Honest Les From Southwest

by Lee S. Wilbur

 

I can still remember his first visit as a sales stop. Les opened the small side door of my first boatbuilding shop, stepped inside, looked up (all you could see was white fiberglass), looked over at me beside the work bench, and said, “Looks like you’ve got some work cut out for you. Kid.” Then he smiled and said, “How can I help?” I’d known Les pretty much since we moved to Southwest in 1946. This was 1983 and I guess to him I was still “a kid”

Until the time he retired in 1992, Leslie “Les” Thurston was a great help and a friend to most of us in the marine business, whether it was boatbuilding, fish wharves, or marine hardware stores. Always had a good word, never complained or had any made up excuse when something wasn’t delivered on time, and stood with us through the sometimes difficult periods when the economy would tank and orders were sparse.

Les, when he spotted a new product, something he thought would be beneficial or if a product might change and he wasn’t quite sure of the value of the change, would have a representative accompany him on the sales trip. This gave us an opportunity to talk with someone who could take our feedback directly to the manufacturer. Good feeling to know someone might actually be listening to our problems and suggestions. And, we were able to integrate some great products into our construction that might otherwise have been overlooked.

After WWII, and getting through the European Theatre physically unscathed, Les came back to Southwest Harbor and went to work as a clerk in Jackson’s Market. A few months later. Wallace “Wally” Birlem stopped in to see him, said he and his partner Bill Johnson were buying what at the time was a marine supply business started during the war to supply Southwest Boat Corp. and the Henry R. Hinckley company, and asked if he’d like to come to work. Les readily agreed, gave his notice and instead of clerking groceries, clerked rope, fastenings,paint and the like. His starting salary was 18$/week, working six days a week, 7 a.m. to 5 p.m.

“I worked as a clerk for just a few years,” Les recalls, “When Wally, who had asthma real bad had to leave during the winter for a stay in Arizona, Bill handed me an order pad and a pen along with keys to the company car, said ‘go out and sell some product.’ I’d never sold anything before, but what was I going to do? It was a good job and I enjoyed working there. One of my first sales was to Capt. Ralph Barter, owner of Richardson’s wharf over in Stonington. Told him we had a good deal going on pot warp. After we talked for a while he said to send him ‘one.’ I thought he wanted just one roll. Bill called him back and it was ‘one ton.’ And, I had to stack it all in the car and drive it back down there.”

Wasn’t long but Les was on the road full time and needed his own car. “Russell White (the local Ford dealer) sold me a business coupe, but it was too powerful, it would spin in the snow. After that I was buying station wagons, always green. Traded every two years, that way my customers didn’t realize I had new vehicles, didn’t want them to think I was making too much money.”

“I enjoyed selling, but there was an art to it and timing. One of the best salesmen I ever knew was H. G. Reed from McKinley. He got in touch with me while I was playing golf one afternoon (Les was an avid golfer most of his life). Said he needed my help. We filled his panel truck with refrigerators, radios, stoves, all kinds of electric stuff. Drove it down to the mailboat to Cranberry Island and took the entire load to Lisha Bunker’s store on Cranberry. That night H.G. got a call from Lisha. They’d sold everything. H.G. knew ahead of time that the islands were getting electricity.”

Another of Les’ early customers was Capt. William Peterson, owner of Camden Shipbuilding Co., who Les tells gave him one of the best pieces of advice he ever received. “He told me two very important things about selling: know your product and sell yourself. The sales would come after.”

Over the 46 years Les spent with Manset Marine (which later became Harry Miller Co. and moved to Rockland) he lost two wives to cancer, raised two families, had two separate bouts of colon cancer himself and married his present wife, Millie. Millie tells a cute story about she and Les coming back to Southwest Harbor from Bangor a few years ago.

“I was driving and Les was acting kind of funny. He thought he might be having a heart attack. Kept kind of nodding off. I didn’t know whether to stop at the Ellsworth Hospital or drop him off at Fernald’s Funeral Home in Somesville. Finally he woke up, so I drove him to the hospital in Bar Harbor. It was closer to home.”

During a visit to the Canadian grandchildren a month or so ago, Ivana, our daughter-in-law ex-Czechoslovakia made a frightfully delicious tartar sauce which she served with Viener Schnitzel, a breaded and fried piece of veal cutlet which has been pounded thin and moistened in egg wash. The tartar sauce was simply better than any I’ve ever had and would accompany fried fish as well as many other fried dishes. Hope to experiment further with it this winter. Stay tuned.

* R E C I P E *

 

Sweet onion chopped very fine

Shredded sweet and sour pickles with juice

Bit of sugar squeezed out

Dash of malt vinegar

Salt and pepper to taste

Mayonnaise

I have left out measures because Ivana had none. She mixes it all by feel. Anyone who’s ever made tartar sauce will figure it out easily. Sugar and vinegar are to taste. We always make our own and is far superior to the jarred variety.

Fair winds and Good roads .