Jacqueline Marsall:  

WHAT AN ADVENTURE! I had numerous jobs before/after graduating from CAP: Carhop at A&W Root Beer (first day spilled milkshake inside new Camero), hippie bead necklace maker/seller on street in Haight-Ashbury on weekends, Britts Department Store sales girl, pattern cutter-outter for dorky dress designer, undercover secret shopper, projectionist at art museum, and door-to-door census taker. Also worked the graveyard shift for the Post Office at the San Francisco Airmail Facility playing 'basketball' having to toss packages into many rows of bins, and then sorting endless trays of letters by memorizing zip codes ('schemes') a couple hours a night--no computers yet! Then I made a big mistake by going to San Francisco State my first year of college during the tumultuous 1968-69 era, when I had also been accepted to Stanford. D'oh! It was scary to have my hair nearly yanked out of my head for crossing the picket line to go to class, and then having to evacuate anyway when smoke bombs were thrown in. To turn in a paper, I had to walk in the picket line with a professor as he graded it. The final straw came when the National Guard rode in on horseback to disperse the Vietnam War protesters and clubbed everyone. I could not wait to get outta there. And in spite of getting A's, I learned very little that year, except that I was not cut out to be--a political activist. But, the summer of 1969 is a highlight of my life. I hitchhiked (didn't mention that part to my parents) and lived all over the islands of Oahu and Hawaii wherever I could. I even got to scuba dive with scientists I met from NASA and the guy who trained the monkey who went to the moon. I had gotten certified at SF State (an elective, trying to figure out what I wanted to do, along with Karate as I definitely saw the need for self defense). I also learned to surf (so easy in Waikiki--fall off, stand up) and even brought home a surfboard, which shortly thereafter my father sold when I nearly died in Santa Cruz. Fall off, drown. I spent my second year of college at the much calmer CSM in San Mateo, but still had no idea what I wanted to do. I took lots of electives (including Judo for the same reason) and fell in love with photography. My father bought me a new Pentax camera with numerous lenses, which I promptly hitchhiked with to Altamont for the infamous Rolling Stones concert. Determined to get great close ups all day, I discretely crawled on hands and knees from the back of the stage twisting and squeezing through numerous 2x4s all the way until I popped up right in front. It was thrilling to get great shots of all the bands that day--everyone from Santana... to Grace... to Crosby... to Mick. But then when it got dark, all of a sudden this big guy pushes really hard on my right shoulder to get past me and jumps up onto the stage right in front of a very startled Mick Jagger. Two HUGE Hell's Angels (hired as security guards and paid with BEER all day, I swear) charged forward like raging bulls and all I had time to do was duck as they pushed the guy backward over me landing on top of him and hysterical hippies. Panic gripped the crowd and my life was being squished out of me as I was trapped tight against the stage. Frantically I reached down hoping the small hole I had climbed through to get there would be there. To my amazement it was, and somehow I was able to scrunch down and climb back through, doing the fastest under-stage-hustle to get the hell outta there. Later, the news reported that one of the Hell's Angels stabbed the attacker to death--and much later at his court trial it was determined the attacker had a gun. I am glad I didn't see the gun, but what I did see very clearly that night was that I was not cut out to be--a photojournalist. After getting a Liberal Arts AA degree, I was determined to get into the prestigious Brooks Institute of Photography in a beautiful mansion in Montecito, Santa Barbara. Unfortunately there was a 2+ year waiting list, so I delivered mail in San Mateo driving everything from these flimsy little three-wheeled mailsters you could blow over--to wheeling around these huge freight trucks on narrow mountain roads. My chauvinist boss did not like women delivering mail at His Post Office (I was one of the first), so he made my life miserable every day trying to get me to quit by rotating me to the hardest routes, often carrying mail on my back which was the beginning of lifelong back problems. I was making a whopping $3.65 an hour and had no intention of quitting, but I called Brooks Institute every week begging to get in early if there was a cancellation. Finally, nine months of pleading paid off when Mom got the call on Thursday, I dramatically quit the PO on Friday ('Take this job and...'), my parents moved me into a little duplex we found in Santa Barbara late on Saturday, and bright and early Monday morning I started the 2.5 year-round program. I was one of two gals among 60 guys in my class, there were only 6 gals in the whole school among 600 guys, and I think only 13 of us graduated from that original class. Then my father had a heart attack which forced him to retire and making Brooks so expensive for my parents that I needed to work part time. Somehow I got a lead to be a rent-a-cop for a private detective agency and (I swear) they actually gave me a gun--but no training. (Didn't tell my parents that part.) I worked football games and concerts (stand there and look menacing, which is challenging since I am only 5'2"), and worked undercover at night at the drive-in theater busting kids for sneaking Milk Duds into their pockets before getting up to the cashier. (Saaay, is that a Snickers bar in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?) But then, one night I was assigned as one of the security guards at a wedding to frisk the women, which should have been my first clue. Unbeknownst to me, the bimbo bride was marrying the rival gang leader and her previous betrothed was, shall we say, not pleased. Before I knew what was happening, I was in a gang fight as they started smashing everything with chains (Karate and Judo were not going to be helpful and I was too terrified to get the gun.) I yelled to my partner, 'Call the police!', and then I realized, ohhh crap, that's me! That's the night I realized I was not cut out to be--a cop. Luckily I was soon awarded a partial scholarship at Brooks, so in December of 1973 I graduated with a B.S. in Cinematography & Photography. My goal was to become a studio cinematographer on feature films, but unbeknownst to me was I was ahead of my time. The Cinematographers Union, which I tried every-which-way to get into for many years, was still quite the Old Boys Network. They did not want young girls around, well, as cinematographers anyway. Then I met a few gals who invited me to meet regularly at the Greystone Mansion in LA where we shared horror stories about being women in the film industry. That little group turned into the international organization, Women in Film. In early 1974, my college boyfriend and I were thrilled to get hired as cinematographers for an exciting new company in Santa Monica, a few blocks from the beach no less. But right after we moved down, got settled and started, the company went bankrupt. Welcome to LA. Over the next eight years I worked hard on my photography business, covering many of the NBC programs in Burbank including 'The Midnight Special' with Wolfman Jack photographing everyone from Ike & Tina, BB King, David Bowie, Billie Joel, Aerosmith, Aretha, Olivia NJ, KC & Sunshine, and George Carlin, to name a few favorites. I also covered specials for the Smothers Brothers, Donny & Marie, Mac Davis, Hoyt Axton, and often the Tonight Show. I had a beautiful studio in our home and shot everything from Architectural Digest interiors and products... to college textbooks on exciting things like welding and mathematics... to scenic greeting cards and calendars... to precious gems for the Gemological Institute... to Knudson Foods... to Bridgestone Bicycles... to Tennis Illustrated... to famous body builders for Muscle Magazine... to romance novel covers... to Rams Cheerleaders... to fashion shows... to movie premiers... to ABC Entertainment Center events... to the Academy Awards... to the first time a woman became a network anchor: Barbara Walters, Frank Reynolds, Peter Jennings and Max Robinson... and then... I shot the very first, shall we say, reveeealing PlayGIRL centerfolds. (Hard Job!) Then with teaching credentials from UCLA, I taught every black & white and color photo and film course imaginable (Action Sports Photography and Advanced Architectural Photography were favorites) at UCLA, USC, Cal State Northridge, West LA College, several Adult Schools, and started the Motion Picture Production Department at Santa Monica College. Then in 1982 I got an offer I couldn't refuse and chucked it all to go into the television business. My technical background plus sales ability made me unique for a woman in the television industry at that time. I was instrumental in the growth of two multi-million dollar companies as Executive VP and part owner of one, and VP of Sales & Marketing for another. We produced all kinds of programs and TV pilots (Wonder Years), commercials, the first infomercials, corporate work, and I got our mobile video truck included in the coverage of the 1984 Olympics in LA. I also went to the Pentagon to get us cleared for work on high level secret government projects. I judged the Emmys every year (still do), attended the awards, screenings and parties, met tons of famous and infamous people (Tom Selleck, Muhammad Ali, Joan Rivers, Mary Hart, Robert Wagner, Franco Columbu, are a few of the nicest)--and enjoyed nearly all of it. When the first company I had poured my heart and soul into was sold out from under me in 198...Expand for more