By Stacie N. Galang
PEABODY — Steve Smidt lost nearly everything from his leather-finishing business when the Henry Leather factory burned to the ground 25 years ago.
Yesterday, he reminisced about the once-bustling tanning industry now preserved in the city's Leatherworkers Museum.
"When we had the fire, it just burned the whole building in 47 minutes," Smidt said, surrounded by old leather equipment, tannery documents and black-and-white photos. "I don't have any pieces of hardware or memorabilia."
Smidt was one of about 100 people who attended the museum's first leather workers open house, a reunion of sorts for the people who did the backbreaking labor that supported the world leather market. The museum plans to host the open houses every other month, said curator Merritt Kirkpatrick, who organized the reception.
All Smidt could donate to the museum was the knife he kept sheathed on him when he left the building his last time. His father, Henry, owned the factory and he operated his finishing business, S.C. Smidt Leather Corp., within the building.
His cousin John, who owned an adjacent factory, donated two of the machines on display at the museum.
Milton Kellerman, 88, said he started in the leather business in 1945 right after he got out of the service. He earned 75 cents an hour working the back end of a measuring machine.
Kellerman would use a crayon to write the size of each skin on the hide once it went through the machine.
He attended last night's event to meet up with old friends.
"I knew I would see people I have known for years," said Kellerman, who came with his wife, Rhoda. "I'm very surprised that it drew so many people."
Being in the room with all the leather machines and memorabilia served as a reminder of a less-than-glamorous living.
"It brings back memories, good and bad," Kellerman said. "Working in a tannery was not a lot of fun. It was hard work and short pay."
Richie Kohut of Swampscott, 82, spent many a day in the cellar coloring, retanning and fat-liquoring, or lubricating, the leather to make it soft. Later, he sold dyes all over the world for American Cynamid and finished at Salem Oil and Grease, which specialized in products for the tanning industry.
Being in the museum last night brought back memories, Kohut said.
Paul Cultrera of Salem, 95, said he worked at so many of the area's factories he lost count.
"I must have worked in a dozen and a half," he said.
Cultrera was pleased to be in a museum that served as a testament to his life's work.
"I think it's beautiful," he said. "It smells better than a beam house."
Cultrera, of course, was referring to the area set aside for removing hair and flesh from the leather. Few could describe the smell, exactly, but it tended to permeate everything near it.
Cultrera's daughter, Maria Morello, said the smell was so strong, her mother insisted that her father remove his clothing in the hallway before entering the main house.
Cultrera's son, Joe, said he didn't initially plan to go to college, so his father dragged him to the factory. He lasted a year but knew three months in the work wasn't for him.
Instead, he would find his calling in movie-making and produced a film "Leather Soul" about the tanning industry his father was a part of. The movie played in the museum's theater last night.
"I think this is great," he said of the museum and its collections. "I'm so happy there's a place like this where working-class, blue-collar history is starting to be recognized."
