The History of King of the Mountain
In 1980 I was working in Houston, TX for the investment banking firm, Cowen & Co. My career by then had brought me everything that a 29 year-old could have hoped.
I was now Senior Vice President and the company had recruited me by offering
$37,500 per month for six months PLUS 70% of my commissions for any two of
those six months. The problem was that I hated it! No, not the money, but the
securities business: Anyone with a brain could see that a stockbroker was a
dinosaur.
That’s when the idea of starting my own business began. For a moment
I dreamed it was going to be a securities firm, but my first love of the outdoors
continued, like the Sirens, to beckon. The outdoors is not a passing fancy
to me. My friends and I had walked most of the Pacific Crest Trail after college.
One part of the trip was 63 days; we never went anywhere without wool. Then
there were skiing and rock climbing and fly-fishing and duck hunting. I have
shot a bow since childhood; competed with a shotgun since I can remember and
then a friend of mine brought over a new- fangled compound bow. I was again
hooked with bowhunting and bought a Bighorn recurve.
And now I was freezing my ass off. By 1981 I was damned tired of freezing.
I hate being cold, but I love being out in it. You’ve never been cold
like you can get hunting elk in Oregon rain or ducks in the Tule fog of the
Sacramento valley. Chilled- to- the- bone cold; anxious to try something different
I ditched my US Army BDU woodland camo stuff and put on my wool knickers and
a Woolrich Alaskan shirt. The rest, as they say, would be history except that
history as you know depends on who is telling the story.
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