Wheels--Part 2

Jory was thrilled with his new wheels.  The Mazda Protege was cool with its jet black paint job that glistened in the sunlight.  We were all a bit concerned about parking the car in the student parking lot at Troy High School, but Jory had an idea.  He asked Mr. Stout, the band teacher, if he could park behind the band room in the empty spaces at the back of the school.  

With permission, he parked his car in what he thought was a safe place, knowing not to tell anyone but his best friends that he had a new car.  All was well for the first month, but some of the band kids discovered Jory’s secret and one day after school, he found that the entire side of his new car had been anonymously keyed.  He was devastated!  He knew it was someone from band, but he never found out who was so mean and cruel.

When Jory left for CalArts the Fall after High School Graduation, the Protege was filled to capacity.  The trunk was jam packed with a full size piano keyboard and stand, a 12-string Ovation guitar, a computer, a midi interface, and speakers.  The back seat contained laundry baskets with bedding, towels, and clothing—mostly black jeans, heavy metal concert T-shirt’s, a Hard & Heavy leather jacket, motorcycle boots, and a variety of hats.  On the floor of the back seat was a disassembled metal bookcase, cables and tools for assembling computer networks, and piles of CDs.  The front seat held his monitor, which was safety belted in place, and his Newton keyboard.  (He wore the Newton in a belt holster and had already become adept at taking class notes electronically, so it was cutting edge, essential equipment, especially since Jory’s handwriting was almost illegible.)  On the floor, in front of the passenger seat, were bags of other necessities for dorm life and college.  He pulled out of our driveway with us following him to CalArts to help him unload and settle in.

The Protege served Jory well throughout his years at CalArts, although there were a couple of hiccups.  The first was a moving violation ticket right at the Mc Bean Parkway exit of the freeway.  He was almost back to the dorm when flashing red lights appeared in the rear view mirror.  He pulled over and politely chatted with the California Highway Patrol officer.  

“What did I do?” asked Jory.

“You were ping ponging in the lane,” he responded.  “Have you been drinking?”

“I don’t drink,” responded Jory.  “What is ping ponging?”

“Where are you going?” asked the cop.  “Please step out of the vehicle.”

“I’m a student at CalArts,” he responded.  The cop eyed his motorcycle boots and black leather jacket with Hard & Heavy airbrushed on the back.  Jory sported a red goatee and long hair pulled into a ponytail that reached down his back.  He could tell that the cop thought that he was one of “those weirdos on the hill.”

Of course, Jory passed the sobriety test, but the officer still issued him a ticket for unsafe driving.  He was furious and decided to fight the ticket.  He showed up in court with his long hair and standard dress uniform of black jeans, Metallica T-shirt, boots, and leather jacket.  Even though the cop showed up and testified against him, the judge hadn’t heard of ping ponging, yet sentenced Jory to community service so it wouldn’t show up on his driving record.

The judge didn’t know that he would be widening a couple of doors that Jory had already opened for himself.  He enjoyed community service!  We had done it for years as a family.  His “penalty” time was spent at the local hospital repainting red curbs.  He loved it!  He felt so good contributing to the welfare of the community, and he learned all about highway paints, which served him later.  

He volunteered at Valencia City Hall to help with other community activities.  His favorite was helping at the city Easter egg hunt, a new experience for a Jewish college student. Later, he recalled his painting skills to use in a CalArts parking lot prank.  He and his friends painted all the spaces with an abandoned, post-earthquake, handicap stencil, to protest faculty parking taking over already limited student spaces.

Sometime later, Jory and his girlfriend were at CalArts, along with hundreds of other students, when the Northridge Earthquake struck.  Bookshelves tumbled down, electrical connections sparked, windows shattered.  Glass and rubble were everywhere, as were fear and confusion.  Electricity and all lines of communication were down, roadways shifted, and freeway connectors collapsed.  Students ran outside and waited for the earth to stop moving, but the aftershocks were plentiful and just as scary.

Jory and Julie hopped into the Protege and headed away from the epicenter.  They drove 79 miles north toward Bakersfield on I-5 and joined the lines of cars trying to escape.  Slowly they made their way 131 miles west on CA-58 across the Mojave desert, and still bumper to bumper, into the mountain passes near Barstow.  Then they turned southwest on I-15, driving another 106 miles and eventually arrived 24 hours later at our home in Fullerton.  They were still shaking and scared, both exhausted and still on adrenaline, when they walked in the door.  They found us both worried and relieved that they were ok and that the Protege had brought them to safety.  

Upon his return to CalArts, the aftermath of earthquake clean-up was just beginning.  Alternate routes on side streets made getting back to campus a long and tedious trip.  Freeways to the campus and the main building were closed.  Students climbed over debris to extract their belongings from the dorms.  Many students, like Jory’s roommate from Tuscaloosa, Alabama, were so traumatized that they evacuated home and never returned.  Classes slowly resumed, but in neighboring facilities.  Some of Jory’s classes were held in a structurally sound pre-school, where the CalArts students sat low to the ground using mini chairs and tables.  A creative and enterprising student came up with a black T-shirt with white jagged lettering to commemorate the occasion.  Jory and many of his classmates proudly wore this “SHIFT HAPPENS” shirt for many years after the Northridge Earthquake.

Graduation from CalArts was held on the lawn in a Mardi Gras atmosphere.  Students in ostentatious costumes paraded onto the venue, making elaborate, artistic statements as last affirmations that CalArts had changed their lives.  Jory was ebullient, dressed in psychedelic clothes from a second hand shop.  His long hair, sprayed the color of purple plums, formed an iridescent halo around his head as he teetered along in hot pink pumps, the heels sinking into the grass.  

Following the reception, he changed only his shoes and moved onto the second biggest event of the day:  buying his first vehicle.  He had told us beforehand that his needs had changed and a sedan could not haul his essential sound equipment into the future.  We had agreed to let him trade in the Protege for a silver Chevy pickup truck.  Jory’s new job as an Electron at the Jim Henson Creature Shop, enabled him to assume the monthly payments and continue living on his own, as well as acquire more essential sound equipment.

That truck served him well.  It carried him through several changes of employment.  When the Creature Shop closed its doors to move to England, Jory transitioned to working for Disney Online, a frustrating job because the Disney employees could never meet their deadlines, which caused Jory to continuously be in week-end crunches when adding the last minute sound to their projects.  He left that job and drove his truck, containing all his belongings, to Marin to join the team at LucasArts doing sound design for video games.  

The truck was more than a vehicle, it also served as his mobile office.  On a daily basis, he checked his post office box and immediately filed the mail in the driver’s door side pocket.  Sometime during the month, when the pocket was overflowing, Jory retrieved the unopened envelopes to investigate what bills were overdue and which credit cards should receive minimal payments to keep him going.  Erroneously, he thought that the exorbitant late fees could be deducted later when he filed his taxes.  One rainy night, after open mic at the Sleeping Lady in Fairfax, his bill payment process was interrupted when the truck was burglarized.  The thief stole his beloved Newton and most of his mail, leaving a few straggling envelopes in the mud puddle beside the truck.  Trying to reconstruct his debt was painful and tedious, prompting him to find a better method to handle his finances.

Jory made Fairfax his home and immediately explored all the tiny shops on the two commercial cross streets in town.  He frequented the restaurants and The Scoop, with its hand made ice cream.  He was always willing to impatiently stand in the log line outside to be rewarded with a waffle cone of vanilla bean ice cream.  Of course, Fairfax’s main attraction was the three night clubs that offered live music every night of the week, with open mics on Monday nights.  

The local hardware shop was soon to become Jory’s hometown resource for building studio.jory.org, but when he first arrived, it was where he discovered a shiny red adult-sized trike with a flat bed trailer.  He couldn’t resist the traditional handlebar streamers in red, white, and blue, and purchased it immediately, along with a classic bicycle bell.  It became his mode of transportation in town.  He rode it to the market and brought his groceries back on the trailer.  He peddled it every year in the Fairfax Festival Parade, hauling a large cooler of ice cream bars that he distributed to the parade watchers on the sidelines.  No matter where he travelled in the world, Jory always came back to Fairfax to ride his trike in the Festival Parade.

Many of Jory’s new Fairfax friends were artists and musicians and some were raised in local communes by hippie communities.  They were active participants in the summer gatherings of Burning Man in the Black Rock Desert of Nevada.  Attendees joined together to co-create Black Rock City, consisting of thousands of temporary, makeshift squatters, dedicated to art and community.  This pop-up city, where almost everything that happened, was created entirely by its week-long citizens, depended upon complete, active participation in the experience.  Each person brought along everything needed for the week:  food, water, shelter from the blazing summer sun, sleeping accommodations, and artistic expressions to share with others.  Everything was shared freely, without money or obligation, and with great appreciation.

When Jory informed us of his plan to attend Burning Man, I was apprehensive and not at all enthused.  It sounded like a giant Love In with lots of drugs and free sex.  To me, it looked like a perfect place for a police raid.  I searched on the internet and found tons of photos depicting nudity and craziness.  One photo showed a lengthy, wooden wall on a raised platform, with knee high, large cut-out, vertical oval holes about every two feet.  Behind the wall were both male and female participants mooning through the holes.  In front of the fence, were nude painters with artistically painted, perfectly oval, rear ends, joyfully painting the nude canvases poking through the fence.  

I called Jory on the phone.  “Are you sure that you want to go to Burning Man?  It looks like fun, but it also looks weird and trouble waiting to happen.”

“Nope!  I’m going!” he replied.

“Well, don’t do anything weird or illegal,” I cautioned.

“Mom,” he countered, “I’m going to look for the weirdest, most dangerous things and do them!”

“Ok,” I replied.  “I trust you to make good choices, so have fun and take lots of sunscreen.”

“You know that I’ll stay out of trouble and I’ve already brought sunscreen from your house.”

Jory threw himself into preparations for attending Burning Man.  He special ordered curving artistic shapes of sealed glass tubes, filled with low pressure neon gas, to conform to the silhouette of his trike.  It took hours to design and carefully attach the neon tubes to the handlebars, wheels, and framework.  Finally, his tricked up his trike would glow in the dark and was ready to take to Burning Man as a unique, creative, transportation offering to the residents.

Getting to Burning Man was just the beginning of the adventure.  Jory booked round trip passage on Furthur, the Magical Mystery Bus, a privately owned retired school bus, painted with hippie-style, psychedelic colors.  He reserved space for his trike, guitar, water and food, and the rest of his gear.  Bouncing along, with others from The Bay Area, they arrived at the dry lakebed in the Nevada desert.  The bus ride set the mood for a week of music, impromptu theatrical plays, creativity, and unbridled fun.  Jory loved it.  He watched performances of Shakespearean plays and traded omelettes and other camp made foods and experiences for rides on his neon trike.  With guitar in hand, he joined other musicians in jam circles and explored as many of the encampments on the playa as possible.  He liked it so much that he returned for many more Burning Man memories.

Meanwhile, inspired by his love for Spike Jones and influenced by CalArts' experimental sounds experiences, he converted the trike into a musical instrument.  Jory found a shop that specialized in goods from India.  Delightedly, he honked dozens of brass bulb horns of various shapes and sizes.  Then he carefully selected half a dozen of them based upon the quality of sound and their musical notes on the scale.  He mounted them on the handlebars, between his bike bell and his big- horn brass kazoo, surrounding the leather pouch holding his tin slide whistle and a mini American flag.  Then, due to his love of trains, he splurged on a large train whistle, sporting 6 tuned pipes and mounted into red birch boards sandwiching a bellow.  Jory had to have it when he discovered that the nice long blow from the bellow created the drawn out steam freighter sound.  Triumphantly, he mounted it on top of the front wheel fender as a final crowning touch.  The trike not only went with Jory to Burning Man, but also year-round to open mics at the live music clubs in Fairfax, and to the annual Fairfax Festival Parades.

COMMENTS:  

Click on Jorysmother@gmail.com to send comments.

Jory Prum (2009)
I am trustworthy, open, and fiercely loyal. I am driven by commitment.  I am a member of my community and strive to see it constantly improve and thrive.  I have a need to be at the forefront of things. I enjoy doing things others don't or haven't yet.  I do not pursue relationships that have no long-term possibility and I have no interest in casual sex.

Barbara Levine

What great stories you tell about Jory.  He was an amazing and creative guy.

Ric Fink
None of Jory’s friends have forgotten their dear friend.

L. Birtler
Delightful!

Di Moreno Lindahl
I love the way u r remembering ur son. 

Sophia Litt

Every time I see a picture of him, he has a smile or grin on his face. What a delight in your life he must have been!

Jamie Meyer

Miss him dearly.

Blue Fluteman

I was just thinking about Jory and missing him.

Sarah Lloyd

What a marvelous legacy you left, Jory.

Photo credit:

laurelms.com, gothamist.com, Laura Brannan, aarestriping.com, Zach@Flickr

  

©   Leslye J. Prum   All Rights Reserved   2017

Wheels--Part 1

There was always something magical that attracted Jory to wheels.  He couldn’t walk yet, but he could climb onto his toddler 4-wheeled scooters and roll all over the house.  At Grandma Bertha’s house, it was a yellow Playskool ride-on scooter with 4 blue wheels, a spindled backrest and handlebars that stuck out of a cartoon giraffe’s head.  He’d push his feet along the floor, picking them up as he gained speed, and coast down the hallway with a huge smile and a gleeful giggle.  At home, he rode a Playskool Tyke Scooter with a banana seat and chrome hi-rise handlebars.  He was hot stuff!

It wasn’t long before he was ready to ride a 3-wheeler.  He didn’t care that the yellow and black, heavy duty Murray trike was a hand-me-down from older brother Darren.  It had rugged, heavy duty tires and cool, bent-chrome triangular handle bars.  He’d jump on it like a cowboy rear mounting a horse and peddle as fast as he could down the sidewalk and around the cul-de-sac of our street.  

At pre-school there were bigger tricycles and a painted roadway on the blacktop playground.  Miss Shelley had to coax him off the trike to swing or play with the other outdoor toys.  His teacher informed me that Jory’s favorite was to ride the trike with Rosy.  I assumed that Rosy was another 3 year old in his class, but I was wrong.  Rosy was the class rosy boa constrictor.  Jory would take her out of the glass terrarium and gently place her around his shoulders. Off Jory would ride, while the other kids squealed at the sight.

Before Jory entered Kindergarten, we moved to a new neighborhood.  The semi-rural streets were without sidewalks.  Our house had a long driveway that ended in a wide cemented area intended for cars to make u-turns into a double garage.  It was perfect for the boys to ride bikes, play Four square and basketball.  

 
By the time Jory entered kindergarten, tricycles were for preschoolers and big wheels were the “in thing.”  Again he inherited a hand-me-down that Darren had outgrown.  It was low to the ground, red plastic, with a huge front wheel and 2 smaller back wheels.  The yellow handlebars were like “Easy Rider’s” and Jory sat a few inches above the ground between the back wheels, stretching his legs so that his feet could barely reach the pedals coming out of the center of the front wheel.  In our driveway, he learned to “burn rubber,” do “donuts,” and skid to a stop.  

At the same time, Jory was perfecting his skills on another hand-me-down red and white Schwinn 18” 2-wheeler.  Once the training wheels came off, he begged for more pavement, specifically the sleepy cul-de-sac across from our house.  Because there was very little traffic, he was allowed to ride his bike in circles to his heart’s content.  Usually, Darren joined Jory, and sometimes a teenage neighbor rode with them on a skateboard.

That bike lasted until younger brother Shanon reached an age to ride a 2-wheeler.  For Jory’s 9th birthday, he was gifted with a new ten-speed bike.  Jory was ecstatic!  He rode that bike up and down the hills where we lived.  When he entered Parks Jr. High, Jory was finally allowed to ride his bike to school, as long as he locked it on the bike racks and followed the rules of the road.  

Seventh grade went well, but in 8th grade, Geoff, the kid that had bullied Jory since third grade, slashed the bike tires sometime during the school day.  Jory called home as deflated as his tires.  

“I know it was Geoff,” he blurted out.  “Some of the kids saw him hanging around the bike racks.  He’s such a coward and I haven’t done anything to him.  I can’t ride it home,” he told me over the phone.  

I met Jory in the school parking lot and we lifted the bike into our black and silver Astro van.  Dad came to the rescue over the weekend and 2 new tires were purchased and installed on Jory’s bike.  

A few months later, Jory called me after school.  “I’m at Sav-on.  Can you come get me?”

“Why can’t you ride your bike home?” I asked.

“Because someone stole my bike,” he whispered into the phone.

“Are you sure?  How did that happen?”

“I left my bike outside while I went in to buy a candy bar,” he explained.  “I was only gone a minute and the bike wasn’t there when I came out.  I went back in to talk to the manager and use his phone.  He says that several bikes have been stolen from in front of his store.”

“Did you lock your bike before you went in?”

“No,” he said in a shaky voice.  “I was only running in and out.”

“I’ll be right there, but I really should make you walk home for being so irresponsible.  Besides, you don’t have permission to stop at Sav-on on your way to and from school.”  Jory’s mode of operation was almost always to ask for forgiveness instead of permission.

Jory’s next set of wheels was another hand-me-down:  a red Mazda pickup truck with a white camper shell.  We bought the truck a year before Darren was going to be 16 years old and eligible to drive.  After researching safe vehicles and insurance costs for teenage boys, we chose this pickup truck because it had good safety records and the cheapest rates for insurance.  It turned out that insurance rates were based upon the amount of glass in the vehicle, and the pickup only had glass in the cab.  Another plus was that it had great handling, but was a sheep in wolf’s clothing when it came to speed.  We chose a red one because we like red vehicles, but we told the boys that all the neighbors would report crazy driving since they’d recognize the red truck as ours.  We figured that a little fear never hurt a new driver.

After school, on the day of Jory’s 16th birthday, we were at the Department of Motor Vehicles office celebrating his successful passing of the behind-the-wheel driving test.  He walked away from the DMV with a huge grin and his first driver’s license.  That night we celebrated with family and Jory’s friends. Darren presented him with the traditional family icon for new drivers:  an old steering wheel that had been rescued from a junk yard.  He was entitled to proudly display this icon in his room until his younger brother Shanon reached driving age.  Then, came the passing of the car keys ceremony, as Darren gave up the Mazda pickup and Jory proudly stuffed the keys into his jeans pocket with the confidence of new ownership.  

Of course, we still owned the truck and Jory’s driving privileges hung upon the Driving Contract that he had yet to sign.  We had learned from previous experience with a teenage driver, that the best way to make sure that everyone understood the rules was to put them down on paper with signatures to seal the deal.  The contract was fairly simple:  the driver had to follow all DMV laws; qualify for a good grades insurance discount; and be considerate, which entailed informing parents of where he was going, when he was returning, and who was going to be in the vehicle with him.  We also imposed a few special conditions:  a 10 mile driving circumference from our house that limited how far he could go without getting special permission, a limitation that restricted passengers to the number of seatbelts minus one —the truck had 3 front seatbelts and we didn’t feel it was safe to drive with a middle passenger, and a hard and fast rule that no one could be in the vehicle if they possessed or imbibed in alcohol or drugs.  Jory negotiated another condition:  his driving privileges could not be taken away because of a messy room.  We all signed and he was an official driver.

The first week, Jory drove himself to high school and directly home.  All was good, then came the weekend and Jory chose not to attend an activity that involved his younger brother.  When we came home, Jory was playing his guitar in his room.  All was well.  

The next day, Sam and I were shopping and ran into Jory’s Boy Scout leader.  He told us how proud Jory was of his new wheels and how funny it was when the truck wouldn’t start and all the boys gathered at his house had to help push the truck to get it started.  Hmmmmm......we had no knowledge of Jory being at the Scout Leader’s house or problems with the truck.

When we got home, we asked Jory is there was anything he wanted to tell us.

“Nope,” he replied.

“Did you choose not to go with us yesterday because you had already planned to go over to Mr. Gonzalez’s house?”

“Yep.”

“Was that being considerate?”

“Nope.”

“Then, you have broken your driving contract and cannot drive for a week.”   He had tested the contract and knew we meant business.

“I’ll get my buddy Nate to pick me up for school,” Jory replied.

Almost every new driver has some sort of fender bender within his first year of driving.  Jory’s was after school, driving home past his old elementary school.  He was thinking happy thoughts and didn’t notice the car in front of him slow down to turn left.  When he became aware, he swerved right but still clipped the back bumper of the car in front of him.  Of course, he stopped and apologized profusely to the elderly couple in the car he just hit.  After exchanging insurance information, he commented that his parents were probably going “to kill” him.  

He arrived home and immediately told me that he had been in an accident.  He felt terrible and stupid.  He was worried about telling his Dad and stewed inside waiting.  Dad was late in coming home and before he arrived, the elderly gentleman from the other car called to tell us that Jory was such a charming and honest young man, that they had decided to not report the accident, and implored us not to kill him.  Instead, they decided to turn their car in on a new car and the car dealer said that their car was so old that the dent in the back bumper didn’t matter.  Jory was off the hook, which irritated big brother Darren, who had paid for the damage of his first fender bender.  We insisted that Jory pay for his damages in some manner, as well, so Jory bought a beautiful potted plant with his savings and delivered it to the elderly couple.  They were touched and thrilled, inviting him in for cookies and a visit.

Jory’s grades in high school were always just good enough to qualify for the automobile insurance discount, but never reflected his intelligence or abilities.  He scraped by with minimal effort unless he loved the teacher and was motivated to achieve.  The teachers that he didn’t care about called constantly to tell us that he was late in turning in work or projects.  It was a never-ending battle.

We took Jory to a career counselor during his junior year of high school.  After significant testing, she suggested that we take him out of high school band and enroll him in music theory at the community college.  She also thought that we should change his emphasis from math and science classes to social sciences and art.  We agreed and immediately made changes for the next semester, substituting psychology for physics.  

Jory’s grades went from mediocre to straight A’s.  We couldn’t believe our eyes when his report card came.  It was definitely an event to celebrate.  Grandpa Morris quietly suggested to us that this was a perfect time to reward Jory for his academic success.

“Jory has finally earned the good grades that you expected from him, so why don’t you reward him for his achievement.  That old truck has been having major mechanical problems, so now would be a good time for you to trade it in for a new car,” Grandpa urged.

 

We had never thought of buying him a car, so this was totally a new concept for us.  We thought it over and decided that Grandpa was absolutely right.  We looked at new cars and selected a black Mazda Protege, based on its large trunk space that could hold all his instruments and technical equipment, as well as its high safety and performance records.  

Jory had no idea that we had been to the car dealership and traded the truck for a new car.  The next night after dinner, we told him that his truck was going into the dealer for service and repairs.  Dad advised him to take all his stuff out of the truck, because the service and repairs would take several days.  He followed us to the dealership, where this beautiful Mazda Protege with shiny new wheels was sparkling and prominently displayed in front of the showroom.  While Sam and I were inside with the salesperson, Jory looked through the showroom and meandered outside.  He was checking out the Mazda Protege when we joined him.  

“Isn’t it a beauty?” the salesman commented to Jory.

“Yep!  It’s an awesome car,” he responded.

“Here are the keys.  Would you like to take it for a spin?” offered the salesman.

“Can I?” asked Jory, looking at Dad and I.

“You can even drive it home,” responded Dad.  “It’s yours.  You earned it with straight A’s this last semester.”

“You’re kidding!  You’ve got to be kidding!”  Jory reacted with astonishment.  His eyes grinned as he let out a raucous hoot expressing his disbelief and happiness.

Of course, we actually owned the car, but Jory was the assigned driver.  In addition, this giant reward worked magic in motivating Jory to succeed in the future.

COMMENTS:  

Click on Jorysmother@gmail.com to send comments.

Jory Prum  2009
One day, when riding my bike down at Laguna Lake (the pond near my childhood home), I met a guy playing pan pipes. He was friendly and invited me to his home to see his collection of pan pipes. I have always been a trusting soul, so I went. He also made things from mirrors and gave me a better mirror for my shoe box "camera"!

I was a terrible student. I was bored much of the time and didn't do my homework. In order to get me to shape up, my folks often threatened to send me to military school. What actually worked better was rewards, such as a basketball hoop being installed on the garage if I got a B average.
 

 

©    Leslye J. Prum   2017   All Rights Reserved

Business Plans Out-Of-The-Box

Building studio.jory.org was finally an opportunity for Jory to develop organizational skills that he found useful and worked for him.  Since the studio was built by a multitude of friends and volunteers, who all showed up the first day to help, he immediately had to develop sign-up sheets to control the crowds, as well as devise a work schedule that delineated both times and needed skills.  It was the beginning of Jory’s out-of-the-box planning that emerged suddenly following unforeseen need.

Of course, he had to buy an extensive collection of tools for construction.  As they multiplied and scattered throughout the workspace, he purchased a large rolling toolbox in which to store them.  Then, he bought a label maker and designated specific spaces for categories of tools so that volunteers could find what they needed and return them for the next day’s workers.  We had always heard that “Necessity is the mother of invention,” but this was an unexpected opportunity for us to witness it in action.  It was unbelievable, especially for Sam, who historically at home, was always searching for his missing tools. Usually, he found them on the floor of Jory’s bedroom, hidden under several piles of miscellaneous stuff.

Techie Jory designed his recording studio, with the help of his friend Tony, to be highly professional, with cutting edge equipment, surround sound capabilities, and perfect acoustics.  Two sound proof rooms were each built as a floating rooms within a room.  The space between the exterior walls and the live room walls, was built to be wide enough to serve as storage.  Plastic storage crates were stacked from floor to ceiling in this buffer space.  Creatively, he not only enhanced the sound isolation, but also resulted in a built-in solution for storing his off-season clothing, always growing collection of stuffed animals, and seldom used equipment.   Closets, also tucked into the studio walls, contained labeled bins and hooks for often used headsets, Velcro ties, and various cables and wires.  We couldn’t believe our eyes.  It was as if some industrious elf had suddenly snuck in to organize Jory’s life.  At the same time, the 1950’s jukebox and diner booth in the studio lounge, reflected Jory’s relaxed, playful and casual personality, allowing clients to feel at home and do their best work.

 

As studio.jory.org came alive in 2004, it gained a reputation as the best sound studio in the Bay Area.  Unfortunately, the economy severely dropped in 2008.  Foley work for movies became scarce and local musicians who wanted to record, couldn’t find the funds.  Jory evaluated the industry and decided that video games were on the rise and would be a lucrative direction for him to explore.  

He ordered a few dozen purple T-shirts with his studio’s lime green microphone logo on the front and set off to launch his first innovative marketing plan at the International Game Developers Conference in San Francisco.  Each day, he arrived at GDC with a bundle of shirts that he gave away to prospective customers.  In his open and enthusiastic networking manner, he attracted game developers from around the world, not only as clients, but also as friends.  

Original iPhone in 2007

Always a computer guru, Jory had one of the first Apple iPhones, which he enthusiastically touted to anyone who was interested.  He showed it to the small contingent of Norwegian game developers, who were immediately captivated.  The next morning, when Jory arrived at GDC with  his stack of logo shirts, the Norwegians were awaiting him with brand new iPhones.  On the floor of the Norwegian booth, Jory sat, surrounded by prospective, new clients for studio.jory.org.  Systematically, he proceeded to “jailbreak” each iPhone, by removing software restrictions imposed by Apple, so it could be used in Norway.  His generosity opened the doorway to continued success for his studio and career.

 Friends and Game developers in Oslo, Norway

It really wasn’t until we went to Norway, after his death, that we got a true picture of Jory’s ingenious business plan.  Around tables of shared meals, we met with Jory’s clients, colleagues, friends, and students.  They came from all over Norway to regale us with stories of how they met Jory and how he helped them learn about the game industry, introduced them to sound techniques to improve their games, and created pathways to enter the world market of their industry through introductions to his personal connections.  

 Game developers in Bergin, Norway

Over and over again, we heard young game developers say, “He came to my university as a guest lecturer.  I Googled his name and I was afraid to talk to him because he was a celebrity.”

“Why did you think he was a celebrity?” I’d ask.  “He didn’t tell you he was one, did he?”

Jory's early games were framed and hung on the studio wall.

“Oh, no, he looked and talked like just a regular guy.  He was just like us, but his name was on all of the video games that we all played growing up.”

Lecturing to university video game students

Others around the table chimed in, “After his lecture, which was always interesting and funny, he’d come to our classrooms and help us individually with our projects.  He’d sit by our sides, watch our games, and give us cool suggestions of how to make them better.”

Game developers in Hamar, Norway

“He gave us his email address and told us to keep in touch with him,” others added.  “When we emailed him with a question, he always responded immediately with several solutions.  He was a celebrity, a mentor, a partner, and a friend, all at the same time.”

Jory and the Hurtigruten mail ship

Game developers at the Game Jam

“We met him at Game Jams on the Hurtigruten.  We all worked long hours to plan, design, and create new games on the weekend cruises, while the Hurtigruten ships traveled along the coast of Norway delivering mail and passengers.  He worked hard and long hours along side of us as we made some great new games.” 

Jory was always eager to help others improve their games

“He gave us sounds for our games from his personal library and said we could keep and reuse them as long as we used them correctly.”

Little by little, we began to see Jory’s ingenious business plan fall into place like the final pieces in a jigsaw puzzle.  Networking was one of his fundamental tools; his underlying component and secret ingredient was reaching out to others with genuine generosity.  He freely offered to share his knowledge, skills, and resources.  He followed up those offers by jumping in to spend whatever time was needed to help others, both professionally or emotionally.  He was honest, hard working, reliable, approachable, and always available.  He became a partner and a mentor.

Keynote speaker at a Video Game Conference in Oslo, Norway

Speaking voluntarily at professional conferences for audio engineers and video game developers was his test market.  Then, as a guest lecturer at universities across Scandinavia and Europe, Jory put into place his marketing plan.  He educated, personally interacted with, impacted, and impressed students who were becoming the next generation of game developers.  Easily verified by his Wikipedia page, Jory was an internationally known expert in video game audio, whom the students now knew and trusted for their game needs.  In the future, those graduated students would become the professional game developers who would turn to studio.jory.org to record all their sound effects and dialogue.

At the same time, Jory enthusiastically worked with all of the emerging game developers and sound designers in Norway.  He traveled from city to city, usually staying with a friend or colleague, helping them design and refine their games into pieces of art that could compete in the international marketplace.  With the help of his trusted sound engineers at studio.jory.org, he could be anywhere in the world and remotely operate his business by simply opening up his laptop and putting on earphones.

Voice Actors

Jory handpicked American voice actors for the Norwegian games, directed them in the delivery of their dialogue, selected outstanding editors to stitch the recordings together, and praised the fledgling Norwegian game developers for their achievements.  

Award winning game Pode memorializes Jory as a benevolent Viking

 




At least 16 successful video games debuted in the worldwide game market, making Norway a notable contender for awards and followers.  Several of his Norwegian sound designer mentees have won international recognition for best and outstanding audio.  In addition, after his death, many Norwegian games and musical compositions were dedicated in memory of Jory.

Money and fame were never Jory’s primary goals.  He volunteered his expertise to help others fulfill their dreams, rarely asking for payment but often bartering services.  When his friends and colleagues needed professional recording services, they automatically turned to studio.jory.org.    It was a win/win situation:  Jory helped others achieve their dreams and they reciprocated by contracting Jory’s studio to make those dreams come true.  In that way, Jory’s own dream, studio.jory.org, continued to turn out high quality sound, while providing him with the means to travel and help others.  His single, free spirit, bohemian lifestyle required much less financial support than his stationary business with its lease payments, utility bills, and engineering costs.  His ultimate goal was to professionally improve video game sound and have fun exploring the world along the way.  He made just enough money to make it all happen.

At the same time, Jory recognized there were a lot of inefficiencies in the recording and editing of video game dialogue.  This was because the existing tools used were actually developed for film.  Film is an inherently linear process, with one beginning and one end.  While a video game is more like a tree or a choose your own adventure book, where there can be many endings as a result of the hundreds of branches or choices that the player takes along the way.  Thus, the film industry tools in use were too primitive and inefficient when used in video games.

Actors read their lines from an iPad instead of a paper script

To improve the process, Jory started by taking advantage of tablets, mobile devices, and modern, high powered computers.  He streamlined the way tens of thousands of script lines in thousands of video game files were recorded and organized.  Next, he focused his attention on the biggest problem, which was the editing, integration, and testing of these files to form a complete game.   

Jory designed a new innovative system that seamlessly integrated a Mac recording system with a script tool and iPads.  It evolved and simplified the recording process, which was managed by software that reduced production costs.  He field tested his system at studio.jory.org, and found his method and software could reduce the hours and hours of traditional script dialogue management by 80%.  It also significantly improved workflow and team communications.  The result was a simplified, more efficient system that even a rookie engineer could easily manage.  He called his new system Lollipop Audio.

Jory’s enthusiasm was contagious.  He openly spoke with his friends and colleagues about his new system and how he intended it to become an additional business venture, offering the licensing services of Lollipop Audio as yearly or monthly subscription software to video game recording studios.  He knew that this could save studios significant time and production costs.  

"Grab a Lollipop and taste sweet success." Jory Prum

Two of his friends immediately joined the project. Darrell, whom Jory met when they both worked for LucasArts, was looking for a new project after taking a hiatus from working at Adobe, and immediately began the challenge of developing the software.   Michael, with whom Jory co-authored an interactive textbook on ecology, became the chief marketing officer.  Jory petitioned the Norwegian government and was granted funds to field test his project using Norwegian university students.  The project was well under way when Jory tragically died.  Darrell expressed his continued commitment to Lollipop Audio and we gratefully encouraged him to make Jory’s final dream come true.

COMMENTS:  

Click on Jorysmother@gmail.com to send comments.

Jory Prum 2003

I am passionate about my dreams and do whatever it takes to achieve them.

I am a business owner. I have spent most of my professional life self-employed and don't expect to work a full-time job for someone else ever again. I thoroughly enjoy working for myself.

I am a recording engineer.  I am passionate about good recording.  I am a game developer.

I am a tech-savvy person who finds ways to use the tools around me to make life better. 

I am an Apple evangelist, but not a fanboy. I will use any computer available to me, but prefer to avoid Windows. I use Macs for my work and run Linux servers.

I love helping people. I help nearly anyone who asks, sometimes to my own detriment. 

I am interested in finding ways to travel abroad more.  

Linda Birtler
 I don't think I get all the techie stuff, but I can see that Jory made a huge contribution to the game industry.   What  a glorious tribute to his life and work and efforts to help make the world a better place!  It just seemed to be built into him.

Carol Murray

Jory sounds like a really great guy combining  the best attributes, I.e., intelligence, empathy, concern for people, willingness to do the right thing and passion.  I enjoy reading your  blog.

 

John Ansel
We did spend a day with Jory in Norway a few years ago when our Cruise ship stopped at his area and he met us there and took us all day on a great tour.  We do miss him and I really wanted to see him again.

 




 

©   Leslye J. Prum   2017   All Rights Reserved