Premier Partners
Imagine Lucy Van Pelt of Peanuts marrying Charlie Brown and the two becoming U.S. Navy captains, then constructing and remodeling homes. In a Sunday cartoon strip this never would happen. But in this story, in Connect Business Magazine, “Lucy” is Pauline Marlinski, 53, and “Charlie” is Chuck Klimmek, 56, married co-owners of KMA Design & Construction in Gaylord, Minn.
Gene Nelson is a Ripley’s Believe-It-Or-Not kind of guy.
The recipe for his success has been, uh, unbelievable. He includes his dad’s failed business venture, his own deteriorating health, two terrible grain bin fires, a flippant Canadian, a $40 purchase order, and a competitor’s ugly actions as defining moments in his career.
“Atwood” likely is the most “seen” surname in all southern Minnesota.
In fact, so many Century 21 Atwood Realty signs have bedecked our region’s lawns over the years that at times the signposts have looked like corn. They grow tall, align in neat rows and have hanging fruit: SOLD.
In 2003, the company was involved in sales of $78 million, accounting for an eye-arresting 25 percent of the Greater Mankato total. Its closest competitor (Re/Max) had 15 percent.
Forget your negative notions about the Defense Industry for a moment, especially your perceptions of fat contracts and shoddy quality.
Set aside your irritation at $650 toilet seats, backroom deals on supertankers, late deliveries and cost overruns. Instead, take a look at the industry from the perspective of Aerospace Systems in Fairmont and its general manager, Mike Wasmund.
Business consultants often list the ability to “build and maintain relationships” as one indicator of an aspiring businessperson’s future success. We think it might be the indicator.
CEO Lorin Krueger of $20 million Winland Electronics is every bit Noah.
They laughed and laughed at Noah when he took on ark building. It seemed such a hopeless project, that of building on dry land so far from coast and port. But Noah had faith he was doing the right thing. After its construction, he immediately marched his tiny band inside and boy did it rain, and rain, and rain. The rain seemed as if it never would stop, cats and dogs, day and night, buckets all over. Though the storm clouds roared as pounding timpani and lightning shot its deadly arrows, and others outside the ark were lost, the tiny band never lost faith. In due time, he and his few, having survived, marched off the ark two by two to multiply profitably. It was a miracle.
The tour begins at the front desk. Bryan Paulsen points out the limestone laid into the wall, the brick columns stretching from floor to ceiling, the exposed concrete unearthed from layers of acoustic tile. He notes the lack of sheetrock, the minimal use of paint, the high efficiency lighting. He leads the way along a long, rounded corridor, bordered on one side by windows and on the other by handsome wood and glass walls. There, he says, is the main conference room. Here, he says, are the workstations.
The kid’s dad died young. Suddenly he and three siblings were baptized into a single-parent home and mom had to sell the farm. To make ends meet, she labored in a hot kitchen preparing meals for other people’s kids. He was a youngster at risk. Fatherless poor kids from large families often gravitate to the wrong side of the tracks.
But not an Annexstad, and not in St. Peter.
Galen Maki’s refrigerator has bacteria that can kill you.
He and wife Sharon Maki (pronounced Macky) co-own MAK-BEA Laboratory Inc., an outpost of death and hope in Blue Earth. It’s potential death to anyone mishandling samples of Listeria Monocytogenes, Salmonella, and E. coli 0157:H7; and hope for supermarkets, food processors, and restaurants who rely on MAK-BEA to keep millions of customers safe.
