Chemeketa Voices

Almost Famous
(And that's the least interesting thing about Sam Pierce)

Liddell Holmes died of a gunshot wound to the head on a northeast Portland sidewalk. He was 18 years old.

But this isn’t Holmes’ story.

This is the story of Samuel Pierce, a Chemeketa Community College professor, and how in a round-about way Holmes’ death led him to this “place of peace.” 

Pierce met Holmes about a year and a half prior to his death. Pierce was a coordinator of Urban League outreach programs targeting teens at risk of becoming involved in gangs. In the mid-1980s, gangs gained a foothold in Oregon and began growing their ranks.

“I met Liddell and he really seemed to want to get out of the lifestyle he had been living. He spent six extra months in a transition home after getting out of Maclaren Youth Correctional Facility just to get his GED,” said Pierce. “I loved the kid so much and he trusted me.”

For most young men of his experiences, spending time at MacLaren is a badge of honor, Pierce said.

“Most of them can’t wait to get out on the street to brag about being there, but Liddell wanted more,” he said.

Holmes was the eldest son in his family and feeling pressure to help support them. Holmes invited Pierce to his home and asked for help in changing his life.

“The apartment he was living in had no furniture and he asked if I could help him get some,” said Pierce.

Pierce thought this was a reasonable request and knew he could assist Holmes in making the first step toward a new beginning.

Life on the farm

Pierce’s first memory is singing to his family on the porch of his family’s farm in Georgia.

“Growing up poor on a farm taught me everything I knew about life, family and hard work,” said Pierce.

He was one of 17 siblings and the son of a minister. The family moved from Georgia to Florida when Pierce was 11 years old.

“We worked in orange groves and other odd jobs while my father was ministering, but I followed my brother to Oregon when he moved to Philomath with the Job Corps,” said Pierce. He knew instantly that he’d found a new home.

“It was so beautiful and green, and it was a lot slower paced than Florida,” said Pierce.

Rather than returning to Florida to finish high school, Pierce enlisted in the U.S. Army and earned his GED as a serviceman. Army life solidified the values instilled in him since birth, but it also uncovered a new talent, expert marksmanship.

It was an odd discovery since Pierce’s only other experience with a gun went something like this:

“I was out chasing a rabbit and saw him run down a hole. I put the gun in the hole, fired and missed. The rabbit ran out another hole, I fired again and missed. I thought, okay, I’m not a hunter.”

On the firing range, however, Pierce could “feel” the target. He eventually joined the base’s pistol team. He returned to Oregon after three years with the Army and enrolled in classes at Oregon State University. He wanted to be a doctor and began pre-medicine coursework.

“I had some great mentors working on fascinating research in lipids and cancer, but I got to the lab many mornings before the sun was up and didn’t leave until after it had gone down,” said Pierce.

Music calling

Pierce finished his degree, but still hadn’t come to grips with the lack of sun in his life. He moved to Los Angeles intent on giving music a try. Nothing clicked the way he’d hoped however and soon Pierce returned to Oregon to marry his college sweetheart and the couple had a son.

The music bug is a tenacious one, though, and Pierce soon headed back to Los Angeles with the promise he’d return to his wife and child if he didn’t score a breakthrough within five years.

Pierce was working at a high-end sound equipment store one day in 1982 when he wandered across the street to Jack in the Box for lunch. 

“There was a guy standing at the counter ordering lunch and I knew I recognized him. It took me a minute, but then I realized it was Walter Orange from The Commodores,” said Pierce.

Over lunch, the pair struck up a conversation about their shared past growing up in the South and music. After the meal they went across the street to Pierce’s shop where he played demos of his work.

“Walter told me that Lionel Richie was leaving the group and that he would like to me to come and try out,” said Pierce.

Orange left the shop with samples of Pierce’s vocals and within a few days Pierce was called to the apartment building to meet the other members of the group. Using only demo materials, The Commodores narrowed the field to two candidates, Pierce and “another tall, handsome guy who could also play the piano.”

Pierce came in second, but continued talks with several studios interested in his work. Still, after five years none of the opportunities had produced the career he was seeking. He returned to Oregon as promised.

Back home in Portland, he got a call from a representative of CBS records who was in town and interested in hearing Pierce’s work. Unfortunately, Pierce was out at the time of the call. The message on his machine was, “Hey Sam, I talked to your manager, Taylor, and I want to see you. I’m in Portland, give me a call. This is Randy Jackson of CBS records.”

Jackson is now one of three judges on the hit show “American Idol.” Pierce and Jackson missed meeting each other, but the two started talking. Unswayed by the promises of having his name in lights, Pierce decided to launch a new career in Portland with the Urban League.

The road to hell

Pierce drew on all these experiences when Holmes asked for his help in starting a new life.

“I didn’t take him to JC Penney, I took him to Goodwill because I was taught that you work for the things you own and you have to start small,” Pierce said. “Then I put it on layaway for him. That was about all Liddell’s pride could take.”

On the drive home, Holmes’ demeanor changed completely. He was silent for much of the trip; Pierce dropped him off and Holmes dropped out of sight.

Pierce had a job to do, however. He kept working with kids and, when the opportunity arose, he would ask if they knew what Holmes was doing.

“Most of them would laugh and snicker, but I finally connected with one of them who told me Liddell was selling drugs,” Pierce said.

The two met again before Holmes was shot. Pierce was standing outside a convenience store when Holmes pulled up in a new Camaro, dressed in the best threads he could afford and laden with gold chains.

“He walked right past me entering and leaving the store without a word. I asked him what was up and he finally turned to me and said, ‘Mr. Pierce I trusted you, I showed you all that was going on. Not only do you not get me the stuff I need, you take me to Goodwill and put it on layaway.’”

Holmes drove off and Pierce didn’t see him again until the funeral.

“At the funeral, I was trying to make some sense of his life and I realized that if you want to work with people, it’s not enough to be a good guy. You got to go to school, get the training and that’s what I did,” said Pierce.

A person of peace

During his doctorate studies, Pierce learned of the effects of shame and narcissism on kids in gangs.

“Knowing what I know about psychology is you don’t expose shame, you try to heal that shame. I probably should have bought the stuff for him and had him pay me, it would have preserved his feeling of pride,” said Pierce.

Pierce continued working with kids and nonprofits after earning his PsyD, a doctorate in psychology, and came to Chemeketa to teach four years ago.

In addition to his courses on campus, Pierce teaches courses in the College Inside program, which offers transfer degree courses to inmates in the Oregon State Penitentiary and the Oregon Santiam Correctional Institution.

When he was offered the chance to participate, he thought back on his experiences with Holmes.

“No matter what anyone has done all people deserve our humanity, so I agreed to do it. I’m honored that they let me into their sanctum,” he said.

What unites all of his many pursuits is an understanding that he has lived a graced life.

“I could have been any one of the people I encountered over the years, but I’ve been fortunate. It’s my students, all of them, who inspire me to keep doing the work,” he said.

That understanding fuels the softness of his smile, the joy in his vocals and his desire to pass on what he has learned.  

(Editor’s note: Liddell Holmes is not the name of the young man who impacted the life of Samuel Pierce, but all events in this article are true.)

By Eric A. Howald. Have a great Chemeketa story? Send us an e-mail.

Updated October 2, 2007 by Marketing and Student Recruitment.