Monday, December 21, 2015

The Rebuilt Inner Tube story

                                                       The Rebuilt Inner Tube story
                                                                         1962
                                        A true story about rebuilding automobile inner tubes
                                          Written 12/2010 and rewritten 05/ 2016 Unedited
                                                                 Howard Yasgar

     In 1962 after resigning from my business relationship with Abe Zion, in Stamford Connecticut, I was now twenty three years old and unemployed, so naturally I was looking for something to do.
     I had spent almost two years working with Abe, and his wisdom had opened my eyes to all kinds of future possibilities. Working with Abe had been quite an experience for me, an experience that only a few people as fortunate as me would ever have had access to.
     My mother, who had observed everything I was doing, said that the education I received from working with Abe, far exceeded anything I could have received from any university, my mother was a wise woman.
      As long as I had worked with Abe, I was his student, and he was my teacher. But In the end I had worked too many long hours doing Abe’s projects but I had little to show from it financially.  I had learned the transmission parts business, the rebuilt wheel business, the recap tire business, the used car business, the auctioning business, and a multitude of other things, I had learned so many things that I could never list them all.
     But the real important lesson I had learned, was that anything that man has made on this earth, once it is worn out, can be taken apart and rebuilt just like new again at a fraction of its original cost, and there always was a market waiting for it.
     So, after resigning, my relationship with Abe I felt that to succeed, all I had to do was something I had learned from him, and all I needed to do was correct all Abe’s errors.
     Unfortunately I was only twenty three years old, and I really had no idea of the value of what I had learned, it was only now after many years of business experiences that I could see that I had utilized the education he had given me. I had always heard people say they had learned at the “School of hard Knocks”, I could now relate to them as I had also attended it.
      One one day  I was driving through Seymour, Connecticut and I saw a small tire store with a pile of good used tires out front, so I stopped in to see if I could buy them.
      That’s where I happened to meet a real nice fellow named Herb Schein, Herb owned the small retail tire business, and he was typical of many small business owners that were located in small Connecticut towns. He had been brought up in Seymour Connecticut, and everyone there knew him, and his small tire business was his whole world.
      Herb was about fifty years old and just about as honest as they come. He had two employees and they sat around all day waiting for someone local to come in needing new tires, or perhaps needing a flat fixed. As we sat in Herb’s office, he asked what I was going to do with his used tires that I bought, and that led to our conversation about all kinds of tire related businesses, businesses that I had been involved in over the last few years with Abe, and that conversation led me to tell Herb all about the “Tire Breakers” that I had met in New Haven and New York. Most people wouldn’t know what a tire breaking business was, and neither did Herb, but I knew all about them, and now I was teaching Herb about them. I told him that tire breaking was a pretty big business, everywhere in New England, all they did was go to all the automobile junkyards that bought and cut up old cars and they bought the used tires that were still on the car wheels, usually they paid fifty cents or a dollar each. All the auto-mobile junkyards sold their good used tires, but they usually had more tires left over than they could sell, and having mounted tires all around took up too much junk yard space, so the tire breakers then bought them all. Then the tire breakers, would remove the tire from the wheel. So Now they had a wheel, and an inner tube, they also had a tire and the little valve stem from inside the inner tube valve.
    The car wheel could be sold to people that needed a wheel, or sold as scrap iron, The used inner tubes were sold several ways, mostly the black neoprene inner tubes were sold to chemical companies, that melted them down to make chemicals. The little valve stems were thrown into a bottle and saved, and then finally there was the tire. The good used tires were sold to tire dealers who exported most of them. Slightly worn tires were sold to companies that re-grooved them with a hot tire cutting iron, those tires were sold in the south as good used tires. Worn out tires were sold to recap companies that put new rubber treads on them and sold them as re-caps, and lastly the Junk tires were sold to chemical companies like Naugatuck Chemical Company, or they were sold to companies that cut them up to make dock bumpers, rubber shoes and other things out of them. For a while some companies even chopped up the tires, and even though they were toxic, they were burned as fuel to produce electricity overseas.
     Herb was astounded to hear all of this and asked me all kinds of questions, and since I had been involved one way or another with all these kinds of businesses I explained them all to him, and I mentioned that the tire breaking companies had lots of good used inner tubes, and they could be bought for about 35 cents each. That’s cheap Herb said, but what can you do with them? I told Herb that you could rebuild them and sell them as rebuilt inner tubes. I told him that a new inner tube sold depending on the size for about $3.00 to around $5.00 dollars so a rebuilt one could sell for about $1.50 each to $2.50 each, Herb listened and agreed.
    The more we talked, the bigger Herbs eyes got. He said why don’t we make and sell rebuilt inner tubes right here? I told Herb that there was no reason we couldn’t do it, but in the back of my mind I knew that rebuilding inner tubes would be a fairly easy business but it was a labor intensive job, and Herb and his twos two helpers were pretty slow and easy going people, they were not really used to any labor intensive work, so I asked Herb who did he think would do the rebuilding of the inner tubes. Herb was now thinking of all the money he could make, and he was now very excited. Herb said, “All of us, we could rebuild the tubes right here in my store and we could sell the rebuilt inner tubes to tire wholesalers, and at flea markets. Herb asked if I really knew how to rebuild the inner tubes? I told him yes.
    We sat and discussed the financial aspects and we agreed to split the costs and profits 50/50 each. I would go to New York and buy the tubes and Herb would donate the back yard of his store and the use of his employee’s. I would teach them how to rebuild inner tubes, and Herb and I could also pitch in to do some of the labor. So we decided to start out by buying one thousand used inner tubes at 35 cents each and we would then split the costs for any equipment and supplies we needed.
     I drove to New York City and went to see a tire breaking company, the same people I had met before when I was working to develop the rebuilt wheel business with Abe. They were happy to see me again, and they agreed to separate out all the clean, black neoprene inner tubes that didn’t have patches on them. They said they would deliver them to us the following week when their truck was delivering junk tires to the chemical company in Naugatuck Connecticut.
     I went back to Herb’s store in Seymour and we set up a long cable in the tire stores back yard, it was like a clothes line. We also set up a tank of soapy water to wash the tubes. Then I went to a local paint supplier and bought five gallons of black lacquer paint and lots of thinner.
    I went to an industrial supply store and bought one thousand blue poly ethylene bags, the same color plastic bags that new inner tubes came in, I bought two pounds of talcum powder, and a bag tying machine, that would tie the plastic bags shut. A printer up the street printed up a generic label and we used rubber stamps to put the part number on the label, when packaged our rebuilt inner tube, it would look just like the original new inner tubes were packaged.
    The inner tubes from New York were delivered and we unloaded them by hand. They had tied the deflated tubes in groups of 50, to hang off the sides and back of their big delivery truck, the tubes were heavy and dirty, but we were excited, so Herb and everyone pitched in to help. We told the tire breakers to prepare another thousand inner tubes for us.
    That evening we inflated about fifty tubes, put on a valve cap and set them out in the yard to see if they leaked. The next morning, only about ten of them were deflated, that told us they had a leak.
    I instructed Herb’s helpers on how to wash the inflated tubes in the soapy water, using a hard bristle brush. They did it while Herb and I found the leaks in the tubes and patched them. Herb had a rubber patch that came from a German company called Pang. When we used the Pang patch you couldn’t even tell there was a patch. The washed tubes were then dried in the sun, I set up a pan with very diluted black lacquer paint, then with very long rubber gloves I rubbed each tube with a very light coat of black lacquer, then with bent metal hooks, we hung the tubes off the clothes behind the store to dry. Then we inflated another fifty tubes for the next day, soon here was no room to walk anywhere in the stores or in the back yard, there were inner tubes everywhere.
     Next day we deflated the painted tubes, folded them up using talcum powder and packed them in the blue plastic bags. They looked just like new tubes, except our label said rebuilt. As we rebuilt the tubes, I knew that what we were doing was more work than Herb had ever expected, but he didn’t complain, however I could see his both his helpers were not happy now that they had to really work every day.
    We started selling the rebuilt inner tubes everywhere, and I constantly went back to New York to buy more tubes, and that’s when I found out the tire breakers would eventually run out of no patch tubes for us. They had plenty of inner tubes with big red and orange ugly patches on them, but it was not what we wanted, so this meant I had to start shopping in other places for more used black neoprene inner tube. So now I started buying some from other tire breakers in New York City and then in New Haven, Connecticut. I soon could see that we were going to have a problem buying more clean tubes, and that meant that I would have to spend more time on the road buying used tubes.
    It wasn’t long before everyone in the tire business knew what we were doing. Herb couldn’t believe he was capable of actually doing a business like this. So for a while I kept buying and bringing in more inner tubes to be processed.
     One day I received a call from Lebov Tire Company in New Haven, Connecticut, they were one of the largest tire companies in New England. The owner Ben Lebov wanted to set up a meeting with me, so I met with Ben and he said that his company was expanding to Tampa Florida, and they were shipping tires from New Haven to Tampa by railroad car. The problem was there was too much wasted space and he wanted to fill all that space up with all our rebuilt inner tubes. What a wonderful offer, but I knew it was impossible as we could never produce enough inner tubes fast enough for him.
     I told Herb about Lebov Tire’s proposal to buy everything we could produce, but I could see that
Herb was now tiring of it all. He said his helpers wanted to quit, and I could see that Herb was right, we had a good business as long as I stayed on the road buying used inner tubes, but when I did that, it left the bulk of the work to Herb and his helpers. Herb was a nice guy, but he was not a hard worker, he preferred selling tires, better than rebuilding inner tubes, and I knew it. Herb realized that he liked sitting in his office waiting for a housewife to come in needing new tires. He would charge her full price and his employees would take their time installing them. That kind of business didn’t require any physical work on Herb’s part.   
    From my perspective, I also getting tired driving to New York to find inner tubes. So Herb and I decided to stop rebuilding inner tubes and we parted company as friends.   



 
 

The Harry and the Turbocharger Story


                                                 The Harry and the Turbocharger Story
                                                                           1990
                                              A true story about selling military parts
                                         Written 12/2015 and Re-written 05/23/2016
                                                                  Howard Yasgar

For most of my career I have been in the automotive, marine and truck parts business, and like most companies we have always exported quite a bit overseas.
Most companies that export follow the rules, by not shipping to countries that are on our government’s  blacklist.
However there are always companies that will cheat, and they all do it  for a variety of reasons.
Some cheat unknowingly, because they are selling to a export agent that is doing the cheating.
Some cheat because they are agents of the particular blacklisted country, but most companies cheat just for the money.
We found out that companies are caught all the time cheating and they are prosecuted by the government.
When the parts being exported are military in nature, exporting becomes a little more serious and a lot more complicated.
First of all you need a Department of state license, which is not cheap, it’s around $1800.00 a year.
Then you must monitor the countries that are on our countries black list, a list that changes often.
But the next most important thing is, you must know who the  end user customer is.
If you are shipping for an agent, he must advise you of the end user. And that’s a problem as agents usually don’t want to tell you who their customer is.
But it’s the law, and to protect yourself you must ask for an end user certificate.
If the purchasing  agent refuses to provide you an end user certificate, the prudent thing to do is cancel the order.
When exporting military spare parts the Department of state reviews the part numbers of the items you are shipping just to  be certain if the country they are shipping to actually has the vehicles that use the parts. They want to be sure the items are actually  for the country you request the license for.
It’s a lot of work but the Department of state does it, and if they suspect the parts might be for another country they will not issue an export license.
Our Company learned all of this from  U.S Customs agent who showed up at our door one day.
He had in his hands a bunch of our companies invoices.
He said,  are these your invoices, I looked at them and they were ours.  
The Custom agent said, did you know these parts are for the M60 Tank?
I said no, they are for a Caterpillar tractor.
The Customs agent said you are lucky, the parts you sold are for Caterpillar tractors, but they also fit the M60 Military tank.
Your customer, knowing the parts fit a tank, sold them to a company in Canada. The Canadian company sold them to a company in France, and the French company tried to ship them to Iran and the
shipment was confiscated.
Your customer will receive 2 years in prison, and had you known the parts were for military application your company and you would have been prosecuted a well.  
I asked the Customs officer how could I know who my customer is selling to.
He said the answer is simple, if you sell military related items, you must know who the end used is.
After that episode you can be sure we know who the end user is.
But it’s not always that easy.         
Export agents that do not want their customers to learn who their supplier is, will request that you not put your name on the shipment, they want to provide you with  shipping labels.
This will not work when exporting military parts, but that does not stop people from breaking the law all the time. People always try to ship to blacklisted countries and many are caught.  
And that’s what this short story is all about.   
We had a friend  named Harry, and Harry had a wholesale parts supply business in Ohio.
Harry was contacted by an export agent requesting a fairly large quantity of turbochargers, that had a military application.
As Harry’s company was a distributor for  Schweitzer turbocharger, the agent went to Harry and gave him an order.
Harry knew the parts had a military application, but he chose to disregard it. All he wanted was the profit on the sale and that’s all Harry cared about.
Harry then packed the shipment for export.
While packing it, Harry did exactly what any honest and legitimate company does not do.
Harry put his catalogs, calendars and his business cards into the packages before he sealed them up.
Harry hoped that the end user customer would see his advertisements and come to him directly next time bypassing the agent, and that was not a very nice thing to do.
What Harry didn’t know was that his customer was a bigger crook than he was, and he intended to ship the turbochargers to Iran, a country that’s on the U.S. Government’s “No ship” blacklist.   
Harry’s customer was on the Department of State Watch list, and the entire turbocharger shipment was confiscated.
Not only was Harry’s customer prosecuted, but Harry was prosecuted too.
It was hard for Harry to convince U.S. Customs he did nothing wrong, as they found his catalogs, calendars and business cards in the shipment.
Before it was all over, Harry told me that between his attorney bills and fines he spent $380,00.00.
Harry  was never paid for the turbo chargers and he almost lost his building.
After that, I don’t think Harry sold any more Military parts or put his advertisements in any of his shipments.
       

Saturday, December 12, 2015

The Knut Barth and the Brazilian Railroad Story

                                             The Knut Barth and the Brazilian Railroad Story
                                                                   Told to me in 1996                
                                                      A true story as told to me by Knut Barth
                                                     Written 11/16/2015, Re-written 1/2016
                                                                          Howard Yasgar


  
      Knut said that after world WW 2 he immigrated from Norway to the United States.
      Knut had an engineering degree and had worked for the O.S.S.  as a spy at the wars end.
      Once in the United States he applied for a job with a major U.S. locomotive manufacturer.
They not only manufactured railroad engines,  but they would build complete railroads.
      Knut had applied to enter their engineering department and he was accepted.
      After working in engineering for a year or so, an opening was available in their sales department, and Knut applied.
      At the time Knut was a bachelor at the time and the prospect of traveling around the world for the company really interested him.
      He was surprised to learn that his first assignment was to fly to Brasilia.
      The Brazilian government in their attempt to open up the Amazon had requested quotes to build a railroad along one of the rivers there.
      Knut’s predecessor had already submitted his companies bid, and it was Knut’s job to be in Brazilia for the opening of the bids by the Brazilian Minister of the Interior.
      As Knut was relatively new in sales and never had been at a bid opening before.     
      Knut arrived in Brasilia several days early, and after walking around the city for 2 days, he was at a loss as to what to do next.
      In the hotel lobby he saw a tourist brochure for a river cruise up the Sao Francisco River, so having nothing better to do for a couple of days he signed up for it.
      The next day he was taken to Sao Francisco River and then onto a tourist  boat that took him up the river for an uneventful cruise and then back to his hotel.
      When the time came for the opening of the bids, Knute was seated in the Minister of the Interiors office, along with sales representatives  from all his competitors.
      They had come from England, France and Germany.
      When the bids were opened, and the prices announced, his companies bid was several million dollars higher than all his competitors.
      It appeared that Knut had wasted his time coming to Brazil.
      That was until the Minister of the Interior said he was awarding the contract to Knut’s company.
      All of the competitors protested, some erven stood up in protest.
      So The Minister of the Interior told them why he had awarded the contract the way he did.
      He said that out of all the bidders, Knut Barth was the only person that had taken the time to travel up the river to inspect where the railroad was to be built.
      Knut returned to the United States as a hero, and his eventual rise to a vice presidency was now assured.
      It wasn’t until four years later that Knut learned that a $400,000.00 under the table payment had been made to the Minister of the interior by his company prior to the bid opening.

         


                           

The Knut Barth and the Salmon Fishing Story



                      
The Knut Barth and the Salmon Fishing Story
                                                   1998
                                            A true story of how I tried to fool Knut Barth   
                                            Written 11/16/2015 and Re-written 1/2016
                                                                     Howard Yasgar

     We had a very dear friend named Knut Barth.
     Knut was once the vice president  of Detroit Diesel Military Division, he retired and started a company he called Barco.
     Knut spoke 34 languages fluently and a few more that he was not fluent in.
     During his career he said he had been to every country in the world except outer Mongolia.
     Also in his younger days he said he had a girlfriend in ever country. He said he left Japan by the skin of his teeth as his girlfriends father, who was a Japanese dignitary, was preparing for a wedding     
     I don’t think Knut who was semi retired started his company Barco with the intention to make a profit, it gave him an excuse to travel and go salmon fishing.
     Knut lived in Michigan, and whenever he headed to South America he stopped in to see us.
     Knut told me Salmon fishing was his passion, and he traveled to Chile quite often supposedly doing some business there but he said his real reason to go was for salmon fishing.
     One day in June of 2000, my wife and I were shopping in a local Winn Dixie supermarket in Key Largo Florida.
     We stopped by the seafood department, they were having a salmon sale. They were selling fresh whole Chilean Salmon for $2.99 per lb.
      Each Chilean farm raised salmon was in its own Styrofoam container. We couldn’t believe how cheap it was. The air freight from Chile was probably more than they were selling the salmon for.
     I had a terrific idea for a gag that I could play on our friend Knut.
     Everyone knows  that Salmon was a cold water fish and not found in Florida, so I purchased one whole 20 lb. fresh farm raised Chilean Salmon.
     That very afternoon I posed for my wife, as she took pictures of me fishing in the canal behind our house on Plantation Key in Islamorada Florida.
     I had purposely put a heavy weight on my fishing line so it would look like I was fighting a big fish.
     Then I proudly stood on the dock with my fishing rod in one hand and the 20 lb. Salmon in the other hand.
     I had a big smile  like I had just that moment caught the fish in the canal behind our house.
     We sent the pictures off to our friend Knut Barth in Michigan.
     Knut called us up as soon as he received the pictures.
     “Nice Chilean farm raised Salmon”, Knut said.
      It was not exactly what I had expected to hear from him. How the hell did he know it was a farm raised Salmon.
      Knut said, “All Chilean farm raised Salmon have clipped tails, they do it to make the fish less powerful.
      Knut said, “ The moment you hook a Salmon in Chile you can tell if it is wild or if it was an escaped farm raised fish, you can feel right away the way it fights.”
      Well, we couldn’t fool our friend Knut, my gag had backfired, but we did eat the fish.          
       

The My Uncle Norm’s Car Story

                                                    The My Uncle Norm’s Car Story 1958 A true story about my fixing Uncle Normans car Written 2011 and rewritten 05/11/2016 Re-written 1/2019 Howard Yasgar In 1957, I was eighteen 18 years old, living in Westville Connecticut, Westville was a suburb of New Haven, Connecticut. Every afternoon after school, I was working part time at a Gulf gas station that was on the corner of Whalley Avenue and Emerson Street. The Gulf gas station I was working at, was a typical, two bay station that was owned by the Gulf Oil Co, the Oil Company then leased the gas station to a local manager. A gas stations main business besides from selling gas, was greasing cars, changing oil, fixing flat tires, and doing other minor mechanical things. Since I had always wanted to learn to be a mechanic, I enjoyed doing all these different things. Unfortunately, even with doing these things, it never added up to making any real money for the station manager. That meant whoever was leasing the Gulf gas station at the time was always trying to make a extra dollar any way they could, but they had to do it without the Gulf Oil representative catching them doing it. So after I had been working at the station for several years, I watched as the different managers tried every trick in the book to make some extra money. Because you couldn’t make any money just selling gas, I saw that Gulf gas station change hands two times. Both of the managers being local New Haven guys. One was a short thin fellow named Tony, he was a former Korean War vet. Then there was Scotty, he was a fellow that looked like a typical Italian movie mobster. The constant changing of managers didn’t seem 0to bother the Gulf Oil Co, as they always seemed to find another unskilled New Haven guy to take their place. As for me, working for these different managers was a good learning experience, as watching them taught me a lot of things that I shouldn’t do in the future. The second manager at that Gulf station was Scotty. As a boss, Scotty was a pretty nice guy, and he always treated me pretty good, which was surprising because he uttered plenty of harsh words towards others. Scotty was a good guy, however I found that his business ethics were far from desirable, also every afternoon Scotty would disappear for a couple of hours, and he would return smelling like beer. One day, Scotty told me he wasn’t making any money with the gas station. He said too many of the local neighborhood customers came in and bought their gasoline on credit, and since there were no credit cards back then, many of them never came back to pay their gas bill. So Scotty told me to write each deadbeats name in big letters on the front window of the gas station, using white car polish. Then Scotty instructed me to put next to the name how much money they owed him. Scotty then walked way out to the curb in front of the station to look at it. I had written about ten names big enough for anyone passing by to see. I don’t think Scotty collected any of the money, but he was still was very pleased, he said, that as far as those ten customers were concerned, they could never drive by his gas station, as their name and how much they owed was on our front window. One day, Scotty told me that he was not going to renew the lease with Gulf Oil Company, he had enough. He said he was looking to move into a small, no brand gas station that was available for rent at the end of Legion Avenue in New Haven. I knew exactly the place he was talking about, it was a tiny gas station with two gas pumps, and it had a small office big enough for one desk, and a single inside bathroom. Also the tiny gas station only had one bay with a car lift in it. I knew why Scotty took over the place. It was because the rent was cheap and he lived right near there. Also with the station only having two gas pumps, that meant Scotty had little in the way of work to do, so when I came to work every afternoon, Scotty could take off. I knew that he was visiting his friends at the local tavern. When Scotty came back he would sit at the desk with his feet up and tell me how his wife was going to yell at him when he came home drunk. Once I asked him why he didn’t just sober up before going home. Scotty replied, “My father taught me, why build a fire if you are going to put it out.” One afternoon, while Scotty was out with his buddies drinking, I heard a loud grinding noise outside the gas station office. It was a noise that I was somewhat familiar with, it was the noise a car made when its front wheel bearing was burned out. I looked out the office window, and I saw it was my Uncle Norman. He was driving a 1949 Chevrolet, and he was pulling right into Scotty’s little gas station. I already knew from listening to the terrible noise his car was making that a front wheel bearing on his car was burned out. Now my Uncle Norman was about as nice a mild mannered guy as you would ever meet. He was married to my mom’s younger sister Lillian. So I went out to say hello to my uncle as he got out of his car. I saw that my uncle Norman had a broad smile on his face, and he said, “It sounds like something in front of my car is making a noise.” Yes, I replied, it sounds like your right front wheel bearing is burned out. “Can you fix it?” Norman asked,. Sure, I said, I was very anxious to show my uncle Norman that at 18 years old I was a good mechanic, and besides that, I knew that fixing a wheel bearing was not too difficult, but that depended on how much damage had already been done to the car’s spindle. So I put a rolling jack under the right front wheel, and I lifted the car, then took off the hub cap and with a hammer. Once I removed the tire, wheel and brake drum it exposed the burned out ball bearings that were making the loud noise. Once I did this, all the burned out little steel balls from the ball bearings fell out and on to the pavement. I could see the balls from the bearings were already so burned out that they were blue in color with some already starting to melt from the heat. Then I saw that not only were the bearings burned out, but they had also worn out the car’s front spindle. It appeared to me that my Uncle Norman had been driving around and not paying attention to the noise of the bearings grinding up the spindle. I told Norman that just replacing the bearings would not fix his problem, the car’s front wheel spindle was worn out and needed to be replaced. Norman was looking over my shoulder, as I spoke, he could clearly see that everything was worn out, and that what I was telling him was true. I told uncle Norman he needed a new spindle and new inner and outer ball bearings, to fix the car. “And how much will that cost?” Norm asked me in a very negative tone of voice. I said, well, we can buy a used spindle from a junk yard for about thirty five dollars, and I can install it on your car for free as long as Scotty didn’t come back and catch us doing it. I could see my Uncle Norman was pondering the situation in his mind. Then he said, “Can you put it all back together, I am going to wait before fixing it.” When I heard that, I had to stop and gather my thoughts, what my uncle was asking me to do, was almost an impossible task, as all the burned out balls from the bearings were already laying everywhere on the pavement. Norm, I said, I don’t think I can put it back together, as all the bearings are broken and burned out. Norman’s reply to me was now very stern, he said “I drove in here before you touched it, didn’t I”. So I went into the station and got a hand full of thick lubricating grease and a couple of wiper rags, then picked up each individual burned out ball from the ground, and wiped the dirt off, then I used the thick grease to hold the ball bearings on the spindle, and I carefully replaced the brake drum and tire. Without saying another word to me Uncle Norman backed out of the gas station and went on his way. I never asked Uncle Norman how far he got, before the bearing fell apart again, and he never said anything to me about it ever.           
           

The Colombian Cocaine Story


                                                   The Colombian Cocaine Story
                                                                     1995
                                  A true story involving one of my Colombian customers
                                           Written 4/2010 and Rr-written 05/10/2016  
                                                             Howard Yasgar

     During the 1980’s to the 1990’s our company was very busy exporting automotive parts to Central and South America.
     Our being located in Miami, was the perfect location as we had importers and automotive parts dealers from South America coming in to see us all the time
     South American dealers would fly into Miami and rent a car, then they would stop in to see what we had for them before they headed up to Atlanta and New York.
     We would usually see them again when they returned to Miami, as Miami  was their last stop before flying back to their home countries.
     Some days we had so many of these people visiting us, we didn’t have enough offices and chairs to accommodate them all.
     All these businessmen coming to do business in the States had one thing in common, they had their attaché cases filled with U.S. currency.
     It was extremely difficult for South American businessmen to obtain U.S. dollars in their own countries, they had to buy them from street corner money dealers and they had to pay a premium of up to 20% to buy dollars, depending on the market.
     When they arrived at our office and opened their attaché cases, they were all the same, the cases were filled with stacks of wrinkled U.S.  $1.00, $5.00, $10.00 and $20.00 bills.        
     So to get enough U.S. Currency to make a trip to Miami it was always a real problem for them, and it was a costly problem as they had to pay so much profit to the money brokers.
     Now, traveling to the U.S. with an attaché case full of U.S. currency was legal, but was also a big risk, as there were criminals just looking for South American and Central Americans that they knew were carrying  money in their attache cases.
     So to solve all these problems, the Colombian drug dealers came up with a solution.
     They had lots of U.S. currency that was already in the United States, and as drug dealers they ran a big risk when sending the U.S. currency back to South America, the money could be detected and confiscated by U.S. government.
     So the Colombian drug dealers devised a scheme that was perfect for the Latin American  businessmen that needed U.S. Currency.
     You would simply call a telephone number in Colombia and tell them how much money you needed in U.S. currency.
     Then you told them where they could find you in the States.
     The Colombian businessmen would then pay the drug dealers only a 10% premium in Colombia and they could pay it in their local currency.
     This money exchange business was good for the drug dealers, especially in Colombia, as they didn’t have to ship the U.S. currency back to Colombia, and they made an additional 10% profit.
     This system was also good for our Colombian customers as they knew their exact cost of money was going to be 10%, and they no longer had to shop the streets for money.
     The best part was they no longer had to carry large sums of money when traveling to the States and run the risk of having it stolen from them.
    By 1995, the export parts business was starting to slow down, it was due to several factors.
    One reason being that the Japanese automobiles were now replacing the American cars in the Caribbean, Central and South America, and another reason was that the local currency in many South American Countries had been devalued, making many formerly wealthy businessmen into poor people.
     The currency devaluations became so bad, most of our long time South American customers couldn’t even afford to fly to the U.S. anymore.
      One day, we were surprised to see that one of our regular customers from Colombia had come to see us.
     His name was Omar and I always remembered Omar because he carried an attaché case with all sorts of colorful automotive decals plastered all over it.
     That morning, Omar arrived at our office with a friend, and we all sat down in our office talking over old times and how the automotive business was now changing.
     Neither Omar nor his friend spoke a word of English, but they told us they had made arrangements to receive $35,000.00 in U.S. currency when they arrived at their hotel in New York City.
    Omar said that he wanted to look over our stock of parts that we had for sale, and then he was driving up to New York City.
     He said that it was in his regular hotel room in New York City where he arranged to pick up the $35,000.00 in U.S. currency that he had purchased from the drug dealers back in Colombia.
     He said that he would pay us for what he bought from us on his return trip from New York when he had his dollars.
    About a week passed and I received a distressing call from Omar, he said he was in New York City, and he asked if I would please send him $300.00 by Western Union just as soon as possible. He said he needed the money for food and gasoline to get to Miami. He said he would explain everything when he got to Miami and saw me.
    Omar and his friend arrived at my office a couple of days later, and he told me the following story.
    When they arrived in New York City, they headed to their regular hotel, where they always stayed.
   Omar said he always reserved the same room, and it was that room where he was supposed to receive the $35,000.00 in U.S. currency that he had paid for in Colombia.
     The hotel clerk said that Omar’s regular room was under renovation, but they could have the room next to it.
     Omar said he thought it strange, as he wasn’t told about any of this when he had called in his reservation a week earlier.
     So Omar told the desk clerk to be sure and advise the delivery boy when he came, that there had been a room change, the desk clerk assured him that it would be taken care of.
      The next morning there was a knock on their hotel room door, it was a delivery boy carrying a bowling ball bag.
      Omar knew his money was in it, so he invited the boy into the room and they opened the bag on the bed to count the money.
      As expected, in the bag were bundles of U.S. $20.00 bills, which Omar then spread out on the bed to count, he wanted to make sure it was all there.
      That’s when their hotel room door came crashing open and a Police swat team with guns drawn stormed into the room.
     Omar, his friend, and the delivery boy, were thrown on the floor and handcuffed, and while this was going on a huge German Shepard dog jumped on the bed and chewed on the bag and the money.
     Omar said he was so scared, he thought he was having a heart attack right there on the floor.
     They were all placed under arrest and taken to the police station, and as Omar and his friend spoke no English, an interpreter was called in to translate for them.
     The Interpreter explained to Omar that the money was confiscated as it had traces of cocaine on it,  and they were to appear before a Magistrate in New York City that very evening.
     That evening, they explained to the Magistrate through the interpreter, that they had bought and paid for the money in Colombia, and Omar explained that they were in the auto parts business, not the cocaine business.
     The Judge appeared very sympathetic to their story, and told them that they would be released but the drug money was to be held as evidence.
     They would be informed when there would be a hearing, to set a trial date, and Omar could then hire an attorney if he wanted to.
     Omar said he was in a state of shock, the money was all his working capital, and he really didn’t fully understand what was going on.
     That’s when he called for me to send the $300.00.
     Omar said he didn’t know what happened to the courier, but he did know he couldn’t afford to hire an attorney, and he couldn’t afford to return to New York for a trial.
     Omar was afraid that if they found him guilty, he could end up going to prison.
     He said that he also knew he couldn’t complain to the drug dealers in Colombia as that could be worse than the Police in New York.
     Omar said, all he wanted to do now was get on the next flight home to Colombia.
     Omar never mentioned the $300.00 I had lent them, and I have never seen Omar again.
       

                   

The Florida Keys House Railing Story

                                       The Florida Keys House Railing Story
                                                         2005
This story should be called the 4000 easy steps in doing a renovation project in the Florida Keys.
                                       The story was Re-written 05/03/2016.
This is  a true story about what we went through to get an aluminum railing installed in 2005.   
                                                          Howard Yasgar

In September of 2001, my wife and I purchased a water front property located in Venetian Shores.
Venetian Shores is a development located on the island of Islamorada in the Florida Keys.
When we bought the property, we knew that every square inch of it needed to be renovated.
That included everything, on the property, even the seawall, and landscaping were in a terribly neglected condition.
You could say that the entire house and property was a “Fixer Upper”.
We had bought the property because its location was absolutely perfect, it was a large corner property that was 100 feet long by 100 feet wide, one of the largest in Venetian Shores.
Back in 1967, the original owner had, illegally added fill to the two sides of the property making the lot larger.  
The house overlooked “Snake Creek”, which is the main waterway that boats need to use when traveling from the Gulf of Mexico to the Atlantic Ocean or visa versa.
So not only could we watch all the boats going by, but we could also see the Snake Creek bridge on U.S. 1, opening and closing.
The house on the property was built in the “Art  Deco” style, but by 2001, we thought that a Art Deco style no longer suited the Florida Keys, we felt that a Mediterranean style house would be far more appropriate.  
When we bought the property we had assumed that there was going to be no shortage of  contractors, and craftsmen available in the Keys to assist us in the renovation.
We also thought the trade people in the Keys would be anxious to want to work with us on such a  large renovation project.
That turned out to be an erroneous assumption on our part regarding the Keys.
The first highly recommended architect we hired, had to be fired after just three months, as he had done absolutely nothing except take a hefty deposit from us.
Once we started talking to other people in the Keys, we were warned about the “Keys Disease”, that was the term used when you hired local workers and they failed to show up, or fail to do what they had promised to do.
We had never experienced anything like the Keys Disease before, so when it actually happened to us we were kind of surprised.
Also, once we found a contractor to work with us, we found that overcharging for materials was a common practice in the Keys.
All the Keys contractors  knew that the majority of the homeowners in the Keys, didn’t live there full time, so they took advantage of the situation by jacking up the prices as high as they could.
After all, what was an out of state  homeowner going to do, except pay.
In our case, we found our contractor was working in collusion with all the local suppliers.
How their scheme worked was fairly simple, the hardware supplier overcharged the customers, then gave back money to the contractor.
Some vendors rewarded the larger crooked contractors with free year end vacations in the Bahamas or Mexico, it’s quite a racket they have going.   
It wasn’t long before we realized that getting anything done in the Florida Keys, was in many ways worse than doing a project in a foreign country.
Not only that, but our living in Miami, really compounded all our problems, as we were noted to be  on the property every day to watch and see that the work was being done properly.
We thought we could try solving the problem by bringing qualified workers from Miami, to the Keys, but we soon determined that the travel time to have them come to the Keys from Miami added too much to the overall costs.
Also we eventually found out that very few, if any of the Miami contractors had Workman’s Compensation Insurance, which is required to work in the Keys.
So we knew that if a building inspector in the Keys ever caught a contractor working without workman’s, Compensation Insurance they would have all the work that was being done torn out, then we, as the homeowner could be fined, this made using an uninsured contractor from Miami or anywhere else a very dangerous proposition.  
So because of that, and several more complications we ran into, it made every project we did on the property in Venetian Shores, a problem worthy of writing a book about.
The “Aluminum house railing story”, that I am going to relate to you is just one of several stories regarding the renovation, and this is how the story started.
When all the exterior concrete construction and tile work was done, and a new third floor had been  added to the house, it was time for us to think about doing the aluminum railings that were to go around the house.
The original house built in 1967, had railings made from 1-1/4 inch iron pipe that was welded and painted silver. However now, Iron pipe railings no longer met current Keys code requirements, so it all had to be removed.
Once that was done, my wife and I started driving up and down all the streets in Venetian Shores, we were looking at the different kinds of aluminum railings.
We were not only looking for a Mediterranean style, but one that we liked.
We felt that if we found a railing we liked, we could always find out who did the work and call them.
After a couple of weekends of looking, we didn’t find even one railing we wanted, but we did get a lot of  good ideas.
We found that the Mediterranean style we liked was called  birds breast, and it came in many different shapes.
However, what we didn’t like was seeing that the railing installers used metal screws and hardware to fasten their railings down.
You would think the Keys railing installers would be smarter, but they weren’t, they all used screws that eventually rusted  in the salt air, and the rusty hardware eventually left ugly brown stains on the houses.
Now, regarding our contractor, this is the way he worked, whatever we paid to a sub- contractor, he would add an 18% percent commission on for himself, so the higher the price we paid anyone, the better it was for him.
We found that he would always try to push us to do business with his sub contractors.
They were all companies that would also add into the price a hefty commission for the contractor besides his 18%.
The contractor took us to several Keys railing companies, and he said we could pick out any style railings we wanted out of a catalog.
What we found was that all his railing stores only carried ready made railings.
They simply ordered  them and bolted the sections together, using stainless hardware that rusted. None of them were actually making the railings.
For these totally uninspired railings they wanted an outrageous $80,000.00, which probably included a $20,000.00 or more commission for our contractor.
Not only that but the end results would be that our house would just look like half the other houses in the Keys.
We knew that we wanted a Mediterranean bird breast design that didn’t look like everyone else’s.
We soon found that all the Keys railing companies would automatically jack up the prices as soon as they knew that we were with a contractor.
After we turned all of them down, our disappointed contractor then introduced us to another one of his buddies, he was a fellow that actually did fabricate and weld railings, but when I saw examples of his welding, I felt that the quality was so poor, I would have been crazy to even consider using him.
Eventually we came to feel that we would never be able to find what we wanted in the Keys, so we started looking at railing fabricators in Miami.
We asked around, but we didn’t find anyone in Miami that was interested to do the job.
But, we did find a actual sample of the birds breast railing that we wanted.
Once we had it, we were finally able to draw on paper the exact style of railing just as we had envisioned it.
We were wearing ourselves out talking to so many different people about the railing.
Before we knew it, several months had passed with nothing happening.
I again measured the house, and I then determined for certain that we needed over five hundred linear feet of aluminum railing, and that was just for the exterior walkway, then we also needed aluminum railings for two third floor balconies.
Besides from the exterior aluminum railings, we also needed iron railing for the inside of the house.
We needed quite a few feet of iron railing for the stairs going from the first floor to the second floor, and then more iron railing for the curved staircase going from the second floor foyer up to the third floor and across the balcony.
Our intention was to do the interior iron railings the same as we had done on our previous house in Plantation Key Colony.
We had used iron railings that were painted white, then we mounted two foot tall colorfully painted coconut palms on it every few feet apart.
We knew that our colorful coconut palm design on the railings would look beautiful, because when we had sold our  house the buyers loved the railing.
When we sold that house the new owners wanted to be assured the railing with the painted coconut palms stayed there, so we promised we wouldn’t remove it.
As time passed, every free moment I had, was spent calling or visiting railing fabricators in Miami, but none were anxious to do our railing project.
One day, one of our former  employees named Hector, stopped by to say hello.
Hector, was a Cuban refugee had worked for us for several years, and he had learned how to be an excellent machinist, and welder.
Over the several years that Hector had worked for us, he had quite a few altercations with fellow employees, and he  had developed a reputation of being a hot head.
While we all liked Hector, when he said he was leaving us to work elsewhere, no one tried to stop him.
So, when I saw Hector’s truck, in our parking lot, I knew he was there visiting some of his old friends at our company.
I also noticed that Hector was driving a new pickup truck, so I assumed he was doing OK at whatever he was doing, so I went into our shop to say hello to him.
I asked Hector what he was doing for a living, since he left us, and he said, “I’m making and installing railings.”
I couldn’t believe it, so I said, Hector, do I have a project for you.
I proceeded to tell Hector all about the railing project we had at our house in the Keys.
Hector said, he would come down to the house and look the project over, so I invited him to come down to see us the following weekend.
Hector spoke very little English, but he came down with his lovely wife who was bilingual and she spoke fluent English.
We explained to Hector, about how we wanted our Mediterranean design railing done. It was  to be welded, and painted in white powder coating.
We said also, that all the railing supports were to be imbedded into the concrete with no metal hardware used anywhere.
Hector said he understood perfectly, and he proceeded to measure inside and the outside of the house.
The following week Hector came to our office in Miami with all his prices.
He said he needed $13,000.00 to buy materials, he would need another $13,000.00 for installation and then another $13,000.00 for his profit.
I asked Hector when he could start the project, and I told him that I would write him a $13,000.00 check to buy all the aluminum that very day.
About thirty days passed, and it was a sunny Saturday morning when Hector arrived with the first group of  five, six foot sections new aluminum railing, exactly as we had designed it.
Hector also brought an assistant with him named Miguel.
I also saw that they also had brought a brand new boring machine to drill holes in the concrete to embed the railing supports, just like we had asked him to do.
Hector and Miguel had arrived around ten thirty in the morning and it took around three hours for them to drill several holes in the concrete and install the five pieces of railing.
Around two in the afternoon they opened up their cooler and broke out the Heinekens.
After a few beers, they then assembled their fishing rods and went fishing off of the seawall on  the corner of our property.
Sometimes when my wife and I were sleeping, we would wake up as Hector and Miguel were leaving our property, it was usually around two in the morning
Hector and Miguel followed this same routine every weekend until almost half the railing was done.
We knew that doing the railing project was taking them a long time, but we were happy to see it was actually getting done.
One Saturday morning, Hector’s wife called.
She said, “Hector had been in a minor car accident on the Florida turnpike, she said, it was really nothing, and Hector would be back to work the following week.
We patiently waited, but two weeks passed without Hector showing up.
After three weeks passed, I noticed Hectors truck was sitting in front of our building again.
It appeared that Hector had stopped by to say hello to some of his old friends.
I went outside and Hector was sitting behind the wheel of his truck.
I asked Hector what the heck had happened, and why he hadn’t shown up to finish the railing project.
Hector said, he had been in a minor accident, and all of it would all be resolved soon, then he waved a yellow piece of paper in front of me.
I couldn’t read the paper, but I saw it was a bail bond contract. It appears that Hector had just that day been bonded out of jail.
When Hector left, I asked his friends what really had happened?
They said that Hector had been in some kind of minor accident on the turnpike and he had attacked the other driver with a hammer.
After that day, we never ever saw Hector again, but we suspected they had put him in jail for a long time.   
By now, more than a year had passed, and our railing was just half finished and we had no one to turn to complete the job.
We kept trying to call Hector’s home, until it eventually was disconnected.
Not only did we not know where Hector was, but we had no idea where the rest of our $13,000.00 of aluminum was.
That’s when I suggested that we try looking for his assistant Miguel.
Our shop manager, took on the responsibility of calling all the Miami railing companies, and luckily after five calls he found the company where Hectors assistant Miguel was working.
Miguel promised he would come to our office with his new boss the very next day.
When they came, he introduced his new boss.
The fellow was a very tall nasty acting Cuban, who was also named Miguel, to me he looked like a dangerous guy.
This new Miguel guy seemed to know all about our project.
He said he knew where all our aluminum was, and he wanted to ransom it to us.
He also wanted triple the price to finish the railing job that Hector had started.
He made me so mad, I told them to leave our office.
The following day, Miguel, Hectors original assistant called me, he said the tall Lanky nasty Miguel wasn’t really the company owner.
He said the real owner of the railing company was a Nicaraguan fellow who was also in the trucking business, and they wanted another meeting with us again.
At the next meeting both of the Miguel’s agreed to finish our railing, and the price was to remain the same as Hector had quoted, so we all shook hands, and the project was on again.
About another two weeks passed and on a Saturday morning, their truck showed up.
Not only did the guys have a load of our railing, but they had brought down several young fellows as helpers.
That day the installation work went quickly.
Then, just like before, at about two in the afternoon the Heineken’s came out and everyone sat on our seawall fishing.
This same exact ritual with the beer and the fishing went on for another two months.
We would always hear their truck leaving, usually around two in the morning.
As the weeks passed, Katherine was becoming more and more irritated with them, she wanted me to intercede and say something to them about all the beer drinking and the fishing, but I didn’t do it, I just wanted the railing job to be finished.
Then, one Saturday everything changed, Miguel and Miguel showed up with their entire families.
It now appeared that every weekend, the working on our railing project was going to be like a big family picnic.
They came prepared with plenty of beer and food and they set up portable construction lights on the seawall, so now they had light to see at night while they were fishing.
Katherine was now complaining to me every week about their drinking.
Finally, I agreed with her, I also had enough of it, and I called up their boss.
Their boss came down to the Keys with his wife, and when he saw what was going on, he stopped the fooling around and they did complete the job.
After more than two years of torture, the railing in the Keys was finally completed.
Just before they left, I asked the nasty Miguel to give us a price on putting up a circular aluminum stairway to the roof.
Miguel spent the better part of the day measuring  everything, he said he would call me in a day or so.
I’m still waiting.