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Craig at the jewelry bench.

Craig’s Jewelry Repair was the first real business that I owned and operated. It was also the thing that got me through college without student loans, and mostly financed my first stint in Israel. Becoming a jeweler, though, was not the fulfillment of a childhood dream or the natural result of an interest in creative design. Rather, it was simply God’s providential provision for me … for that season of life. Don’t misunderstand; I thoroughly enjoyed the craft and could happily go back to the bench if I had to get a “regular” job.

This story begins in the fall of 1984. I spent the summer of 1984 working at a camp just north of Colorado Springs and then returned to school for the fall semester. That same semester, Dave Wolfenbarger came from Tennessee to enroll at ABC. In Tennessee, Dave had worked as a jeweler, and was able to hire on with H. J. Wilson, a now defunct catalog showroom, at the Forum 303 Mall.

As Christmas approached, Dave convinced his boss to allow him to hire an apprentice to get through the rush. Initially, Dave asked a couple other students if they were interested; both were interested, but neither passed the polygraph test. Finally, knowing I needed a job, he approached me: “Hey Dunning, you want a job? I know you can pass the polygraph.” That was the beginning.

I had no specific interest in jewelry work, I simply needed a job. So, I said, “yeah, I’ll give it a try.” I passed the polygraph and was very quickly hired on as a jeweler’s apprentice.

Dave set up my first week as a bit of a test to see if I could cut it in a jeweler’s workshop. When I arrived at the store for my first day on the job, Dave showed me how to enter the jewelry area (there was a “secret” button), introduced me to the watchmaker, then showed me to my workbench. On the bench was a golf ball size bundle of gold chains (necklaces and bracelets) that were tangled in a giant knot. “Your first project is to untangle those chains,” he said. Both Dave and Jim, the watchmaker, thought this would be a good test to see if I had the patience and temperament to eventually make it as a jeweler.

Dave gave me a brief intro on how to untangle gold chains, then turned me loose. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he and Jim were watching me pretty closely, trying to measure my interest and commitment level. Their initial assessment was that I would quit pretty quickly because I didn’t show any real interest or excitement about becoming a jeweler. Although their conclusion was wrong, their assessment of my interest in becoming a jeweler was mostly correct. I hired into this particular job because I needed a job and because Dave was confident I could pass the polygraph. I think Dave was a little disappointed that I didn’t share his long interest and excitement in being a jeweler. The upside of taking the job only because I needed a job likely made it easier to walk away when it was time, even though I grew to enjoy, perhaps love working at the bench.

Suddenly working full-time and going to school full-time was a shock to the system. My school work suffered because of the time and energy required to work in jewelry during the Christmas rush, which lasted through the end of January. At that time, I expected that my hours would be cut back and I could get back on a more regular track for my studies. Instead, I had to adjust to do my school work with consideration to working a full-time job. The learning curve in the shop was increasing because Dave was making plans to open his own jewelry shop. And, after six months of on-the-job-training, I was on my own.

Dave had taught me a lot, but there was still so much yet to learn. Now with Dave gone, much of my learning was by trial and error, which would have been quite disconcerting for the customers had they known. Thankfully, I had access to the jeweler at the Irving store who was both experienced and generous. Also, Dave was still available for help, too. This set up was great: I received a salary while learning, I had access to experienced jewelers when I needed help, and any mistakes I made (yes, you can break a diamond!) were paid for by the store. I also learned to work quickly due to the volume of work coming across my bench.

After Dave had been on his own about one year, he encouraged me to follow in his footsteps and open my own shop. By that point, I had begun to take on side work for Arlington Gold and Silver Exchange (an account Dave had, but passed on to me because his business had grown). He also offered to help me get an account with Kay Jewelers, which would provide a location for me to start my own business.

Eventually, Dave persuaded me to take the plunge. However, I didn’t make a sudden break with Service Merchandise; I moonlighted two evenings a week at Kay Jewelers at North Hills Mall in North Richland Hills. This meant I was going to school full-time, working at Service Merchandise 35-40 hours per week, and commuting to my own shop for about 6 hours per week.

The schedule was crazy, but I was making money hand over fist. Kay Jewelers had been without a jeweler for a few months and had an unbelievable backlog of jobs. And, because I had learned to work fast due to the work load at Service Merchandise, in a couple hours at my own shop I could match or surpass the money I made working full-time at Service Merchandise. This went on for a few months before the load became too much to bear. And, after two years at Wilson’s/Service Merchandise, I launched out on my own with two solid accounts, Arlington Gold and Silver Exchange and Kay Jewelers at North Hills Mall. Craig’s Jewelry Repair opened and I was a business owner.

The setup at Kay’s was great: I was an independent contractor, but in exchange for being on premises they provided me a shop area and utilities (I even used their phone). My only overhead was the cost of my equipment and work supplies. Kay only asked that I establish set hours during which I would be at the shop because they advertised “Jeweler on Premises,” which was an important sales tactic they employed well. Having a jeweler on premises meant they could offer to have your new ring sized while you wait so “you can wear it home tonight!” They could also generate another revenue stream via repairs. Both were good for me because I made money on every piece that came across my bench.

Once I left Service Merchandise, I agreed to be on premises at Kay’s for two hours, three evenings per week. After the first year of this arrangement, the district manager pressured the store manager to pressure me to add days and hours. I refused more days, but agreed to bump up to three hours, three times per week. Then, four hours, three times per week.

Having committed my life to vocational ministry, I always guarded against getting “stuck” in jewelry. Don’t get me wrong, by this point, I certainly loved my work. Not just the money either, which was really good … in fact, as good as I was willing to make it. I thoroughly enjoyed the craft and looked forward to going to work. But, I knew I would not sit at a jewelers bench the rest of my life. Thus, I intentionally, did not succumb to the pressure to work more days and hours per week regardless of the fact that I could “make a lot more money.” Making more money was always the carrot the store manager held in front of me as he tried to pressure me to commit to more time in the shop. He would throw out big numbers, even using the amount of money jewelers at other Kay stores were making, to persuade me. But, I never took the bait. And he never understood why.

Neither did I buy more equipment – large or small. I didn’t want to get “stuck” on the bench because I had lots of equipment to pay off. My shop was bare bones; I had the bare necessities, and learned to do things with the tools I had on hand. Jeweler friends that came by my shop were always amazed. “Where are your tools?” they would ask, knowing that I couldn’t get by with so little equipment. But I did. There were rare occasions that I didn’t have sufficient equipment for a particular job, but God took care of that problem. By “chance” I had become friends with a wholesale jewelry shop nearby that had every tool and piece of equipment available. There was nothing – whether specialty pliers or casting and tumbling equipment – they didn’t have, and they gave me free access.

Along the way, I had a few mishaps. I broke a few stones, had a customer’s ring stolen from my dorm room at ABC,  and didn’t make a deadline a few times. But mostly, I just had a great time being a jeweler, or more accurately, a jewelry repairman. Although I could and did manufacture, I didn’t enjoy that aspect. I never viewed myself as a true jewelry craftsman because I didn’t have a creative eye. If a customer brought in a loose stone and asked, what would this look good in? I usually didn’t know … I didn’t have that type of imagination. However, if a customer brought in a piece of broken jewelry, I almost always could figure out a way to fix it and get it back to new (0r near new) condition.

I was interested in becoming GIA certified in diamonds and colored stones, but the time and money were too much. I say that because I knew jewelry wasn’t where I was going in life. I wanted to be in vocational ministry, and I spent my last two years on the bench for the purpose of saving money to go to school in Israel. I wanted to be able to pay for my master’s degree without taking student loans and Craig’s Jewelry Repair made that possible.

Overall, working at a jewelry bench was great! I still enjoy peeking into a shop and looking at the bench and tools. And, I’ve always said, “If I ever have to take a ‘regular’ job, I would be happy to go back to the bench.”

After selling my first motorcycle, I throttled down to a variety of bicycles, including a 1976 red, white, and blue 10-speed and a couple different motocross bicycles. It was about 5 years later when I got my next motorized two-wheeler, which was a moped. It seemed kind of cool to have a moped … until the day I rolled into the parking lot my freshman year of high school. It didn’t take long to figure out that a moped was not cool. Let me say that again. Not. Cool. That was the first and last time I rode a moped to South Grand Prairie High School. So, for the rest of the year, I either walked or rode a bicycle to/from school.

I turned 14 in the summer of 1979 and got a royal blue Suzuki TS100. On my birthday, I passed the driving test and received my motorcycle license. (Today you the minimum age to get a motorcycle license is 15, but the cc limit is higher. Back then, 100cc was the limit.)

On that same day, I came within inches of hitting an elderly man dressed in overalls who was shuffling across 14th Street in Grand Prairie. As I swerved and barely missed him, I yelled, “Crazy old man, what’s wrong with you?”

It was a very merciful policeman who informed me of the many moving violations I had just committed by speeding through a school zone and almost hitting a crossing guard. I was pretty embarrassed to hand him my paper license that I had received less than 6 hours prior. The only thing I can conclude is that he was so shocked that the ink had barely dried on my license before I sped through a school zone and almost hit an elderly crossing guard that he let me go with only a verbal scolding and warning. He certainly would have been justified to throw the book at me. To my memory, that is the only time I ran afoul of the law on that motorcycle.

In the 2 years I owned this bike, I had an amazing amount of fun, riding about 5,000 miles while commuting to/from school and exploring the country roads between Grand Prairie, Cedar Hill, Midlothian, and Mansfield. I regularly went out for 2-3, even 4 hours riding. One of my favorite places to ride is now under Joe Pool Lake.

I ended up selling the TS100 because my interest began to wane when I bought a 1973 Camaro just prior to my 16th birthday.

The last motorcycle I owned, a 1979 Yamaha 750 Special, had belonged to my dad. He bought a Harley and sorta passed this one down to me when I was 18. I took it to college.

Riding 750 Special was a different experience than any other motorcycle I had ridden. It gave a much smoother ride because it had a drive shaft rather than drive chain. The smoother ride made it difficult to gauge how fast I was going and resulted in me laying the bike down the very first time I drove it.

I was riding near Mountain Creek Lake, trying to get adjusted to the power and weight of this machine. On my previous motorcycles, I had learned to judge my speed by the vibration and whine of the motor; this bike didn’t vibrate or whine. On this occasion as I was moving through an easy curve to the right, I couldn’t stay in my lane and quickly found myself in the on-coming lane then on the opposite shoulder before finally going off the road. Thankfully, I was able to hold things together long enough to leave the pavement onto a dirt road. Unfortunately, it had recently rained and the dirt road was actually mud. The bike slid out from under me and came to rest on its left side. I was embarrassed and scared, but unhurt. Wow.

My mind raced to figure out how I could keep news of this event to myself. I didn’t want my dad to know lest he take it back. I had plenty of time to think about my plan of action because I couldn’t lift the bike. The combination of the bike’s weight and the mud under my feet meant that each time I got the bike almost upright, my feet slipped out from under me, and the bike fell to the ground again and again.

Thankfully, an elderly man came by on a bicycle and I screwed up the courage to ask for  help lifting my motorcycle. I’ll never forget his cutting comment: “I didn’t think you were supposed to lay these on their sides.” Duh! “I didn’t have any choice,” I said. I wanted to cut him back, but I needed his help. So I didn’t say anything more. Thankfully, he was able to help me get the bike upright. I said, “Thank you,” and bid him farewell.

The left side of the bike was caked with mud, so I found a car wash and emptied my wallet to get it clean. After all traces of the accident were gone, I limped my shiny clean motorcycle back to the house and kept the story to myself … until now.

That was the only close call I ever had on that motorcycle. But it wasn’t the last time it was on the ground. I foolishly let another college student ride it around the neighborhood and on his way through the front gate at the school he hit some gravel and lost control. He left the bike laying on the ground and ran back to the dorm to tell me about the crash. Thankfully, there wasn’t major damage, but the gas tank was dented pretty good. I didn’t worry about the repair because he promised to take care of it. Guess what? He didn’t.

I haven’t had a motorcycle in about 30 years. I’m thankful that I survived owning them, and guess I’ll probably never have another.