a tale or two to tell "I never let a customer go out of here dissatisfied.'' That was the credo by which Earl Matthews operated his aptly named Supreme Shoe Service -- and it is also the reason why so many of his clients came to regard him as a trusted friend, and why they are genuinely saddened that he is closing his doors for good today.

Certainly, it will be the end of an era for a craftsman who was very good at what he did. In addition to the usual repairs, Mr. Matthews was skilled at adapting shoes for people with special problems. He was also an artist at dyeing shoes, and his "miracles'' often left customers astonished.

There was no job too big, too small, or too difficult for him to tackle, for he looked upon shoes much as doctors look upon patients. He listened to the customer, he analysed the problem, and finally he set about putting it right.

He took genuine pride in his workmanship, and often went the extra mile to put a smile back on the customer's face.

Indeed, known for his tact and diplomacy, Mr. Matthews could turn vinegar into honey and send an agitated customer on his or her way with a happy heart.

His career as a shoemaker began as a lad when, after school, he joined Mr.

Walter Barber, who had a business making shoes near the main branch of the Bank of Butterfield.

From there the young student moved on to Washington Lane to work for shoemakers William and Edith Francis. Once he had mastered the bench and finishing-off work, he wanted to move on to the machine for stitching soles, but his employer refused permission.

"I think Mr. Francis thought I was progressing too fast, and he knew that the more I learned the more he would have to pay me,'' Mr. Matthews suggests, "so I spoke to Reid Johansen, who also had a shoe repair business in Washington Lane, and told him what I would like to do. He was willing to teach me, so off I went.'' It wasn't long before Mr. Matthews began dyeing satin and linen shoes for the ladies, and buckskin shoes for the men.

"We had a chart, and I remember one lady wanted lavender, but Reid dyed them hot pink. When the customer saw them she kicked up a real fuss, while Reid tried to back his way out, but she wouldn't accept that. Finally, he appealed to me,'' he relates. "I didn't have a chart but I kept a little book in my pocket. That evening it came to me: `Put a little bit of white over the red, and then a dash of black with a teeny bit of grey until you get lavender'.'' Mr. Matthews got up very early the next morning and dashed to Washington Lane where he proceeded to re-colour the shoes. When the customer returned, she was ecstatic.

"Oh, Mr. Johansen, this is a beautiful job,'' she exclaimed.

"He took the credit and never said a word,'' Mr. Matthews chuckles.

On another occasion, however, the youngster did get proper recognition after successfully re-dyeing a pair of brown shoes which had mistakenly been dyed black, and Mr. Johansen assured the elated customer that it was "the tall boy'' who had done the work of restoring the original colour.

"The man said they looked better than when he bought them new,'' Mr. Matthews remembers.

Also as a student, Mr. Matthews took on shining countless pairs of army boots at home for members of the Bermuda Militia Artillery and the Bermuda Militia Infantry, bringing the toes and a strip at the back to a mirror-like finish.

When he joined Mr. Johansen full-time, Mr. Matthews voluntarily began his working day a half hour early at 8 a.m., and such was his diligence that customers who dropped off shoes early in the morning always had them back the same day -- something that regularly surprised them.

Certainly, he loved his career, but when his annual two weeks' holiday time rolled around, he did not, as might be expected, kick back and travel.

Instead, he always took a group of ten to 14-year-olds camping on Ports Island, where they shared the amenities with a group of youngsters from the Seventh-day Adventist Church.

In addition to the usual fun, the boys were taught how to cook and clean, and in the evenings both groups united to put on little concerts.

"The boys really enjoyed the camping, and I always looked forward to it,'' Mr. Matthews says.

In fact, he has spent a lifetime trying to help youngsters become better people: as individuals, family members, neighbours and friends. Around his then-neighbourhood, kids of both races loved him because he spent time talking to them and playing with them. He also taught Sunday School for 12 years at St. Paul AME Church.

As for his shoemaking career, so dedicated did Mr. Matthews become that "a little trip'' to Canada turned into a two-year stint working in a shoe factory, where he successfully gained a certificate in the specialist work of building up shoes to correct problems "from the ankle to the sole''.

"The shoe is like an instrument,'' he says of the work. "There is an art to it.'' After 12 successful years with Mr. Johansen, Mr. Matthews decided to move on to a new career as an officer in H.M. Prisons, taking with him a host of happy memories.

"Working with Reid, Godfrey Hollis, Grayson Lathan, Harry Trott, Stewart Fubler and Ralph Jennings was like being part of a big, happy family,'' he says. "When we weren't working we'd keep fit by lifting weights and hitting a punch ball at the back of the shop.'' For the next 20 years, the former shoemaker's quiet manner, non-confrontational approach, and general philosophy that every inmate, no matter what his or her crime, was still a person, earned him the respect of everyone from the Commissioner of Prisons to the most violent offender.

Consequently, in all his years of service he had neither a fearful moment, nor felt himself in danger even when volatile situations arose. Instead, he retained his customary cool, and took quiet action to defuse such situations.

"Throughout my entire career, I never put a prisoner on a charge or report, I just talked to them,'' he says proudly. "Many of them have gone straight ever since.'' On many occasions Mr. Matthews voluntarily worked with or escorted a violent prisoner or prisoners where his colleagues would not, and he always made time to talk to those who were upset -- once they had cooled down.

"The authorities couldn't understand how tough guys would become like putty in my hands, but it was simply because I treated them as human beings,'' he remembers. "They were someone's son, after all. I would tell my colleagues I didn't care how hard the prisoners were, I knew they had a tender spot, and I would find it.'' Every day, he carried with him a religious book of daily readings to which he referred in the mornings and evenings.

"It was my guide, my confidence, my failures and my corrections,'' he says, flipping through the frayed, yellowed pages. "It gave me strength and willpower because I couldn't do things without God. He gave me the will to understand.'' Throughout his prison service Mr. Matthews served in all of its facilities, and for a time also taught shoemaking because he felt that it would give the young men a trade, and therefore independence in the outside world.

He also arranged special football matches with visiting sailors, facilitated visits and healing between families and inmates, and regularly impressed upon the latter that, as human beings, they first must love themselves, then understand that their lives were not over, and accept that their present lifestyle was getting them nowhere.

This commonsensical approach touched many hardened hearts, and in some cases led to reformed lives.

When he retired in 1985 at age 55, Mr. Matthews received high praise for outstanding contribution to the Prison Service, but in his farewell speech he spoke bluntly of what he believed was complacency and a lack of discipline within it, and warned: "If you don't pull your socks up and work together as a team you are going to see things happening in this prison that you never dreamed would happen.'' Today, he fears his predictions are coming all too true.

Meanwhile, the former shoemaker returned to his old trade, working for both US bases until they closed. He also made sandals for prisoners who could not wear shoes, and he even altered their civilian clothing prior to release, if required.

In 1986 Mr. Matthews established the Supreme Shoe Service on Court Street.

Then, as now, he took great pride in his work -- "If I can't be the best, I don't want to be anything at all,'' he vowed -- and his business flourished.

In fact, at least one other repair business quietly sent him its more time-consuming, challenging work to complete on its behalf, and of course he continued the specialist business of building up shoes.

In recent times, however, income has fallen way off, to the point where it is no longer viable to stay open at his present location at 71 Victoria and Union Streets.

"Today, most people are wearing sneakers and sandals, and many shoes of man-made materials are not repairable,'' Mr. Matthews says. "Then there's the problem of people bringing shoes which you repair and they don't collect.

Still others get the work done, but then tell you they can't pay for it, and try to bargain.'' With the future looking even bleaker, Mr. Matthews decided to call it quits as of today.

"I used to save money but I can't now, so it was time to make a decision rather than put myself in debt. It is in my best interests to get out,'' he explains.

Of course, he will miss his faithful clients and the relationship he enjoyed with his customers, and he is concerned about the senior citizens who can no longer call on him to build up their shoes, but he is not sad.

"I have no regrets about life,'' he says. "I learn from everything, good or bad, and I don't want to live my life over again.'' The father of two plans to travel and continue helping his fellow man wherever and whenever he can. A former member of the Harmonaires singing group, he will also continue to sing with the St. Paul AME all-male choir, as he has done for the past 45 years, and do solo work in other churches. In addition, he is an active member of the Loyal Flower of the Day Lodge, where he has held high office.

"My work is not over yet,'' the retiring shoemaker promises. "There are other stages that I have to go through.''