Blazing a path less traveled

Black Enterprise, Feb, 1998 by Caroline V. Clarke

"IF YOU DO WHAT YOU love, you'll never work a day in your life." So the saying goes, and anyone who has ever loved--or hated--their job can surely attest to its truth.

While no one ever promised that making a living would be fun, exciting or even remotely interesting, the fact is, having a career that you love enhances your life immeasurably. And if what you do also makes for good conversation, you're luckier still.

We found four such fortunate individuals. They each have let their deepest interests guide their careers, in spite of those who might find their choices odd, frivolous or worse. Although two of the four earn six-figure salaries, none of them cites income as a career determinant. Nor status. Nor benefits packages. Nor fancy perks or advancement potential.

Instead, their eyes are firmly fixed on doing what they love, now and always. They also strive to be the best they can be within those roles, embracing their responsibilities with a striking degree of gusto and commitment. In so doing, they transcend "work" and all that such a mundane word implies.

THE GREATEST JOB ON EARTH?

Eric Moore is actually living out the quintessential childhood fantasy of running away to join the circus. "Most people start out in jeans and sneakers and work their way up to a suit and tie," says Moore, captain of the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Oxygen Skate Team, laughing at his own pithy observation. "I went the opposite route.

That's putting it mildly. When Moore steps into the Hippodrome of the Greatest Show on Earth, he's not even in sneakers, he's on wheels--inline skates to be exact. And he's as comfortable on them as a shark is in the ocean, and about as fearless too.

The one-time stockbroker leads a team of daring athletes who perform the finale for a crowd of 12,000 awe-struck onlookers. They execute aggressive skating stunts that include flips, airborne tricks and launches from heights of 10-15 ft. at speeds that could leave a champion cyclist in the dust--all without a net. In a pinch, the only things that stand between them and potentially serious injury are a helmet and some padding. (In fact, last year, they lost one team member who sustained a torn ligament.)

But the physical risk wasn't what gave Moore pause when a talent coordinator for Ringling Bros. approached him and a friend, Steven O'Donnell, in New York's Central Park two years ago. Nor was it the idea of performing up to three shows a day (including weekends and holidays) in 45 cities. Rather, it was the idea of life in the 127th Edition of Ringling Bros., which requires traveling around the country for a solid 11-month stretch--living, eating and sleeping on a mile-long train (the same one that houses the elephants). However, once Moore checked the train out (". . . a little tight, but it has all the comforts of home," he says.), he and O'Donnell assembled a team and signed a contract, which they renewed late last year. They hit the road again last December.

As it turns out, traveling the country by train is one of the things Moore has liked most about the job. "I've driven from New York to Florida," says the Manhattan native, "but you don't see much on the Interstate. On a train you see everything. It's great! I'm getting paid to travel and skate." But there are drawbacks. "I'm allergic to animals," Moore says, sneezing, as if to make the point. "Having a stuffy nose all the time is definitely what I like least about this job."

Moore, 31, was getting paid to skate even before the circus came calling. After leaving Stony Brook University in early 198G, the former business management major landed a broker's job on Wall Street at Stuart-James Investment Bankers. Black Monday soon followed, and Moore jumped to portfolio management work for a law firm. In 1988, he took up skating as a way to relieve job tension and was immediately hooked.

A gifted and daring athlete, Moore soon became a certified skating instructor and began teaching in Central Park on weekends. That led to a drastic career change. He quit the law firm and started managing the skating departments of several sports equipment shops, giving skating lessons and making freelance appearances skating in films, music videos and commercials for companies such as American Express.

The circus gig, which will pay him more than $40,000 this year, is a plum (and when you factor in free board and the fact that he's single, the money is quite good). So's the attention. "At the end of the act, we do a victory lap where you really get to see the people's faces, and they're smiling and cheering and waving at you and hoping you'll wave back," Moore says. "I get off on that." Who wouldn't?

DEATH BECOMES HER

If Moore's job is death-defying, Dr. Joye Carter's position, as Houston's chief medical examiner, is death-defining.

In its simplest form, Carter's job is to "find the truth" behind a person's death. She goes about it with a passion that comes through in everything she says, as does her reverence for the dead she serves, most of whom, to her dismay, are black.