Only a small circle of friends and family knew Thiessens's secret, and it wasn't until B&J was proposed last fall for a Blue Chip Enterprise Award, a national honor accorded small businesses that have overcome adversity—B&J was nearly destroyed in a 1997 flood—that the wall of silence began to crack. During an interview, award coordinator Hawley MacLean sensed he wasn't getting Thiessens's full story. "His use of grammar was not as refined as you'd expect from someone running a company," recalls MacLean. "Something wasn't quite adding up."
Thiessens eventually admitted that he couldn't read and agreed to go public to help others with his problem. Since receiving his award this June, Thiessens has been speaking to the press about his struggle with illiteracy. (Although few nonreading Americans are as successful as Thiessens, his problem is hardly unique. According to a 1992 U.S. Department of Education survey, more than 20 percent of adult Americans cannot draft a letter to question an error on their credit card bills.)
The son of a welder and his home-maker wife, Thiessens, who grew up in McGill, Nev., is the father of two grown children—his son Ronald died in a motorcycle accident at 23—and lives with his wife, Bonnie, 53, in a four-bedroom home in Sparks. He discussed his lifelong reading problem with correspondent Karen Brailsford.
I had rheumatic fever when I was 5, and I was kept out of school at that time, when most kids were learning to read. Later, my parents knew about my reading problems, but they were poor readers also, so they weren't able to help me much. I think my mother was always kind of afraid I was a little fragile because I had a heart murmur—the result of the fever. Every time she would try working with me on my reading, it would turn into me bawling and saying, "I can't do this!" I had a huge mental block; I couldn't get beyond it.
In the first or second grade I had a teacher tell me I was stupid because I struggled with reading. That teacher didn't realize the impact she was going to have on my life. By telling me I was stupid, she made me believe it. When we had to come to the front of the class to read, I wasn't able to do it. The alphabet, I knew. But if I would come to a big word it was like it was just letters. I had no clue how you go about sounding a word out. Kids in the class started calling me stupid also. It hurt.
I was held back from third grade. But later on, I learned ways to cope. During reading times I would just open up the book the class was reading and pretend to read. When the kids around me would turn the page, I would turn the page. The teachers in school had to have known, if they were paying attention at all.
In high school I actually told my driver's ed teacher that I could not read the driver's test, so he arranged to have it given to me orally. One of my fears has been that I'll let my driver's license lapse and have to take the test again.
My grades all the way through school were mostly Cs, Ds and Fs. If I got a C, that was a big deal. Since I wasn't a rowdy kid, teachers just passed me out of sympathy. But it still took me five years to get through high school, because in my freshman year I had to drop out because I got rheumatic fever again. In my senior year I took a three-hour course in auto mechanics in the morning and a three-hour course in machine shop in the afternoon. That year I finally did hit the honor roll. That's when I decided to be a machinist.
Bonnie and I had English together in high school. When we started dating, we just hit it off. Before I graduated in 1962, I told her I couldn't read. I guess she didn't have a problem with it. My kids would come and ask me to read stuff with them, and I'd tell them, "Well, you're going to have to get your mother to read it." I think they knew. When they got to be adults, I think we did discuss it some. I had to explain why I didn't write in their birthday cards.
I had lines I had made up to take care of practically every situation. For instance, if somebody asked me how to spell something, I'd say, "You don't realize you're talking to the world's worst speller." If the guys at the shop came to me with a written joke, I'd pretend to read it and laugh. If they wanted me to read something, I'd tell them I was busy, and I'd get back to them later. And I would never sign a contract without sleeping on it. That way I could come home and have my wife read it before I signed. If anything was given to me that needed to be read, she would take it and read it. Whenever Bonnie tried to encourage me, I would get upset because she was pushing me to do something I didn't think I could do.
I was very guarded about where I'd go. I would go places mainly with my wife. If I went to a restaurant with other people, I'd let them order and pick what sounded good out of what they ordered. It's amazing how creative the human mind is to cover things up like this.
I'm a member of the Mormon Church, and eight years ago they asked me to be an adviser to 12-and 13-year-old boys. Because I lost my son, I felt the Lord was giving me these young men to teach. So I brought a lesson book home, and my wife helped me. She'd read, I'd memorize. During the lessons with the boys, if there was a scripture story to be read, I would call on one of them. I think that was the first thing to happen to get me to want to read.
Nearly two years ago, during a B&J retreat, I told my management team I couldn't read. They were all very supportive. They all said they had no idea. Everyone I've taken into my confidence has said, "How can I help you? I'll do whatever I can." But I was afraid one of my competitors was going to find out and use it against me. How are the companies around town going to take it when they learn that the guy who owns B&J's can't read?
I finally decided that I'd better do something about my reading when I became a bishop in my church in February '98. My mother had always said that the Lord would never ask you to do anything without providing the way.
I asked a church member if he knew anyone who could help me. He recommended his wife, who teaches first grade. We began last October. We meet at my kitchen table. She comes over at 5 every weekday afternoon for about 45 minutes. I think she was a little shocked that I couldn't read, being a businessman and a bishop. We started out with flash cards with the different letters and the sounds that they make. It's gotten better, but it's still a struggle. All the exceptions to the rules drive me nuts because the only way you can get those is by memorizing them. I can't memorize all those words! But now I'm probably reading at a fifth-grade level.
About two months ago—at the same time as I started making progress with my reading—my management team decided to read the book Gung Ho! by Kenneth H. Blanchard, which is about employee relations. I decided to read it aloud with my tutor. It was the first book I was ever able to read in my life. I felt proud to be able to tell my management team that I read the book. Now I find myself reading bumper stickers and signs on the road. I've only just learned how to use an ATM. I used to depend on my wife for money all the time. I haven't gotten to where I want to read everything, but I would eventually like to read to my three grandchildren.
Saved by the Bell Reunion
The hookups, the meltdowns, the memoires
The case reveals what was really going on what they think of each other now!
