Music pioneer a great employer
‘His children were his life,’ mother says
Dorne Hootz was an unassuming pioneer of Edmonton’s music scene, a quiet, self-assured and honest man who made lasting connections with employees and customers.
Long before fans downloaded or streamed tunes off the Internet, they bought their music at record stores. Sound Connection, initially located on 101st Street, was one of the first in Edmonton to buy and sell used vinyl, cassettes and, later, CDs. Hootz ran the store for about 25 years, until the mid-2000s, working with his mom for at least half of them.
“He was a gentle man,” says Rod Dean, a longtime employee. “He was very softspoken, reserved almost to the point of being shy. You had to get to know him, but just a great heart. Very kind. Very compassionate. Loved his kids.”
Hootz and his wife, Arlene, loved to watch their children — Christopher, Bryce and Jessica — play hours of hockey. “Happy Father’s Day to the one guy who has been there for me no matter how many times I’ve fallen down …,” his daughter once tweeted.
Jessica, who plays defence, ended up winning a hockey scholarship to Colgate University in New York state. She graduated earlier this year with her parents in attendance.
“His children were his life,” says Hootz’s mom, Donna Mitchell. “He would talk with them and listen to them as people; he had a great deal of respect for his children.”
Hootz was 51 when he died at his Edmonton home on June 27. His heart stopped in his sleep, says his mom.
Dorne Kerry Hootz was born on Oct. 2, 1961 in Yorkton, Sask., the youngest of two sons of Donna Mitchell and Lorne Hootz. (Dorne’s name is a mix of their first names.) His mom say she was a “humble soul” who never demanded attention. Yet he was also an independent thinker, and he wasn’t afraid to stand up for his beliefs.
Mitchell says Hootz once got in trouble in grade school — for leaning on a vending machine — and managed to convince the vice-principal to see the ridiculousness of the matter.
“Dorne felt if something wasn’t being reasonable or rational, and that his point of view was, he’d go right to the wall with it,” she says. “He had common sense and the courage to follow it up.”
He liked music, but he didn’t have a burning passion to run his own record store. His mom and her then-boyfriend opened the first Sound Connection, with about 240 records, in 1979.
Hootz joined a few months later, so Mitchell could take some time off and travel through Europe.
“He had just graduated from high school in Yorkton,” she says. “I said, ‘What are you doing, Dorne?’ He said, ‘Ucccch. I’m installing stereos in cars.’ I asked: ‘Would you like to come up to Edmonton?’ He said, ‘Yes, I would.’ So, he and Arlene got a little U-Haul and six weeks later, Dorne was running the store himself.”
His sense of fair play held him in good stead with customers.
“He was honest, CRAZY honest,” says Dean, who worked at Sound Connection for about 25 years.
“If he knew you had something he could sell for $40, you were going to get $20. He wasn’t going to try to buy it for a dollar. I think that’s one of the things that kept bringing people back; they knew they were going to get honest deals. There were so many people from so many different walks of life — you’d be selling it to guys who were 75 years old, kids who were 12 years old.”
Friends and family say Hootz tolerated everyone’s musical choices, but he was honest about airing his own preferences.
He loved Bruce Springsteen and Kate Bush. He didn’t like Elvis Presley or the Beatles. That might be somewhat of an understatement.
“He HATED the Beatles,” says Dean. “He absolutely HATED the Beatles, which I thought was the funniest thing in the world. He sold so many Beatles albums.
“I was raised on the Beatles, being 14 or 15 years older than Dorne. He loved Bruce Springsteen and, of course, I thought he couldn’t sing a note. Our musical tastes were pretty different. He liked the Stones. He liked some of Dylan’s stuff.”
As more people turned to the Internet for music in the early 2000s, sales of CDs, vinyl and cassettes started to drop. Hootz moved Sound Connection to 124th Street, then sold the business to new owners around 2006. (The current incarnation of the store is on Whyte Avenue.)
Elena Chalmers, another of Hootz’s longtime employees, was sad to leave.
“I was told to ‘Go, do better things,’ even though I told Dorne, ‘I’m never leaving here,’ ” she says.
“He was such a mentor, an all-around sweet guy. He was really easy to work with. I remember once I got in trouble for buying a CD I shouldn’t have and I was told he was mad, but I never saw it. That’s how low-key and laid-back he was.”
After Sound Connection, she ended up starting her own business, Earth’s Emporium, with her wife.
Chalmers says Hootz’s sense of honesty was a big influence — their fairtrade company works with low-income artisans in Guatemala.
“Dorne was only four years older than me, but he just exuded w isdom,” she says. “He had it together somehow.”