The Sneaky Art of Selling Beer

Dad’s retirement cake, “America’s Classic Premium Beer Salesman”. Fudgy Chocolate recipe, found in my 1978 book, CREATIVE CAKES, by Stephanie Crookston.

My dad, Leny Thelen, enjoyed his life of selling beer very much. He retired in 1994, at age 62. I wonder if the heavy lifting of kegs and other duties came to be too much. He loved the social part, cracking a smile often, as he interacted with the bar owners on his route, and later, as he told us the stories.

He was a farmer, near Breda, Iowa, when the lure of a job in Carroll appeared. Farner-Bocken thought he would make an excellent beer salesman. The brand was Hamm’s, and only Hamm’s. No other brand was allowed to be brought into our house, or even spoken of. That loyalty and focus won him success.

My brother, Ed, remembers him saying, “There are only 2 beers: Hamm’s and Root Beer.”

Ed, getting to go to work at the Farner-Bocken warehouse.
My brothers, from left, Ed and Marty, wearing their own Hamm’s uniform shirts, made by Mom.

Of course, later on, beers such as Pabst Blue Ribbon and Millers Brewing Co. became part of Farner-Bocken’s sales offerings.

Undated photo. Early time of selling beer. Why the Falstaff? A joke, maybe?

A photo from early in his career, mid 1960’s I’d guess. When I look at this photo, I see a happy man. I also see the missing tooth that embarassed him (it was shot out from a BB gun fired by his older brother, Merlin, in childhood). I see the nametag, which appears to have Lenie Thelen embroidered on it, not Leny, as he went by later.

And, I see the strong hands (some would say chubby, ha ha) that took care of things, and us.

And what is this?! Clear as day, a Falstaff glass. When I showed this to my husband, Dan, he had an explanation. He knew from “egg runs” (drives to the country for fresh eggs, and a few stops along the way), that Dad liked to drink beer out of a glass, especially a Pilsner glass, pouring it from the bottle. (I didn’t know that. How genteel, haha). He thinks maybe it was the only glass that Whip had.

Just for fun, I googled Whip’s Place. It was a small local cafe and bar in Ricketts, IA (Crawford County), during the mid-20th Century, operated by Laura and “Whip” Langholdt.

This summer, I heard a story from my sister, Karen, that made us laugh! She and her husband, Jim, are active in the Merchants Baseball world in Carroll, IA, and even host ball players for the summer.

She found out that another baseball family host, Tom Goetzinger, (“Goldie”), had worked with Dad. Goldie said that Dad went into Don’s Place in Carroll to get Don (Gute) to order some of the new Miller Lite.

Don said, no, his patrons would never go for it. This was around 1975.

Vintage Miller Lite, found online.

According to my research, Miller Lite premiered nationally in 1975. It was viewed as a women’s “diet” drink. In order for it to be a winner in the marketplace, that idea had to be eliminated. Women drank less beer. To boost sales, the campaign aimed at working class men and sports loving men.

Its tagline of “Tastes Great, Less Filling” would help customers see its value. Celebrity endorsements also made it popular (think Rodney Dangerfield’s hilarious ads).

When Don said, “No” to Lite beer, Dad had an idea. He went back to the warehouse and talked to the men there. He knew they all went out for a beer after work. He asked them to go to Don’s Place, and each order a Miller Lite.

When the time came, Dad was sitting at the bar. They all came in and sat at the round table. One by one, they ordered Miller Lite. Don just looked at Dad and shook his head. I’m sure a few choice words and laughter occurred!

He ended up ordering 5 cases to give it a go. So, with a little help from Dad, the launch was on!

Mid 1970’s delivery truck, found online.
Dad, after retirement (1994). Photo dated by my brother, Tony, who noticed the watch, and the suspenders.
Our family party tray, purchased in 2010, at an Okoboji antique store.

Now, go have a cold one, a Miller Lite, of course!

Shirley

On Pigeons

Picasso painting, seen in 2004 at the Guggenheim Museum, inside the Venetian, Las Vegas.

What do you think of when you see a pigeon?

Is it the beautiful deep blue/gray coloring?

Is it the way they gracefully fly, and then perch lightly on a railing?

Is it the way they tend to pair up and/or congregate?

I think of the cities I’ve visited with great plazas and fountains. The pigeons are all around them, and often, people are feeding them.

Feed them?? Not me! Living in a city, we are now living with pigeons on our balcony, especially when we’ve been away for a couple of months.

You can imagine.

This is the first summer that we’ve had this particular problem, due to no activity on the balcony. With park concerts cancelled, and the coronavirus, we chose to isolate away from the city.

The pigeons nested under our grill, sometime in June, when we were gone. We discovered it, and all the surrounding evidence, on July 3, when we came back for a couple of days. The outdoor furniture was all a mess of droppings and feathers.

Wearing a mask, I used a throw away spoon to scrape up most of it into a trash bag. Then Dan used a putty knife which worked well, although he did comment that perhaps we should hire someone to do this dirty job. Then, a cleaning solution was gently poured over it (due to water runoff toward the sidewalk below, I had to be careful).

Then, rags were laid down on top to soak for awhile, and ultimately used to wipe up. Next, a disinfectant cleaner on tables and chairs, and concrete floor.

Looking somewhat better.

Finally, we could sit out and use the balcony again!

Then, we went back to NW Iowa’s Lake Okoboji, on July 6th.

This time, we put all balcony chairs inside, just in case the pigeons came back.

Balcony chairs, inside.

Well, we returned on October 8th, and yes, the pigeons love our balcony. I’m so glad the chairs were spared.

So, once again, clean up is going on, as well as chasing the birds away every time they land or get near. I was yelling and clapping my hands furiously, which sounded terrible and stung my hands.

Then, I remembered Dad’s trick of pounding 2 blocks of hard wood together to startle the starlings out of our front yard trees in Carroll, IA.

I went to our toy closet to get the Playskool wooden blocks (given to our oldest son, Bryan, in 1973, by his uncle, Michael Neary). I took 2 to use, and it worked great!

I still like our balcony a lot, even with the unwelcome pigeons. Who knows? I may even start painting them.

Shirley