LEWISTON — Halfway through a fried egg sandwich, fame and deals caught up again with Roland “Yummy” Raubeson.

The reality TV star was having breakfast in a corner of Lewiston’s Forage Market, when a man in a tie appeared and held out his hand.

“You’re Yummy, right?” said Scott Hardy, a medical supply rep from Merrimack, N.H.

“Yup,” replied Raubeson, smiling and shaking the stranger’s hand. The 62-year-old from Minot looked just like he does on the History Channel’s “Down East Dickering.” He wore a T-shirt, jeans and his familiar black Stetson.

A few minutes later, Raubeson and his son, Mitchell, had their picture taken with Hardy and arranged to haul away Hardy’s riding lawn mower in exchange for saying hi to his 11-year-old.

“My son is going to freak,” Hardy said.

It’s the kind of encounter Yummy is getting used to.

“People say ‘hi,’” he said. “They want their picture taken. I don’t mind.”

The deal for a 1970s-era Snapper lawn mover was a bonus. Of course, such deals and a TV crew are what are making both Raubesons famous.

The duo makes up one-quarter of “Down East Dickering,” which follows four teams of men from rural Maine as they use Uncle Henry’s Weekly Swap or Sell It Guide to find or create deals: buying stuff, selling stuff and performing odd jobs to make a buck.

After filming off and on for six months, the show debuted in April and all eight episodes ran on cable TV’s History Channel.

The show has done so well that Yummy and Mitchell say they’re getting ready for another season of filming, beginning in July.

“They tell us it’s a hit,” said the elder Raubeson, who lives in Minot.

For 30 years, Raubeson has supported himself by doing odd jobs and bartering with folks who place ads in Uncle Henry’s.

Last year, he was combing through the guide when he saw an ad calling on people interested in being on a reality TV show.

He thought it was a hoax, but his son pressured him to answer it.

“This guy came up from New York,” he said. “He videoed a bunch of deals I did one day.”

There were phone calls and a second test shoot.

Yummy agreed, if he could have his son with him.

“He’s been doing this with me since he was old enough to sit in a car seat,” he said. He knew the art of the deal, the Raubeson way.

“My daughter said, ‘Dad, (Uncle Henry’s) are the first books he learned how to read,’” Yummy said.

Mitchell relented.

“I didn’t think it was real until Hollywood was here with all of their cameras,” he said.

They began shooting last July and started with some suggestions for what to do and say.

“They ended up filming just what I do,” he said. “I told them, ‘I don’t do scripts.’”

It seemed to work.

During the run of the eight weeks, the father and son built a footbridge, removed a bell from a tower and threw a party at the Ramada Inn in Lewiston.

Yummy also got himself ordained, paying $75 to an online outfit that gave him the ability to marry a couple. He performed the ceremony last summer at the Redneck Blank event in Minot.

Despite the expense, he made a profit. Most of his deals make a profit, but that isn’t the point, he said.

“It ain’t about the money; it’s about making the deal,” Yummy said. “Making a deal is like a heroin addict taking a hit. You get that good feeling, you know?”

Filming the show sometimes was awkward.

In most cases, he and Mitchell answered ads without letting folks know about the TV show. They arrived followed by a caravan of three production cars. All communicated by walkie-talkie.

“Sellers find out when they see the cars following us and then everyone pops out with cameras,” Mitchell said.

They didn’t know they were doing well until the second week of filming.

“They just kept telling us, ‘Oh, my God. This stuff is gold. We couldn’t write a script for you,’” Mitchell said. “Every day, that’s all they told us. ‘How do you do this? How is it real?'”

One secret is Yummy, who doesn’t censor himself for the camera. He flirts and cajoles for deals like a child pleading to stay up late.

He traded his homemade jam for a haircut, boosted one deal’s profits with promises of fresh peaches and tried to boost another deal by hugging a female buyer again and again.

“What I do is what I do,” he said.

It’s working.

In a New York Times preview, critic Neil Genzlinger called the show’s characters “refreshing” and praised the elder Raubeson.

“The next time the economy goes sour, a Commerce Department led by Secretary Yummy might be our best chance of straightening things out,” Genzlinger wrote.

There have been small benefits, too. Since the show premiered, Yummy heard from an old Army buddy. A couple of old girlfriends also called.

“People just can’t believe it” said Mitchell, who lives in Auburn. “I run into people I went to school with and they’re shocked.”

However, both father and son say they are largely taking folks’ word for it when they hear nice things about the show.

They have only seen two episodes. After all, the show is on cable and they don’t subscribe.

“I’m never home, not enough to invest $100 a month in cable TV,” Yummy said. “Just to watch him and me on TV. It don’t make no sense.”

dhartill@sunjournal.com

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