When Clive was in the eighth grade, he had two paper routes. Getting up with the birds, he delivered the Los Angeles Times. After school let out, Clive would climb back on his Schwinn and sling copies of the Daily News. When Amy realized the grueling routine was affecting her son’s health, she insisted he relinquish the afternoon route, but Clive continued delivering the Times until he was a freshman in high school.

Once a week, Boy Scouts of America Troop Six would meet in a large log cabin built with telephone poles donated by the local phone company. Clive became a member of its Cobra Patrol shortly after his twelfth birthday. The troop would spend one weekend a month and several weeks during the summer at Camp San Antonio in the San Gabriel Mountains. With some assistance from his father, Clive earned the twenty-one merit badges required to achieve the rank of Eagle Scout before he was fifteen. “The hiking and camping,” Clive recalls, “Thursday night meetings, wonderful friendships and working on my merit badges with my father - those marvelous experiences will always be with me.”

After he gave up his paper route, Clive toiled at a succession of after school and summer jobs: sanding and polishing pianos in a music store’s basement, grinding water pump impellers, and loading trucks at a commercial laundry. “It was a wonder the job at the pump company didn’t kill me,” Clive says. “The air was so thick with metal grindings I’d have to wash my hair with Old Dutch Cleanser.”

When he was sixteen, Clive spent the summer at his uncle’s dairy farm in Monticello, Minnesota. His friends thought he was crazy for passing up the beach, chasing girls, and hanging out at the drive-in, but Clive would not have missed it for the world. It was not only Clive’s first trip East since his family moved to California, he would also have the opportunity to spend two months at a real, working farm. “That summer at my aunt and uncle’s farm was one of my best summers ever,” Clive recalls. “I worked in the fields, pitched hay, fed horses from my hand, went fishing on the lake behind the barn, and attended county fairs. Believe it or not, I still know how to milk a cow.”