The Maine Adventure

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TheCape
Gentle Demolition...  Moving the Barn...  Moving the Cape...  Reconnecting the Cape...  The Cape Renovation... Becoming a B&B...
The Farmhouse
Prepping for the Farmhouse...Modular Farmhouse & Stick-built Garage...Farmhouse Interior...
The Homer Jones Barn
The original Homer Jones Barn...The new HJ Barn...Homer Barn Interior...Owner's Quarters


The Heroes-My Working Partners...  The Gallery... The Retreats... The Destination Weddings
 

 

Getting the Flavor of Maine

The Story of Uncle Henry's Weekly Swap or Sell It Guide

 
Trading Up
The Talk Of Maine
 
To take the economic pulse of upcountry Maine and find out what pets, pickups, or lawnmowers are in demand, pick up a copy of Uncle Henry's Weekly Swap or Sell It Guide. The 6,000 ads placed each week in the plain-packaged magazine are more insightful than a Gallup poll at illustrating the economic plight and consumer preferences of working-class Mainers. If possessions reveal what people are, then what they choose to sell or swap also tells a story.

Uncle Henry's classified ads, which offer clients the luxury of running up to thirty words at no charge, provide enough space to describe the human condition and economic stresses behind the sale of the year-old Doberman ("he's sweet and gentle but jealous of our new baby"), the Remington shotgun ("unemployed, need cash"), or the barrels filled with paperback books and magazines ("Help! My wife made me clean out the shed.").

The magazine, which is the size of a working man's hand and fits neatly on the top of the toilet tank, is not glossy, colorful, or particularly pretty. But each week, its pages packed full of tiny classified ads feature friendly voices speaking straight from the heart as they offer their piglets ("vaccinated, dewormed, castrated, off to a good start"), or their "size 10 never-worn wedding dress for sale," or announce they're in the market for a Garth Brooks world tour jacket or a waterproof mattress for an invalid brother.

The ads provide a peek into what is hot (Cadillac Cimarrons and Jaguars, railroad memorabilia, Shelties, and used Nintendo games) and what is not (rowing machines, exercise trampolines, and all-terrain vehicles) in rural Maine. The ads usually run verbatim and unedited, unless the employee who types the ad into Uncle Henry's computer bank happens to be in the mood to correct spelling and punctuation that day.

"We're no grammatical or literary piece of work and we never will be," says Justin H (for Henry) Sutton, the thirty-year-old editor of Uncle Henry's, whose offices are situated on Route 17 in Augusta, just down the road from the Abundant Life Church. "We figure you don't need a big punctuation effort to sell your car," he adds.

Uncle Henry's was founded by Henry Faller, of Rockland, in 1969. It was Faller's idea to charge five cents for the magazine, but let the reader run one ad for free, using the form on the magazine's back page. In early 1983, when the magazine's circulation had grown to 12,000 and cover price had risen to seventy-five cents. Justin's father, Joseph H. (also for Henry) Sutton ran into the magazine?s manager at a feed store in Augusta. Sutton said he was thinking about starting up a similar magazine and inquired whether Uncle Henry's was for sale. After months of negotiations, Faller sold and Sutton and his wife, Betty Lou, became the guide's second owners.

Joseph Sutton managed Uncle Henry's for several years, but as his interest in the magazine waned, his son's involvement increased to the point where Sutton no longer felt he needed to oversee the operation. "We were left without a babysitter in 1987," explains Justin, a blond, chain-smoking man who prides himself on having bought his house and his Harley through the magazine. Justin's brother, Jason H (yes, another Henry) Sutton joined the publication seven years ago and is now its tousle-haired, twenty-eight-year-old vice-president. Henry and Betty Lou Sutton remain its absentee owners.

"Jason has all these ideas to jump and grow," Justin says. "Meanwhile, I sit here dumb and ugly-looking saying 'No, no, no'." When an employee recently suggested some new graphic styles for the magazine, which week after week offers only two typefaces and the same cover featuring a man pasting up a billboard, Justin vetoed any grandiose graphics. "I told him I want it boring, I don't want any innovative type styles."

The only things that change on the cover of Uncle Henry's are its color (it rotates among five different colors) and the brief note on the man's poster. The poster usually encourages business customers to check Uncle Henry's low display advertising rates, or urges readers to send their ads in early during the holidays so Uncle Henry's employees can spend time with their families.

In 1983, Uncle Henry's averaged seventy-two pages of ads. Today, it packs about 200 pages per issue, is on sale in 2500 stores in Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont at a cover price of $1.25, and has a circulation of 42,000, primarily through newsstand sales. The magazine has only 600 subscribers. The commercial advertising rates for businesses have not changed since 1984, but this year the Suttons are considering raising their commercial ad rates for the first time in nearly a decade.

The bulk of the commercial and home-spun reader ads continue to be from central Maine, despite the magazine's far-flung readership. Judging from these ads, most Uncle Henry's readers belong to the native, pickup-truck-with-a-gun rack crowd. There are few ads from the greater Portland area or coastal York County. In a recent issue, there were six Sabbs listed for sale, compared to nearly 300 pickup trucks. According to Justin, his reader survey reveals that the majority of Uncle Henry's readers own their own home. "We have more motor homes (i.e. Winnebagos) listed than mobile homes (trailers)," he points out, "so our readers aren't that poor."

While many newspapers and magazines have lost readership and advertising revenue during the recession, Uncle Henry's has thrived and gained in both areas. Commercial advertisements currently take up 5 percent of the magazine's ad space. The brothers Sutton say the magazine's overall growth, which is primarily in classified ads, is due to their effective management. But, they admit, the recession hasn't hurt either.

Strapped for cash, the number of people shopping for bargains and selling off what is not absolutely necessary has soared. A December, 1988, issue of Uncle Henry's featured only one column of swap-and-trade ads, most offering to trade one luxury item for another, such as cars for boats or a motorcycle for a three-wheeler.

Four years later, the swap-and-trade category had grown to more than six columns. One ad offered a twelve-piece drum set, a 1968 Dodge Coronet, and a color television in exchange for a working four-by-four pickup. Another offered two acres in Alna in exchange for a Dodge Ramcharger or full-size Blazer. A man from Greene offered to swap a hot-water radiator for a deep well pump, firewood, pigs, or cash.

Advertisements for cars, stereos, business equipment, real estate offered by the owner (with assumable mortgage), and pets that must be given away have also climbed in recent years.

The Suttons, who have been known to turn away paid business advertisers if they have enough classified ads for the car or real estate section, theorize that no matter how the economy does, their business will do well. "During good times, people like to trade up," says Justin, "and during hard times, they look for bargains."

But that does not account for the businesses that continue, despite the economy, to take display ads in Uncle Henry's. The magazine's growing circulation, fueled by frugal-minded readers, appears to offer businesses access to a large pool of potential customers. While the Suttons admit the magazine is doing well, they will not reveal their revenues or profit margin.

In addition to benefiting from the recession, Uncle Henry's acts as a mirror of the region's changing consumer interests. In a January 1985 issue, there was only one ad for a personal computer. By the end of 1992, there were more than fifty ads for computer equipment ("Apple IIC ... Hardly used, my stepson just didn't take to it. $550 firm.").

The Suttons have also noticed an increase in the number of real estate ads from Florida. "People move down there, don't like it, and are eager to move back to Maine," explains Jason.

The ads also have their seasonal cycles. Boats are sold at the end of summer and snowmobiles and snowblowers at the end of winter. The Suttons have noticed a large increase of ads - almost a doubling - during the spring fever and housecleaning weeks of March. "The snow finally melts and people realize what's sitting in their backyards," states Justin. The number of ads then tapers off during the summer months, only to rebound after the tourists leave.

Many people buy Uncle Henry's not because they're in the market for a particular item, but because they simply enjoy the entertaining ads. "People keep Uncle Henry's for weeks and browse through it," observes Justin. "It's a good way to fill up the day in a harmless manner. You wake up to your wife, your dog, and your Uncle Henry's."

But several "advertisers" have used Uncle Henry's for practical jokes. There was the woman who advertised a 150-pound pig, names Sonny, for sale. "Turns out Sonny was her husband," Justin recalls, "and he wasn't too happy about it."

A few years ago, when Bath Iron Works' Navy warship construction program was coming in over budget, someone advertised an Aegis cruiser, claiming there had been a cost overrun and the owner was eager to sell. "They said the vessel would be real good for lobstering and gave the phone number of BIW's purchasing department.

"Another time, someone from away had moved to Gardiner and wanted some zoning changes, or maybe they had put a fence up around their property," Justin says. "Anyway, someone placed an ad offering a real cheap car and listed those people's phone number. We try to look out for those things, but some get through. I figure your boss may be a putz, but that?s no reason to harass him."

Justin himself turned down advertising from Patten Corporation after he heard about the controversial North Woods real estate deals the company was making. "I don't like the fact that every time I go fishing, I have to go farther and farther north to get away from people," he says.

Uncle Henry's employees have been offered up to $100 for advance copies of the magazine before it hits the newsstands on Thursday by dealers looking for grossly undervalued items, but the company has a hard-and-fast policy against any advance sales. Employees are fired immediately if they act on any of the ads before the magazine reaches the public. And there are some great deals to be found in Uncle Henry's.

"There was the time that a husband ran off with his secretary or some girlfriend to the Bahamas," says Jason. "He phoned his wife and asked her to sell his Mercedes Benz and send him the money. So, to punish him she advertised it for $150 in Uncle Henry's. She sold it real fast."

Downeast Magazine

 

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