The Letham family started farming around Ashburton in 1862 and Letham was part of the heritage, working a 199ha farm his parents Selwyn and Ida bought in 1951.
His new boss at local realtor Hastings McLeod warned him to expect a tough transition to the new game.
“I picked myself off the floor several times in the first two or three years.
“I went from working by myself, working with dogs and the back end of sheep to a people industry.
“Colin McLeod said to me ‘It’ll take at least two or three years before people see you with a real estate hat on’.”
But Letham had flair.
After just a few days as an agent he was at the Ashburton A&P Show where be ran into a salesman for a new business, Personalised Plates. He grabbed the RURAL plate and it wasn’t long before he had a catchphrase: If it’s rural, it’s Rodger.
Those who know him best weren’t surprised by the streak of showmanship – he’s an experienced auctioneer who has performed in so many amateur theatre productions around the district that his wife Vonnie calls him Ham.
Now, aged 75, Letham is tracing family and farming memories, including those of Selwyn, a long-serving Ashburton County councillor with whom he worked on the farm for about 20 years.
The Lethams ran traditional mixed sheep and crops:1000 ewes and about 80ha of crop.
Like so many of his peers Letham finished school and did what was expected of an eldest farming son – he ultimately succeeded his parents.
In the mid 1970s he bought the first half of the property and by 1981 he owned it all.
But by the mid 1980s farming in dryland Mid Canterbury was beset by some of the worst economic and climatic conditions in living memory.
Letham’s parents moved to town around that time and it wasn’t long before he was forced to lay off his only staff member.
“As the profitability of farming diminished we started trying to carry more stock and we pushed it a bit more and we tried to get another cash crop in between the rotation and, of course, it didn’t work because old Mother Nature doesn’t like that.
“You’ve just got to tickle Mother Nature and she’ll bloom for you but you try and push her too hard, she’ll come back and bite you in the bum every time.”
Between 1984 and 1988 it became impossible to survive.
High interest rates compounded the pain from drought, a floating dollar and the removal of farm subsidies.
“We ended up paying 19% on the first mortgage; 24% on the overdraft and I had three droughts in eight years.”
In 1986 Letham and Vonnie took their first holiday in 11 years, spending three weeks at the family crib in Queenstown.
After mulling all the options they decided to put the farm on the market.
“We had to do something else because it was just physically impossible to keep going.”
The property went to market at $375,000 and didn’t get a bite.
“I think we had 10 parties over the property and no-one was game enough to make an offer.
“It is very much like the market is now.
“There are people out there who would like to buy and people who would like to sell and banks are not enthusiastic about much so everybody’s waiting for someone to make a move, to see where the market is.”
Faced with the impasse the family took the farm off the market and tried to battle on into 1987.
By then the Government was offering discounted mortgages to struggling farmers through its ownership of Rural Bank.
Farmers wanting to access the scheme sat down with mediators and creditors to discuss an adjustment in the mortgage rate.
“I was quite embarrassed about asking for a mortgage discount.
“I saw it as a show I couldn’t make it by myself.
“But I went through that and I was treated with the greatest respect.
“I’ll be forever grateful to the likes of a Mr Bill Hart who was county chairman after my father. He was one of the mediators and we had our mortgage discounted by 21%.”
Letham couldn’t quite believe the offer, which seemed good enough to save the farm if they could only get a couple of reasonable seasons in a row.
“Well, 1988 came along and we had the biggest drought in living memory.”
His old farm diary records that in October 1988, 26 days out of 31 blew gale force northwest winds with warm to hot temperatures.
“The grass seed’s a write-off, the wheat’s dying off in strips, the peas are holding on but just and the barley’s struggling to get through the ground,” he wrote.
The Lethams weaned lambs and sold them in October that year rather than the usual December.
“And I personally could see that unless we had some major changes in the farming environment I was not going to make it.”
A few months earlier Letham had been talking to McLeod, who had offered him a job
“So, all through lambing I did my exams and passed my papers with the object of starting in November.
“I was going to lease the farm and go sell the real estate.”
He started selling property but couldn’t nail a lease on the farm.
A neighbour offered near-enough the going rate of $75/ha a year but it wasn’t enough.
It was only the new government’s New Start grant that broke the impasse.
If he sold the farm and paid off creditors or got creditors to write off the debt, the Government would pay him $45,000 to start again.
“It was a clean cut. You couldn’t carry losses forward. It was like all that’s behind you, turn around, that’s it.”
Letham decided that at 45 it was time to bite the bullet.
Accepting the grant, he and Vonnie sold the farm to a neighbour for $275,000 right at the depth of the market.
To this day Letham is grateful for his parents’ support, not least Selwyn who was a lifelong farming mentor.
“I was very fortunate in my choice of father,” he says.
Letham is with Property Brokers these days and has been a successful agent but he’s bemused at the idea of competing with colleagues for sales.
Million-dollar clubs and top 10% seller rewards simply don’t jingle his bells.
“You don’t do the right job for your vendor or your buyer.
“If all you’re concentrating on is beating the guy at the next desk you won’t make the sale. I’ve got to look after you as the vendor and then after him as the buyer of your place and then all the money you need will follow along behind.”
