Regrets

 Have you ever thought what if you had turned left instead of turning right?  What would have become of your life?  I live in a world of "what ifs".  I know you can't change the past unless you have a time machine, and you should not dwell on past mistakes, but my world is consumed with the past.  How would my life had changed, if I had made a couple of different decisions?

 Regret #1:  my shyness got the better of me.  I couldn't tell a girl how I felt about her in high school.  I loved this girl beyond words.  I wrote poems and songs about her.  I melted inside every time I saw her.  She may have known how I felt about her, because I confided to a couple of my friends, but I never told her that I loved her.  It was like "The Beauty and The Beast".  She was just too beautiful for me, and I had very low self-esteem.  There is a theory that beautiful women marry not so beautiful men, because being next to them makes them more beautiful.  However, not so beautiful men can marry beautiful women to show "look what I got".  I know that beauty on the outside is only superficial, but it is what is in the heart that counts.  My heart was consumed with her.  I just couldn't tell her.

 Regret #2:  my love for James Bond movies got the better of me.  When I was going to seminary in Fort Worth, I heard about a movie poster store in Dallas.  I went over there one day and found that they had a whole bunch of original James Bond movie posters.  I had to have them.  They weren't very expensive.  I got a huge "From Russia with Love" poster that fit on my closet door in my dorm room.  I also got "Goldfinger", "Thunderball", and "You Only Live Twice".  When "The Spy Who Loved Me" was released, I bought that one from the store.  I put it up on my closet door to replace "From Russia with Love".  Everybody thought my posters were cool, until one day I had the flu and needed to eat something.  I called down to the front desk of the dorm and asked someone to bring me something to eat.  A guy came into my room, who had never been there before, he declared that my poster was "pornographic".  I almost got kicked out of seminary, but I had to jump through a lot of hoops in order to graduate.   Consequently, when a job opened up in my field of teaching drama in a college, I didn't get it, because the seminary wouldn't give me a recommendation.  All because of a movie poster.

 Regret #3:  my ego got the better of me.  When I was out in Fort Worth, I was working at Sanger-Harris Department Store.  I met a girl there who looked like Farrah Fawcett.  She was dealing with a lot of personal problems, and I helped her through them.  We became very close.  She was also my drinking buddy.  We both drank to escape from our problems.  She was an artist and an atheist.  When I was having the persecution at seminary, she would keep me focused.  She provided a balance that I needed to get through those issues.  After I graduated, I was getting a lot of job offers.  I was one of the premiere religious drama people in America.  Some schools didn't care about the movie posters.  They wanted me.  I loved Kare.  I stayed an extra year after graduation to be with her.  The job offers still came.  I was being told by those people who wanted me that I was the best.  I declined their offers, because I was in love with Kare.  The doors started to close on teaching jobs.  Then, I got an offer to teach in a school in South Carolina.  I had to take the chance.  I moved back home.  Kare and I agreed to get together in Atlanta some time, since her uncle worked there.  That never happened, and I didn't get the job in SC.  I wish I had stayed in Ft. Worth with her.  

 There have been other "what ifs" in my life.  Most of them were not as consequential as the ones listed here.  I just have to dwell on the fact that the path I took to where I am now is what was meant to be.  My life would have been vastly different, if I had not done one or two things.  But, because of the path I have been on, I wouldn't have met Gary Oldman, Dennis Hopper, Jack Palance, and a lot of other famous people.  I wouldn't have had all of my cool experiences after 1979.  I wouldn't have met a lot of great friends.  I wouldn't have had connections with Beatle people.  I wouldn't have written Bible-character monologues, puppet shows for inner-city kids and plays for churches.  The list goes on.  Life goes on.

Greenwood

  My father was born in Greenwood, SC as were his 3 older brothers.  In fact, my ancestors all the way back into the 1700's lived in Greenwood County and its environs.  There are East and West Durst streets in Greenwood.  I like to say that "W. Durst Street" was named for me, although my cousin William would differ.  My parents are buried in Greenwood, and I hope to be next to them one day.  We have a legacy in Greenwood.  At one time, much of the downtown area was owned by my family or had a hand in it.  My great-grandfather started the Bank of Greenwood.  He also had a hand in starting the Connie Maxwell Children's Home and the Greenwood Mill.  My grandfather had the first car dealership in Greenwood.  My uncle started The Museum in Greenwood (that's what it is called).  So, to say that Greenwood would not have existed, if it weren't for the Durst family, would be correct.  

 When I saw an advertisement for an antique show at the mall in Greenwood, I knew I had to participate in it.  It was four days, so I had to take vacation time to go.  The lady running the show had an antique store in Greenwood County, and of course she knew my last name was prominent in the county.  

 I got to Greenwood the day before the show and had a reservation at the Holiday Inn across from the mall.  When any of our family would come to Greenwood, we would stay at this motel.  It was a place to go for birthday and anniversary parties in my family.  When I got there to check in, a young girl was at the front desk.  She said the imprinter for the credit card wasn't working, and she would have to write down my credit card number.  I wasn't too pleased about that, but I figured she knew what she was doing.  

 The next day, I set up my stuff in the mall for the show.  I had brought some records, videotapes, memorabilia, and a few autographs.  The only restaurant in the mall was Chick-Fil-A, and my tables were right across from it.  Over the four days, I ate everything on the menu three times.  The smell got in my clothes and hair.  It took me quite a while to go back to eating at Chick-Fil-A anywhere after that.  

 The show was quite successful.  I sold a lot of stuff, even though the organizer didn't like me selling the videotapes.  After all, they weren't exactly legal.  I did have an older couple approach me and said they had some records to sell.  They asked if I could come outside and look in their trunk at the records.  I agreed to, because you never know what gems people might have.  Most of their records were by Elvis.  I saw a few that really were worth something.  I bought ten for $50.  Those ten were actually worth more like $1000.  So, here is a tip for those folks who want to buy records from other people:  never give them what they are worth.  Never let on that they have some rare stuff.  The couple happily took the $50.  And, a tip for those folks who want to sell records:  don't expect you are going to be able to retire by selling your records.  You won't.  

 When Saturday's show was over for the night, I went across the street back to the motel for some much-needed rest.  I found that my key wouldn't open the door to my room.  I went to the front desk to ask why, and they told me because my credit card was declined.  How could that be?  I had plenty of money on it, and no one from the motel had said anything.  They told me that they had tried to call me several times.  I told them that I had been across the street at the antique show.  As it turned out, the message light on the phone in my room didn't work.  I asked to see the card number that the girl had written down, and I found she was one number off.  After clearing all that up, they reopened my door.  I was so mad that I couldn't sleep.  I got up very early and checked out of the motel.  When I went to the front desk, I told the manager that my family helped start Greenwood, and I knew a lot of influential people in Greenwood including the Dorn family.  The manager didn't apologize for his daughter's mistake nor the suffering I experienced. I drove around the area trying to get over my anger, because the last show didn't start until that afternoon.

 After the antique show was over, I loaded everything into my car and drove home.  On the way home, I got behind a pickup truck that was weaving all over the highway, so I couldn't pass it.  A few minutes later, I saw a girl's head come up from the boy's lap.  I just had to laugh.  With everything that had gone on with me over the past 24 hours, it was just funny.  When I got home, I wrote two scathing letters.  One to the Better Business Bureau of Greenwood complaining about the motel, and one to the corporate offices of Holiday Inn.  The BBB wrote back to me, and they said that there were a lot of complaints about that motel.  They said it used to be the nicest place to stay in Greenwood, but it had gone down in quality.  I never heard back from the corporate offices.  I kind of expected an apology letter with maybe a partial refund, but no!  It turned out that the motel eventually closed.  It was torn down and made into a storage facility.  Good riddance.

Dutch

  I only did one record show in Columbia, and that was at Dutch Square Mall.  Back then, the mall was full of shops and shoppers.  My tables were located near one of the entrances.  It wasn't a prime spot, but it was okay.  It was sort of near a barber shop.  

 As I have written before, I sold music videotapes.  They were not commercially available at the time and could have been considered "bootlegs".  I didn't like that word.  I preferred to say they were "unavailable elsewhere".  It was all in how you framed them.  "Unauthorized".  "Imports".  "Promos".  "Not commercially available".  It all meant the same thing.  And, the picture quality varied from great to poor.  There was no such thing as digital quality back then. If you wanted it bad enough, you didn't care.  All sales were final.

 One of my most popular titles was Elvis Presley's last concert that was shown on CBS TV right after he died.  The show was an hour long, and the tape also had the original commercials.  I had a lot of customers who loved Elvis.  The only problem with the tape was that the color was faded, due to it having been copied from the original TV broadcast and then copied a few more times.  My copy was a third-generation tape, so the ones I sold were fourth-generation.   The sound was still good, but the picture just wasn't very clear.

 As luck would have it, a busload of senior citizens from Florida stopped at the mall for lunch.  One woman saw the Elvis tape on my table, and she started talking about how much Elvis meant to her.  She remembered that show and wanted a copy of it.  She asked me if the quality was good.  I told her it was.  She was from Jacksonville, so I didn't think I would ever see her again.  She then asked me that if she wasn't satisfied with it, could she mail it back to me for a refund? I told her no, that all sales were final.  She said she would take a chance and gave me the $10 for the tape.  I am sure she has long-since departed this world, but I still would like to apologize to her.  Maybe, she didn't care after seeing it.  After all, it was Elvis.

 

Bomb

  When one does a record show, you have to pay in advance for the number of tables you will need to sell your stuff. There were no refunds, if a seller didn't show up.  At the first show I did, I paid for just one table, and I found that one was not enough space.  Two tables were much better.  Some promoters wanted you to buy a space. which was actually better, because you bring in your own tables and other display materials.  At a couple of shows, I brought a combination TV/VCR to play my tapes on which helped pass the time, and it was an attention grabber.  People liked coming to my space, and they ended up buying something.

 One show I did was in Greenville, SC.  It was in an old mall that only had a couple of stores in it.  The night before the show, it snowed in Greenville.  I called the promoter to see if the show was still on, and she said it was.  Since I had paid for two tables, I had to go.  No refunds.  My friends Del and Chris went with me.  I had my usual stuff in the trunk of my car which helped with traction on the icy roads.  After living in Texas, where we got snow a lot in the winter, I knew how to drive in that stuff.

 By the time we got there that morning, the snow had mostly turned into icy slush.  We got off of the interstate, and it was a short drive to the mall.  They had started late to allow for a little thaw.  Our tables were near the entrance to J. B. White's, which was the only department store in the mall.  It was a good location.  As we placed the boxes on the tables, we found that the tables were not sturdy enough to hold the weight of the boxes or record albums.  It sagged in the middle.  So, we put the album boxes on the ends of the tables, and the videotapes in the middle.  

 During the show, there were two guys selling at a couple of tables across from us.  All of a sudden, everyone heard a big bang that sounded like a bomb going off inside the mall.  Between the hearts pounding in peoples' chests and the diving under tables thinking shots fired, we saw what had happened.  Their tables broke, and all of their records were strewn out onto the floor.  After everyone gathered their wits, we all helped them pick up their records.  Some were broken.  The promoter said that it was the mall's fault for having substandard tables.  It was.  The show closed early because of the weather.  I didn't sell much that day, but it was good to know that no one had a heart attack when the "bomb" went off.

Asheville

  After leaving the record show in Spartanburg, my next stop was the Red Roof Inn near Asheville, NC.  I was staying there before our next record show.  Anyone who has driven along I-26 toward Asheville knows that there is a very steep hill on that highway.  I had a bunch of records in my trunk and videotapes on my backseat, so there was a lot of weight on the back part of my car.  When I saw that steep grade ahead of me, I tried to take a running jump at that hill.  I was going 70mph in my little Nissan, when I got to the hill.  I cut off my AC to get more power.  I was even leaning forward to try to get some more momentum.  By the time I got to the top of that hill, my car was creeping along at 35mph.  I was just praying I wouldn't blow out my motor.  I made it over the incline and headed to Asheville.

 On the day of the record show, my friends Chris and Del were supposed to help me.  Unfortunately, they got stuck in a tunnel for hours with a car wreck ahead of them.  They never came until right at the end of the show.  One thing I would do would be to travel around to antique and record stores and find things I could sell for more.  A place I found in Augusta, GA had a lot of music memorabilia.  I found some concert posters for The Beatles and Elvis Presley.  They were $5 each.  At the time, I didn't know they were reproductions, so I had them at the record shows selling them for $20 each.  I had sold the Elvis posters in Spartanburg but still had the Beatles for Asheville.  A guy came up to the table and asked if the posters were real.  He was a high school student.  I told him they were, and he bought one.  I found out later that the date of the Shea Stadium concert was wrong on the poster, and it was fake.  I would like to personally apologize now to whoever bought it that it was fake.  

 There were also some big-time Beatle collectors from Black Mountain, NC who were at the show.  They told me that their collection was in a vault up in the mountains, and no one could see it.  That kind of goes against my thinking.  I used to have a pretty big collection of Beatles stuff.  I displayed it for all to see and for me to enjoy.  For them to put it in a vault sort of takes away from the joy of collecting.  

 When the record show was over, I headed back home.  I still had some records and tapes to leave with.  When I got to the I-26 hill going down, I just took my foot off of the brake and sped down the mountain.  The weight in the back of my car allowed me to not fly down the mountain, but it was fun doing 70mph in my little Nissan.  You meet all kinds of people at record shows.  Some want to bargain with you on price.  One trick for buyers:  if you get there right before closing, you get the best deals.  Most sellers will allow bargaining with the buyers, because they don't want to haul their stuff home with them.  The downside to this is that if you are looking for something in particular, it might be gone by the time you get there.  And, don't ask sellers to hold items for you, unless you offer your first-born male child as collateral.  Finder's keepers, loser's weepers. 

BMG

  When I was doing record shows, I had a variety of items to sell.  Mostly, I sold records and videotapes.  As I wrote about earlier, I used to deal in bootleg material.  I used to sell bootleg video and audio tapes.  They were concerts not available in stores.  The quality was questionable, but people wanted to spend money for these things.  There was a guy in Atlanta that sold videotapes for $20, so I undercut him and sold mine for $10.  We had a lot of the same stuff.  

 Across the room from me in Spartanburg was a guy named Randy who sold bootleg cd's.  He was asking top dollar for his stuff.  The promoter came up to us about halfway through the show and said that BMG was coming to the show to look for bootlegs.  BMG had a plant in Spartanburg, and our bootlegs were breaking the law.  I just put my videotapes under the table.  A tablecloth went to the floor.  Randy gathered up all of his product and quickly loaded them into his car.  He was pulling out of the parking lot, as BMG came in.  No bootlegs were found, so they left.  

 A few years later, Randy got caught with his bootlegs at a record store in Columbia.  He went to federal prison for a while.  One had to know how to advertise them.  They were either "imports" or "promos".  Keep them on the down low.  After Randy went away, those of us stopped selling them at record shows.  It was just too dangerous.  I ended up selling my collection on eBay as blank tapes with stuff on them.  I hope they liked the blanks.

Spartanburg

  I used to sell stuff at Record Shows at several cities in South Carolina and North Carolina.  If I had to travel, I would usually book a motel room for the night to be ready for the next day, and hopefully where the show was going to be held.  One such motel was in Spartanburg, SC.  

 I had arrived early to look around town.  One place I visited was the First Baptist Church, where my father had been on staff back in the late 1930's.  I enjoyed that visit, but I heard so much about the downtown area being filled with shops and pedestrian friendly.  I walked across the street to a jewelry store to get directions to downtown Spartanburg.  The man in the store took me outside and pointed across some woods.  He said that was downtown, but he said:  "You can't get there from here".  It was kind of weird, so I never made it downtown.

 I went back to the motel to eat and relax.  In the next room to mine, a TV was blaring through the wall.  It was so loud that I couldn't hear the TV in my room.  I knocked on their door to ask them to turn it down, but I got no answer.  I called down to the front desk to see if they could call that room and ask them to turn it down.  They told me that it wasn't their responsibility to control what others did in their rooms, even if it was disturbing others.  I just felt they didn't want to get involved.

 Now, it was approaching midnight.  I had to get up early the next morning to set up for the Record Show.  Still, the TV was so loud that I was getting irater.  I walked down to the office and demanded that they go up to the room next to mine and get them to turn off their TV.  Reluctantly, the guy at the desk walked with me to the offending room and pounded on the door.  No answer.  He used his passkey to enter the room and found no one there.  He told me that the room was occupied by a man and his son.  Apparently, it was homecoming at Wofford College, and they were in Spartanburg for that.  

 I finally went to sleep.  At 2am, I was awakened by those two coming back.  Thankfully, they didn't turn on the TV again.  The next morning, I saw them in the lobby and just glared at them.  The clerk at the desk apologized for my lack of sleep.  He said that the man apologized to the clerk for the TV.  It seems his son had cranked it up when they left, and he didn't know his son had done it at the time. The motel should have credited my account for the room, but they didn't.  I went to the Record Show with very little sleep under my belt.  Somebody could have bought all of my stuff for $1, and I wouldn't have known the difference.