Artie Ayers hunted geese and duck in the swamps of Maryland’s Eastern Shore with Curty Gowdy, was a “wudderman” who owned seven crab and oyster boats on the Chesapeake Bay, ran fishing expeditions out of Ocean City, had his own national TV show called Sportsman’s Showcase, but none of it prepared him for Minnesota’s harsh winters – only the people of Minnesota did, who warmed his heart so much he left a Maryland he loved for them.
If you’re reading this after January 1, 2000, by candlelight, shivering next to a dead computer, then Bob Dale was wrong about the impact of Y2K.
As 1999 waned, he believed that 2000 would make a benign arrival, with computer clocks and calendars clicking into the new millennium relatively glitch-free. “There might be some minor inconveniences, but I’m not moving to northern Minnesota and digging my own well,” he said, defining a minor inconvenience as finding your supermarket short on some items because less confident individuals stocked up on canned goods or their favorite cereal.
If you’re expecting Bob Weerts to be another Rodin’s “The Thinker” or some introspective M.B.A who analyzed and plotted his way to success, think again. This guy is one big ball of bubbling electrons that won’t stay put, impulsive, a whirling dervish, a straight shooter but from the hip, who somehow worked and willed his way through a crippling childhood bout with polio to be one southern Minnesota’s most respected entrepreneurs.
When a General Mills or Pillsbury president stumbles onto what seems like a fantastic idea for a new product, they have the wherewithal to bring in an army of Ph.D.s, M.B.A marketing gurus and ivy league patent attorneys in order to carry that idea to market. In a large corporation, the idea-to-market process may take years and tens of millions to play out. With General Mills, in ready-to-eat cereals, for example, long-term successes are rare, even after pumping over $30 million in advertising alone into each new product introduction.
The man wearing a leather Harley-Davidson jacket and responsible for 2,100 paychecks scoots into his parking spot off Tower Boulevard riding a steely gray BMW K1200 LT touring motorcycle. His photogenic smile brightens up the receptionist while he waves at her on his way up the spiral staircase at Carlson Craft headquarters in North Mankato. Another day begins for Stafford Harder, 48, Glen Taylor’s flagship field general, as he then strides towards an office embellished with miniature toy Harleys and classic Chevys, a wall-hung photo of a laguna blue convertible, and Bible verses engraved on wall plaques. A quick call later, and at his desk, he has confirmed next year’s reservation at Sturgis.
If you’d asked Mueller and Prevot in 1990, Will you ever see the day when you’ll have to turn away business because of a labor shortage? they would have answered, Never.
Yet today 550-employee strong LeSueur Incorporated sits with land in Le Sueur ready for expansion, cash waiting, booming sales, so many potential customers you couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting one, yet it can’t expand because workers are in such short supply.
It doesn’t take much channel surfing these days to get your TV set vibrating with the metallic symphony of powerful engines. Auto racing is a growth sport as fans fade from traditional diversions like baseball and gravitate toward the vicarious thrill of seeing helmeted warriors chase each other around oval tracks.
After years of knocking around the Midwest as a laborer, Bill Thomas found a better niche in New Ulm.
With native artistic talent, a dash of casual entrepreneurship, a skilled crew to help and some solid sales connections, his two-year-old company now supplies screen-printed T-shirts and sweatshirts to a national market. Thomas is responsible for the graphics, which range from his original designs to illustrations furnished by customers.
Tom Rosen, 51, stands tall in a tasseled cornfield. He’s a great big mountain of a man, 6’5″, 250-plus, who towers over a crowded room both physically and professionally. Success didn’t stunt his growth. The family business he guides, Rosen’s Diversified, Inc. (RDI), grossed $550 million in 1998, which makes it Minnesota’s sixteenth-largest privately held business. Of businesses headquartered in south-central Minnesota only AMPI ($1.1 billion) and Taylor Corp. ($950 million) are larger.
