Part One of this series is available here: When Patagonia Was a Mecca for Wagon Restoration — Part 1: The Museum Connection
Although Doug Thaemert thoroughly enjoyed his work in the museum and was grateful for the support the Stradlings had given him to move to Patagonia and set up his shop there, after three years he felt he was working extraordinarily long hours with little to show for his efforts. Thus, again with assistance from the Stradlings in the form of generous payment terms for the building, Thaemert went out on his own with little more than a hope and a prayer.
With slim financial resources, he assembled a highly skilled team of individuals who took immense pride in their work. As a result, in his own words, business was soon going “gangbusters.” Orders for wagon work poured in from across the country—including national parks and Anheuser Busch—and led to many additional referrals. Thaemert was flattered by the caliber of clientele his team was attracting.
Richard Connolly had already come to the team in 1975 while the shop was still museum-based. After a stint as a car mechanic, he had taken a job restoring horsedrawn wagons for Dan Bates, a sculptor in Tucson who happened to have a penchant for collecting old wagons. His work for Bates evolved into a passion for working on wagons. This passion became obvious to Thaemert as the two became acquainted when Connolly needed Thaemert’s services to repair a set of wheels. Thaemert offered him a job as carriagesmith and Connolly seized the opportunity.
In 1976, Thaemert met Lee Gordon, a skilled wheelwright, who was working at a lumber yard in Tucson. Impressed with his work on display at the yard, Thaemert convinced Gordon to come to Patagonia to work for him. Gordon became, and remained until his departure more than a decade later, so instrumental to the success of the business that Thaemert gave him prominent billing on the company’s business card.
In addition to Gordon and Connolly, the core members of the Southwest crew included Dick Volz and Sonny Showalter, local talents who specialized in woodworking but who worked in other aspects of the business as well.
Murphy Musick was drawn into the business during a visit to the town in early 1977. As he enjoyed a beer at the now-defunct Big Steer Bar, he met Thaemert and his crew doing the same. Thaemert needed someone to lay the adobe brick walls to expand his newly acquired shop. Musick had no experience with adobe but was confident he could master it. Thaemert was persuaded, the deal was struck, and the new walls went up. Thaemert soon had his greatly expanded work space complete with paint room, forge…and Connolly’s initials in the cement floor.
Thaemert was a meticulous researcher, an asset essential to museum-quality restoration, which quickly became the hallmark of the business. So insistent was Thaemert on his workers sticking to his exacting standards that the crew came to refer to their work as “Dougerizing” to describe the degree to which their work had to go beyond the ordinary.
The men reported for duty in the shop at 9 a.m. They worked long hours on many occasions and well into the night when deadlines needed to be met. A few beers after punching out were a frequent part of the routine, a well-deserved time to relax and strengthen the bonds of work and friendship that endure to this day.
One might think such demanding work would result in an all-work-no-play atmosphere in the shop, but the guys were expert pranksters as well as craftsmen. For example, the team cleverly rigged up a boot that swung down from the ceiling to give an unsuspecting visitor a little extra incentive to hurry out when it was time to leave the shop. Other pranks included blocking the window of Thaemert’s welding helmet with black craft paper and greasing his telephone. Gordon fondly tells of the time he modified one of Thaemert’s cans of black spray paint so that when he pressed the nozzle it sprayed on Thaemert instead of on the object he intended to paint.
Next month: “ Building a Legacy”