Albert Greenleaf was wired differently. Not in a bad way. Just the occasional drifting between positive, negative and the ground. I never personally observed any significant “misconnections” but Albert did share a story or two about incidents of concern. One of the extra benefits of working with Albert was his sense of humor. Untangling wires was just the tip of the iceberg.

With Albert, when probing deeper on any given subject, including electricity, there was always more to the story. Albert had lots of good material. It was more than half the fun outside the electric panel, lighting fixture, or roughed-in outlets.

Over the years, Albert rode in on his trusty stead to save the day. He was very good at responding in our hour of need. When we bought our first home on Barters Island back in the mid-70s, we encountered a lot of electrical confusion. Wires that seemed to go to places not fit for human habitation. We had lights that flickered when we used the toaster; a sump pump requiring that there be no other electrical device in operation. We still had fuses and knob and tube wiring. It wasn’t pretty. Albert helped us sort out the reasons for smoking outlets and malfunctioning space heaters.

When we moved to the Harbor in the mid-80s we had more interesting problems which I was very reluctant to tackle, having had my share of crossed wires and voltage misplacement. Initially we were not sure again, regarding where things went once they entered the darkness behind the walls. We got help from Ronnie Arsenault who was equally qualified to track out the problems. But we saved the most perplexing issues for Albert because we could anticipate additional comedic entertainment. Not that Ronnie wasn’t fun to work with, he was, but he wasn’t always available. Electricians are a busy bunch so we needed to be flexible. Over the years, we have enjoyed the company of many from Ronnie Calhoun to Ralph Spinney to Fred Stover. All very reputable and capable.

Once I called Albert in the middle of winter about a problem we were having at our present home on Southport. My call went out with my usual greeting, “That you Bert?” (using my best Maine voice) to which Albert always responded, “Ayuh.” Following a small exchange in limited German, I begged for help. Albert continued, “Mitchell, I’m on the fourth tee at a course in Florida. Sorry.” From that point forward Albert never forgave me for screwing up that golf game. “Things went steadily downhill from your call forward,” he said. “Worst round I ever played.”

With gratitude Albert helped us once at the Old Firehouse up in Boothbay. We needed to beef up the power supply for new machinery. What we didn’t anticipate was the arrival of Paul Perry, our local phone company guy who originally teamed with the legendary Mike Cook. The conversation between Albert and Paul was worthy of an Oscar nomination.

Talk about crossed wires! I wasn’t right for a week! By the time the Central Maine Power crew arrived I was in tears and Paul and Albert had barely touched the surface of their comic banter.

“Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Albert. Hit ’em long and straight.”