Published: Saturday, May 29, 1999 Edition: STATEWIDE
Page: D1 Type: SERIES
Section: BUSINESS Source: FRAN SILVERMAN; Courant Staff Writer
Column: Series: From Seed To Shelf
An Occasional Series On
Growing In
GROWING PAINS
Overcast skies and intermittent rain -- a perfect day for
planting. On this mid-May day, Jim Futtner is on his
tractor, planting tomatoes in the silty black soil
off
The rain is welcome. The dry spring had Futtner a bit worried. But showers are enough to hydrate the new plants and soak the soil.
It's a surprisingly busy weekday for the Futtner family. As Jim plants, his wife, Honora, and daughterCarrie, 19, work the farmstand across the street, where a steady stream of senior citizens stop to purchase perennials for spring gardens.
Looking out from the stand, you wouldn't know the Futtner farm is smack in the middle of suburban sprawl.
But look slightly to the right, and a post office comes into view. Within easy walking distance to the left is a multiplex theater and a strip shopping center.
As Jim guides his 30-year-old red International tractor up
and down the rows, gently dropping tomato plants into the soil with a hydraulic
setter, cars zip noisily along
Jim, 51, is the third generation of Futtners
to till the
Where the Futtners once tilled
more than 50 acres in
To survive, Jim and Honora lease
15 acres on
The couple also tills 15 acres in South Windsor that they
bought when first married, a plot that yields vegetables they sell at the
Of Jim Futtner's four children, only one -- 15-year-old Joe -- has expressed any interest in continuing to farm. Jim and Honora say they don't try to influence Joe in any way. It's his decision, and they want him to be happy. Farming is a difficult job -- a tough life, they tell him-- just as Jim's dad warned him.
If Joe eventually decides against taking over the family farm?
``It will die,'' Jim Futtner said.
The history of the Futtner farm is
not unusual.
Agriculture is a $2.2 billion industry in
Farmers also have to contend with constantly changing environmental regulations that dictate the amount and kinds of pesticides they can use, reams of paperwork, and labor that is often lost to indoor retail shops.
Concerned about the loss of farmland, state officials in the 1970s funded a preservation program that pays farmers for the development rights to the land.
The money helps farmers pay off debt, and the land is preserved for agricultural uses. Since the program started, the state has spent $76.3 million to purchase the development rights of 172 farms, preserving 26,000 acres of land, or 6.8 percent of the state's total farmland.
The state has a goal of preserving 85,000 acres of farmland,
-- which would allow farmers to produce 50 percent of
Between 1988 and 1993, the state authorized $29.5 million for the program. This year, Gov. John G. Rowland's budget has no money for the program.
But even if there were money, it wouldn't save the Futtners'
In the 1970s, the Futtners
diversified, building greenhouses -- on
On this day, after planting, Jim joins Honora, who has spent the morning helping customers pick pansies and petunias in the warm, sweet-smelling greenhouses, for a brief lunch. Afterward, Jim will head north for the afternoon to deliver floral displays to clients, and then back to the greenhouse to restock.
It's a very busy time of year -- perhaps as intense as the harvest. And although it seems to the outside world to be just the start of the growing season, as far as the Futtners are concerned, they are halfway through it.
Through the winter, Honora worked on the computer, ordering labels and drawing up inventory lists. Jim worked on the equipment, fixing tractors or ordering new farm technology, if there was money.In March, Jim started plowing, and was planting corn, beans and peas by April.
The greenhouses and farmland have provided a comfortable -- if not secure -- income over the years. Annual profits vary from $30,000 to $50,000, and the couple call themselves ``middle-class -- more like lower middle-class.''
This month, the couple attended the graduation of their
oldest daughter, Elaine, 21, who received a nursing degree from St. Anselm's
College in
Like other middle-income families, they now worry about how they will pay for the three younger children's education.
It was just four years ago when the Futtners were finally able to join a group health insurance plan through the Connecticut Farm Bureau. In the past, they've had to pay out of pocket for medical expenses.
Every year, there is a new challenge.
There was the winter, for example, when Jim took the family skiing, and broke his leg. Come spring, he was out on the farm on crutches trying to teach Honora to drive the tractor.
Then there was the year when Honora got stung by a bee, and discovered that she was allergic to them. That ended her years helping Jim in the fields.
But they've never thought of selling.
``You wake up sometimes in the morning saying,`What am I doing this for? If it's a bad year, you get discouraged and depressed,'' Jim said. ``But you hope for a better year the next year. If we get one good year out of three, I'm happy.''
This year, the Futtners have purchased a new conveyor to help with the harvest. A week of rain has reassured them that the new plants will take root. Within days, they will plant their melon crop -- for which they've gained a local reputation.
But will they do well this year? ``You just always worry,'' Honora said. ``You never know. There might be a hurricane.''
PHOTO: (color), KATHY HANLEY / THE HARTFORD COURANT
MAP: (color)
Caption: JIM FUTTNER is the third generation of his family
to till farmland in
Losing
* Between 1984 and 1997,
1984: 480,000 acres
1997: 380,000 acres
Lost: 20.8%
1984: 73,000 acres
1997: 63,000 acres
Lost: 13.7%
1984: 690,000 acres
1997: 570,000 acres
Lost: 17.5%
1984: 1.7 million acres
1997: 1.35 million acres
Lost: 20.6%
1984: 540,000 acres
1997: 430,000 acres
Lost: 20.4%
1984: 1.53 million acres
1997: 1.34 million acres
Lost: 12.4%
SOURCE: Connecticut Department of Agriculture
Published: Thursday, June 10, 1999 Edition: STATEWIDE
Page: D1 Type: SERIES
Section: BUSINESS Source: FRAN SILVERMAN; Courant Consumer Affairs Writer
Column: Series: From Seed To Shelf
An Occasional Series On Growing In
CULTIVATING A CREW TO
SWEAT WITH YOU
FINDING FARMHANDS A
CHORE IN TIGHT LABOR MARKET
The unusually hot, 90-degree spring weather has taken its toll on farmer Jim Futtner. He's exhausted, his ripped white shirt and green pants are rumpled and his hair is matted with sweat. The sun has turned his skin a deep brownish-red usually not seen on New Englanders until mid- July.
Futtner has spent the past few
days working with his newly planted crops, dividing his time between a tract of
land in South Windsor, where he lives, and 15 acres that he rents in
In the early morning of this June day, Jim and two of his workers are building string fences around the tomatoes to ensure that they grow upright. It is slow work. They stick stakes into the ground every few feet, then tie the strings around the poles, trapping the plants in between.
When they were staking the tomatoes, they discovered that
The workers start picking the beetles off the plants one by one because Jim usually doesn't spray insecticides this early in the year. The plants are still so small that most of the chemicals would end up wasted on the ground.
Besides, Jim doesn't like to spray.
There are all sorts of rules and regulations. Each year, farmers must provide the state Department of Environmental Protection with records of the chemicals they've used, and how much. The state also checks soil samples several times a year to make sure that farmers are complying with regulations.
And pesticides are controversial.
This winter, Consumers Union, publisher of Consumer Reports, found that as little as a single serving of some popular fruits and vegetables may include enough harmful chemicals to exceed government health standards.
Farmers say they are caught in the middle. And what
environmental advocates don't realize, they say, is that farmers and their
families -- in
In the past, farmers sprayed weekly. Now, they spray only
when necessary. Each season, Jim pays a specialist $1,000 to advise him on chemical-free
ways to kill weeds and insects. He found the specialist through a
``We break even on the costs, but the benefit is to use less pesticides. Two years ago, we went three weeks without spraying,'' Jim says.
But pesticide management by hand is laborious. After picking
the beetles off the plants one by one, Jim is drained. He heads for shelter
from the noon sun in the small brick house across from the
Before Jim has recovered from the morning's work, a new crew has arrived, and he has to go out to meet them. Honora has to return to the greenhouse to supervise that staff.
Four teenage boys are waiting for Jim to explain their afternoon tasks. He tells one group to start hoeing weeds surrounding his cabbage plants. As the two teens start to hoe the crusty, grayish-brown soil, Jim tells the other group to start snapping tiny branches off the tomato plants.
The branches, Jim says, divert water and nutrients from the flowers. So they crouch down, their feet sinking about one-half inch into the thick soil, and begin. It will take the crew three hours to snap branches from two rows.
It has been so dry that Jim will have to irrigate the land in a few days. He and his crew will have to drag 20-foot sections of irrigation pipe through the fields, a task he hates doing -- except for the feeling of the cool, wet soil under his bare feet after the water starts spurting.
Between the 35,000 pounds of fertilizer, the insecticides and labor costs, Jim has already invested $500 in each acre he is farming.
His highest cost?
Labor, he says. And finding reliable help willing to sweat and get dirty is tough for farmers who have to compete for labor with air-conditioned supermarkets and malls.
Jim says he has been lucky. He has been able to hire and retain a sufficient crew each year. Right now, the crew is small -- just eight workers. At harvest time, it will swell to more than 20.
But if one misses work, Jim has to change plans.
One recent day, for example, Jim had planned to plant peppers. He needs three workers to operate the machine that sets the plants into the ground. But one worker stayed home that day, so the crew prepared spraying equipment instead.
When he loses a day of planting, he loses a day of harvesting in the fall. That means he loses money. He tries to have everything planted by June 15.
To attract workers, Jim must pay competitive wages. But he acknowledges that $6.50 an hour -- one of his highest wages -- is not making any of his crew rich.
Many farmers turn to immigrant labor. In
Farmers also have to be cautious about illegal immigrant labor. Last year, a Vernon-based immigrant labor firm was cited by the U.S. Immigration and Nationalization Service for hiring, housing and transporting 31 illegal immigrants who worked on area farms.
At Futtner's farm, there is a mix of returning workers and new hires. This year, a Vietnamese father and son have joined the crew.
Matt Cotoia, 17, of
Although friends sometimes scoff at him for being a farmhand, he says he feels as if he is part of a family. Jim and Honora, he points out, always remember his birthday.
``They are all good kids,'' Jim says. ``I try not to yell at them, try to overlook their mistakes. You have to be patient. These are not farm kids.''
Soon Jim's son, Joe, will complete his sophomore year at
This spring, Joe hurt his foot when a piece of farm equipment fell onto it. He recently got his cast off -- just in time to return to the fields.
Published: Thursday, July 29, 1999 Edition: STATEWIDE
Page: D1 Type: SERIES
Section: BUSINESS Source: FRAN SILVERMAN; Courant Consumer Affairs Writer
Column: Series: From Seed To Shelf
An Occasional Series On Growing In
FAMILY FARM RESTS ON
SLENDER SHOULDERS
WILL A
FAMILYTRADITION SURVIVE TO A FOURTH GENERATION?
Fifteen-year-old Joe Futtner and
his dad, Jim, are running a little late when they get to the
Wearing yellow rain slickers to shield them from moisture on
the slender leaves, the Futtners get right to work,
plucking ``Summer Ice'' and other varieties of early corn from the 6-foot tall
stalks. Later it will be sold at the family farm stand in
Each of their 12 mesh bags must be filled with 60 ears of corn. The leaves, whose edges are sharp enough to cut skin, slap their shoulders and hips as they pick.
At this hour, the only sounds are the steady whispers of their footsteps, swishing leaves and the snap of the corn as it is broken from the stalk. The quiet rhythms are interrupted only by the periodic squawk of an electronic box that scares birds from the field.
Jim, 51, likes this time of day, when the sun is low in the sky and there are no crews of workers that need his direction. Over the years, each of Jim's four children has accompanied him to the field in these early morning hours.
This year, Joe is by his side. Red-haired, freckle-faced and rail thin, the teen is the only one of Jim's four children who has expressed interest in making farming his life. Since school ended in June, Joe has plucked corn, planted peppers, hoed cabbage, driven the tractor and lifted 20-foot pipes to irrigate fields the family cultivates in South Windsor and East Hartford.
``I was brought up doing this,'' Joe said. ``So it's like an obligation to me. But it's a job with more variety than sitting in an office all day.''
Joe is the fourth generation of Futtners
working the fields. The Futtner farm, once more than
50 acres in
But family-owned fields have shrunk to just 8 acres as
generations of Futtners sold the land to developers.
That 8-acre parcel in
They also own 12 acres, ``the meadow,'' directly behind their home. But they rent that to another farmer because spring floods would delay planting there.
The
Jim began working full time in the fields with his father, Raymond, when he was 13.
``I wasn't given a choice. My father would just yell upstairs `time to go to work,''' he said.
But Jim fell in love with the land. When he told his father he wanted to take over the farm -- the only one of five siblings who was interested -- Raymond discouraged him, trying to make sure Jim really wanted that life. Now Jim gently warns Joe about what's ahead for him if he takes over the farm.
``It's a nice job, but you have to work hard,'' Joe said. ``My dad, sometimes I think, tries to push me away from it. It's not a very high-income job.''
This year hasn't been easy. The dry weather has repeatedly sent the Futtners to the fields to move irrigation pipes.
Irrigating is a tedious and physically demanding process.
One mid-July day, Jim, Joe and a crew of four spent hours hoisting 10-pound
pipes above their heads to move them from one part of the
At 5-feet-4 and 110 pounds, Joe is the smallest of the farm hands.
``You've got to duck especially low when Joe comes by with the pipe,'' Matt Cotoia, a beefy co-worker, teases in the field.
But Joe enjoys the work. He likes the challenge of picking crops faster than other workers and watching the seeds he planted in winter bear a harvest.
Joe's three sisters -- all of whom have spent thousands of hours on the farm over the years -- think he's crazy.
Elaine, 21, earned a degree in nursing from St. Anselm's
College in
``We had to do more work than other kids. I remember coming home from school and driving the tractor and having to make boxes in the barn,'' she said.
While she loves to return to the farm in the summers to help, enjoying the sunshine and open space, Elaine can't envision a lifetime in the fields.
``I think it would be a rough life. I see what my dad does. You have to really enjoy it,'' she said.
Carrie, 20, has taken Elaine's place at the farmstand this summer. As she heads into her junior year at
the
Though she learned to drive a tractor at 10 and spent more time than any of her siblings picking corn in the cool of the mornings with her dad, Carrie doesn't see a future in farming.
``There's not going to be [any land] left. The field across the street from the stand will be gone,'' she said. ``It's too much to deal with and not enough appreciation.''
Maggie, the Futtner's 12-year-old daughter, is just beginning to get more involved in the farm. But the long-legged preteen has another love -- soccer. The farm, she said, is too much work, with its bugs, and heavy bags to lift and all.
``It has been a part of my life the whole time,'' she said. ``But I'm going to be the next Mia Hamm,'' she said of the soccer star who has become one of the nation's most recognized female athletes.
With all the work comes fond memories for the Futtner children.
They like the times when the family walks down to the meadow behind their home after dinner, or takes their friends for a ride in the tractor during birthday parties -- or the quiet time spent with their father in the corn fields.
How many other kids can say with such certainty what their dads do every day at work? they wonder aloud.
And they cherish the time they spent with their
grandparents, Raymond and Antoinette, who lived in a small red brick house
across from the
``I used to come in from picking corn and Grandma would make me breakfast. We'd talk about the Yankees. Or, if you worked at the stand, she'd call you up and make you a steak and fries. She always made sure you'd eat,'' Carrie said.
The children say Jim and Honora never pressure them to take over the farm. In fact, Jim isn't sure he wants his daughters dragging irrigation pipes or spending long days hunching over pepper plants. And he wants Joe to think very carefully about becoming a farmer.
``It's still a decision Joseph has to make. When you get a few years of serious farming under your belt, then you make your decision,'' he tells Joe.
About 95 percent of
Joe says he feels that as the son of the family, he should take over the farm. But he has toyed with other ideas, such as becoming an astronaut. He says he doesn't think his parents would be disappointed if he decided to pursue another career. But in the future, he doesn't really see that happening.
``I don't think they would be upset,'' he said. ``But it would be hard for me to get used to a different lifestyle.''
Memo: This is the
third in a series of stories examining the experiences of one
Published: Friday, August 27, 1999 Edition: STATEWIDE
Page: D1 Type: SERIES
Section: BUSINESS Source: FRAN SILVERMAN; Courant Consumer Affairs Writer
Column: Series: From Seed To Shelf
An Occasional Series
On Growing In
AS SEASON WILTS,
FRUSTRATION GROWS
LACK OF RAIN,
UNDEPENDABLE LABOR STRAIN FAMILY FARM
This is the third in a series of stories examining the
experiences of one
The wholesaler earlier this August morning had asked for 60 boxes of eggplant.
But two of Jim Futtner's small
crew are telling him they're quitting -- heading to
The workers, a father and son from
Now they were definitely leaving, not picking eggplant from
the field off
All summer, Jim and his crew have been dragging irrigation
pipes through his fields in East Hartford and
All summer, he has tilled the soil on the rented
And all summer, he has been trying to meet the wholesaler's daily orders for corn, peppers, eggplant or cabbage with a crew that, this year, seems no more dependable than the rainfall.
He is out of patience. And so is his wife, Honora.
She has been asking Jim to consider giving up farming and just work in the greenhouses, where they grow flowers and bedding plants.
``Jim is breaking his back, and workers don't show up,'' she said. ``I've been panicked about the future.''
Just the other day, Jim, 51, complained of chest pains. It was probably just a spicy meatball sub that caused it, he said. But the incident reminded Honora that, like the rain, there was yet another thing the family couldn't count on: Jim's health.
This time of year -- when the labor-intensive harvest is beginning -- it is not unusual for the Futtners to feel overwhelmed. But this year, Honora said, the feeling began weeks ago and hasn't abated.
``It is a hard year, and Jim's that much older,'' Honora said. ``I figured we could just do the greenhouse stuff and end the season in June. I could get a job.''
In the next breath she conceded, ``I'd hate to have him give up farming because he loves it.''
But the anxiety about how the crops are faring in drought-like conditions, the physical labor that goes into picking and irrigating and the stress of managing the crew are taking their toll.
The farm's yields are down because of the weather, yet prices are depressed because of an abundance of out-of-state produce.
Jim is skipping breakfast, and the pants that fit properly during spring planting now are baggy. His face is taut, his posture slouched and his demeanor tense.
``My stomach's been bothersome. I get tense in the morning because I wonder who is going to show up for work. And I wonder if the weatherman is ever going to get the forecast right,'' he said one day while driving his flatbed -- at last loaded with eggplant -- to the regional market in Hartford. ``I go to bed at 8:30 p.m. and get up at 4:30 a.m. There's been too much irrigating.''
Showers this week finally helped the sweet corn. But rain -- on the rare days it has come -- sometimes did more harm than good.
A torrential downpour on a Sunday morning earlier this month
hit the
At this time of year, Honora and Jim are running in many directions. In the beginning of August, the family again opened the fields to customers who want to pick their own tomatoes or peppers.
Honora must register the customers, check their baskets, and police the fields to make sure there are no unregistered pickers who intend to leave without paying.
She also oversees the staff at the stand, where the family sells its vegetables and cut flowers from the greenhouses in back, and keeps track of what needs to be picked from the fields to restock the shelves.
Each day, Jim calls wholesaler Fowler & Hunting Co. in
This year, Joe and the farmhands are trying out a new $8,000 Veg- Veyer Jim bought to help with the harvest. The L-shaped yellow contraption attaches to a tractor and acts as a conveyor belt, sending vegetables picked from the field directly onto the flatbed of a truck to be boxed.
But this dry summer's harvest is smaller, and the Futtners wonder whether the $8,000 investment was worthwhile.
This year, they've lost half the peppers, and tomato yields are 50 percent lower than in past years.
Once the crops are picked, Jim takes them to Fowler & Hunting, where workers there greet him with firm handshakes and broad smiles.
The Futtner family has a 40-year relationship with the wholesaler, also a family-owned business.
Years ago, Jim and Honora used to pile their produce on their truck and arrive at the regional market at 3 a.m. to sell alongside other farmers lined up in stalls. But the sales were cutthroat, the Futtners say. Buyers would pick through the Futtners' produce or pass by it because a farmer in a nearby stall was undercutting their price by one-third. They also used to deal directly with grocery stores, driving around the state to drop off bushels of crops. But that became too time-consuming, they said.
Now, they deal just with Fowler & Hunting, which supplies supermarket chains and restaurants. The wholesale business comprises about 20 percent of the Futtners' income from the farm. About 70 percent of their profits come from the farm stand, and 10 percent from pick-your-own sales.
At the farm stand, the Futtners
can set their own prices -- but they have to be competitive to attract
customers. At the wholesale level, prices are subject to supply and demand. And
Jim and other small
The difference between wholesale and retail prices is drastic.
At the stand, the Futtners are selling corn for 30 cents an ear. Wholesale, they get 10 cents an ear -- $6 for a bag of 60. And that's 25 percent less than the $8 a bag they got last year.
In recent years, an oversupply has driven prices down for
farmers, industry representatives say. In
But farm stands have their own hidden costs. Jim says he'd rather sell wholesale. With electricity and labor, the stand is expensive and a management headache.
``Wholesale, you pick it, pack it and send it to the market, and it's done,'' he said.
In
Local produce is promoted in stores, and in circulars as New England Harvest. Sunday circulars for chains such as Shaw's Supermarkets are featuring pictures of local farmers.
Shaw's spokesman Bernie Rogan said his chain contracts with
20 farmers in
But supermarkets are under pressure to keep shelves stocked,
prices low and profit margins high. They look to other states, such as
``They are committed to local farmers, but that's just one piece of their puzzle,'' said Rick Macsuga, marketing agent for the state Department of Agriculture. ``It's really a global market.''
And supermarkets don't pay farmers for produce lost in the drought.
The Futtners will probably need a loan to make up for their losses, and are looking into the low-interest disaster relief funds the U.S. Department of Agriculture will make available to Connecticut farmers.
And Jim dreads that the water bill he will soon receive may be thousands of dollars because of his reliance on irrigation this season.
And soon, he will be losing all but one of his crew as they all head back to school.
``I'm just trying to pace myself,'' Jim said. `` This time of year, I'm tense in the morning, but I'm fine at night.''
Published: Friday, September 17, 1999 Edition: STATEWIDE
Page: D1 Type: SERIES
Section: BUSINESS Source: FRAN SILVERMAN; Courant Consumer Affairs Writer
Column: Series: From Seed To Shelf
An Occasional Series On Growing In
TOO MUCH, TOO LATE
AFTER A DRY SUMMER,
STORM KICKS CROPS WHEN THEY'RE DOWN
And then the rains came. And came. And came.
After fighting a drought all summer long, Hurricane Floyd
Thursday flooded the East Hartford and
It's as if Mother Nature is making up for what she withheld all spring and summer, Jim Futtner said.
But it's too much, too late.
``You look out and you see rain now, and you wonder why it couldn't be spread out, an inch a week?'' he said. ``It's a mind game.''
All summer, the Futtners and other farmers throughout the state had pumped water onto their dry, withered crops as they grappled with the driest summer in decades. They dragged irrigation pipes through cornfields and pumped water from rivers, wells and hydrants, all the while praying for rain.
And finally, up from the tropics it came. By midday Thursday, Floyd -- a 600-mile wide hurricane -- had already dumped at least 3 inches and threatened to pour on 8 more.
The rain is too late to save any crops lost to the drought, and so overwhelming it threatens what's left.
Dressed in yellow rain slickers and knee-high boots, Jim and his crew of two men spent much of Wednesday in the muddy 15-acre South Windsor field, filling baskets with as many peppers as they could pick, fearing that 50 mph winds could rip them from their vines.
Thursday at 7 a.m., Jim was in the fields picking corn and peppers. It was messy work. The mud was thick and gooey. The rain had already carved rows of streams into the fields. As they picked, the only sound was the steady patter of drops.
``This is summer to the extreme,'' Jim said.
Jim Futtner, 51, has been farming all his life, working with his father, Raymond, and then on his own after college. Some things, he said, you can fight -- like the drought. But a hurricane?
``You can't argue with Mother Nature.''
It is late in the harvest season; the crops don't have a long shelf life. The Futtners have to pick enough to meet orders, but not more than they can store for a day or so.
By noon Thursday, they had picked 275 bushels of peppers to
deliver to the regional market in
The market is packed with trucks stuffed with produce picked
by farmers trying to stay ahead of the storm. One of the farmers is Jim's
cousin, Blacey Futtner, who
tills 70 acres in
``Think it will rain today,'' Jim teased Blacey.
They wait together, exchanging family news, as produce managers from a wholesaler, Fowler & Hunting, poke through the boxes, discarding green peppers that have tiny red spots or marks.
``We were sorting the peppers late into the night, in the dark,'' Jim explained.
``Nobody wants to pick crops in a hurricane,'' Blacey said.
At the farm stand, Jim's wife, Honora,
drives the tractor towing a cart into the
While planting in May, Honora had worried about the weather.
``You never know when there's going to be a hurricane,'' she had warned.
Thursday she told her family: ``I was right.''
Published: Thursday, October 21, 1999 Edition: STATEWIDE
Page: E1 Type: COLUMN
Section: BUSINESS Source: FRAN SILVERMAN; Courant Consumer Affairs Writer
Column: Series: From Seed To Shelf
An Occasional Series on Growing in
FREEZE ENDS A FARM
FAMILY'S FRUSTRATING SEASON
This is the sixth in a
series of stories examining the experiences of one
The killing frost came a tad early this year. But that was just fine with Jim and Honora Futtner.
Just after sunrise on Oct. 7, the temperature dipped to 28
degrees, wilting the pepper plants and painting faint white coats on the few
remaining corn stalks in the fields the couple rent in South Windsor and
The Futtners usually pick peppers and corn into November.
But this year, the frost was a mercy killing. It ended a season plagued by drought, labor shortages, low prices and destructive late summer rains -- impediments that sapped their strength and strained their psyches.
``The frost came at a good time. Usually, there is more left to pick. But this year, everything finished up early because of the rotten weather,'' said Honora, 50. ``It's been a long, tiring season.''
The day of the frost, Jim and his small crew picked the fields clean of everything that survived -- 20 baskets of peppers and a couple dozen sacks of corn.
Jim, 51, has been picking corn since July 1, when the sun was scorching the dry earth and he had to irrigate every few days to keep the stalks alive.
Now, as he picks ears off the South Windsor stalks that were blown over by Tropical Storm Floyd last month, the sun is just beginning to take the chill out of the air. The maple, oak and poplar trees that surround the land are ablaze in brilliant red and orange leaves.
``I enjoy the cool weather. It wakes you up,'' he said.
The promise of the season's end has Jim and Honora in good spirits. The deep brown tan on Jim's face has faded, and the wrinkles on his forehead from grimacing in the summer heat have softened. ``It will be kind of a normal life now,'' he says. The 12- to 14-hour days have shrunk to eight, so there's time -- and an appetite -- for breakfast.
A few days after the frost, Jim harrows the fields, plowing under the once six-foot-high corn stalks, low-lying pepper plants and remaining tomato stems. Row by row, the field is returned to deep, dark soil that will be protected by a cover crop of rye and filled with fertilizer to rejuvenate it for next season.
As Jim readied the field for winter, Honora
eagerly cleared the remaining produce from the shelves at the farm stand
opposite the field on
``This is the best closing I've ever had,'' she said. ``There are no regrets.''
The stand closed to the public Sunday -- about two weeks earlier than usual. On Monday, Honora, bundled in a heavy blue sweater and work boots, stood in the semi-darkened stand and packed away peppers, corn, pumpkins and mums to sell to another farm stand operator.
She talked of the meals she will now be able to cook at home, the farm stand paperwork she will tackle, and a long anticipated respite for her and Jim -- a trip to Quebec late this week to meet a cousin she discovered in a genealogy search this summer.
``I really need the time away from the stand,'' said Honora, who worked there seven days a week this summer.
And although Jim and Honora joke about hibernating now, it's difficult, they say, to come to a full stop. The short, frigid winter days looming ahead are hard for Jim, who is used to being active, outside and busy.
``Some of these restful dayscan be dark days,'' he says.
But in the next few weeks, plenty of work remains to be done around the stand. Christmas poinsettias are growing in the greenhouse and Easter lilies need planting. There are plant clippings to take from any remaining baskets and bills to go through.
The Futtners are dreading the arrival of their water bill -- inflated by the days of irrigating -- and they haven't figured out yet how they fared financially this summer.
``Jim put his heart and soul into that field, '' Honora says as she looks out at the now fallow plot across the street before shutting the door at the stand. ``He should feel good about seeing the soil again. If you make it through a year like this, you can do just about anything.''
Before she can leave, though, the phone rings. It's their
daughter, Carrie, a
Carrie is sick. Jim and Honora
spend the evening in a hospital emergency room, where Carrie is treated for a
stomach illness. The much anticipated trip to
It's been that kind of season.
Published: Wednesday, November 24, 1999 Edition: STATEWIDE
Page: E1 Type: SERIES
Section: BUSINESS Source: FRAN SILVERMAN; Courant Consumer Affairs Writer
Column: Series: From Seed To Shelf
An Occasional Series On Growing In
CALM AFTER THE STORMS
TOUGH SEASON OVER,
FARM FAMILY REAPS A MODEST PROFIT
This is the seventh in
a series of stories examining the experiences of one
In the end, after the drought, after the labor shortages, and after September's damaging rains, Jim and Honora Futtner were able to turn a profit on the 40 acres they farmed this year.
It wasn't the best year the
As they sat in their home one recent day, the couple reviewed their revenue, bills and coming expenses, and reflected on the season that ended abruptly with a frost last month.
As reddish-brown leaves dropped from trees outside the kitchen window, Honora, 50, cut apples for pies to freeze for Thanksgiving. Jim, 51, still tan from the summer sun, had just returned from the greenhouses, where he was taking cuttings from the remaining baskets and potted plants, tending to the growing poinsettias and repairing equipment.
Rested and relaxed, the Futtners were slowly shifting into their winter pace. As the days get shorter, there still is plenty of work to do: fixing farm machinery, planting Easter lilies, ordering seed and purchasing greenhouse supplies. But the intense, frenetic pace of the 14-hour dawn-to-dusk summer days has slowly given way to a reasonable 9-to-5 schedule.
After closing the farm stand in mid-October, Jim and Honora got organized at home. It took them a few weeks to go through their bills, the checks they receive from their wholesaler, and the expenses they still have outstanding. When they tallied the bottom line, they were pleasantly surprised that it wasn't as bad as they had expected.
The early spring sales of their retail flower business and the September eggplant and pepper harvest saved their ledger from ending up in the red. Retail vegetable sales were down almost $10,000 -- from $70,000 to $60,000 -- and profits from pick-your-own produce dipped. But with flower sales from the greenhouses and the wholesale vegetable sales, these lifelong farmers eked out a modest profit this year -- about $40,000.
``If we just had a veggie business, we'd definitely be in
trouble this year,'' said Jim, whose family has been farming in
In 1972, Jim and his father, Raymond, decided to diversify
the farm and build greenhouses and a farm stand in
``He said, ``We are going to do something else, not just farm.' He was tired of the bull work,'' Jim said.
Now, 27 years later, 70 percent of the profits come from farm stand sales, 20 percent from wholesaling and 10 percent from pick-your-own. And it's the diversification that has kept the family farm operating all these years, Jim said.
But still, with four children to raise -- one with college
bills -- a mortgage on their four-bedroom colonial home and rent to pay on
farmland in East Hartford and
Echoing the concerns of other farmers, Jim and Honora say government programs often aren't beneficial to the family farmer.
``A lot of your government programs that are supposed to help us are hurting us,'' Jim said. ``They are keeping food excessively cheap. I'd like to be making $60,000 to $70,000. Our trucks are antiques. You can see to the ground through the floor of our old Dodge truck. Maybe if we have a good year, we can get a good new used truck.''
The Futtners say many people don't understand a farmer's life. Often, people think farmers are land-rich, that they can sell their farmland at any time for a tidy profit. And Jim's relatives, indeed, sold much of what once was a 50-acre spread to developers -- leaving him to rent land to keep farming.
The profits from land sales were split five ways among Jim's father, aunts and uncles, then split five ways again among him and his siblings. What was left from the land sales went into college accounts for Jim and Honora's four children.
``We didn't see a penny of it,'' Jim said.
Now, when they have a bad year, the couple borrow from their children's education accounts to buy seed, fertilizer and greenhouse supplies to get started in the spring.
This year, they've applied for a government loan for crops that failed during the drought. They are also awaiting a water bill they expect will run into thousands of dollars because of the weeks of irrigating. If it's as high as $5,000 or more, they will have to dip into the children's' accounts. Last year, the water bill was just about $250.
But the Futtners are grateful for all they do have, and what they've been able to accomplish. They will be thankful, they say, come Thanksgiving Day.
In December, they will take a family vacation to
``We count our blessings more than we used to. We look around and see a lot of people with a lot of problems. You hear stuff at the farm stand, what other people go through,'' Honora said. ``We have great children. We have a nice home on a good street, a nice yard, good neighbors. And we have the wherewithal to do the work we need to do.''
``We are living a good life. We really are. We are so spoiled,'' Jim said. ``We made it through, and we did OK. Is it how much money we make that matters?''
Published: Friday, January 28, 2000 Edition: STATEWIDE
Page: E1 Type: SERIES
Section: BUSINESS Source: FRAN SILVERMAN; Courant Consumer Affairs Writer
Column: Series: From Seed To Shelf
An Occasional Series On Growing In
INDOOR WORK COLD
COMFORT
WHEN WINTER COMES,
FARM FAMILY'S TASKS SLOW, MOVE INSIDE
This is the eighth in
a series of stories examining the experiences of one
The temperature is but a scant 10 degrees above zero. The
fields lie barren, covered with snow. The farm stand on
But inside the greenhouse, it is summer.
The air is humid, the temperature at 70 degrees. Pop rock blares from the radio. Impatiens, fuchsias and geraniums in various stages of growth line the tables, their brightly colored petals contrasting with the gray sky outside. In these dark, arctic days of winter, Jim and Honora Futtner are busy getting ready for spring.
The pace is slow, relaxed and steady. Honora is in the back of the greenhouse, checking inventory for plant labels. Jim and his staff, Patrick Miller and Amy Kowalask, are spending the day taking cuttings from potted plants and transplanting them to flats.
At one end of the greenhouse, the bright red leaves of the poinsettia left over from Christmas are starting to fade. At the other end, tomato plants are beginning to sprout.
``I love the challenge of making things take root,'' said Jim, 51, who grew up farming with his father, Raymond. ``It's about as close as you get to creating life; you know how God must feel.''
Inside the greenhouse, muted rays of sun stream though the plastic covering, and the air smells like earth. Here, Jim can turn his back on winter -- and the winter blues.
``The greenhouse is the next best thing to being outside,'' he said.
When the harvest ends, when the leaves crumble and drop off the trees and the soil is plowed under, Jim starts a free fall into depression.
Maybe it's because each autumn his furious pace slows to a crawl. Maybe it's because his body, which is exposed to sunlight for 15 hours a day in the summer, can't adjust to the lack of light. Maybe it's because it was on a winter day in 1995 that Jim's father died.
Winter depression is not uncommon among farmers. Many say they also find it a struggle to slow down, work indoors -- adrift from the soil that challenges and sustains them.
This year, Jim is trying to keep the blues at bay with exercise. He has joined Honora in her predawn runs, although the snow has limited that activity in recent weeks.
At night, he lifts weights with his 16-year-old son, Joseph, who one day hopes to take over the farm from his father, much as Jim took it over from his dad two decades ago.
Although the exercise is helping, anxiety grabbed hold of him this year during Thanksgiving.
Each year, Jim resists taking medication to battle the blues, putting off pills until he's sure he can't climb out of the black hole on his own. This winter, he has been able to reduce the dosage.
``This is the best year I've had,'' he said.
Honora, who has held Jim in her arms during the worst of it, agrees.
``He's doing better,'' she said gently. ``I really thought we'd make it through with exercise, but then you realize you need help.''
Since the blues struck with full force five years ago, the Futtners have tried different approaches to shake Jim out of it. This year, after the family's annual Christmas vacation, Honora planned some small day trips and visits with friends.
Jim is also keeping a steady -- but not stressed -- pace at work.
``In the past, if I didn't get something done that day, it was a disaster. Now, if it gets done a week or two later, that's OK,'' Jim said.
Still, winter's slow pace is an adjustment.
``Other farmers say people tell them to slow down. But they also say they don't know anything else,'' he said.
For Honora, who runs the family's
farm stand in
``The big factor for me was we didn't take time to plan ahead, plan a vacation, just a little crumb to look forward to,'' she said.
This year, the family went to
When they got home to
These days, he is dividing his time among the garage, where he makes repairs to the tractors and farm equipment, the greenhouse, and home, where he and Honora fill out tax forms, pesticide summaries and employment schedules.
Because of the drought last summer that wilted the pepper crop and stunted the melons and tomatoes, the Futtners will be applying for federal disaster relief grants. It is the first time they've requested government aid. In the coming weeks, the pace will pick up as more seeds arrive and Jim gets ready to plow the fields. Until then, Jim is learning to slow down and rejuvenate -- much like the soil is doing.
``It may look dead outside,'' he said, ``but it's just resting.''
Published: Thursday, April 06, 2000 Edition: STATEWIDE
Page: E1 Type: SERIES
Section: BUSINESS Source: FRAN SILVERMAN; Courant Consumer Affairs Writer
Column: Series: From Seed to Shelf
An Occasional Series on Growing in
RITE OF SPRING
A man, his plow and the soil.
It's where it all starts each year for farmers, and where it all ends.
Each March, for the past 29 years, Jim Futtner,
52, has climbed onto his tractor for a farmer's rite of spring -- plowing under
the cover crop of rye and grass in his South Windsor and
Life is a circle of seasons for Jim and his wife, Honora -- each year bringing new challenges, heartaches and triumphs.
On this sun-filled March day, Jim is eager to get back to the soil and make the switch from the inside winter work of nurturing new buds in the greenhouse to the outside work of planting them in the ground.
It's a solo mission in the field this day, no family members
pitching in, no cash flow yet to pay workers to help out. Just Jim, his newly
steam-cleaned 3-year-old John Deere tractor and the 15-acre plot he rents in
But the snow has melted, and the frozen ground has given way to pliable earth. And the thaw has lifted a depression that grips Jim each dark winter.
``This is good,'' he says, smiling, the sun streaming into the small cabin of the tractor. ``I enjoy this. It's relaxing.''
The soil unearthed by the tractor is a deep, rich black, streaked with some red clay. Squawking seagulls line up along the freshly turned rows.
It's wet, for now, but for how long? Last year's drought was the worst in decades -- for the first time ever, the Futtners applied for federal assistance because of the crop loss -- and Jim isn't taking anything for granted.
But he's not going to obsess about it either, he says.
``If the drought comes, it comes. If I start to worry about it now, I'd really go crazy.''
There have already been challenges this year. The sharp rise
in heating oil prices nearly doubled the cost of heating his
But so far, he has been able to purchase seed, chemicals and
fertilizers without having to borrow from his four children's accounts -- money
the children received when Futtner relatives sold off
most of the family farmland in
There is also the worry that the rented land he tills on
The cost of the stadium is more than twelve times the amount
set aside by the legislature for farmland preservation -- $7.34 million. For
the proposed 2001 budget, there is no additional funding for preservation.
The thought that the land would be sold for strip malls or track housing angers Jim.
``They should put clamps on development, keep the land for future generations,'' he says. ``A lot of people like to see the metamorphosis of the land, from plowing to the baby plants to the pick-your-own crops. Even if no one wants to farm the land, it should be used for open space.''
If it is sold, Jim will till the land behind his home in
But the Futtners don't want to
fret about the possible sale of the land, either. Honora
is busy getting the farm stand across from the
``I look forward to seeing a lot of the customers. We have fun with them,'' she says. ``But I want to be home with the kids, prepare the meals, be in touch with their schoolwork. The stand is open seven days a week, and you can't be in two places at once.''
This summer, the couple's younger children will be getting more involved in the farm. Maggie, 13, the youngest, likes to help transplant flowers and crops in the greenhouse, though her first love is really animals.
``Maybe someday we will be an animal farm, with chickens and lambs,'' Jim jokes.
Joseph, 16, the couple's only son, is interested in taking over the farm. Although Jim and Honora stress to Joe that they want him to farm only if it really makes him happy, they look for signs of which way his heart is leaning.
``He got off the bus from school the other day, and came up to me. He noticed I had been plowing, and he was ready to go,'' Jim says. ``That's encouraging.''
The Futtners are already getting calls from customers eager to start their spring planting. They want to open the stand the week of April 10. Then, the pace will pick up.
``You start up gradually, but before you know it, it will be October,'' Jim says.
So before the craziness starts, before the 12- to 14-hour days begin, before the predawn scramble to pick corn and the after-dark picking of peppers, Jim says he will enjoy the relaxing, hypnotic rhythm of plowing.
``I'm just going to keep going,'' he says, ``round and round.''
Published: Monday, December 02, 2002 Edition: STATEWIDE
Page: E1 Type: COLUMN
Section: BUSINESS Source: FRAN SILVERMAN; Courant Staff Writer
Column: WORKING IT OUT Series:
SOME OFFICES NEED WARNING SIGN: BOORS AT WORK
You think good fences make good neighbors? Try better cubicles.
Not everyone in the corporate world, it seems, is practicing
good business etiquette. From nail clipping to nosiness to drooling, workers of
Those flimsy partitions are just not enough of a barrier, they say, to protect them from the boorish colleague lurking just around the wall.
``Call him A. Noymann,'' wrote
M.M., from
``He's a Personal Space Invader. In trying to read what may be in a private e-mail, he can approach, preternaturally quietly. So daunting is this ability to stalk unsuspecting cubicle dwellers, several have adopted tiny concave mirrors, similar to those on hairpin bends, on their PCs to detect and foil his approach.''
Experts say they are not the least bit surprised that, for many workers, the most stressful part of the job is not the tasks they have to perform, but the people they have to sit near.
``We've become an inordinately self-centered society,'' says
Joyce Reynolds, a business coach in
But don't despair. If the person next to you, down the aisle, or around the corporate hallway is making your work life miserable, there are ways you can confront the offender without blurting out that he is driving you crazy.
The key, workplace experts say, is diplomacy and humor.
Telling co-workers you will quit a habit you have that is driving them crazy if they agree to halt the ones that bother you can be the best way to approach the issue, Reynolds says.
``It is really beneficial to keep it on a light note,'' she says.
Taking stock of your own corporate behavior is always beneficial before confronting other workers, agrees Pam Holland, co-author of ``Help! Was That a Career Limiting Move?''
``The first thing people can do is look at themselves,
demonstrate empathy and respect, because if you don't, nothing you say to
co-workers will have any meaning. Do a self-inventory,''
If the person doesn't change the behavior after you've confronted him, you can then approach a manager or the company's human resources department, but only if the behavior is affecting your productivity.
If it is your boss who has a particularly annoying habit, experts suggest finding out whether the habit is disruptive to others, as well. If it's not, you might not want to chance taking a stand.
``You have to suck it up sometimes,''
But if a particular habit is also annoying others, experts say, ask a staff member who has the best relationship with the boss to bring the issue to the boss.
Here's what readers had to say about behavior that is driving them crazy on a daily basis at work.
Names have been with held to protect their privacy (and their careers).
``Annoying habits? Like those that make one cringe with a mixture of disgust and loathing at the same time? Usually these 'habits' are the white elephant in the room, but since you asked, let me introduce you to my boss.
``He's the guy with the year-round stuffed nose that needs to be blown like reveille at least four times a day. If you look outside, you can see wild elk approach the building, believing mating season has begun.
``Once the sinuses are clear, the inevitable nail clipping begins, a sure sign to steer clear of his office or risk being hit by flying shrapnel. To round out the day, light up the campfire, 'cause it's `bore your socks off' story hour.
``This is when we get to listen to every yawn-inducing detail about last night's trip to the grocery store, that pesky fly that got into the house, or how Uncle Willy up north had a goiter removed last week.
``The things we put up with for money . . .''
-- R.F.,
``Is my co-worker driving me crazy? Crazy is not the word for it. I'm on the verge of manslaughter. The problem I am having is that this man clears his throat, moans, grunts and groans, every minute of every day. When he speaks, he cannot make it through a sentence without completely clearing his throat.
``There are times, when he 'clears' so loud, I actually jump from my chair in startled amazement. If I'm on the phone, I have to ask the callers to repeat themselves. What makes this matter worse is that because we are off from the rest of the crowd, I'm the only one who has to deal with this all of the time. ...
``I've been dealing with this by putting on some headphones and turning my radio up very, very loud. It does help a little in drowning out the grunts and groans, but I can still hear the loud coughs. The real problem is that I'm probably going to be deaf in a year.
``When I go home, if my husband coughs, I want to smack him. Everything is starting to bother me because of this man's annoying habit. He doesn't even cover his mouth when he does cough. Thank goodness for the small wall between our workstations.
-- N.S., Suffield
``Where, oh where should I begin? I work in a state agency. We are crammed into cubicles that are now the size of booths with all the people we have crammed on our floor.
``The more people you have, the more noise you have. There's the fellow on one side of me who clips his nails. I'm only happy he doesn't take his shoes and socks off to do his toenails. There's the cubicle one down from me that is occupied by a morning person with lots of energy who wants everyone on the floor to hear her at all times (unless she's whispering something personal on the phone). She will yell across the hall to one of the managers who, in turn, will yell back to her.
``Then you have the music players. You can walk down a row of people and hear New Age music, Spanish music, rock and classical, and all at decibels over and above what a professional office should be.
``Let's take a walk now to our lunchroom. Very few people ever wipe the counter after they have poured themselves a cup of coffee. Apparently, they think their mother works here.
``Then there are the folks who never cover the dishes that they put in the microwaves. You can imagine what this looks like at the end of the day.
``I guess what bothers me is these folks aren't good neighbors. You should behave better than you do at home. You should be respectful of you neighbor. We are with each other for only approximately eight hours a day. . . . It is so easy to be a good, kind neighbor. But it just doesn't happen. We have become a very rude society!''
Published: Friday, March 09, 2001 Edition: 7 SPORTS FINAL
Page: A1 Type:
Section: MAIN Source: By FRAN SILVERMAN And JACK DOLAN; Courant Staff Writers
Column: Series:
HANGING UP ON INTERRUPTED DINNERS
TELEMARKETING EXECUTIVES AMONG THOUSANDS REFUSING SALES CALLS AT THEIR HOMES
Don't call us. But we'll be calling you.
That's the message being sent by a handful of prominent Nutmeggers whose livelihoods are tied to telephone solicitation, but who were among the first to sign up for the state's no-call list.
More than 225,000
Many officials of charities, which are exempt from the law and have raised tens of thousands of dollars through telemarketing, also added their names to the list.
Even a state representative who opposed the law that established the no-call list registered for it.
State Rep. John Piscopo, R-Thomaston, was one of nine Republican representatives and one senator who tried to kill a bill establishing the telemarketing no-call list when it came before the General Assembly last year, asserting that it was an unfair government intrusion into the private sector that would hurt small business.
``You fight your battles,'' said Piscopo. ``But if you can't beat them, join them.''
This comes as little surprise to state Sen. Thomas A. Colapietro, D- Plymouth, who sponsored the no-call legislation.
``The people that were involved in opposing the bill actually had admitted to me in confidence that they were tired of getting the calls as well,'' said Colapietro. ``I've always said the Capitol is the pit of hypocrisy. People talk the talk, but don't walk the walk.''
In fact, many companies that solicit by phone did not lobby directly against the no-call list, saying consumers had the right not to be disturbed at home by telemarketers if they wished. And some executives in these companies were among the first to opt for that very right.
John Menke heads Webster Bank's marketing services division. By day, he helps his company compile databases and contact consumers who might be interested in banking services offered by Webster.
At night, though, telemarketers can't call him.
Menke said he registered for the no-call list to make sure it worked properly. Then he said: ``I never buy off the phone.''
Colapietro said some of the most vocal opposition to the list came from real estate and insurance agents.
Warren Ruppar, executive vice president of the Independent Insurance Agents of Connecticut, lobbied unsuccessfully against the financial penalties in the no-call legislation. He also pushed for a provision that would have allowed agents to contact people who are on the list, but only if they were first referred by friends. That provision failed.
But telemarketers won't be able to get referrals from Ruppar -- he's on the list.
``I personally like to deal with people in a more face-to-face manner when I'm buying something,'' he said. ``Many people think telemarketing is a great way to sell. Personally, I don't.''
Richard Feeney, the chief financial officer and a vice president at The Courant, was among newspaper executives who lobbied against the passage of the bill saying it is too broad. The Courant employs about 35 part-time telemarketers who contact residents in the evening to try to sell subscriptions to the paper.
``I'm opposed to the state no-call list because it doesn't differentiate between telemarketers who are legitimately selling goods and services people want and those that are an irritant,'' he said.
Whatever category they fall into however, telemarketers can't contact Feeney because he's also on the list. He said that he was unaware that his wife, who doesn't like to be bothered by telemarketers, had registered their household.
Just a year after retiring as president of Danbury-based
Grolier Direct Marketing, Dante Cirilli has
apparently had enough of telemarketers. He's registered for the list. The
Although charities are exempt from the no-solicitation law, some nonprofits, such as Connecticut Public Television, said they expected to obtain copies of the no-call list to identify residents who don't want to be disturbed at home by telephone solicitors. CPTV officials said they would contact the people on the list by mail instead.
Margaret Sakellarides of
Some residents on the no-call list who are major corporate executives in companies or charities that solicit by phone didn't want to discuss why they signed up for it. Several did not return calls seeking comment.
When contacted at home, Margaret Garber, vice president and secretary of Southern New England Telephone, said she was in a meeting and would return the call. She did not. But minutes later, SNET spokesman John Emra, called and reiterated a written statement released earlier by the company saying it would not confirm whether any of its employees were on the no-call list.
Published: Sunday, March 03, 2002 Edition: STATEWIDE
Page: J5 Type: COVER STORY
Section: HOME & REAL ESTATE Source: FRAN SILVERMAN; Courant Staff Writer
Column: Series:
HOME ADS: HOW MUCH IS HOT AIR?
SOME REALTY HYPE REALLY REQUIRES A DOSE OF REALITY
When Connie and John Fogarty sold their home in
But they were disappointed when the ``cute'' house they went
to see in
The ``conveniently located'' house listed in another advertisement was across from I-91, and the house described as needing some ``TLC'' had mold-infested bathrooms.
Finally, they began to catch on to the ``code.''
``We learned what the descriptions meant, `' Connie Fogarty said.
Real estate agents, they found out, have their own special language when it comes to marketing a house.
``There are buzzwords that a lot of agents use that seem to project particular images that are pleasing,'' says Claudia Vaughan, a real estate agent with Hagel & Associates in Cromwell. ``. . . We try to be accurate, but we do use soft images.''
Real estate agents say it is their job as representatives of the owner to call attention to a home's best features. But some house hunters, especially first-time buyers, say the advertisements can be misleading.
``They pump up the house, and you get so disappointed,'' Fogarty said.
Candace Hall, a librarian at the Cheshire Correctional
Institution, was interested in buying a duplex in central
She went to see a home described in an advertisement as
being in an ``exclusive area'' of
Another house that was described as ``charming,'' she said, turned out to be just small.
``It's like you have to get a whole new vocabulary,'' Hall said.
The use of glowing adjectives to describe a home is known as ``puffing'' in the real estate world. Some call it ``spin.''
Agents say they are highlighting a home's positive elements to pique a potential buyer's interest.
``What we want you to see is not
only the house as it exists, but what it could be,''
Nick Foligno, an agent who
represents buyers in
Foligno, an agent for A Buyer's Market, which doesn't list houses and represents buyers only, said one agent described a home he was taking clients to see as having well water.
But when he visited the house in
The agent said the municipal water used in the house ``tasted'' like well water.
Another agent described a home he took clients to see as having three bedrooms. When they got to the house, Foligno and his clients saw only two bedrooms.
The listing agent said the house previously had three bedrooms before it was renovated.
Foligno's clients would have had to knock down walls to turn the home back into a three-bedroom.
``What I tell my buyers is the information in listings is only as good as the person who put it in,'' Foligno said.
Fred Brown, who relocated with his wife, Robin, from
The water view turned out to be a wetland that dried up for most of the year, Brown said.
Brown said that after his initial frustration, he and his wife used to have fun with the advertisements, taking bets on what the house would really look like when they got there.
``I learned that if something was a fixer-upper, you'd be lucky if it had walls. If it had `panoramic water views,' it meant you had to stand on your tiptoes at daybreak while the leaves were off the trees, and then you could see the sewage treatment plant,'' he says.
``If something was described as the Taj Mahal, we'd say, `Does it have one big room?' ''
Greg Scott, owner of Beazley Co. in
``I think people joke that real estate advertisements are a little flowery, but as far as it being a real concern . . . or frustrating for consumers, I have not heard that,'' he said.
Scott said real estate agents are bound by a strict code of ethics that prohibits them from misrepresenting a property.
``There is no class, no book, anything that says you have to use these terms to make a house sound better,'' he said.
``Companies are required to market and represent the properties accurately, and if people are finding they are not, they should complain to the broker, the company or a state and local association.''
Mark Vining, an agent at
Prudential Realty in
``The real estate community would do a better service to the buying public if they were clearer in their descriptions,'' he said.
CATCHING ON TO CATCH PHRASES
Confused by descriptions in real estate advertisements that paint a picture that's rosier than reality? This glossary offers a humorous -- but sometimes true -- guide to breaking the buzzword code.
Needs TLC: Don't let the foot-high crab grass or peeling exterior paint fool you; the heating, plumbing and electrical systems are a mess, too.
Handyman's Special: Get out your toolbox and your checkbook. You'll be working on this house for years.
Convenient location: The highway is either in front yard or backyard.
Mature Landscaping: Use the back door because shrubbery has over-grown the front entrance and most windows.
Water View: Swamp visible from attic. Breeds mosquitoes the size of crows.
Secluded lot: House in the middle of nowhere. Closest Starbucks 10 miles away.
One owner: Carpeting is from Eisenhower administration, and smells it; ``modern'' features include avocado green cooktop and good-as-new tubular aluminum TV antenna strapped to chimney.
Cozy: Tiny. Your closet is bigger than this house.
A lot of potential: Replace battery in pacemaker before checking this out. Not for weak of heart.
Super Location: See Convenient Location.
Classic Farmhouse: Drafty turn-of-the century barn has a kitchen the size of a cornfield but bedrooms the size of horse stalls. No worry about cluttered closets -- there are none.
Priced to sell!: We're desperate!
Price Reduced!!: We're even more desperate!
Exclusive: Every agent in
New Construction: Let the warping begin.
Starter Home: See Cozy.
Not a drive by: You'll have to weave around the four abandoned cars, broken refrigerator and discarded toilet to reach the front door.
SEEING WHAT YOU NEED TO SEE
Sick of reading advertisements and driving to houses that leave you disappointed?
Experts say there are steps that can cut down on some of the hassle:
First, check listings on the Internet.
Sometimes you can take a virtual tour, see a picture and gather facts about room and lot sizes.
Then do a little research.
Check town records to find out the sales prices of other houses in the neighborhood, and compare them with the listing of the house that's for sale.
After that, you can drive past the house to see how large it is, what the exterior condition is, and what the surrounding neighborhood is like.
-- Fran Silverman