The Great One & The Lucky One (page 2)
One of Richard’s final duties in Ohio was to hire the seasonal photography crew. I was working in my father’s body shop, fixing a car for a guy named John, who happened to work for National. It came up in conversation with my dad that I had studied photography, and before you know it, I was putting on my only leisure suit, cleaning the grime from my hands and putting my portfolio together.
Richard lived with his family on the North end of town and his office was in the basement of his home. John met me at the door and introduced me to Nancy Erickson, who offered me something to drink. To this day, I remember the kindness of her smile. A chair was across from Richard’s desk, he stood up and shook my hand as John made the introduction, “Dick, this is Mike Christman, and he would like to be a school photographer for us”. I remember his stature, his deep voice, and his bigger-than-life presence. We both had hair then, as I recall. I sat down with my portfolio in my lap, and “Dick” began to ask some questions. Half an hour later, he turned to John and said, “Well, he can talk. Do you want to give him a try?”
John responded affirmatively, and Dick offered me a job; “We’ll give you a try this fall for $125 per week, you pay your own gas and lunches. If you have to buy lunch for a customer, we’ll pay you back. We’ll need you until around Thanksgiving, and if you can sell, we may be able to keep you on.” I said, “Thank you very much, but don’t you want to see my portfolio.” To which he replied, “Oh no, we don’t need to see that. We’ll teach you what you need to know about school pictures.” To this day, I have saved it, in tact. It wasn’t really all that good. The good lord has a way of protecting us from ourselves. That day, I became “The Lucky One”.
I didn’t see much of Richard Erickson for the remainder of the fall, but for some reason, his image was front-of-mind every day. Maybe because he had a way about him that made people feel important. Or perhaps he was ever-present because every time I entered a school parking lot, someone would come out to greet me with a smile, see that I wasn’t him, and say, “Where’s Dick?” To which I would respond, “I’ll be your photographer today”. They were less than thrilled. One time, on a very snowy day in Toledo, I saw the school custodian waiting at 6:30 a.m. to help carry the equipment in the back door. I was grateful for the help. When he saw I wasn’t Dick Erickson, he turned his back, said nothing, and closed the door behind him. I was determined that next year, people would be saying, “Where’s Mike?”