There's Stories Behind Every Picture

I grew up in Seattle and have been in Boston for 12 years. Growing up every shopping mall had a Nordstrom's and we didn't have Bloomingale's, Filene's, Macy's, nor Lord and Taylor.

Growing up, back in 1984 and 1985, I was a caddy at then Seattle's premier private golf club for the rich: The Seattle Golf Club. I carried clubs several times for various member's of the Nordstrom family. They were always the best clients. At the turn (break after nine holes) they always bought me a Coke. They also always gave me a Five dollar tip. Which might not sound like much, but several of the ass-hole rich guys that were members at that club would give me $.50 or a dollar after I slugged their clubs around for five hours. This on top of the fact they'd throw their cigarettes at me. I made $8/round from the club.

It was probably the worst paying job ever, because even in 1985 for for a 12 year old, I could make more pulling weeds for the neighbors. However, every Monday I got to play golf. Plus, it was fun to show up and hang at the caddyshack even if you didn't get picked to carry clubs, and ended up riding your bike 5 miles (up hill both ways, of course) to not make a dime.

Anyway, every time I see the Nordstrom's sign, I'm reminded of the Seattle Golf Club's caddyshack, and of a family that built a business treating their employees AND CADDIES well.