Donation station attendant finds contentment in loneliness

In the parking lot of the now-empty Sunset Bowl in Ballard, you can while away a good portion of a day watching the loneliness of the donation-station attendant.

Hours can pass before Pete Hoover has somebody pull up to his Big Blue Truck — as the donation trucks for Northwest Center are called — with a load of unneeded clothes.

Luckily for Hoover, he can pick from more than 20 musical instruments he keeps at home — everything from a cello to a clarinet to an Irish flute — that he can take to work.

So what if the cars zoom along in ignorance of his truck?

Hoover blasts away a shepherd's tune on that Bulgarian bagpipe made of sheepskin and cow bone.

And, sure, business is slow, but he's still managing to collect hundreds of pounds of clothing and household items. One garbage sack full of jeans comes in at at least 50 pounds.

Hoover is 52, single, and makes $9.75 an hour, admittedly not the best salary for a guy who used to be a computer programmer.

But things happen, and there is fulfillment to be found in being a donation-station attendant.

"I have a lot of job contentment," he said. "My job is making people happy by removing unwanted items from their house."

It's been especially lonely since July 17, when after eight years, the Big Blue Truck lost its primo space across the street in the Safeway parking lot at 15th Avenue Northwest and Northwest Market Street.

There, the truck was collecting 5 tons of clothes and household items a year.

Now donations have dropped by 50 percent, the nonprofit says, as the truck no longer sits amid bustling Safeway customer traffic. That's in comparison with Northwest Center donations being down 5 percent overall compared with last year. The donations are sold at Value Village and support the work the agency does with kids and adults with disabilities, such as providing training and jobs.

As the real-estate saying goes: location, location, location.

Presumably, Safeway customers could just let their gaze wander and see the lonely Big Blue Truck a short distance away. But even after three months, there has been no increase in donations.

Denise Small, business-development manager for Northwest Center, said the managers at the Safeway Ballard had always allowed the Big Blue Truck to park in their lot.

That is, until someone from the corporate offices visited, Small said.

Cherie Myers, a regional spokeswoman for Safeway, said the company supports plenty of charities.

But, she said, "Our parking lots are for what we do as a business, and that's a place for patrons."

Hoover stays out of such discussions.

His is the world of the truck, the donations, his musical instruments, the books he likes to read.

When he was a computer programmer, he said, his hearing kept getting worse and worse, and "I'd get frustrated and angry."

That frustration strained other parts of his life. But he's at peace now, working for Northwest Center, and wearing heavy-duty hearing aids.

On a recent afternoon, someone finally pulled up. For the day, it'll be maybe half a dozen, maybe a couple more, donors who'll stop by.

It was Connie Salo, 55, who lives with her husband nearby on Phinney Ridge. She brought two large plastic garbage bags and a box full of clothes and sheets.

Without much prodding — OK, none at all — Hoover disassembled the bagpipe and pointed out a small tube with a duck feather that's used to raise the tone.

Salo watched with interest, and Hoover then played a tune.

She thanked him.

Hoover looked pleased.

There are many ways to find fulfillment, other than the size of your paycheck.

Erik Lacitis: 206-464-2237 or elacitis@seattletimes.com