Tuesday, January 10, 2012

The Tommy Letis Pick-up Truck Story


                                             The Tommy Letis Pickup Truck Story  
                                                               1959 to 2011
                                 A true story about Tommy Letis and his 1956 Ford Pickup  
                                                And how Tommy became a legend
                                       Written 03/2011 and Re-written 05/29/2016
                                                             Howard Yasgar

This is a true story of how I met my best friend Tommy Letis, and it is a friendship that has now lasted more than 56 years.
This story took place starting in late 1958.
It was when I was living in Westville Connecticut, and attending New Haven College.
I was also working part time in the evenings at a Gulf gas station located on Derby Avenue in New Haven.
My parents were concerned that I didn’t have decent and reliable transportation to attend college, so my father suggested that we just go to the local Chevrolet agency in New Haven, and buy a car.
At Cooley Chevrolet, the sales manager asked who was going to be using the car and I said I was going to be using it for college.
He said, “If it is for college, why not get an Impala convertible it was only a few hundred dollars more than a regular model”, well I just loved the idea, and my father just shrugged his shoulders which the sales manager assumed meant it was OK.
As the salesman was writing everything up, he said, “You are here just at the right time. Chevrolet is offering several promotional options.
He explained that Chevrolet was experimenting with putting Corvette 4 speed transmissions in the bigger passenger cars to see how it worked out. He said that if I wanted one Chevrolet would throw it in at no charge, so of course I wanted one.
Also he said Chevrolet was trying to stimulate sales of their 348 cubic inch engines.
They had introduced it into the passenger car line, but the public’s reaction wasn’t as good as they had expected, so to make the engine more powerful, they were experimenting with using 3 carburetors, and they called it a Tri-power package. The salesman said he would include it in the car if we wanted.
Then he said, “Any 1959 cars that came with those options automatically came with Chevrolet’s new newly designed positraction differential.”        
What we actually received from Chevrolet, was a 1959 Chevrolet, Impala Convertible, that was a factory made muscle car.
I thought it was an absolutely beautiful car, and to this day I don’t fully understand how we ended up with what was apparently some kind of Chevrolet experimental model.
It was a jet black convertible with a red interior, and it had a 348 cubic inch engine with the Tri power package (three carburetors). It also had an experimental four speed Corvette transmission installed, and it had a non-slip positraction differential and dual exhaust.
It was absolutely a factory made hotrod and it sounded and ran like one.
Consequently anywhere I went, as soon as I stopped for a red light, someone always pulled up and wanted to race me, and I usually I accommodated them.
At the time, in 1959 organized drag racing and street drag racing were fairly common activities.
There wasn’t a whole lot of traffic on the roads in those days and whenever we wanted to race, everyone simply would head up to the Connecticut Turnpike and race.
Back then, one of the common hangouts for the hot rod race crowd was Jimmy’s Restaurant located at Savin Rock amusement park at West Haven Connecticut.
Jimmy’s was an indoor and outdoor restaurant specializing in split hot dogs, they were cooked on a flat top stove. Jimmy’s also had fried clams, soft shell crabs  and lobster rolls.
But best of all Jimmy’s had a huge parking lot, with room to park hundreds of cars.
So every evening lots of cars would come and they parked in long rows.
The back rows were sort of reserved for the guys with hot rods, and that’s where I parked most evenings.
Parking at Jimmy’s was like a big social event, everyone would walk up to the take out windows where Sal, the hot dog chef, would have a hundred hotdogs, warming on the flat top.
As everyone watched, he would cook them, split them and put them on a roll fast as lightening.
Also, working behind Sal, was the owner Jimmy himself, he was handling the French fries, sodas and the fried clams.
Everyone would come up to the big take windows, stand in the line and order.
Both Sal and Jimmy knew all of us regulars, and they always joked around with us as they assembled our plates of hotdogs, and fries.                        
Every so often, in the evenings, a shiny black 1956 Ford pickup truck would appear.
The truck would drive slowly between the long rows of parked cars.
Its driver would rev up the trucks engine and making the trucks exhaust roar. Then occasionally the driver would pop the clutch, making the front of the pickup jerk up in the air.
Making the front end of that pick up jump like that was quite a maneuver back in 1969. Most car and truck engines at the time just didn’t have the horsepower to do it.
No one at Jimmy’s had any idea of who owned that pickup truck, but the rumors were always circulating, hot and heavy.
Some people said the pickup truck had an experimental engine in it, and the hood was locked with a chain so no one could see it.
It was said that the pickup was always looking for someone to race, and it was said that they had never lost a race.
I watched as the pickup drove up and down the rows of cars in the parking lot, I could see that there were two people riding in the cab, but their windows were up, and I had no idea as to who they were.  
Every evening we all waited, hoping to see that pickup in a race.
Then, several weeks passed and the black 56 Ford pickup truck didn’t show up anymore.
Its absence became a topic of conversation among every one.
Then one day the truck appeared again at Jimmy’s, but something was very different, there was no revving of the engine and no popping of the clutch, it just drove in between a few rows of parked cars, and then it just drove off and disappeared.
After a few weeks the truck was all but forgotten about.
One summer evening, I was parked in the rear row of Jimmies parking lot. It was a nice warm evening and I had the convertible top down.
I was sitting in the passenger side seat, the engine was running and the air conditioning was on
I was waiting for some friends to show up.
I had hardly noticed him, but there was someone standing near my driver’s side door. I looked over and saw a fellow studying the interior of the car.
He looked to be about 5 foot 6 inches tall, with sandy blond hair, and a friendly cherubic face.
He had on a flannel long sleeve work shirt and green work pants and he was twirling a stubby small cigar in his mouth.
He took the cigar from his mouth and with a friendly smile and kind of a chuckle he said, “How does it go”, she goes OK, I replied.
“How’s that four speed Corvette transmission working out, he asked”, OK, I replied,  (It really wasn’t good, it had the wrong gear ratio for a heavy car). He said, “Does your 348 cubic inch engine have the 3 carburetors, the tri-power?”. “ Yes it does”, I replied,
He went on “Does that engine have any punch?” he asked.
Yes I replied but not as much punch as I would like.
He said, “I had heard that Chevrolet was building these factory hot rods, but I never really saw one up close until now.
His face was smiling, and he said “I want you to know I think it’s really a sharp looking car,”
That was the defining moment when I knew that I liked this guy.
Now, still to this day I still don’t know why I did it, but I asked him if he wanted to take the car for a drive, I had never offered that to anyone before.
But that was when the magic happened, it was exactly how I first met Tommy Letis.
Tommy then introduced himself, as he got in the car and he took it for a spin up on the Connecticut turnpike.
When we returned to the back row of Jimmies parking lot, I asked Tommy what kind of car he was driving, and he said, “I’m just driving a pickup truck,” and he pointed across the street.
I looked across the street where the shiny black 1956 Ford pickup truck was parked in the shadows.
We walked across the street and we got into Tommy’s truck, he then drove cautiously up to the Connecticut turnpike.
Once we were there, Tommy stepped on the gas.
I was startled, it was like I was in a jet aircraft, I was thrown back in the pickup trucks seat, and it  took my breath away. I had never experienced a force like that before.
Tommy then backed off the gas, and the truck slowed down to the turnpike speed limit, and all I could say was, Wow.
Then Tommy said, I’m sorry, but I can't really open it up, as I’m having a little problem with the Connecticut State Police right now, and they have their eye out for me.
I thought, my goodness, he wasn’t even opened to full speed and he had already accelerated faster than I had ever seen before.
By the time we returned to Jimmies parking lot, I think I could say Tommy and I were good friends.
I gave Tommy the directions to come visit me at the Gulf gas station on Derby Avenue, where I was working part time in the evenings.
Tommy promised that he would come and visit me, and he did.
He came every night that I worked, just to talk and keep me company.
As Tommy and I became friends, he eventually came to my home and met my father and mother, and I also started going to his house.
But I became jealous of the way Tommy lived. His home life was like nothing I had ever seen before, he lived with his mom and Dad and his brother and grandfather.
They lived on what was formerly an egg farm located on rural Hunt Lane in Foxon Connecticut.
The chicken were gone and the coops were now all falling apart but behind his house there was a large barn, and that’s where Tommy parked the pickup truck inside, and it was where he worked on his ten wheeler dump truck.
Tommy and I were similar in age, but Tommy already had his own business and he was earning in a week more than what I earned in a year.
While I was still in school, Tommy was earning real money.
Wherever we went, Tommy always carried a roll of cash in his pocket and it appeared to me that he could afford to do just about anything he wanted to do, and that was something I couldn’t do.
One day, Tommy asked me to go with him to a Ford truck agency, and I watched him order a brand new dump truck for $26,000.00. That was a whole lot of money back in 1959, and Tommy walked out of that agency like buying that new dump truck, was nothing out of the ordinary.
I started spending more time at the Tommy’s home, watching and trying to help as he worked on his dump truck in the barn.
For me, just being at Tommy’s home was always a learning experience. His grandfather, was an old time craftsman from Germany. He taught me how to boil and bend wood to make sleigh runners, something I will never forget.
So you could say, I liked hanging around Tommy’s house, and the best part was that Tommy’s father George treated me as if I were one of the family.
In the summer evenings, Tommy and I would always go out riding in his Ford pickup truck.
Tommy was constantly looking for cars to race.
He would drive to all the popular hang outs, places like hamburger and hotdog joints, where all the guys with the souped up cars hung out.
Tommy, had a simple routine, he would drive right into the restaurant parking lots, and start revving up the pickup trucks engine, that always got everyone's attention pretty fast.
Then Tommy would roll down his window and offer to race anyone. But usually there were no takers, because like at Jimmy’s the pickup trucks reputation preceded it.
But you never knew what was going to happen, and Tommy always seemed to eventually find someone new that thought they could beat him.
But inevitably they all always lost, Tommy’s pickup would pull away from them just like they were standing still.
Tommy would always start each race from a rolling start, and no one seemed to mind it.
Sometimes a competitor would get the jump on Tommy, but still he would quickly pass by them like they weren't even moving.
After watching Tommy win so many races like that,  I would roll down the passenger side window as we raced and I would wave goodbye to the competitors as Tommy pulled away from them.
It was just an amazing sight to see and feel, as the truck accelerated.
I could look out the  rear window and see the competitor falling way behind us. It was a special feeling to be in that truck with Tommy, it was just like we were in a rocket ship.
On some evenings my cousin Allen, came along with us and even with the extra weight of having three of us sitting in the truck’s cab, Tommy would still beat the all  the competitors.
I recently discussed this story with my cousin Allen, and he remembered some of the humorous confrontations we had with the police.
In a way it was unfortunate, but as the reputation of Tommy’s pickup truck grew, the State and local police would recognize him wherever he went.
Now, my trying to pry the whole story out of Tommy, as to how the truck came to be, was no easy task, but I questioned him constantly about it.
I did it mostly because I was just curious.
But once I heard the story, I felt that the reason Tommy didn’t like to talk about it, was because the story had ended up with lots of hard feelings between him and one of his very good friends.
Tommy said that it all began in 1956, when he bought a brand new 1956 Ford pickup truck.
At that time, Tommy, had a good friend that lived nearby, his name was Billy Quick.
Billy was not only Tommy’s good friend but he was also a very good mechanic.
After driving the pickup truck for a couple of years, Tommy got the idea that he wanted to soup the truck up.
He had decided that he wanted to make that 6 cylinder Ford truck into a “Street hot rod”.
Building street rods and custom cars was all the rage in 1958.
Tommy knew that the local junk yards were starting to get in late model wrecked cars that had powerful V8 overhead valve engines in them.
So Tommy told Billy Quick that he decided to pull the small 6 cylinder Ford engine out of the truck and replace it with a high powered V8 engine. He thought it would be a lot more fun to drive than a Ford with a six cylinder engine.
So they started calling around to all the junkyards to see what was available.
Eventually they located an auto wrecker that had just gotten in a wrecked 1957 Pontiac with a V8 overhead valve engine.
The only problem was, at the time, Pontiac V8 engines were not considered worthy of building up into racing engines, and very few companies sold any parts to soup them up.
Both Tommy and Billy took that as a challenge, and Tommy bought the 1957 Pontiac V8 Engine.     Then they did everything they could to soup it up.
They bored the engines cylinders out, and they located special racing pistons.
Then they shaved down and they ported and relieved the cylinder heads, and then they had the entire engine completely balanced by a speed shop.
Tommy called up the “Howard Camshaft Company” who, at the time, were the leading manufacturers of automotive racing camshafts.
He told them that he wanted them to design the most radical, experimental camshaft that they could come up with for his Pontiac engine, and cost was no object.
So the Howard Camshaft Company did design a special camshaft for Tommy’s engine, and it cost him close to $400.00, which at the time was a lot of money.
Once they installed the new racing camshaft, the engine ran so crazy that all the studs that held the valve rockers into the cylinder heads pulled out.
So to solve the problem, Billy Quick drove in oversize rocker studs, hitting them into the engine with a 10 lb. sledge hammer.
Once the engine was completed, they then had to design a special adapter to bolt the engine to the 1956 Fords three speed manual transmission.
Tommy said that the transmission they used was originally designed for the Ford six cylinder engine so using it turned out to be a wise move as the low gear ratio combined with the big V8 engine was what made the truck literally jump off the ground.
They eventually got the engine to fit in the truck, and surprisingly enough, it started up and it ran.
However that racing camshaft they installed made the engines RPM difficult to control.
Billy played around with the engine’s carburetor and he finally determined that they were just not getting enough fuel into the engine.
They installed a high volume Stewart Warner electric fuel pump, and this allowed them to actually drive the truck, on the street.
To try it out, Billy got behind the steering wheel, and that's when they found out that they had somehow accidentally built a rocket ship.
After that, Tommy and Billy started to make the rounds of all the hamburger and hotdog joints, and taking on anyone that wanted to race them.
While doing this, they eventually ended up driving through  Jimmy’s Restaurant parking lot where I used to see them
Tommy told me that he liked to let Billy Quick do all of the driving.
One evening they were on the Connecticut Turnpike racing another car.
As Tommy’s pickup pulled away from the competitor, they noticed a State Police Trooper was right behind them.
The Connecticut Trooper was trying his best, but he couldn’t catch up with the pickup truck.
Billy Quick, was determined to escape the police
Tommy said Billy took off down an exit ramp at over 110 miles per hour.
Tommy said he thought that at that speed, they could never negotiate the turn in the ramp and he was bracing himself for a horrible crash.
But somehow the truck stuck to the road and they eluded the police.
Billy then slowed down and kept to dark  city streets, until they got to Tommy's home and the truck was safely hidden in the barn.
That evening the police came calling.
It seems they had taken Tommy's license tag number.
They asked if Tommy had been driving the truck that night, and he said no. (That was true, Billy Quick was driving).
The police asked to see the truck, it was in the barn and the radiator was still hot and smoking so Tommy was arrested.
Now, being arrested was no concern to Tommy. But possibly losing his driver’s license was a big concern.
He knew that if he was ever convicted he would lose his license and lose his dump truck business.
So at the Police station, Tommy said he was not driving the truck, he said that it was Billy Quick.
Billy Quick, when arrested  said that it was Tommy that was driving.
I don't exactly know what happened at that point as Tommy never seem to want to talk about it, but he didn't lose his license and he never spoke to Billy Quick again.
That was the whole story behind that black 1956 Ford Pickup truck, that is, until I met Tommy at Jimmy’s Restaurant.
After a year or so of street my racing with Tommy, he began to get antsy about wanting to make the truck go faster.
Tommy said that he wanted to be able to race the truck from a standing start, rather than a rolling start.
Personally, I didn’t think the pickup needed to be any faster, but Tommy kept asking me what I thought he should do.
Finally, the only suggestion I had for Tommy was to lock up the differential on the truck.
This would make both rear tires turn at the same time and give the truck more traction on the take off.
If we locked up the trucks differential, Tommy would be able to race from a standing start, which is what he always wanted to do.
But I warned Tommy, by locking the differential, there were some sacrifices that had to be made, because now both rear tires now turned at the same speed, and this would make going around corners difficult and put a lot of stress on all the gears in the differential.
“Let’s do it, Tommy said, who gives a shit about turning corners”.
So that night we jacked up the truck in the barn and I slid under and opened up the rear differential case, and with an electric arc welding machine I carefully welded the spider gears together.
Now both rear tires turned together at the same time.
As soon as I was done, Tommy was anxious to try it out, so we tried to push the truck out of the barn by hand, but by locking the differential, making the turn out of the barn was now almost impossible.
However once we were on solid pavement, Tommy, tried spinning the rear wheels from a standing start and they grabbed the ground perfectly.
That pickup truck didn’t lose even one moment on the take off, it now had one hundred percent perfect traction, and Tommy could now race from a standing start.
Tommy said he loved it, he said the truck was perfect.
But every time we took a corner, the truck would make loud chirping noises that were coming from the locked rear tires. It bothered me, but Tommy said he could care less about hearing the chirping noise coming from the tires as we turned  corners.
The fact that Tommy could now race from a standing start, was what he always wanted, and I had to agree with him that there was no question that the truck was now much faster on the takeoff then before.
For the next several weeks, we continued going out in the evenings looking for anyone to race, and the truck performed absolutely perfectly.
One evening, we were driving by the Yale Bowl in New Haven We stopped at a red light, and all of a sudden a black 1957 Chevrolet coupe pulled up next to us.
Before the light turned green, the driver let out his clutch, making the 1957 Chevy lurch forward. Then he punched it again, making the front end of that Chevy lift.
The red light changed to green, and Tommy let out the clutch.
The truck lurched forward and we heard a loudest noise from the rear differential.
It was awful, the truck stopped dead in the street.
The power from the engine was no longer turning the rear wheels.
We both knew immediately what happened, the rear differential had destroyed itself, all the teeth on the gears were gone.
So as we got out of the truck, that black 1957 Chevy backed up to us, and he rolled down his window asking. “Do you guys need a lift?”
We did need a lift and he drove us all the way to Tommy's house, in Foxon.
Once there we got in my 1959 Chevy, and with a tow chain we pulled the truck home and into the barn.
After that, things were changing, and also our lives were changing, we were both getting older.
So the truck just sat there.
Tommy and I started an auto wrecking business, and then all of a sudden, girls were becoming interesting to us.
So for a while, Tommy and I double dated.
Whenever I brought up the topic of the 1956 Ford pickup truck, Tommy would always say, “Sure we can get it running again”, but we never did.
That truck just sat in the barn in Foxon, and it seems like we never had the time anymore to get around to working on it.
Eventually Tommy got married, and he built a new house across the street from his father’s house,  
I left for the Army, and then in 1963, I also got married, and moved to Florida.
Tommy and I sort of lost touch.
But then in 1969 I called Tommy from Miami, I told him I had gotten involved with a friend and we were removing the railroad from Haiti.
I needed Tommy’s advice regarding an old Mack truck my friend was rebuilding in Haiti.
We ended our conversation with me asking him about the 1956 Ford pickup truck, and Tommy said it was still sitting there in the barn.
Again around 2001, I got the idea to call Tommy up again, and this time when I called he was really surprised to hear from me.
Tommy said was delighted for me to have found him again. He said  he was always thinking about going to Haiti to look for me.
Somehow he had gotten the idea I lived there.
I told Tommy we lived in Miami and were renovating a place in the Florida Keys.
Tommy said that he and his girlfriend Sandy were in Florida every year for NASCAR races in Daytona where she also owned a condo.
Tommy said they always came to Miami, and to the Keys to visit friends.
So they promised to come visit us, and the following year they did.
Tommy, said he was still in the dump truck business, but had expanded into sewer and cellar excavating as well, and now with Sandy's help they had also gotten into the home construction business.
As expected, we talked about the 1956 black pickup truck.
I could see that Tommy got wistful every time the conversation came up, and it was now hard to get him to talk about it. It appears that somewhere down the line he needed more room in the barn and he sold the pickup truck, but now he regretted doing it.
Sandy told me that sometime in 2009, she located the original 1956 Ford pickup trucks registration papers, so they went to a junkyard that had a computer system that traces registrations, but it turned out to be a dead end.
Sandy said that Tommy told her that if they could ever find the present owner, Tommy would buy the truck back.
Then just by chance, at a car show in Essex Connecticut, they bumped into a fellow, who said that he knew a guy in “Deep River Connecticut” that collected black 1956 Ford pickup trucks.
So off, to Deep River Connecticut, Tommy and Sandy went.
They eventually found the house with two 1956 black Mercury (Canadian Ford) pickup trucks, that were parked in a garage, and there was a black Ford pickup truck parked in front of the house.
Tommy looked into the window of the pickup truck in front of the house, and laying inside, were the two inner door panels, from his original 1956 Ford Truck.  Tommy recognized them immediately, but as no one was home, they could only leave a note.
That evening they received a call from the trucks owner.
Yes he said he had once owned Tommy’s pickup truck, but he gave it to his brother who lived in Vermont, and he thinks his brother junked it.
As of March 2011, Sandy says that Tommy thinks the truck may still be in Vermont, and if I know Sandy and Tommy we haven't heard the end of this story yet.
In May of 2016, I received a call from Sandy, It appears that they had just attended a car show at a local Dairy Queen, and a fellow there recognized Tommy.
He said, “Aren’t you the guy that had that fast 1956 Ford pickup truck back in 1959”.  Tommy said, “Yes”.
The fellow said, “Man, you are a legend around here, can I stand next to you?”.         
       

The Used Clothing Business Story

                                                      The Used Clothing Business Story
                                                                        1990
                                                         A good business not to be in     
                                                     Written 2010 Re-written 04/2013
                                                                Howard Yasgar
      
            
     Whenever I read an article in the newspapers about someone doing some type of easy business, I automatically would say, hey, I could have done that.
     I always said that especially if the newspaper article makes it appear as if the business was something that was real easy to do.
    Well, that’s exactly what I thought, when in 1990, while I was having breakfast, I read a story in the Miami Herald.
     It was about how lots of people were buying used clothing from the Salvation Army and Goodwill Industries. Supposedly they were getting the used clothing for practically nothing.
     The article said people were simply buying the clothing by the pound, and they were selling it for big money.
     Wow, I thought, what could be easier than that.
     In 1990 I was looking for a new revenue source for my company, and that was when I read that article in the Herald. The article told about how much excess used clothing was available in Florida, and how cheaply it could be bought from either the Salvation Army or Goodwill Industries.
     The article in the paper was fascinating, it said that those two organizations were receiving more used clothing than they could sell in their stores, so to get rid of the excess, they were making up 1200 pound bales of used clothing and they were selling it for 12 cents a lb. 
      Now, I knew something about the used clothing business, because back in 1962, my good friend Lou Gladstein had approached me with a proposition to buy tons of used clothing that was available from hundreds of dry cleaners located in New York City.
     Lou had been approached by the head of a big dry cleaning organization in new York. They wanted him to clean out their warehouse, which was full of unclaimed clothing.
     All the clothing was all clean, on hangers, and in plastic bags.
     It was the clothing that people had never picked up from the cleaners.
     Lou said we could buy the whole deal for only six cents per pound, and Lou asked me if I had some idea of what to do with tons of clean used clothes?
    That’s when I started looking into how to sell used clothing.
     Lou told me that he had once sold an old used yellow school bus to a fellow in the used clothing business.
     I called the fellow up too ask him what he was doing with the bus and used clothing.
     He was a super nice guy and he said that he shipped the bus to the South American country of Colombia.
     In Colombia they made a route going through as many small towns and villages as they could.
     He had made steps so people could climb up and into the back of the bus. The bus was filled with used clothing.
     The customers climbed in the bus and picked out all the used clothing they wanted, then they as they got off the bus by the front door, paying for the clothing they had picked out.
     He said he was making a lot of money.
     Lou had me ask him if he would be interested in the clothing from the dry cleaners in New York City.
     The fellow replied that the clothing from the New York dry cleaners was too high class for his market, he didn’t have customers for tuxedos, business suits or cashmere sweaters, his customers just wanted jeans and cotton tee shirts.
     So I learned from him that not all used clothing was saleable.
     I should have remembered that conversation, it would have saved me a lot of aggravation.
     So now, here I was in 1990, and I was already formulating a used clothing business plan in my mind.
    The first thing I needed to do, was see if I could actually buy clothing cheap like the Miami Herald article had said anyone could do.
    Then I needed to see what the competition was, and how other people were doing the used clothing  business in Miami.
     My partner Don and I, headed for the main headquarters of Goodwill Industries in Miami, and we spoke to a manager there. Yes he said, they had plenty of clothing, but it was all spoken for and nothing was available.
     I got the feeling that the Goodwill manager had some buddies in the used clothing business, and he didn’t want us upsetting his private deal.
    Next we went to the Salvation Army, and low and behold, it was a completely different story. They were happy to show us how much donated clothing came in every day, it came in by the ton.
    They actually ad an assembly line set up to receive it, and they let us watch how they did it.
     As it came in the used clothing was placed on a conveyer.
     First the pockets were checked for money or valuables, but I didn’t ask what happened to what they found.
     Next, each item was inspected, the good items were placed on a hangar, and a price tag stapled on it.
Wrinkled, stained, damaged or unmarketable winter clothing fell into a hole at the end of the conveyer
And fell into a big bailing machine down stairs.
     When they has 12,00 pounds, a bale was made.
     We were told that any clothing that didn’t sell in their retail stores came back and went right to the baler, and they said we could buy the baled clothing for .12 cents a lb.
      Now that we had a real good source of used clothing at a cheap price, we needed to look into the other aspects of the business, as we still had no idea of how the used clothing business worked in Miami.
      But I felt confident that any clothing that could be bought for only 12 cents a pound, sounded like an easy way to make money.
      Next I looked in the yellow pages to see how many companies in Miami were dealing with used clothing, and I found that there were several. But the “Miami Rag Company” looked like they were one of the largest, and their warehouse happened to be close to our office.
     The next morning I dragged my partner Don over to see what the Miami Rag Company was doing.
     Boy, were we surprised, as they had a very big building with hundreds of bales of used clothing piled up. They also had an army of workers sorting the clothing.
     To watch their operation was a sight, the people were sorting the clothing so fast, it appeared as though the clothing was flying in the air.
     When one of the owners spotted us, he ushered us into an office. We told him that we wanted to buy some used clothing for the export market, so he gave us a menu of all their export prices.
     I noticed his price for used clothing started at $1.50 per lb., and some prices were much higher, especially for items like blue jeans.
     Next he took us to their export packing dept, where they were making bundles of  150 pounds each, covered in white plastic, ready for shipment overseas.
      We left the place, thinking that the profit spread from a cost of 12 cents a pound to a selling price of $1.50 per pound sounded too good to be true.
     There obviously was a lot of profit to be made in the used clothing business.
     Could it be possible that I discovered the true rags to riches story, and here it was right before our very eyes.
     Based on what we had seen, our conclusion was that we needed to buy at least four of the giant 1200 pound bales of clothing from the Salvation Army to experiment with, I felt that 4800 pounds of clothing would be a sufficient quantity for us to learn the business.
     I then emptied out a section of one of our buildings, and  I set up as many long portable tables I could find. I put them in a horse shoe shape.
     Then we made up some large cardboard pallet boxes, to sort the various clothing into, just like we had seen the Miami Rag Company doing.
     I was thinking that with a little advertising in Central and South America, we could probably develop a good export market just like we saw Miami Rag Company was doing.
     Next we went to the Salvation Army and bought we four 1200 pound bales of used clothing at .12 cents a pound or $576.00.
     It was then that we encountered our first problem, we had no way to get the bales moved to our building, I hadn't thought about that as being a problem.
     After several calls, we finally found a trucker that would do it for $150.00. This was our first unexpected extra cost.
     Then when the truck with the bales arrived, they were too big for our tiny forklift to move.
     The bales were not only 1200 pounds each but they were as wide as the truck and wedged inside.
     So to move the bales off the truck, we had to have all our employees come over and physically roll them out of the truck and onto the ground. Then we rolled them over and over by hand into the building.
     We wasted several hours doing this, and we made some of the clothing dirty. It was another unanticipated problem we had not planned on.
     Once the bundles were rolled inside the building, I was anxious to open one up and start sorting.
     I was in for a another surprise, when I clipped the bands on the first bundle, I hadn’t realized that they were bailed under extreme pressure, and clothing literally exploded out of the bale.
    As I cut the metal band on the bale, I heard a “Poof” and there was a mountain of clothing all over the place.
     I started sorting the clothing on the tables that I had set up, but the first thing I noticed was that there was lots of polyester clothing which I knew was no longer popular in any market, no one wanted it overseas.
     I could see there were lots of polyester shirts and skirts and they all needed to be thrown in the trash.
     That meant I needed to rent another trash container, an unexpected additional cost.
     Then I began to notice the large sizes of men’s pants. They appeared to be waist size 46 and up.
      I could see there was going to be a lot more trash than expected. We might need two trash containers.
     I then started seeing lots of  sweat shirts, and all kinds of winter clothing.
     Well I thought, that was understandable, people all moved to Florida and then threw away all their  winter clothes, but what was I going to do with them.
     Soon I saw that my big box of heavy insulated winter coats and jackets was filling up fast.
     Most of the used clothing that I was separating, appeared to have been cleaned and laundered, but also mixed in was quite a bit of used and unwashed stuff. Things like dirty underwear all  had to go into the trash.
      After several days of my sorting, our trash containers were overflowing with junk clothing, that meant we had to order an extra pickup by the waste company., at an unexpected additional cost.
     After sorting clothing for several days I realized that something was wrong, there was very little cotton clothing suitable for warm climates, but there was a inordinate quantity of heavy clothing only suitable for extremely cold climates.
     I looked in the phone book for retail stores selling used clothes. I wanted to see how other used clothing dealers were marketing this same type of crap we had gotten from the Salvation Army.
     I found a store in a rundown mall in Miami’s Inner City. The whole strip mall was nearly empty, except for the used clothing store.
    The store was big and neat, with all the clothing hanging on racks in perfect order, it was just as if  they were new.
     I looked in their back room and I saw the same clothing bales just like we had bought.
     I could see that the store was doing it the right way, but they had one major problem, there were no customers in the store.
     So that’s when I started thinking, there had to be a market somewhere, but it obviously was not in Miami. I needed to rethink this whole used clothing business all over again.
     I went back to sorting the bales of clothing we had, but by now it had become a lot of work, and the fun of sorting was all gone. I was trashing more clothing than I was keeping.
    The more I sorted, the more depressed I became, I had a big box of clothing that looked like it would be good only in Alaska. So I now realized this used clothing business was not going to be as easy as I had thought.
      In desperation I put an ad in several international trade newspapers. I was offering used American clothes for $1.25 per lb.
     It was then one of our employees named Jose, said that his mother had a booth in the market in Managua, Nicaragua, and she could sell used clothing.
     So we started to look into the cost of shipping clothing to Nicaragua, but shipping was not so simple.
     Shipping by ocean was cheapest but took a lot of time, airfreight was expensive but it was quick.
     Then there was the duty that had to be paid, customs inspectors that had to be paid off.
     A bigger problem was that Nicaraguan customers would be paying in local currency, which had to be traded for U.S. currency daily, and that also was an expense and way too complicated.
     Jose offered to fly to Nicaragua and do everything that was needed. He said, that his mother said she could sell every pair of Levi type jeans we could ship there.
     We didn’t have enough blue jeans so we called the Good Old Miami Rag Company, I remembered seeing them bundling up jeans for export.
     Yes they said, jeans were a good item and we could buy them for $2.50 a lb. So we purchased 4 100 pound bundles of blue jeans from Miami Rag for $1000.00 and we shipped them to Managua by plane along  with Jose.
     I happened to be talking to my daughter in Connecticut, and she told me that she had just had a yard sale and sold all the baby clothing she had. I got excited, I told her I had tons of unused baby clothing, that she could sell.
     I picked out a couple hundred pounds of beautiful brand new clean baby clothes and shipped it to her in Connecticut, I did it all at my expense.
     Things were looking up, we had blue jeans going to Managua, I had baby clothes going to Connecticut, and I just received an international order from Poland for 100 lbs. of heavy duty winter clothes, that I had quoted at $1.50 a pound.
     Jose called every day from Managua, the jeans were selling briskly, but he had to pay several bribes to the customs people, and every night he converted the local currency into dollars for us.
     By the end of the week, he called to tell us that the all the blue jeans that could be sold, had been sold, which was about 50 percent or half of what we had sent.
      I asked, what about the rest of the jeans?
      Jose said unfortunately most of the blue jeans left over were too big for the people in Nicaragua, as all the Nicaraguan people had small waists.
      I asked Jose and asked if his mother could have the jeans altered.
      Jose said that they already looked into that and it was impractical.
      So now any profit we would have made in Nicaragua was now gone, so I told Jose to return to Miami.
      Miami Rag, had taken advantage of us, they knew we were shipping to Nicaragua, and they sold us jeans they knew we couldn’t sell.
      I called my daughter in Connecticut to see how the baby clothing was selling. She said she wasn’t able to sell even one piece, I didn’t even ask her why.
      Then the mail came, and there was a letter of complaint from Poland.
      They said they were very disappointed in the heavy duty winter clothes I had sent them.
      I had sent them clothing suitable for Eskimo’s, but still they were complaining that the clothing was too light, and not heavy enough for Winter in Poland. 
      I now felt it was best to not lose any more money.
      My direction was now perfectly clear, every week, when the trash men came, I filled our trash dumpsters up with all the leftover clothing.
      It was almost as much work throwing the used clothes away as it was in sorting them out.
      If anyone wants to know about making money in the used clothing business, just ask me.