I didn’t grow up saying I wanted to be a lithographer – does anybody? So, like most of us lithographers, I came to my profession the old fashion way – by accident. The story of how I became a lithographer is a relatively short one, so I’ll make it long by adding lots of extraneous details.

My first real job, at age 16, was working for my father in the construction business. He gave me all the dirtiest jobs: digging ditches, laying tie-rod for concrete, running a jack hammer, doing demo (demolition) work. That summer in Dallas saw 41 days in a row above 100F, and I never saw my dad slow down. It was a relief when school started again in the fall, and I decided that when I got to college I was going to work really hard! I few years ago I told this story to my dad. His only response: “It worked”.

During this same time, my mother and her sister-in-law had started a fabric store (the early seeds of an entrepreneurial spirit?). I helped out a bit there, so that by the end of that year I was the only kid I knew who could run a jack hammer and make his own shirts.

Next Time: my first “lithography” job