Derek Jentzsch

Dear Peter,

You wouldn’t remember me from anyone. I just was talking about your mother with one of my old friends and she told me about Julie’s passing. 

During my first holiday season after college in 1993, I finally gave up finding a “professional” job and took multiple, minimum wage jobs ($4.75/hour) stocking shelves, serving coffee and slinging burritos — a return to my old high school jobs only now with $600/month in student loans. Other people's holidays spirit instilled a profound sense of dread. But I also kept going with several unpaid or underpaid internships with the Portland Art Museum working with multiple curators including Kristy Edmunds for what was then Art on the Edge (now PICA) and “modeled” for the Pacific Northwest College of the Arts (it was in the same building as PAM back then.) 

Several months later, in the spring of 1994, someone at the Museum made an introduction to take yet another unpaid internship with your mother at Portland Arts & Lectures (only months after the merger with the Oregon Book Awards.) As I walked into the building in my cheesy interview suit, a gorgeous woman in a Paloma Picasso suit and a peach camisole (yes I’m gay) came onto the elevator with me and checked me out thoroughly. As we got off the elevator on the same floor, she smirked mischeviously and led me to my interview. I was excited about the role and sanguine about the lack of pay. Then, on my first day, when Julie offered to pay a living wage instead, I nearly passed out (possibly because I had resorted to selling blood on Fridays to make ends meet.) Evidently, she had seen me slinging burritos for your family at Macheesmo Mouse (if you remember that dingy place on NW 23rd below your house) and was tired of the arts being balanced on the backs of young folks. 

She offered me $15/hour! In addition to meeting authors like Gloria Steinem and Ken Kesey, I finally had the breathing room (and the spare blood) to exercise, read, relax and to ponder how to take my career forward. She was an inspiration – and I credit her frank discussions and guidance with really helping launch my career. I celebrate her life and grace and irreverence. 

I’m saddened by her departure from this life - I always thought I’d meet up with her again - for one more belly laugh. 

Big hugs to you,

Derek