Author: Andrew Mooers

“Space Critter” Was A Maine College Film Animation Project.

Greg Bowler was a broadcast / film professor at the University of Maine at Orono.

The Mission Orono Maine’s Beverage Warehouse For Hydration.
My black and white film partner Andy Kosinski and I loved his classes. Especially when animation was the project Mr. Bowler taught the class. Handing out one hundred feet of black and white 16 mm film and telling us to have fun.

Most of the animation projects our classmates created were the here’s an orange. Watch the knife saw through the fruit simple.

I worked at WABI radio and television in Bangor Maine at the time during college so had access to lots of editing gear. Plenty of extra film footage bonus ingredients to add some razzle dazzle to the production.

Andy’s dad direct from Poland had always had more than a mild fascination with film. And that expertise with 8 mm filming from experimentation over the years helped our productions as a partner with his son Andy too.

So instead of the orange, we got Andy’s roomate Ron Rojas to put on a Mr Goodwrench mechanic’s jump suit.

We splurged from the limited film budget and purchased a lunar patrol helmet from Kmart. Fashioned a dorm size refrigerator box in to a cylinder shape that we covered with tinfoil. Placed hooks on the back and ran forty pound fishing line outback in the yard in Brewer where Andy’s parents lived. With the “space ship” hoisted high and the sixteen mm camera set up on a tripod, I would click, expose one frame. Andy would move the alien craft down the fish line a few feet, stop and I would repeat the process. Until it “landed”.

Then Ron the captain of the ship would roll out from behind it in sequence captured one frame at a time. Move, stop, move more, stop and so on. Then standing up, we had Ron jump high. In the air the black and white camera would only capture Ron off the ground. His hands up, elbows pointing where we had him “levitate”. And the direction he would move as he headed to the Beverage Warehouse in downtown Orono Maine.

The best animation trick was having Captain Ron who sported an eerie smile for the first installment of “Space Critter” fly through glass.

Facing, up against the front door to the store frequented by mostly college kids. Then Ron jumping, the camera catching him off the ground. And then stopping the filming, having Ron go inside, backing up to the glass door and jumping while we filmed him off the ground. Neat effect when the film was edited, in the can and replayed for the class.

Another film exercise started out to be the life of a lonely Bangor Maine cab driver. Story boarded with some night scenes as he waits. Smoking, listening to the jazz, blues radio. Killing time before his next fare. But a fire engine’s sirens, lights came on the scene. As we pulled off the Orono campus of the University of Maine. Causing Andy and I to make a quick executive field decision for a change of film locations.

The fire on the street north of the Stillwater River near the University of Maine at Orono mother campus was excellent real world news footage.

But the school bus pullling up to the curb and letting off the kids who lived there was very emotional, sad to watch unfold. As the kids looked at the burning, smoking house and Andy, I both thought what that scene would feel like. If the Maine house a blaze, smoldering was our own family home. Maine, learn more about her. Watch our Maine community videos…shaped a little by my partnership with Andy in college a view years back.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

February 5, 2012
Dopey Was A Single Screw With Tag Axle 220 Cummings Diesel Conventional White Truck.

That’s a mouth full but when you are talking about a Maine trailer truck, the devil is in the description
My Dad Had 7 White Trucks, An International, A Peterbilt Too.
details.

My Dad and Mom raised potatoes for 24 years. Had eight trailer trucks to haul their potatoes and loads they bought from other local Maine spud farmers. Before trucks came in to the picture, trains did the potato market delivery to Boston MA, New York City, Hartford CT.

But over night service, deliveries tomorrow morning by loads ordered the day before became the demand, the norm. With just in time inventory control and because some railroad cars disappeared for days, weeks. And when located, deep in the heart of Texas, the load poured out the door, stunk to high heaven, ruined.

Dad’s first truck was a 1963 White cab over 250 Cumming diesel engine red color truck with sleeper. It was a twin screw, had a sleeper and was purchased with a 1957 Trailmobile trailer. Most of his trailers after that were Great Dane stainless steel types. One Fruehauf though. Allison Britton, a local painter sat on a wooden stool, hand lettered the truck doors with “Prem Pak”, the name of the trucking business arm.

Back in the early 1960’s you needed ICC rights to haul certain products in a set collection of states.

So Dad hired an ICC lawyer named Mary Kelly in Washington DC to work the deal to buy Mulcahey Express. Part of the purchased ICC rights allowed furniture moving which was not used. But the paper products for the New England states was. French fry cartoons for a back haul to Potato Service, other potato processors in the Presque Isle Maine area helped make the profit. Pay the fuel for mileage which was less than 4 miles per gallon.

Other Northern Maine truckers would lease the paper hauling rights, give a percentage of the freight charge for the load to my parents. They had Prem-Pak plaques to put on their doors to show under who’s authority they were hauling their load of laden for and where to in the paperwork in the cab. Next to their log book and the eight tracks of Buck Owens, Johnny Cash, Red Sovine, George Jones, Tammy Wynette, Loretta Lynn.

Other White trucks were bought, always with Cummings diesel engines. There was a Transtar, an International truck with a 903 diesel, a Peterbilt with a 335 diesel. And Dopey was a 220 Cummings diesel, single screw with a extra tag axle, no sleeper. Jeff Bossie, Doug McNutt were two early drivers of Dopey and paid an extra 35 dollars a trip. For motel room or a bonus if they just leaned over to lay down on the passenger seat. Catching some shut eye while waiting to be unloaded in the produce market.

Ole Elmer had a bumper with the name on it, was a gas job single axle conventional White used to “donkey” back hauls of paper products from Houlton to Presque Isle, Caribou, Fort Kent Maine.

And to pick up potato loads to head south being pulled by their regular diesels. That were being engine serviced in our barn converted to a truck terminal. While Ole Elmer set, landed the next load for the regular driver home sleeping. Charlie McCordic was the day driver who would donkey north to pick up a potato cargo load.

Another truck, #5 had “Here Comes Kelley” on its bumper and was driven by Elwod Kelly. I went on lots of trips as a young kid to the produce markets. Pulling in to Fargo Potato on D Street in Boston. Helping unload with the promise of a seafood fried clam dinner at the Bel Aire Diner on Rt 128 on the way back to Maine. If you did not hire the brother of the guy with the big hand that raps on your truck semi’s door at 4:30 AM, you could be jerked around and delayed a long long time.

Truck #2 had “Home Wrecker” written on its bumper and Sonny Howe, Joey Nadeau I think were its drivers. Jack Graham, Dean Lynds, Astle McPherson, Carl Cottle, Albert Fitz, Charlie McAtee and lots of other really good drivers were in behind the wheels of these rigs.

I respect truckers, want to eat where they do on the road on trips.

I flick my lights off when they pass on the Interstate to let them know they are clear to pull back in the lane. And the morse code on and off of their trailer lights makes me feel good to have had some trucking injected in my blood as a kid growing up around them. They can not stop on a dime, get a bad rap when there is one trying to avoid a driver texting or on their phones and involved in an accident.

Having to go out with a load regardless of the weather. Missing lots of holidays to make a living to feed their kids. Put a roof over their head in homes that they are not themselves in very long. And when they are, they are sawing logs, sleeping soundly. Getting ready to go back out on truck. Listening to country music, socializing on the CB radio. Missing their kids, wife, girlfriend.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

January 31, 2012
Glen Holmes Green And The 1956 Crown Victoria Ford “Heatwave”

When you’re in business, branding is a big part of creating a consistent image to help your operation’s exposure.

Marketing that brand means having a clear vision of the steps needed to be taken daily to build on your image. So the public sees, senses, is aware of your brand that you build to stay in business.

If a company has a fleet of vehicles, the color of the paint is the same on each of them.
Looking For A Drive In, A Car Hop, 1956 Ford Crown Victoria Classic Car
Like all Maine state police cruisers used to be one color blue. You see them in a lot of Stephen King movies based in Maine. Distinctive shade so the public knew oh look, there is a trooper, officer if you needed help. Until someone dreamed up the idea of unmarked patrol cars. They won’t hurt you unless you are breaking the law though right?

Glen Holmes is my oldest brother Stephen’s age, ten years my senior. Graduating around the class of 1964 from Houlton High School. His Dad worked for Donald Guy who had a excavating company with a fleet of vehicles painted red. Cement mixers for Redi-Mix that were red, GMC dump trucks the same color. His slogan on his vehicles, business letterhead and billing paperwork reminded all “We Move The Earth”.

Which promptly stopped when piloting a private plane that went in to a mountain side in bad weather down around the Old Town area if memory serves me right. I was a little kid when all this was happening but remember hearing about it all. And yesterday, while sitting down with Randy Holmes at the Shamrock Cafe for a fresh Camden sandwich, found out his friend Glen’s Dad worked for Donald Guy at the Steelstone operation.

And Glen thought it was neat to have all your “toys” or vehicles painted one color.

To showcase the collection and without a doubt know who owns those construction rigs.

So everything Glen touched did not turn to gold but a shade of green when he started his collection. New outboard motors, snowsleds painted Glen Holmes green. Sporting camp boats, accessory items all got dips in the color that appears a lot in nature. But a particular shade of green.

Unique, distinct and part of the branding, the trademark, the look. Helped with security too so nothing “walked off” and no one would have to wonder who the rightful owner was. No matter the adage of possession being nine/tenths of the law… it was Glen Holmes’s if the right shade of green, period. Like a tattoo branding iron burning the rear end of a cow herd “trademark” obvious.

Oh and what about that “Heatwave”, the 1956 Crown Victoria Ford two door classic car?

My brother Stephen told me Glen was a whiz in shop /automotive class and owned the local legend. That it has five tachometers…in various places around the car to make sure it was operating at tip top efficiency. And maybe to impress a tad in the exchange.

Was the “Heatwave” painted Glen Holmes green? If this was fiction it would have been. But no, I think it was black originally, many shades ago. Or at least when I was about twelve and saw it parked at the farm and then owned by my cousin Randy Mooers it was red, tired but small Maine town famous.

Funny how a local car legend, a coloring marketing or security scheme was going on around me in a small Maine town while growing up. And the buzz about it got picked up, absorbed in my memory banks and enhanced with my conversation over lunch. I’ll check my facts with Glen and tell you about Randy Thompson being the first lease in the Bangor Mall with his leather business, Randy’s Leather in an upcoming MeInMaine blog post.

I love living in a small Maine town. The events, happenings might bore some, but the connection, closeness, bond that all in those towns have is special, unique and friendly. If you live in one you catch my drift. If you don’t but want to, I know a little red hen Maine real estate broker who can help you make it happen. Maine, get here quick as you can.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

January 28, 2012
Satan Was A Black Cat On The Maine Farm.

Satan, called “Satie” was a mouser, a tom cat that was very good at his job.

No other cat was apt to creep on to the Maine farm, to set paws in any of the buildings.
Dreaming About Mice, Catching Them On A Maine Farm

But periodically he would leave his post on the Maine farm and head to town. To court, spark, flirt and get in to awful fights with other cats. Cats defending their turf, their jobs as mousers too.

Satie would come back to the Maine farm all scratched, ears nicked, bleeding and worn out. But nursed back to health, he would be back patrolling the barn, grainary, outbuildings to catch field mice. Rodents who liked a winter of grain, inside under cover living. Instead of out in the howling northwest winds and being out in the open weather elements.

The total black cat was not the most social, not going to hop in your lap, rub up against your leg.

Satie had a job to do, knew his place on the Maine farm. I remember taking him to Dr Perkins, the vet on Court Street in Houlton Maine to put him to sleep at age fourteen. When he was worn out, slowly dying and Dad told us it was time.

My Dad had a Newfoundland called Duke who he always told us four boys that the big black dog was pretty Clark Kent, mild mannered. But the easy going dog with the great disposition turned over the leaf when a German Sheperd down the road became more and more aggressive. One day backing Duke in to the corner of a machine shed and nipping, bullying. Until Duke had had enough. And nearly ripped the Sheperd’s throat out which caused the farm intruder dog to high tail it with something between his legs. And never to return.

Animals are a big part of a kid’s childhood, a family’s Maine home.

Through thick and thin, the pets are there. And on a Maine farm they are usually working animals. Large boned horses that pull the cut logs out of the woods. Carefully side stepping tree stumps to avoid the load of logs catching, fetching up on an object. Anything that would interfere with delivery of the wood twitch to the yard.

Do you have a pet that is always glad to see you, especially when you fire up a can opener? Or toss them a treat, scratch behind their ears? I think pets sense your moods, like to be close for attention and we need to give them more credit for the role they play in our lives.

Elderly folks especially are no longer alone, shut in by themselves when a pet is allowed where they live.

Maine, the living is simple, down to earth and easy to understand. We name our Maine cows too, feel just as close to them too because we count on them, care for them. Watch our Maine local community videos.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

January 26, 2012
How Maine Milk Is Priced… Regulated.

I grew up on a Maine potato farm.

Both my parents were raised on dairy farms.

But other than a few
Marco… Polo. What? What Are You Looking At?
Maine cows with very old lady’s names,
milk production was not our seven day a week job.

The milk we produced we consumed rather than peddle to the public.

Not sold outside the farm household where I was raised in Houlton Maine.

So for years I have never understood minimum prices for Maine milk that could be charged.

Also wondered why minimum milk prices in Maine were in force, needed. Because potatoes, grains or a brief stint with sugar beets, the vegetable we sold roadside did not have the guarantees, price supports.

The minimum dairy price supports are designed to keep farmers in production, kept on their spread. In business, to maintain, add some stability to the farmer’s bottom line. Here is more on the how, what, why for minimum milk prices. I used to think for free enterprise to work, the market place could decide how low to go on milk and dairy products to bring in the customers. So to think standards for minimum pricing for milk were needed in Maine also seemed vague, fuzzy, mysterious.

At the same time, being right on the US Canadian border lots of milk is scooped up by cross border shoppers.

Taken back across the boundary crossing along with turkeys.And a quick tank fill up of vehicle gas. If you have ever sampled milk from New Brunswick, whoa. No offense but it is nothing like the milk on this side of the border. In the states, in Maine. Price supports and increases in New Brunswick Canadian milk prices happen too. More on Maine’s milk pricing history. And this article shows the bigger picture of milk pricing, exporting in Canada and the US.

Regardless, no one in my farm household growing up or with my own kids has seen milk rationed, or skimped on. In Houlton Maine, lucky to have our own local dairy served by three local milk farmers. And you forget how good the local, fresh milk without the growth hormones is to enjoy. Until you have to take a trip and sample what other people call, drink for milk. It would not pass the local standards for our local Houlton Farms Dairy.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

January 24, 2012
First World Problems. My Son Explained The Term, Expression.

When you live in Maine the lifestyle is pretty simple.

The people are not, but the day to day is.
Cobalt Blue Skies In Maine Over Head.
Why? Not complicated with trying to impress. Or putting material goods higher than family, local community tradition and your neighbor that might need a helping hand. Maine is not stuck inside either. Pretty much tied to the outdoors where you can figure, sort out what’s really important.

Grateful.

Because you may find yourself blessed with greater luck.

The natural four leaf kind or flavor you make yourself with hard work. Having more of something than the fellow down the street does. So you share, reach out and help because you can. Because it is right. He would and has done the same in reverse.

The basics.

You live in Maine, a rural setting and your home has lots of improvements. Or is a total creation of your own sweat, effort, creative passion. The wood you burn to heat it, keep the family warm is often from your own Maine land. Or family woodlot. Gathered in from wooded land or delivered tree length to the back yard. Then, slowly cut up, to fit your stove or furnace. And split, stored. Ready for another winter heating season.

The food we eat in Maine. You know where it comes from, the majority of it planted by you and the kids. Tended, hoed, weeded when the sun is high over head during the summer. Harvested in the fall. Stored for the months of layers of snow on the ground over a Maine winter. Sampled as it becomes ripe off the vine before that.

Meat from a cow named Sirloin or Chuck, Burger Boy.

Double yolk orange large eggs from laying hens in a coop out back. One protected from foxes. Money problems…not so much. Because money is not the end all, not so depended upon with a Maine country lifestyle. Removed on purpose, the price of admission to rural Maine involving a lower pay scale. But a rich life setting to raise your family in and assurance that practical values will be instilled in those kids.

Self sufficiency, standing on your own two feet. Whining less, working harder. Teaching your kids the same course in life. My youngest son, the last of four used the expression “first world problem” over the Christmas break. He and I were in a conversation and he caught himself. Explaining his lament was a “first world problem”. Examples of First World Problems.

In a third world, where you might not know where your next meal is coming from for you, your family. Where seamless exploitation happens every change of political regimes. New dictator, same old treatment of full throttle oppression. Medical problems but no one seems to care. Life is not so valuable, precious as you and I in this country are accustom to in America.

The ability to speak your mind. Heck blog on any topic under the rainbow, beneath the stars shining brightly on a velvet black sky. Without worry of a knock on the door, being wisked away for offending someone. For thinking freely, openly expressing what could be a contrary view point.

Mainers have their heads screwed on straight.

Have it figured out, are grounded. Keep life simple on purpose. Being as self sufficient as possible. Home grown not store bought. Real, honest, un-spun, unplugged. Is this what you are looking for or enjoying now?

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

January 22, 2012