If you’ve paid a visit to Bobbie Pallante at Serenity Health Care, chances are you two have a very intimate relationship. In fact she’s probably seen a side of you not even your closest friends have seen. Pallante is a colonic therapist — one of just a handful in Charlotte — and her job calls for her to clean out patients’ colons and intestines using pressure-regulated water. If that strikes you as a little odd, well, that’s the whole idea. We’ve scoured Charlotte’s workforce in search of folks whose career trajectories have taken them down some out-of-the-ordinary paths — people who refused to settle for the drone-like drudgery most of us put up with in order to keep food on the table. Instead of following deadlines, they’ve followed their hearts and passions. And if that led them down the road less traveled, then good for them!
Colonic Therapist
Pallante first discovered colonics about a decade ago after she became ill and her sister suggested she go see a Charlotte colonic therapist. After one treatment Pallante was hooked. “I thought it was the greatest thing since ice cream,” she says. “My life changed, and I decided to pursue it as a career.”
She was certified at a colonic training facility in Florida, and, after working for awhile as an apprentice, she opened Serenity Health Care in 2000.
Pallante, 53, says, “Colonics are nothing new, but the Hollywood types are beginning to talk about it. People like Janet Jackson, Oprah, Matt Damon and Ben Affleck — now it’s got their stamp of approval. It’s all about detoxing and cleansing the body.”
Her patients are equally divided between men and women, ranging in age from 12 to 80, and she has regular clients who come for treatments three to four times a year, which is what’s usually recommended. “This isn’t something you want to do every month,” she stresses.
And yes, she’s heard all the jokes by now. “I’ve been called the Roto-Rooter lady and every other name you can think of. But I’ve always been the odd one in my family, so they weren’t that surprised.”
Her workplace is homey, pleasant and relaxed. “Everybody always says it was nothing like they expected. They’re always pleasantly surprised. I really enjoy what I do. It’s fascinating; you see so many different things.”
Drag Queen Dressmaker
From a very young age, “Randy” knew something wasn’t quite right. Although biologically a boy, he didn’t feel like one, and in a cosmic joke, was born on a farm in West Virginia, where gender-identity issues are frowned upon. Instead of sports or other traditional male activities, Randy, unbeknownst to his mother, started making dresses for girls in the neighborhood — and for himself. At 16 Randy decided to drop the pretense, and started living as a woman.
In 1986 she moved to Charlotte, and today, Gypsy Star, as she’s now known, can be found at Morris Costumes, where she’s been making dresses and other outfits for over seven years. In addition to traditional costumes for Halloween and whatnot, Gypsy also designs dresses and gowns for drag queens, gay pageants, and other alternative performers across the country. And just like back in West Virginia, she’s still designing her own outfits, which she wears during her performances at Scorpio.
Mortician
Brian Clyburn, 31, has spent a lot of time around dead people. When he was just a kid, his great uncle started Long & Son Mortuary Service, and young Brian would ride around in hearses, hang out at the cemetery and run errands at the office. He apparently enjoyed working around the living-challenged, because when it came time to pursue a career, he chose mortuary school over law school.
Since he graduated, he’s embalmed over 1000 bodies (he averages about 150 per year), as the director and mortician at Long and Son Funeral Homes. Clyburn explains that the embalming process starts with thoroughly washing the corpse. Next, Clyburn makes a series of incisions along the body’s main arteries and veins, tying off both with sutures. He then inserts tubes about the diameter of a pen into the incisions, then pumps out blood and pumps in embalming fluid. After all the fluids and gases are drained, he sews up all the incisions, applies make-up, combs the hair, dresses the body in proper attire, and as a finishing touch, makes sure the body and facial features are posed just so.
“Some people think we’re morbid or strange, but I like my job, it’s as simple as that.”
Doll Repair
Becky Rushing’s special little room is littered with body parts — arms, legs, torsos, decapitated heads, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing. But Becky isn’t a serial killer, she’s owner and operator of Becky’s Doll Repair in Indian Trail. “It’s not real lucrative, but it’s real satisfying,” she says. “I just love it.”
Becky has been repairing and restoring broken and antique dolls of all kinds for decades. Over the years she’s had some unusual requests, including one customer who needed Becky’s services after her ex-boyfriend poured syrup all over her prized doll collection. Her current batch includes a doll that was stored in a barn and eaten by rats, and a busty Dolly Parton doll in a red and white cowgirl suit, which was damaged in a fire. She’s also restoring a highly prized antique Bye-LO Baby (The Mercedes Benz of dolls, apparently), valued at $600.
In addition to all the assorted body parts, Becky’s workshop is cluttered with the tools of her trade — sewing machine, air brush, sanders, twine, glue, scissors, paint, putty and storage boxes full of ribbons, lace and fabric. She even has a salon-style sink to wash the dolls’ hair. My testosterone level is still depleted from a recent visit there.
Golf Ball Retriever
Marty Sohovich loves to see an errant golf ball flying into the drink — each one is like money in the bank. As owner and operator of Encore Golf, he retrieves golf balls from ponds and lakes at golf courses throughout the Carolinas.
“I used to work for Time Warner Telecom in Charlotte, and I just got sick of working for the man,” Sohovich explains.
Unlike old-school golf ball retrievers, who don scuba gear and go diving in the muck, feeling around blindly for golf balls, Sohovich went high-tech, plunking down about $25,000 for special golf-ball retrieving equipment.
“I have two pieces of equipment that I’ve customized. I put one on either side of the pond, both of which are attached by cables to a big 350-pound roller. The roller rolls along the bottom of the pond, and scoops up all the balls.”
Sohovich says he can retrieve about 600 balls in 20 minutes, which is far more labor and time efficient, not to mention safer, than scuba diving. He estimates he retrieved about 400,000 golf balls last year. Once collected, they’re cleaned, refurbished, sorted by quality, and sold back to golf courses. He also sells them on eBay under the search word “Encore Golf.”
Scoreboard Operator
About an hour prior to every Charlotte Knights home game, up on the third floor of the stadium, you’ll find lots of people scampering about and speaking in urgent tones. It’s where you’ll find Bob Young. By day, he’s an ordinary project manager for Dixon Glass; but at night he becomes “Scoreboard Bob.”
A big, sweet-natured 62-year-old husband and father of three boys, Bob moved to Fort Mill from Pennsylvania in “85. His base of operations — the “Scoreboard Control Room” — is a small, glass-enclosed office three floors up situated right behind home plate. It’s sparse save for a couple of folding chairs and a stack of cameras and monitors, which are used to show video of players and their stats on the stadium’s big screen. Bob lets fans keep track of the score and everything else by means of his little gray box with a series of buttons labeled “ball,” strike,” “out,” etc. Despite the environment of controlled chaos, once the game starts Bob locks in on the action out on the field, ignoring all the noise and activity around him. “You gotta concentrate,” he says. “It’s a matter of paying attention and pushing the right buttons at the right time.”
Pet Cemetery Proprietor
The smell of honeysuckle fills the air as you walk among the dearly departed, their names immortalized on headstones: “Buffy Tracas,” “Tossol Hornblower,” “My Neapolitan Buddy Brutis Moore,” who sadly succumbed earlier this year at the age of 10. Thousands no doubt drive by the Charlotte Pet Cemetery on South Tryon Street every day without noticing it. Set next to a bustling neighborhood, it’s been the final resting place for our four-legged or winged companions since 1954.
For the past three decades, Terry Davis has been the owner and operator, handling everything-from picking up euthanized animals at area clinics to digging graves and the final burial. Because most people now have their pets cremated, Davis doesn’t have as many burials as in years past, but still averages about three or four a month. He estimates there are a total of about 3,500 pets buried at the cemetery.
“We have cats, dogs, birds, hamsters, gerbils; there’s even a monkey out there,” he says. Davis says grieving pet owners often hold funeral services, where they read poems or excerpts from the Bible. “I don’t like for anybody’s pet to die,” he says. “Some of the nicest people you’ll ever meet are pet owners.”
Speedway Flagman
For over 15 years, Glenn Jerman has been manning the flag stand at all of Lowe’s Motor Speedway’s dirt track races, the Summer Shoot Out series, and other regional races. Every summer, usually about four nights a week, Jerman climbs up into the flag stand and, armed with about a half-dozen flags, controls the action on the racetrack and makes sure conditions are safe.
“My primary job is to make sure all my people are in place,” says Jerman, who, when he’s not at the races, runs Outdoor Equipment Repair Center in Charlotte. “Safety is my number one thing. I have to have constant radio contact with other track officials to make sure everyone is where they’re supposed to be and out of danger. . .We have people stationed around the track, and if they see a problem they’ll let me know on the radio and we’ll take care of it. ”
Jerman doesn’t always see eye to eye with the drivers or the fans. “I’m the guy they all love to hate,” he says. “I’ve had people come to the flag stand wanting to fight. But I don’t let it bother me. I’ve been doing this so long, it’s all second nature to me.”
Contact Sam Boykin at sam.boykin@cln.com or 704-944-3623.
This article appears in Jul 28 – Aug 3, 2004.
