On the corner of Oak Street and East 13th Avenue in Eugene, a bulky sienna building looms over the intersection. No signs or letters indicating its purpose or intent hang on the stony exterior. On any given day hundreds of pedestrians will pass its opaque windows.  A few will cup their hands to the scratched glass, trying to peer past event fliers, to glimpse the inside of the building. To the disappointment of these curious passers-by, the innards of this conspicuous giant are no more revealing than its non-descript façade.
    Although its appearance is uninviting, the brutish and blocky building comes to life Thursday through Saturday evenings, when it hosts rambunctious crowds. On weekends people over the age of 21 cluster inside as Top 40 hits sift between them and out of the gaping doorway. And on weeknights, yet another audience lines the floor of the Indigo District.
    It’s a Wednesday afternoon and preparations are underway for a popular Anti-Folk artist, Kimya Dawson. The building’s back room, referred to as “back of house,” yields a spacious stage for a beginning music venue. On the stage five people mill around, plugging in amps and unraveling cords. Everyone is mild and relaxed, moving through the necessary motions to set up for a gig. Next to the soundbooth in the back, a big man, broad and tall, looks on. He stands aloof at attention; his feet shoulder-width apart, arms folded across his chest. Dressed in matching blacks, complete with shined shoes, suspenders and a crew-cut, he looks like a formidable bouncer. His name is Cameron. He’s the Venue Manager. 
    Little more than two months ago Cameron, who has requested to be identified only by his first name, responded to a Eugene Craigslist advertisement for a venue manager. After three interviews he was hired for the job, even though he had no previous experience in the music industry. But his inexperience running a venue does not show through his composed exterior.
    After seeing the initial sound check go smoothly, Cameron strolls to the front of house, putting away glasses and talking with staff members. “Doors are at seven,” he says to a younger man in a t-shirt and jeans, while handing him a flashlight and batteries. He’s direct and to the point, a talent that may be inherent, or may be a learned skill from previous careers.
    The 28-year-old’s professional experience is actually in retail executive search management. However, when the American economy began to wither, he wanted a career shift. “About a year ago I thought I should look at getting into something that’s going to be a bit more fun and, honestly, more recession-proof,” he says.
He thinks many people who are new to the national workforce look to make money through steep profit inclines but neglect to consider the inevitable downfalls. “The retail business is a roller-coaster. A lot of big ups and big downs. That’s not something I want in my life,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t want that… feast or famine.”
    While many people would enjoy a steady income, not all are fortunate enough to make a complete turn on their career path. But Cameron already had a leg up in the entertainment industry.
    “The venue manager needs to be professional and reliable because he deals with all of the booking agents and performers, as well as the staff,” says Leona Laurie, Public Relations Consultant for the Indigo District. “We needed someone with the professionalism and management skills to do that. Other candidates had experience in bars and venues, but little in the corporate world. Cameron's experience there gave him the edge.”
    Showcasing his managerial congeniality, Cameron approaches a thin man wearing a vintage vest with snap buttons, who is looking around just inside the entrance. “You were with one of the bands?” Cameron asks, and introduces himself. “Sorry, so many faces coming in here.”
Hopefully this stray musician is one of many who will seek the Indigo’s stage. Cameron, with his professional history, is poised to give the Indigo District the edge it needs to become a prominent music venue. His grasp of detail and emphasis on work ethic are the values that will transform the Indigo into a place musicians want to book gigs.
    Cameron explains that his job includes logistics galore and requires doing “a laundry list of things before every show.” Pointing at groups of people in the building and numbering with his fingers, he lists the people needed to work the sound and doors, where bands need to park and where they need to put their equipment.
“My job is essentially to come in and get this place more up to speed for having live performances on a regular basis, and having bigger names in here,” Cameron says. He would like to fix the place up with a better sound system, more versatile green-room and tidier facilities. Maintaining his uncomplicated approach, he simply concludes that “it’s a lot of cleaning up and rearranging.”
    His phone rings, and he hustles to the greenroom at the other end of the club. After a few minutes he returns with a cloth and spray bottle, and begins to wipe down tables. Standing around is something he rarely does at work.
    “I try to stop and take a breather so I can enjoy the music. That’s half the reason I got into this work,” Cameron says during one of his brief moments of stillness. Since the Indigo began to focus on becoming a live music vunue about a year ago, quite a few bands have played on its stage.  Cameron’s favorite was the band “Golem.”
    “Golem” is a punk rock-klezmer band from Eastern Europe that re-arranges Jewish, Gypsy and Slavic folk songs. It’s a six-piece band including vocals, violin, bass, drums, tambourine, trombone and accordion. “There aren’t too many other bands out there doing what they do, and they owned the stage while they were on it,” Cameron says with a smile.
    The band filled Indigo’s back of house with irresistible energy. “The audience was kinda funny,” Cameron reminisces about the show.  “It was a mixture; some younger, some older people in there. Just about everybody was dancing these little jigs, which was pretty cool. The audience was entertaining on its own.”
The enthusiastic audience and over-the-top bands are reasons Cameron was interested in the entertainment industry as a career. He approaches it from an economic standpoint, predicting it will be solid through economic thicks and thins. “Especially in a bad economy, people want to forget their problems,” he says, pausing for emphasis, “and that’s what this place is— entertainment. It’s an atmosphere for people to forget about all the stuff outside of here.”
    In the last few minutes before the doors open, anxious fans poke their heads inside. Curious pedestrians struggle to see the band warming up through the dark glass. Cameron gives the sparse venue a hard look and moves a few more chairs around. A line of people waits outside the side door, giving the massive corner building a little more character than it has at passing glance.