Trading Up
The Talk Of Maine
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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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