Selling Mystique, A Way of Life - A Fishing Co-op Hopes Smart Branding and Marketing Will Mean More Money For Its Catch

PORT CLYDE, MAINE -- May 29, 2007   This scenic harbor, best known for lobstering and as the place to catch the ferry to Monhegan Island, also offers an increasingly rare sight on the coast of Maine -- fishing boats rigged for cod, haddock and other groundfish.

But take a closer look.

Gary Libby eases the 57-foot Leslie & Jessica to the dock. Pieces of the rail are gone from the 27-year-old boat. Paint is peeling and a side window on the pilothouse is cracked. Like many groundfishermen, Libby is not earning enough money for routine repairs, caught in a tightening vise of dwindling stocks and government regulations.

What's not visible is that Libby and his boat are about to participate in a radical experiment that could shake up Maine's struggling groundfishing industry.

Out of desperation, Libby and the nine other captains who moor their draggers here are poised to change their timeworn way of making a living, in hopes of saving a way of life.

These captains, who typically compete with each other, have formed a cooperative, the first of its kind in Maine. Working with a private business expansion group and a Portland advertising agency, the 10-boat cooperative is launching a campaign to brand and market Port Clyde fish directly to upscale restaurants and food sellers in Maine and, eventually, the Northeast.

Port Clyde is Maine's second-largest groundfishing port, behind Portland. Many of the captains are family and friends; three boats here are piloted by Libbys.

But for how much longer?

"We're just keeping ourselves in a job, but we're not maintaining our vessels," said Glen Libby, Gary Libby's brother. "We're forced to do something different."

The Port Clyde Fishing Cooperative will follow a business plan pioneered by land-based counterparts who raise beef and milk cows: Take a low-priced commodity and increase the value. Then sell the product for more money, to meet growing consumer demand for organic and natural foods.

"Groundfishing follows the fish-sticks model now," said Matt Jacobson, chief executive officer of Maine & Co. in Portland. "It rewards high volume and low price."

The plan still is being refined and faces several challenges; but if it works, both fishermen and fish stocks could benefit. Maybe, Jacobson said, Port Clyde can serve as a model to help revive what's left of Maine's groundfishing industry.

"We want to drag fewer fish out of the water and be better stewards of the resource," he said. "At the same time, the fishermen can make enough money to stay in business."

Recently, a handful of captains gathered on the co-op's leased wharf to talk about their problems and a possible solution.

Randy Cushman motioned to his boat, the 50-foot Ella Christine, moored in the harbor. Then he laid out the discouraging numbers that boats such as this one confront.

First off, days at sea. This year's permits allow a typical boat to fish for only 48 days. Groundfish are scarce near shore, so Cushman fishes 30 miles out. He wastes 20 percent of his valuable time coming and going.

Next are expenses -- fuel, food and ice. It costs $850 a day or so to fish. Cushman gets only a buck a pound at the Portland Fish Exchange. He needs to dock with 2,500 pounds just to cover a three-day trip. He wants to average $3,500 a day to make a profit and maintain his boat.

"We're not doing that," he said. "These boats are being run down. It's like cancer. It's a slow death. All it takes is a blown engine, and I'm done."

The Port Clyde fleet landed roughly 1.3 million pounds last year. What if the captains could take shorter trips and bring back fewer fish, selling them for, say, three times as much? That would change the whole equation.

Jacobson thinks it's possible. Fishermen in Alaska do this, marketing the quality, health benefits and sustainable fishing practices of wild Pacific salmon. In Maine, the Wolfe's Neck Farm brand has grown large by promoting the appeal of all-natural beef. In a broader sense, the Maine lobster and the iconic lobster fisherman provide a lesson in how culture, conservation and culinary status combine to command a premium price.

"We're also selling a mystique and a way of life," Jacobson said. "Our bet is that there are people who will buy into this mystique."

Do cod and flounder have the mystique of lobster?

They can, according to John Sauve at Swardlick Marketing Group in Portland. Sauve should know. He used to head the Wild Blueberry Association of North America. He helped turn a fringe fruit into a popular, cancer-fighting antioxidant.

Sauve likes to repeat a saying in the marketing business: "A brand is a commodity with a personality." To create that personality, Sauve has begun the process of discovering what's special about the Port Clyde fishermen, their village, their way of life and the fish they catch. He'll use his impressions to define the personality of a product that must forge an emotional connection with customers. After all, Starbucks is just selling coffee.

Glen and Gary Libby, along with the rest of the fleet, have some ideas, too. They like the theme of "Maine wild caught" fish, rather than limiting the brand to Port Clyde. There are only 10 or so boats in the fleet, they point out. If the idea takes off, they might try to bring captains from other ports into the venture to meet demand.

Because people are concerned today about food safety and overfishing, the group envisions a marketing campaign that includes the appeal of fresh whole fish, carefully handled and sustainably caught, sold directly from dock to restaurant or fish counter.

These and other concepts are in play now for Maine & Co., Swardlick and the fishermen. The co-op will continue to sell at the fish exchange and shift supply as demand grows. Jacobson has begun talking with potential buyers, such as restaurants, supermarkets and specialty food sellers.

The co-op hopes to launch the brand this summer, but members also recognize several hurdles that need to be overcome.

Money is always an issue. Maine & Co. and Swardlick are volunteering time now, but the co-op will need $25,000 to $50,000 for marketing. Jacobson will look for venture capital or a start-up investor. The co-op also will need a truck, or somehow arrange to get fresh fish to Portland, Boston or even New York City.

Fishing practices also must change. Co-op members will have to work together to coordinate their days at sea, so they can maintain supply, especially in summer; and they'll have to produce the freshest, best-looking fish possible, which means shorter trawls and careful handling.

Time is another factor. It takes time to build brand awareness and loyalty.

Standing at the co-op's wharf and looking at how the sea and deferred maintenance have left the Leslie & Jessica, it's clear that for the Port Clyde groundfishing fleet, time is running out.

By Tux Turkel, Staff Writer, Portland Press Herald