initially drawn to him either. But Frank and I seemed to get along. We talked easily and, as it turned out, he would become my best friend in Eugene. It turned out Frank and I had a lot of things in common in spite of how he characterized himself. I used to call him my young republican friend, even though Frank was not really one. He, like myself, was not much of a fan of either party. We were what was then referred to as independents. In general I was quite a bit further to the left but we kind of saw many things in a similar way. Frank was not a student like most of the group, he just happened to be living in Eugene and renting a room in a house with some of our friends.

Frank was in his early 20's, maybe 23 when I met him. He stood six feet two inches tall and had long dark hair. He was a no-nonsense guy who had many interests . He had a sort of cowboy attitude. He was very independent, something we shared, and believed in doing everything himself. Frank, unlike me, expected everyone else to be like him. He was always willing to help out but would be quick to call you on acting helpless or slacking. He hated when people didn't take care of their own business. Ironically one of his good friends, Dennis, was a total scam artist who spent much of his time trying to get out of doing things, especially work. Frank was this interesting mix. He'd talk tough and be hard-lined about being responsible and independent but then he had a soft generous heart underneath that no-nonsense exterior. He could be stern with people but he was also kind. Our local homeless person, Ray, would come around asking for a handout and Frank would dismiss him telling Ray to clean himself up and get a job. But every now and then Frank would buy Ray something to eat or give Ray something to do and then give him some money.

Frank owned a bicycle shop so I guess he really was a businessman. His bike shop was called Willamette Valley Cycle Works. It was the closest bike shop to campus. There was another bike shop a couple of blocks down the street. It was owned by the son of the chancellor of the university and as such got great publicity from the university. Hence, that was the favorite of the on-campus crowd. It was also a bigger shop but Frank's shop managed to hold its own. One way Frank got the college kids to his place was he repaired flat tires at no charge. That's right George Bailey, no charge.

Frank acquired the bike shop after going into a partnership with another friend whose dad purchased the shop. His friend's dad had been pushing his son to get into a business and make something of himself. He didn't want to do it alone so he talked Frank into going into business with him. The other guy lost interest quickly and wanted out. His father liked Frank and wished his son was more like him. Seeing how motivated and enterprising Frank was he agreed to pass the shop along to Frank and gave him a personal loan to cover the cost. I never met the other guy although I did meet his father. His father would come into town each year to see how Frank was doing and offer advice.

Frank's bike shop attracted bike people. Bike mechanics liked working for Frank. It wasn't Frank's personality but his love of tools. Well, that and they could get all the Campagnolo bike parts they could afford at the bike shop's price. At least in the mid-70s, Campagnolo parts were thought to be the best bike parts. They were expensive and not necessarily easy to get. It seemed like just about all the parts that came to the shop were purchased by the bike guys who worked there. “All Campy Equipped” became a sort of catch phrase around the bike shop being used in place of phrases like 'primo” or “top of the line” Frank had the best equipped shop it town each work area had its own full set of high-end tools. He would also would purchase specialty tools. It seemed like the Snap-on truck came by more frequently than the UPS truck. Frank was fearless. Although he saw himself as a businessman money was never his focus. If something interested him he pursued it, even if he had no knowledge about it. He had total faith that he could figure it all out. He'd just do research by reading books and talking to others who had knowledge on the subject. When he couldn't find the right tool for what he needed he would design one and make it himself. He invented one for the bike shop. He referred to it as a “third hand” I think it was used as a sort of cable puller. Frank took a draftsman class at the local Community College (Lane) to create the technical plans for it and then took a machine class to get access to their machine shop. The instructor eventually saw that Frank was doing his own thing. He approached Frank and Frank showed the him his plans. The instructor acknowledged that Frank was doing something more advanced than what the rest of the class. He let it go and told Frank he'd pass him if he completed it. Of course Frank couldn't careless about any grade, he just wanted access to the machine shop. The bike shop guys tried convincing Frank to patent his new tool. Frank actually started to look into it but when he saw all the government red tape that was required to apply for a patent he gave up. Besides, right or wrong, we all had read and heard stories about how corrupt the U.S. patent office could be.

By 1976 I was out of a job. I had finished two years at Laurel Hill and I was not too excited about trying to find another work study job. I was at Frank's bike shop when his bookkeeper came in and informed him she was going to have quit as she and her husband were moving away. I looked at Frank and told him I would be his new bookkeeper. Frank asked “Have you done any sort of bookkeeping before?” I replied “No, but how hard could it be? I'm good with numbers.” Frank laughed but it was the kind of thing he would say and he admired self-starters like himself so I got the job. I was now the bookkeeper for Willamette Valley Cycle Works. This is a job I would keep until I left Eugene in the Fall of 1978 and it help me get my first computer programming job in San Francisco later that same year. - (For more about that see my post from 2/15/18 “Graduating and Finding Mt First Computer Programming Job”)

Frank started up three other businesses while I was working at the bike shop. None of them made much if any money. He got interested in maps and got a business license and approval to be a U.S. Map dealer. I don't think he ever sold more than a handful of maps but he was able to get his hands on all kinds of maps for himself. He had a friend Ray (not the homeless guy) who did welding. Ray was telling us one evening how he wanted to buy his sister a pot rack (not the type of pot we were smoking at the time but a rack for pots you cook with) but everything he found was of poor quality. Frank said “Heck why don't we make one ourselves?” The next day Frank started to design a copper rack with brass hooks. He and Ray started a business making pot racks which Frank sold to high end kitchen stores, mostly in California. Their was not much demand for them in Oregon. Frank next got into the bicycle frame business with one of the mechanics at the bike shop. They made and sold bike frames to serious bikers. Frank liked tools and in particular working with metal. As his interest moved on to other things his focus on the bike shop waned. He had worked hard to get the shop up and it had been showing a profit. But, signs of being neglected started to show and as a result his shop began to struggle.

I tried to pick up the slack for him at the bike shop. I put him on a budget which he was not happy about but after I told him he needed to do it if he didn't want the shop to go under, he agreed. Once the shop was a little more stable I promoted myself and gave myself a small raise. I probably should not have done that but at that point I was running the day to day business of the bike shop as much as Frank. I figured Frank would see it and we'd talk about it. He didn't notice but about a week or two later after the shop closed, Frank and I were chatting while having a beer. Frank said he was going to give me a raise. I informed him that I didn't need it because I already gave myself a raise. He looked at me for a few moments and then burst out laughing. I said “It wasn't much but I deserved it.” He agreed and we popped open another beer as we talked about things including his needing to pay more attention to the shop. Frank may have thought he was a businessman but it seemed he was a non-profit one. I guess that made him a sort of counter-culture businessman.