OUTTAKES FROM OUTSIDE MAGAZINE’S ASSISTANT EDITOR ALICIA CARR’S FACT-CHECKING E-MAIL WITH ROWE
OUTSIDE: How tall are you?
ROWE: Six feet, naked.
OS: Were you hired by QVC to be the midnight-to-3 A.M. host?
MR: All hosts start on the overnight shift. I just never made it off. So, the answer is yes and no. But mainly, yes.
OS: Were you fired for humiliating a collectible nun doll?
MR: Technically, I was humiliating myself. But yes, there was a nun involved. And she was scary.
OS: Were you looking for the doll’s on switch?
MR: It was a winder, not a switch. And it protruded from her bottom, if you must know.
OS: At the time, did you travel with an evolving group of Australian friends?
MR: Extensively. Although I suspect some were actually from New Zealand.
OS: Did you have a first-class, free-to-any-destination card from American Airlines?
MR: Yes.
OS: Did you get the card while making in-flight travel videos?
MR: Yes.
OS: And you kept it after that job ended?
MR: Guilty.
OS: Have you spent the last 13 years with the same live-in girlfriend?
MR: Well, I’m not home all that often, but yeah, she’s usually there when I return. Remarkably.
As the wisecracking host of the hit series Dirty Jobs, MIKE ROWE frolics in mud and trades in gross-out humor. But what started out as a gag has become a movement that’s empowering Americans to rediscover our love of hard work—just when we need it most.
By John Bradley, Outside Magazine, May 2009
MIKE ROWE’S GOT A MUG. It’s a loose but functioning alliance of deep crags, laugh lines, strong jaw, and cleft chin. The same face that sold Ted Danson as an ex–Red Sox pitcher on Cheers—a jockish parody of handsome.
He’s not exactly tall, maybe five-eleven, but he’s broad, meaty—a frame to match that oaky baritone he honed in the opera. Since I know him only as the grime-covered host of Dirty Jobs, I found it jarring to learn that Rowe once worked as a professional opera singer. But when I meet him face-to-mug on a warm afternoon at Grumpy’s, the San Francisco bar where he first conceived his show, I get it. The guy’s got presence that can reach the cheap seats.
That approachable swagger is one big reason Dirty Jobs, now entering its fifth season, has become an institution on the Discovery Channel, where, thanks to repeats of repeats, it aired some 800 times last year. Each episode—he just wrapped his 200th—begins with a montage of Rowe awash in stink: garbage, grease, sewage, solvents. After setting the scene for the new gig, he interviews the plant manager/goat castrator/boiler cleaner, then jumps enthusiastically into the muck to try the work for himself. Sometimes he succeeds; other times he fails. If he or his cameramen vomit or make a fart joke along the way, all the better.
OK, it’s not surprising that a charismatic dude telling locker-room jokes works on TV. Here’s what is, though: Dirty Jobs has become more than a basic-cable hit—it is, in fact, a movement to redefine the concept of work in this country, with Rowe as spokesman and organizing force. With millions laid off and millions more panicking that they might be next, we’re looking for honest answers about where we go from here. Rowe has one: Roll up your sleeves and get dirty. He frequently talks to colleges, unions, and military panels about employment in the trades. Last fall, The Wall Street Journal called for his take on why unemployment is rising while the trades can’t find enough workers.
“How can those two things exist in the same space?” he says, sipping a pint of Guinness while wearing jeans, a gray work shirt, and a hat that reads POO PAYS. “How is it that people don’t want work that pays $50 an hour and keeps them happy all day long?”
Understand: Rowe, 47, is a natural clown and schemer who spent almost 20 years of his adult life avoiding any work that would tie him down for more than six months. “I Forrest Gump’d my way through most of my career” is how he describes it. That people started taking him seriously—life-advice seriously—caught him completely off guard. “Jay Leno introduced me as a ‘hero to the working class,’” he says, describing an appearance on The Tonight Show last year. “I nearly fell over backstage. I thought, My God, if that’s what’s going on, the hero standard has fallen precipitously in that category.”
More recently, a social anthropologist called Rowe to suggest that Dirty Jobs is becoming an important oral history. “He says, ‘You have 200 experiences with the exact people that Hillary Clinton was trying to connect with as those drops of rye dribbled down her chin in Ohio,’” Rowe recalls. “‘You’re not of them, and yet they’ve wrapped you up and pointed to you.’”
So now something truly unexpected is happening to Mike Rowe: He’s taking himself seriously.
Well, sometimes.
Grainger touts role of skilled labor in U.S.
By Susan Avery — Purchasing, 3/23/2009
Continuing a theme established at its customer meeting earlier this year, Grainger and Mike Rowe, host of TV’s Dirty Jobs, are calling attention to the importance of skilled labor and technical education in the U.S.
Rowe, who is a Grainger spokesperson and featured on the cover of the distributor’s 2009 catalog, visited one of the company’s distribution centers in Niles, Ill, recently. He toured the one million-sq. ft. facility and helped pack one of the approximately 13,000 boxes the company ships to businesses across the country every day.
“Like me, Grainger employees are passionate about the people who work hard every day to keep our country running,” Rowe said. “I want to help harness that enthusiasm to raise awareness about the important role skilled workers play in our society.”
Rowe launched a website, www.mikeroweworks.com this month to help attract more people to technical education programs and jobs involving skilled labor.
“Rowe understands the work we do,” said Mike Pulick, senior vice president and president at Grainger U.S. “Together we can get people thinking about the importance of technical education.”
With $6.4 in annual sales, Grainger places in the fourth spot on Industrial Distribution magazine’s Big 50 list for 2008.
“Dirty Jobs” Host Isn’t Afraid to Explore the Jobs that Make the World a More Comfortable Place for the Rest of Us
by Brian Rooney, March 5, 2009
When “Nightline” asked to meet Mike Rowe, he suggested that a good place would be a recycling dump. “This is my office,” he said.
Not really. If he has an office, he keeps it a secret. But as the host and creator of Discovery Channel’s show “Dirty Jobs,” Rowe actually seems to like being in dirty places. That’s his element.
“You know it used to be that work looked like work,” he said as he stood on the sorting line separating plastic, metal, wood and carpet. “Work used to be dirty all the time and now, you know, with financial services being such a dominant force in the economy, the notion of a good job looks different.”
With rugged looks, a baritone voice and a baseball cap pulled over his brow, Rowe is the chronicler of those people who do the dirty jobs that hold society together. He pays homage by doing the job alongside people who do it for a living; maggot farmer, charcoal maker, chick sexer, ostrich wrangler, wind farm technician and sheep castrator — which, by the way, is done with your teeth.
“Yeah, that sheep still calls me,” Rowe said.
He has profiled at least 200 dirty jobs with a kind of workman’s humor that makes the day pass. “If you’re not laughing, honestly, doing this kind of work, the joke’s on you,” he said.
From Opera to Coal Mines
The 46-year-old native of Baltimore started out wanting to be an actor. In what may have been the first of his string of job impersonations, he learned how to sing an aria, tried out for the Baltimore Opera and was a singing spear carrier with the chorus for five years.
From there, he became a cable shopping pitchman and, eventually, co-host of “Evening Magazine” in San Francisco, where he said he was impersonating a show host. That was where he got the idea to do dirty jobs. His first: an artificial inseminator for cows that got him in up to his elbow in the world of dirty jobs.
He sold the idea to Discovery and now he’s on the road 300 days a year hanging out with snake wranglers, coal miners and sewer cleaners. He has been bitten by sharks and snakes and pooped on by just about every creature imaginable. “It washes off,” he said. But “a lot of the show requires you to ignore the synapses in your brain that normally tell you, you know, ‘don’t do that.’”
Kudos to the Blue Collar
Now Rowe’s voice is a familiar one. He’s the spokesman for Ford trucks and narrator for Discovery’s crab fishing show “Deadliest Catch,” which opens with Rowe intoning, “The vast Bering Sea …”
But his passion is drawing attention to the working people, the ones who do the jobs his father and grandfather did. And he’s learned something along the way, that dirty jobs have dignity and the people who do them may have a secret.
“They stepped back and looked where everyone else was going, then they went the opposite direction,” Rowe said.
They do a job that allows them to shower off at the end of the day and leave work behind. “They’ve figured out a way to be happy doing it,” he said. “And they figured out a way to get paid.”
Brian Rooney, ABC reporter for Nightline San Francisco, hangs out with Mike at the San Francisco dump and relives many Dirty Jobs moments, some funny, some disgusting. (And you even get hear Mike sing a little opera.)
BY Ellen McGirt
Wed Jan 23, 2008
That’s the takeaway from my visit to the “set” of Dirty Jobs, the runaway hit series from the Discovery Channel. Mike Rowe, the star and rogue philosopher behind the show, is profiled in this month’s cover story. But I would be remiss, and he would be disappointed, if I didn’t spend a bit of time talking about how it all comes together. Because it’s dirty work indeed.
Filming the show is inherently challenging. The crew have to show up to an unfamiliar work site and try to capture what someone does – and what they teach Mike to do – on film, without missing anything or getting sucked into some sort of machine. Or worse. Dan Eggiman, who toggles between production assistant and occasional camera operator, describes his first time with the crew, filming “Cave Biologist,” last fall. To get the story, they had to crawl through miles of treacherous caves in Kentucky hunting for new species. “It was physically tight, and a two-day shoot. We basically crouched in muddy caves carrying 100 pounds of equipment that couldn’t get wet.” One wrong step, and you’d slide into what appeared to be a hellish abyss. But Dan, a recent college grad who has had only one previous job, couldn’t be happier with his new gig. “This is the greatest job in television,” he grins. (And not just because his first one was a reality dating thing called “Girl Meets Cowboy.”)
Besides the untimely death of crew members – or the destruction of expensive HD cameras – other problems can occur. Many elements of dirty jobs are things that only happen once – once a tree is down, it’s down, for example, – so getting the shot right the first time is important. No easy task, since every job, location and cast of characters are utterly different. Think of it as improv theater with heavy machinery. “It took a long time to find this crew. And I waited a long time to find Barsky,” says Rowe. “He’s a process person. He gets the mission. He may even care about it more than I do.” Barsky doesn’t have a lot to work with. “There are no location scouts, no advance people, and no scripts,” he says. The hosts have to get comfortable with doing their jobs with Mike and the cameras around. And the crew have to aware of their potential impact while on location. “One example: We’re in a salt mine. There are explosives around. We have people and equipment to protect. Not to mention, this is someone’s actual job.” Barsky pauses. “The people we visit have to feel comfortable with us because there is so much at stake for everyone.”
But things do happen that even Barsky doesn’t see coming. He describes with obvious annoyance being interrupted on a job site in Louisiana (spraying insulation, the kind of thing that’s hard to orchestrate a do-over) by a local reporter who toddled into the shot on high heels and with higher hair, to get the scoop on what was happening. “Did the owner call her to get local publicity? I don’t know,” Barsky said. “But I tossed her off pretty fast.” It may be someone else’s actual job, but it’s Barsky’s set. (The crew members are freelancers, so they occasionally rotate out when when they get other gigs. Barsky, however, is always there.)
Doug Glover (fans may remember seeing Doug throw up on the abalone farming episode) is the lead camera. “He gets the wide shots and sets the scene,” explains Barsky. Doug also is the butt of numerous jokes regarding his artistic vision – the former indie film cinematographer is frequently teased about the amount of time he spends setting up a shot. “ARE YOU WORKING ON YOUR REEL AGAIN?” is a frequent Barsky taunt. But at the end of the day, Doug helps sets an important documentary tone for the crew. “It’s not a real visual show, we’re not trying to be the best looking show in the world,” he explains. “We’re trying to serve the content. So we really focus on the process, and mainly try to give Mike as much freedom as possible – he’s at his best when he gets to do whatever he wants to do.” Something is working: The show was nominated for an Emmy in 2007 for “Outstanding Cinematography For Reality Programming.” (In addition to directing, Barsky also operates a camera, filming the host.)
Chris Whiteneck is Camera B, and films Mike. Chris is now a worldwide celebrity after having been famously attacked and bitten on the leg by Paddy, a profoundly disturbed monkey. (They were filming an episode that took place in what can loosely be described as a monkey sanctuary in South Africa. ) As a result, the fans love to see his scar. On the subject of work, Chris says: “The only thing I would say is that I try to follow Mike’s lead. So, I try to stay as close as possible to Mike, which brings the viewer closer, and gives them a more intimate experience.” He also provides an invaluable service by filming the mishaps of other crew members who have been punked, or perhaps, have lost drinking contests. (It is simply amazing what one intrepid filmmaker can do with a camera phone under challenging lighting conditions.)
Audio is expertly handled by Chris Jones. Frankly, it’s hard to hear people on these job sites under the best of circumstances, let alone elevating the didactic chit-chat to broadcast quality. And anyone who has had a microphone go wild during a powerpoint presentation understands the challenges of the medium. Forget the animal noises or diesel engine burps: “You definitely don’t want to have to do a re-shoot because of static on a mic, or a dead battery,” he says.
Rounding out the crew is Ira Leonard, the production assistant, who brings an unusual grace and humor to his relatively humble place on the production food chain. Put out your hand for anything from a cord to a prop to piece of equipment, and he’s there. (He also gets the lunch from whatever local eatery is near the shoot, and keeps track of all the stuff that Mike wears for each episode.) I would suggest, however, additional safety gear for him. Perhaps something in Kevlar.
To put into perspective how sparse the operation is compared to other shows in the genre, Mike describes a funny encounter they had with another film crew, while shooting the recent eel boat episode, which is on rotation now:
“Against all odds, we’re in Maine – just getting off an eel boat. And Extreme Home Makeover was there doing a shoot on the same street where the eel processing facility was. By way of contrast, we get off the boat. Six guys. Looking like we’ve been to hell and back. We had a call from the EP [executive producer] at Home Makeover. Everyone on the crew is a fan of the show, and they want us to come over to have lunch in their incredibly catered trailer. So I said of course, and we go over. Maybe about 400 people from these various businesses are there working on the house, everyone drops what they are doing, and they come over. And it’s just the six of us. Who have been vomiting for hours and are lucky to be alive, basically.
Three hours we sit there and we answer questions and we eat. It was very instructive. We’re a show about work with six guys. Totally unscripted, completely organic, doing it as we go – versus this big network hit with hundreds of people, all the talent all wearing earpieces, being told what to say. Everything is orchestrated. It’s such a different world, and it was stunning to see it all play out this way.”
In my next installment, I’ll introduce you to Campbell Coxe, the South Carolina farmer who was the good-natured host of the show I observed, and who taught me a thing or two about rice, tornadoes and wild boar.
Visit Fast Company – HERE
Mike Rowe hosts the Discovery Channel series that celebrates those who don’t shy from digging in and getting their hands dirty.
By Jon Caramanica, Los Angeles Times, February 22, 2009
What makes consumption so easy is its focus on what makes it to the shelf; capitalism’s byproducts are hidden away, necessary consequences best left unseen.
Mike Rowe, who hosts the Discovery Channel immersion show “Dirty Jobs” (9 p.m. Tuesdays), has spent the last several years not only shining light into the dark corners of industry but also on the people who live and work there: “Hardworking men and women,” he said in last week’s episode, “who do the kinds of jobs that make civilized life possible for the rest of us.”
Rowe has salvaged a truck from the bottom of a lake, farmed maggots, tested shark-repellent suits, recycled tires and tried out plenty more unforgiving professions. (This week, “Dirty Jobs” will air a retrospective episode.) And dirty though they may be, these are jobs. In this brutal economy, noses cannot be thumbed at them, especially because, more often than not, this work at the beginning of the food and product chain is probably more reliable than other categories of employment. Someone will always have to do the scut work
“We’ve had our hands on the country’s infrastructure,” Rowe said, echoing Barack Obama’s New Deal-esque ideas about job creation. “The kinda work that just might get this country back on track.”
Rowe is George Plimpton as played by Tim Allen, a casual enthusiast on a range of subjects with a common man touch; never does he appear to be talking down to the men and women who, day in and day out, actually do the jobs he’s moonlighting at.
Last week in Boise, Idaho, at MotivePower, a company that builds locomotives, “Dirty Jobs” tackled its 200th task, with Rowe amiably stumbling his way through several steps on the factory line: cleaning kerf residue left behind by a plasma steel cutter, blasting clean a train in preparation for painting, scraping sludge from inside a mammoth engine.
These jobs are indeed filthy — not in the Upton Sinclair sense, but in the classical way. Most of his work is unpleasant and likely requires multiple showers to wash away. But Rowe has a utilitarian perspective and doesn’t discriminate between tasks. Or, as he told one worker last week, “I’m gonna wander off, find another building, find another guy doing another thing.”
“Dirty Jobs” isn’t generally interested in the larger narrative of the industry it’s spotlighting, only in its menial and unforgiving tasks. Sometimes the show exposes significant ingenuity gaps — there’s a $250,000 machine to cut steel, but not one to clean up the residue it leaves behind? — that remain unaddressed.
Rowe takes things as they are, just as most workers have to. Invariably, the men and women he speaks with aren’t impressed with their own feats; many have had these jobs for decades. Some offer the sort of time-earned pearls of wisdom that end up coming off like impromptu poetry.
“I don’t know what they pay you, but you should ask for a raise,” Rowe tells a bald gentleman whose job it is to don an airtight helmet and blast the locomotive’s surface, after giving it a try himself.
“I’m used to it,” the man replies. “I enjoy it.”
“Where does your mind go when you’re doing that?”
“You can go anywhere you want, but you better like who you’re in that helmet with.”
Zing!
Concluding last week’s episode, Rowe said, “People often tell me that ‘Dirty Jobs’ reminds them of a time when hard work was something to be celebrated, when craftsmen and tradesmen were seen as role models.” This is part of the show’s charm. But “Dirty Jobs” does an even dirtier job: providing comfort about what’s going on behind the scenes to allow most of us to enjoy our lives untroubled. As long as someone else is getting dirty, we might not have to.
