Current Literature Review

"If I'm going to do this, I better do it right."

I woke up extra early on March 30th, 1982. I left my jeans on my chair and slip into a pair of dress slacks and pick out a nice sweater. The t-shirt and laid-back attitude are staying home today.

I polish off a bowl of Wheaties and page through an issue of Forbes magazine. We have Current Literature Review (CLR) this week. In Larson's class each of us have to perform a review of some article that we found interesting. Public speaking isn't my thing- I would rather hide in the back of the class with Dan and Dean. Even better, skip class and sleep in. But my friend Jerry has given me some advice and it sounded reasonable. This would be a perfect opportunity to try it out.

I have found an article: something short with a few salient bullet points. I read it a couple times and highlight each point so I can find them quickly if I need to. It sounds counter-productive but Jerry says, "Don't write anything down. Don't even make notes, they will only get in the way."

It is a brisk but sunny morning as I scrap the ice off the windshield. My 1976 Monte Carlo starts right up. I let her unwind as I cross the river into Moorhead. The parking lot at Moorhead State University (MSU) is sparse before my 8:00 AM class. I'm early. The classroom is an interior room with no windows. No distractions as I read through the article again. My fellow students wander in. Dan comes in first, Dean much later. Dan notices I'm reading. He doesn't say anything. He knows it's CLR this week and there is a 1-in-30 chance of getting chosen first and 1-in-5 of getting picked today. That's why we're hiding in the back.

Larson bustles into the room, sets her purse on the front desk. She announces updates on the class schedule, but the CLR is still on.

"We're doing Current Literature Reviews this week, so lets get started. Anyone want to go first?" She asks.

This is the moment of truth. I really don't want to go through with this but, "Once you go first, you're done for the week." I kept repeating this mantra to myself. My hand slowly inches into the air. Dan and Dean look over with horror- as if I'm volunteering to get shot.

"Excellent! Mr. Maas you're first."

I walk to the front of the class. I open the Forbes magazine and place it on the podium. I give Larson a nervous smile. I looked at my fellow students, no reason to be nervous. Thanks to me they all feel like they've dodged a bullet.

The article itself is unimportant. I reviewed the bullet points and discussed the relevant aspects as it related to the class. I narrowed my focus into a simple one-on-one conversation with Larson. I occasionally glanced at the other students. Half were politely watching; the other half could have been asleep.

I received few questions from the students and a couple from Larson. The questions were not difficult and soon my ordeal was over.

"Thank you Mr. Maas for interesting discussion." She dismissed me with a smile.

It went well, and I gained all the advantages of going first. I also had Larson's 9:00 AM class. [One Larson class was bad but two in a row was exasperating.]

Between classes, Larson came up to me and complemented me on hitting all the elements she was looking for: dressing up, eye contact, and a mastery of the material.

Jerry was right, "give her what she asks for not what you think she wants."

As the weeks progressed I found it harder and harder to go first as more students realized there was a method to my madness. By the end of the quarter even Dan and Dean were highlighting magazines and trying to volunteer… from the back.

Douglas Guardian Dogs

"Will Vollmers ever shut up?"

It is almost 10:00 PM and this night class seems like it has been going on forever. I thought he was going to call it a night when he finished Chapter 4, but he decided to keep going. It wouldn't be so bad but I got plans, one of which is a prank that will live on for years. Vollmers finishes Chapter 5 in Logistics, and I bolt out of the classroom. I don't stop until I get to the library. I have some articles to research for Larsen's class tomorrow.

In the car I'm trying not to look crazy as I'm laughing while driving across town.

As a trusted employee of Environmental Control Inc. (ECI) I have a key to the building. Even though it isn't odd for anyone to be working late, no one works this late. ECI is a wholesale distributor of Heating, Ventilation, and Air Conditioners. On March 30th 1982, ECI's primary line was Carrier. But because of the credit crunch ECI didn't actually own their Carrier Inventory, it was sold on consignment through a field warehousing agreement with Douglas-Guardian Warehouse Corp. The terms of the contract called for the inventory to be segregated and secured. Only an authorized agent of Douglas-Guardian (DG) would have access to this inventory. My pal Vic Teigen was that agent. He had the key to the DG area in the warehouse; that area was protected by chicken wire.

Vic and I laughed about the security, inventing outlandish security scenarios, and planning security upgrades including patrol dogs.

I had a cheap GE micro cassette recorder for note taking. It featured a microphone jack and a remote jack. The remote jack would switch the recorder on and off.

I recorded the following message…

Hey, what are you doing!

This is a secure Douglas-Guardian Warehouse.

Leave this area at once, or I shall be forced to release the dogs.

(and with that I started barking like a we had half a dozen Dobermans.)

The key was in Victor's desk. I unlocked the DG gate and placed the recorder above. I tied a string from the gate to the remote plug on the recorder. Once the gate was opened the string would pull the remote plug from the recorder and it would start playing my message.

However there was a flaw in my plan. First thing in the morning, Victor normally unlocked but rarely opened the gate. I needed Victor to open the gate and not your boss. The solution was staring me in the face. I set a drain pan kit on the floor. Victor would see the kit lying on the floor and assume it fell off the stack. He would open the gate, return the kit to its proper place, and trigger my prank.

When I arrived the following day, Victor, Brian and the entire ECI crew were still talking about the Douglas Guardian Dogs and the surprise message that befell Victor that morning. It's a prank Victor talks about to this day.

Summers In Sydney

The morning comes quickly. Grandmother is in the store. I pull the covers away, my bare feet touch the rug. I fold the hide-a-bed away and carefully place the cushions back on the sofa. In the bathroom the window is open, the air is fresh from last nights rain and the birds sing. A daddy long legs is still in the bath tub. The kitchen tile is cool beneath my feet. I select the cereal du jour from the variety pack. At home there are no variety packs, but at Grandma's store the choice is always mine. Invariably that choice is the variety pack. As the week progresses the choices thin. There is something fascinating about cutting along dotted lines for a box which becomes it's own bowl. I think grandmother liked the idea of one less bowl to wash.

After dressing in shorts and shirt I wander into the store to say good morning to grandmother. I head out the door. The rain has left puddles in the potholes. The clouds are clearing and the sun begins shining, lighting my domain. I survey my summer kingdom.

Although I burned the garbage yesterday, it obviously must be burned again today. "Why there must be two tin cans and an empty spaghetti box in the garbage today. This will not do". Once grandmother hands me the symbolic box of farmers matches, I burn the garbage and the toy airplane I made from a peach crate yesterday. The passengers and crew scream as the plane goes around and around. The wing burns and burns, until it crashes into the flaming spaghetti box. Grandma takes a look at my handiwork to make sure I haven't set myself or the town of Sydney on fire.

I'm looking for another peach crate so I can replace the airplane which so recently met it's demise. Grandmother has this all figured out. She has a ready supply of crated fruit and large cardboard boxes for me... As soon as I unpack, price and stock them. Being too young to see through transparent child labor, I quickly comply. I'm so dumb, I'm actually having fun. I try to move the 50 pound bags of sugar and flour or the heavier boxes of nails and bolts. Grandma laughs at my futile efforts. She sends me out to grab some milk from the cooler/ freezer. The cooler is in a separate building to the west. I carefully block the door as I step inside. I'm not convinced I can get out once the big door closes and the steel lock latches. The salt licks in the entry way catch my eye. I give the white one a lick, it tastes like salt! By the end of my stay I've earned the new fishing rod leaning in the corner and grandma is baiting my hook, removing the Bull-heads from my line and cleaning my catch from the Buffalo Creek.

By mid-morning I had a number of large cardboard boxes taped together forming a submarine, rocket ship or race car depending on my mood. I'm not sure, I believe grandma was charging her customers admission to see the 'Wonderboy'. There was nothing I couldn't make with cardboard, tape, string, glue and magic markers. A supply of cardboard was no problem, I mined the east store room for cardboard.

Grandma introduced me to Dinty Moore at lunch, we begin a lifelong friendship. I drank Pepsi like water. Sydney water tasted like blood due to the high iron content. It looked a little like blood too. So, Grandma gave me free reign over the soda cooler. You combine this with the candy Grandma stocked and the Chocolate Fudgecicles in the ice cream cooler; I was in heaven. I had an AM transistor radio, Sammy Davis Jr. was singing "Candy Man": it was my theme song. No need for a golden ticket to the Willy Wonka Factory, I had Grandma's Sydney Store.

After lunch, I begin my afternoon expedition. I put some Jolly Rancher candy in my pocket and grab another Pepsi on the way out. I wade through the long grass to the shed by the train tracks. I peak inside. There's a grinding wheel. I try to get it running, it's rusted stiff. South on the Midland Railroad, on the look out for any train which might sneak up on me. My destination is the garbage dump, it's only half a mile. I found an old rusted baby buggy which I converted into a race car. I convinced my sister to drive. I was the engine. Boy, would she scream when I got it up to speed. She didn't crash that often.

Having explored my southern domain, I went north. Past the twin elevators, standing like guard towers. A mile and a quarter to the north, past the white owl perched on the telephone pole, is a trestle bridge over the Buffalo Creek. I drop rocks on the turtles down below. They dive for cover. On the way back the Owl is airborne, screeching above. I run for cover.

Two hundred yards southwest of Grandma's store the Buffalo Creek crosses once more. I take off my shoes and wade in. Under the shade of the bridge I skip stones off the still surface. Next year the bridge will be replaced by a culvert. It just isn't the same. Mom and dad had room for my bicycle when they brought me to Sydney this time. I pedaled up and down the gravel road: there isn't anything matching the interest of a garbage dump or a trestle bridge.

In late afternoon our only neighbor came riding up on a magnificent horse. I was playing by the garage finishing work on the baby buggy race car. They asked me if I wanted a ride. Who could resist playing cowboy on a real horse?! We galloped across the lawn past the tilting outhouse, past the garden, on to their house and back. "Yee hah". They had a German Shepherd mix named "Brandy". Brandy liked the attention Suzanne and I paid her. I paid her too much attention and she bit me: Brandy that is, not my sister. Though she isn't above bitting.

For supper Grandma asked what I'd like. "Spaghetti", particularly the three foot noodles. She made the mistake of breaking the noodles in the pot. "It ruins the flavor", I told her. Next time she carefully bent the noodles without breaking them. I happily slurp my spaghetti, three feet at a time.

After supper there isn't much choice for television. In Sydney with a good antenna you can get CBS and little else. We watch the Twins play baseball. In previous years I brought my own building materials ie: Tog'ls. I found these plastic cubes limiting my creative abilities. Grandma presented me a 500 count box of toothpicks and a bottle of Elmers glue. I built airplanes, trucks, tanks, even a guard tower. These works turned out pretty good. They even survived the garbage burns. The toothpick constructs sat on my desk at home until mom's constant cleaning took it's toll: I couldn't repair the damage with glue.

One summer Aunt Judy showed up with a armful of books from the Jamestown Library. She had books on my favorite subject: space travel/ astronomy. Later, after the sun set, we sat on the store porch. Looking at the Milky Way, Judy told me her views on Cosmology. Only cricket chirps broke the peace. Lightning flashed silently from clouds building on the horizon.

I removed the cushion on the sofa, pulled out the hide-a-bed, put on my pajamas. I was sound asleep before the rain fell.

Sydney Store Floor Plan

This drawing of the Maas Store in Sydney ND is approximately scales so 1/8 inch equals 1 foot. The drawing was done from memory and a couple photos, which you can see here.

Lindsey Buckingham, The Venue 6/28/07

I got to Playmakers 'The Venue' before the doors opened. There was a line- maybe twenty people deep in front of me. Club members got in at 7:00, but there weren't many of those. I went in with everyone else at 7:15. I milled around for a few minutes, getting my bearings before heading in. The stage was at the end of the hall; past the bar and a couple rows of tables. There were more tables up in the balcony. I crossed the concrete dance floor and stood in the front row; center stage. There was one guy in front of me. Any minute I expected a tap on the shoulder from my friend but he never showed. I brought a Molekine Cahier notebook and a pencil to do a quick drawing of the stage. To my left was the electric piano and Korg keyboard, along with Brett Tuggle's monitors and pedal board for his guitars and bass. Indicator lights from Lindsey's eight guitar amps glowed red in the subdued stage lighting. It looked like only three were mic'd up. In front of me were his stage monitors. I could stretch out my fingers to touch them. Three pedals and his mic stand were between the monitors. In the back to the right, was an electronic drum kit, acoustic cymbals and percussion set up. To the right was Neale Heywood's seat with a row of acoustic guitars, electric guitars and a bass stacked an upright rack. By the rack Neale had an acoustic guitar amp, and electric guitar amp. There was a raised area to the right of the stage where the soundboard was located. To the left of the stage, at ground level, was an area the roadies came from. Above that area was a private patron area full of young ladies overlooking the stage.

I never did start the drawing, although I was there for over an hour before the concert started and my friend was MIA. I met a really nice guy: George- the guy in front of me. He went to get a beer and I moved up and rested my elbows on the stage where I remained all evening. When he came back, I introduced myself. George was from Denver and looked a little like me when I sport a goatee. He was self-employed and decided to follow the tour- catching the last three dates. George had seen Lindsey eight times. George was a big fan and had discovered Fleetwood Mac about the same time as I had in 1975. He knew a lot of trivia about Lindsey and Fleetwood Mac, so we had lots to talk about. We talked in detail about "Tusk" and Lindsey's association with John Stewart and Walter Egan. I also chatted up the lady on my other side. She was there with her husband, who was just there... mostly to get beer. She had seen Fleetwood Mac in Grand Forks on the last tour. I showed her the set list I brought with me and we shared favorite songs. George knew more about what was coming up, "During the solo for 'So Afraid' Lindsey will stand right here with one foot on the monitor." This is why he was standing off to the right side of the stage. He also chatted with David and Lindsey- fellow tour followers. George was very excited. Thanks to General Seatting this was the closest he had ever gotten on tour.

At 8:00 PM the roadies came onstage and did a last minute sound check. Lindsey came onstage with a Nylon string Turner RN-6 acoustic for "Not Too Late". I noticed he had no low E string. A couple of his guitars were missing the low E-string. He played the song by himself. I was watching his fingers pick out the notes. Lindsey was in a black t-shirt, black leather jacket, black leather boots, and a pair of tepid faux blue jeans. The second track was "Trouble" from the 'Law and Order' album. Another Turner acoustic guitar- steel string this time. Lindsey played one song from almost every album except for 'Mirage' and 'Out of the Cradle'.

The crowd was boisterous, but I didn't think anything of it. Lindsey looked through cupped hands, through the spot lights- looking on with mock concern. I thought he was going through the motions. Some guy was yelling out "My Little Demon". George told me Lindsey plays the same set list, so we were both surprised when Lindsey broke into a minute of this song. Later someone yelled out "Louie Louie", Lindsey looked at Neale and asked, "Should we?" Neale shook his head no. Later still, some lady yelled out "Long Distance Runner." Lindsey stared her down and replied, "you don't even know the name of the song!" and that was the end of requests.

The band joined him for the next song. I shouted to George, "I see a Turner Model 1." A person favorite, the Turner 1 is a beautiful guitar that you only see in Lindsey's hands.

The sound wasn't very good from where I was standing. I was between 'The Venue' PA speakers- I might have been slightly behind them. Lindsey's guitar amps were facing me, and his stage monitors were at my chest. George seemed happy where he was. Behind me the floor was full, as were the tables, but I could squeeze back and find the sweet spot for sound. I made a decision to stay put. I have never been this close, and when I remember concerts I rarely remember much about the sound. It's the details that stick.

During "Castaway Dreams" I could actually hear Lindsey and the acoustic guitar over the PA. So as bad as the PA sound was, during the acoustic half of his set, the sound was good. Man, if I just had a switch to turn off the PA!

Lindsey introduced "Red Rover" as a strange song about the gods looking down on some horrible event. Some wag in the crowd yelled out "one God." Lindsey fixes him a look and continues on with his canned explanation before starting the song. The acoustic guitar had a Roland guitar synthesizer pick-up and is plugged into a Roland board, but I don't hear anything unusual- this after the build up from Lindsey. What I do hear is a disconcerting delay between when his fingers pluck the strings and the sound from the amp.

I was watching Brett and Neale play, as I was interested in the arrangements. Usually both where playing guitars. There was some bass played during the uptempo rockers, but mostly the sound filled the high frequency spectrum. Some people had ear plugs. I had a pair in my pocket but I didn't think it was too loud. I did have some trouble with the bass drum coming out of the right PA column, but as the band switched up the rockers and acoustic numbers it never got too bad. Brett was pretty good about making eye contact. He would catching me looking his way and would nod and smile. Brett also seemed to have a fan club. There was a clutch of young ladies to my left trying to catch his attention holding up signs "We Love You Brett". Odd, because Brett isn't exactly famous, and is only moderately good looking.

I was looking at Lindsey, Brett and Neale during "It Was You" - someone was out of tune. I had a hard time figuring out who- I think it was Brett or Lindsey. It's also possible that the harmonically complex song caused dissonants when distorted by the PA.

I was looking forward to hearing the fast acoustic version of "Big Love". I was so close that I had to crane my neck up to see Lindsey's face. On this song I just wanted to watch his fingers. I was surprised by how little fret board activity was going on. The song sounds like it's going 100 mph, but his fingers just slowing making the rounds on what looks like an open tuning. The guitar is a Chet Atkins Nylon String Gibson.

I had read that Lindsey recites a poem before "Go Insane" so I was prepared. I thought he had finished so I yell up "Amen." But he had only paused. Lindsey looked into the crowd and yelled to some noisy girls behind me, "I'm trying work up here, shut up!"

After "World Turning" starts to fade out, Lindsey sits on the stage, towels off and has a drink of water, while Alfredo Reyes does a percussion solo in a similar vein to what Mick Fleetwood would do during this song. The difference is Mick is a great rock drummer and Alfredo is not very good. Alfredo sits on a wood box with a contact mic. By lightly taping different area's of the box he gets different sounds. It's very boring and self-indulgent. I laugh to myself when I wonder, "What if he farts?" George told me, "The drummer is new and he's really good." Looking to my left during the concert I begin to understand. George is dancing; his hands are tucked in. He's shadow boxing, his body is gyrating and his movements seem to have no relation to the beat of the song. I don't mind- music affects everyone differently.

I love the slow jam that is "So Afraid" it builds and builds. Lindsey is standing on the left stage monitor and blasting out that slow linear one note solo. George is right there for it. That is until a fight almost breaks out between George and some nazi guy. I was in sonic nirvana at the time. I looked over and some guy has George by the shoulders and is making a threatening face. The people around him intercede and the incident burns itself out after a couple bars of the solo. I wonder what happened. I assume George was in sonic nirvana too and had completely spazzed out: crashing into the guy and spilling his drink? *

Lindsey was warming up to the crowd, smiling more, making eye contact. After the rave up finished "So Afraid" he was slapping hands. Unfortunately, because I'm front row center his monitors are in the way. I did catch the back of his hand but that's the closest I got, except for "Tusk" when Lindsey did his little foot tap dance at the edge of the stage. I had to pull my hands back so he didn't step on them. During "Tusk" and for much of the concert I was clamping my hands or pounding on the stage, but not in any simple 4/4 beat but in a nice syncopated rhythm in the mistaken belief that Lindsey or the band would notice my 'chops'. ** The stage had a nice bounce to it. When Lindsey would start stomping around I could feel it- for a full five sense experience.

The roadie hands out a Black Les Paul. I look at George, we had just discussed this topic. Lindsey hasn't played a Les Paul in thirty years. The guitar is plugged in a different amp. It takes a few bars before I recognize "Go Your Own Way" as the sound is so distorted it sounds like death metal. I'm confused- this doesn't seem right. It doesn't have the bouncing light quality of the original. The answer arrives with the coda. Lindsey is slapping the fretboard, dancing wildly, then he slips off guitar and starts smashing it into the stage. But the stage is bouncy and the Les Paul (cheap clone?) is heavy and won't break. George can't believe this, "You're witnessing a rare event." I'm thinking, "Pete Townshend Jr."

The band leaves the stage. The crowd surges forward. I have my wallet in my front pocket. No one can get in front of me- there is no front. If all those young ladies want to grope me - who am I to argue. What I did mind was a girl with a vinyl copy of 'Law And Order'. She was waving it back and forth from one side of the stage to the other hoping Lindsey would sign it. He just ignored her. The girl behind me is chastising me, "You have to pound on the stage!" The band is coming back whether I do or don't but I humor her.

Lindsey and the band return and perform "Holiday Road" - a rare song. He encourages us to join the dog barking and howling at the end. Lindsey introduces the band. Neale had been with him a long time. A tall lanky guy with a cool demeanor. Alfredo, 'the Cuban' joined the tour during the the 4th leg- this may explain why I found the drumming weak. Brett is introduced . Lindsey comments on Brett's fan section. Brett thanks his sister and his mother, "I'll see you at the family reunion later." Lindsey states, "This band is more than band-mates, more than friends, we have become like brothers." Brett takes to the mic, to thank his brother. Brett seemed taken with Fargo, "This has been the best concert of the tour." Lindsey announced he would release a new album in early 2008.

"Show You How" is odd because both Brett and Neale are playing bass. Lindsey is playing just the bass strings on his guitar. Lindsey comments on Fargo again. He's throws out the guitar pick- it sails over my head. He dedicates the next song to the fans that have followed his tour. I'm thinking of George, but he names Tom. Tom's father is struggling with cancer. I can relate to that. "Shut Us Down" closes the concert. Lindsey thanks the audience with "Fargo... You're Out of Sight!"

I share my reaction with George. It was a very good concert but I've seen some pretty amazing concerts so this one rates a B. The bar empties quickly. The roadies come out to turn off the equipment. I ask for a pick- he takes them all off the mic stand and throws them... over my head. He comes back with more, and they end up with some young ladies- I can't blame him. Oh well, I still had a front row center experience. George takes off- I thought he might stick around. If he had I would would have stayed. I wonder if Lindsey might come out for autographs and a chat with the fans? *** I had my doubts but you never know. I did get a souvenir as a hostess was handing out concert posters at the door.

Set List

1. Not Too Late - Under The Skin (2006)
2. Trouble - Law And Order (1981)
3. Never Going Back Again - Rumours (1977)
4. Second Hand News - Rumours (1977)
5. Castaway Dreams- Under The Skin (2006)
6. Red Rover - Say You Will (2003)
7. It Was You- Under The Skin (2006)
8. Big Love - Big Love (1987)
9. Sardonic World/Go Insane - Go Insane (1984)
10. Under the Skin- Under The Skin (2006)
11. World Turning - Fleetwood Mac (1975)
12. I'm So Afraid - Fleetwood Mac (1975)
13. I Know I'm Not Wrong - Tush (1979)
14. Tusk - Tush (1979)
15. Go Your Own Way- Rumours (1977) Encore:
16. Holiday Road - Vacation (1983)
17. Band Intro
18. Show You How- Under The Skin (2006)
19. ****Say Goodbye- Say You Will (2003)
20. Shut Us Down- Under The Skin (2006)

Comments: * The Nazi guy's girl was trying to squeeze George out of the way. George was politely removing her arms from his shoulders. Nazi guy took offense at that. After the concert this big Linebacker type guy came up and said, "Hey Man, what happened?" After George told him, the Linebacker said, "You handled that right. I can't believe some of these people. He must have been drunk."

**I also wore my tan vertical stripe shirt that looks like something from the Beach Boys- knowing Lindsey is a huge Beach Boy fan.

**After the concert: George, Lindsey #1LiddyBuckFan (to the left of George), and David (behind Lindsey) did meet Lindsey Buckingham. I found photos and some comments from DavidMN and #1LiddyBuckFan online.

***Track 19 may not exist, but I thought he played this song from "Say You Will". My memory is not that good. I thought I saw local anchor Robin Huebner by the stage after the concert, but there was no local press coverage.