The Greenhouse Odyssey: One-The Grass Menagerie
By Lorraine Miller
Why did I open a plant shop? The answer is not complicated.
I was a bit of a lost soul in my mid-twenties, as so many of us are, struggling to find the answer to the questions ‘who am I’ and ‘what should I do about it.’ It was 1975 and I had a job as a lab tech at the University Medical Center assisting a team of doctors studying the heart’s electrical system. My job was to pass the scalpel (handle forward) or to dab the doctor’s forehead. I was curious and energetic and I wanted to learn. During experiments I’d ask my boss questions about what the blip on the screen meant or what caused the rapid or irregular rhythm.” His answer was always the same. “Lorraine, get your wooly head out of the way and stop asking questions. You’ll never understand this.” That stung! I was not a tool or an empty shell.
After a year or so, I felt as flat as a button. I hated to go to work. Heck, I hated to get out of bed. My decision to quit may have seemed abrupt to the doctors but I felt like the proverbial frog in warming water. I had to jump before I was completely cooked.
Of course, I was afraid. Fear of failure loomed large. The idea of self-employment is daunting.
Creating a paycheck seems impossible compared to just getting one. To make decisions rather than take directions is nail biting. There is no safety net. Maybe I was just jumping from one pot of hot water into another. Despite my anxiety, I took the leap, I raced to find a building and I found it that very afternoon – a two-story building with an apartment upstairs. I took the apartment, too. I signed a 5 year lease with a 5 year option, put the keys in my pocket and walked boldly into the night.
The building had been empty for a few years so a lot had to be done. That was a good thing because work took my mind off worry. First, the interior had to be flushed out with a fire hose. With the help of friends, the 20’ high walls were stripped clean and painted a brilliant French’s Mustard Yellow. Dark green foliage looks great against yellow. We built shelving, counters and display cases. A lodge pole pine pergola was constructed for hanging plants.
I checked off each task on a constantly evolving ‘to do’ list. Of course, that included all the government permits, licenses and dispensations. Then there was all the business infrastructure stuff like banking, utilities, insurance, signage, yellow pages…
One of the most important decisions I had to make was choosing a business name.
I’ll admit it. The name I chose, The Grass Menagerie, was a terrible name, a real lemon! Improbably, this is a lemons to lemonade story. The name drew a certain curious and adventurous type, folks looking for something other than house plants. (Did they really think I sold grass – a slang for marijuana in the 70’s)? What ever they wanted, they usually left with a philodendron or a spider plant so it was all good. It was a walking neighborhood, too. If I was in my apartment at 8 or 9 at night and saw someone on the sidewalk below, looking in the shop windows, I’d run down and unlock the door. Every dollar counted.
I scrounged for house plant suppliers. They were non-existent.
Some say ideas are in the air but at the time, the grocery stores didn’t sell plants and Home Depot hadn’t yet been born. As sales inched along, finding a steady supply of plants became a growing problem. (No pun intended). You can’t sell something you don’t have. I soon learned there were plenty of growers in Southern California. The question was how to get the stuff. The answer was my Volkswagen van and me. About once a month, after I locked the doors on Thursday night, I’d drive to San Marcos near San Diego. My mother would mind the store. Once in San Marcos, I’d motor from greenhouse to greenhouse, buying every beautiful plant before me. I’d pack the van like it was a sardine can till I couldn’t see out the rearview mirror, could barely close the doors and suffered from extreme over oxygenation. Saturday night I’d stay in a motel, be up at 4 in the morning and home by 5 that afternoon, just in time to unload. I was ready to open the shop at 10 Monday morning.
The Grass Menagerie was three years of undergraduate school. I learned about plants and about business.
I was happy and I was free, free to try things and learn things and make mistakes without criticism. Then another lemon came lurching towards me.