Lysle began honing both his painting and musical talents at a young age. His painting career began while still in high school on very large canvases—namely houses. Within a few years of his high school graduation, he exchanged his broad house painting brush for a finer, squirrel-haired lettering brush and embarked on his sign-painting career. By his own account, Lysle painted his first sign in 1914 for his seamstress mother with the simple advertising message, “Dress Making.” The next year he completed the first of two correspondence courses he studied in sign lettering and design.

Founded in 1891 in Scranton, PA, the International Correspondence School (ICS) sought to provide “practical men with a technical education, and technical men with a practical education.” By 1910, the ICS had a million enrollments, thanks to the proliferation of the U.S. Post Office’s new rural delivery system. Mail service allowed Lysle to complete the sign lettering course in 1915, becoming a testament to the school’s promotion that: “Our courses are all prepared from a utilitarian standpoint; that is, it is always kept in view that the reason the student is taking one of our courses is that he desires to put the knowledge obtained into immediate practical use.” 

Other than census records, the earliest civic record found for Lysle is his Selective Service System registration card, completed on June 5, 1917. By virtue of his age, he was enumerated in the first of three registrations the U.S. provost Marshal General administered between June 5, 1917 and September 12, 1918, by which time 24 million American men had registered for the draft. His registration card lists him as a self-employed painter working in Machias. 

Having survived the worldwide influenza pandemic of 1918, Lysle was drafted into the U.S. Army’s 27th “Spruce” Squadron on July 29, 1918. Spruce squadrons mainly served in the Pacific Northwest, harvesting and processing spruce timber for the construction of aircraft for the Army.  Lysle served as a private until his honorable discharge on February 10, 1919. He fared well during his seven months of military service because he did not serve overseas, nor fight in any engagements. Instead, the Army dispatched him to Vancouver Barracks in Washington, where he played the cornet in the regimental band. Undoubtedly, this was the farthest the 23-year-old had ever been from his home. 

Following his military service, and with the youthful enthusiasm of a 26-year-old entrepreneur, Lysle built his first paint shop in 1921 near his family’s homestead on South Main Street (Route 16) in Machias. The shop stood directly behind the west end of the present-day apartment building. It was the site from which he would paint, although not exclusively, for the next 70 years. 

Lysle married Velma Silvernail on April 24, 1924, at the Lewis home across the street from the Myers family homestead. He was 28 years old and she was 26, rather late for marriages of their generation. Exactly how they initially met is unknown, but perhaps Velma had moved from Java to Machias for “domestic” employment, which was listed as her occupation on their marriage license. Childless, their union endured for 60 years until Velma passed away at the Myers home in 1984. 

According to an account of their 55th wedding anniversary celebration published in the Olean Times Herald on May 4, 1979, Lysle and his new bride immediately set up housekeeping in the Myers family home after their nuptials, likely in the rear section of the three-family home. His mother, Elsie, lived in the front apartment and another family eventually lived in the south side of the house. Lysle crafted all of the furniture in their home including, the article stated, “kitchen table, chairs, dining room furniture, buffet, davenport, lamps, grandfather’s clock, etc.” A talented wood and lathe craftsman, he also created bowls, vases and candlesticks used in their home.

A few years after his marriage, Lysle attempted to secure a better future for himself and his bride by enrolling in a correspondence course for lettering at Strong’s Detroit School of Lettering (DSL). Established in 1898, the DSL boasted it was where the “Needs of the Sign Writer Are Appreciated.” According to a DSL advertisement, the school offered a complete “starter kit” for students as part of the course tuition. It included paint, brushes, a palette, charcoal, T-square and a triangular scale ruler. 

By January 5, 1927, Lysle had completed the DSL correspondence course in lettering, earning him a letter of recommendation from the school. The letter stated: “Mr. Myers possesses exceptional ability as a letterer and is extremely painstaking with his work. We are sure that his services will be very valuable to anyone employing him.” In an associated letter, W.B. Hunter, President of the DSL, offered Lysle the following appraisal, advice and subtle lesson in humility:

“You have shown marked ability from the start and your progress has been steady and consistent. I believe that with just a little experience in the practical branches, you will be fully able to hold your own with the average workman.”

In his letter, Hunter also urged Lysle to start his own business “as soon as you possibly can,” maintain proper business morals and not give up. “Perseverance and diligence will accomplish anything,” he wrote. While Lysle did not immediately follow Hunter’s advice to start his own business, he did pursue his artistic passions. 

With his newly-minted DSL letter of recommendation in one hand and a paintbrush in the other, Lysle and Velma moved to Olean in 1927 where he worked as a painter for Fred Forness’ automobile dealership. Unbeknownst to Lysle at the time, and contrary to DSL’s advice to “be your own boss,” this proved to be a very fortuitous move as it positioned him as well as any small-town sign painter could have been on the eve of the Great Depression. Although Olean was certainly not a bastion of prosperity during the Depression, working for a prominent urban automobile dealer offered Lysle far greater financial security than trying to eke out a meager living as a solo sign painter in Machias during the bleak 1930s. Lysle maintained his position with Forness into the very late 1930s, and by 1940 he became the proprietor of a paint shop in Olean.

Even though Lysle and Velma resided in Olean for 13 years from 1927 until 1940, Lysle maintained very close ties to his first home. His original paint shop remained in place at the family homestead on South Main Street in Machias and he stayed involved with and benevolent toward his hometown friends and neighbors.

On April 23, 1936, The Machias Sentinel announced that the William Weller Hose Company (precursor to the Machias Fire Department) had staged an amateur talent show as a fundraiser the week before in the second-floor auditorium of the Town Hall. Lylse made an appearance as the Tired Tooter, playing his cornet to enthusiastic applause.

No sooner had Lysle recovered from his mysterious medical affliction, than another tragedy struck. On December 7, 1941, just hours before the aerial-induced inferno at Pearl Harbor, Lysle’s newly remodeled paint shop was ablaze. Prompt response from the William Weller Hose Company saved the two-car garage addition, but the main part of the shop was completely gutted, costing Lysle his expensive painting equipment. Since he didn’t have any insurance, he found it exceedingly expensive to replace what he lost, especially as the United States joined World War II and implemented war rations.  

Despite such a setback, Lysle seemed to take the tragedy in great stride. Perhaps his debilitating health scare just one year before gave him a balanced perspective on the merely temporal loss incurred by the fire: at least no one was injured or killed. Heeding the advice offered from the Detroit School of Lettering 14 years before, Lysle diligently persevered and his life, painting and music simply went on. 

Three years later in 1944, the Town Board commissioned the Machias Roll of Honor as a public tribute to the brave servicemen of World War II. It was erected on a triangular plot of grass on the corner of Route 16 and Maple Ave. Lysle poignantly lettered the names of 113 valiant hometown heroes who helped bring about the Allied victory in Europe. For those warriors who gave the ultimate sacrifice, he solemnly painted a five-pointed gold star next to their names in memory of their last full measure of devotion.

Fast forward two decades to the beginning of a quarter century friendship that yields additional insight into Lysle Myers’ talent and career.  Aspiring sign painter Marcia Dell first met Lysle in 1968, after her husband Norm explained to her that Myers had painted the signs she noticed as she traversed Route 16 between Chaffee and Olean. The distinctive lettering reminded Marcia of her own innate style. Norm directed her to Lysle’s paint shop, where she stopped and introduced herself to the sign maestro. 

During their introduction, Lysle handed Marcia the first proper lettering brush she had ever held and asked her to paint something on the inside of his paint bay door. She nervously complied and in his folksy manner, Lysle approvingly slapped his knee and exclaimed “hot diggity!” Marcia felt an immediate, ethereal connection with Lysle, who marveled at her technique and natural ability. The two forged a close friendship that lasted almost 25 years. 

Lysle taught Marcia airbrushing, using his favorite Binks brand airbrush on the left side of letters to create a three-dimensional appearance. He also introduced her to his preferred Russian gray squirrel hair paintbrushes and “One Shot” brand lettering enamel. Lysle learned Spencerian Script, which he favored, during his correspondence course from the Detroit School of Lettering, stating: “It has more tone than straight letters, but it doesn’t read so good.”

Marcia noticed Lysle was partial to maroon, gold, red and white for his signs and usually used three different font styles and colors to make his work more distinctive. He believed red and white signs were the most conspicuous, blue and white the most legible and he avoided black and white altogether, describing “black as too mourningful.” Marcia also recalled Lysle charging his customers 50 cents per hour to paint signs in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Her husband Norm owned and operated a television repair and appliance business in Springville and Lysle lettered both sides and the rear doors of his utility van for $50. Marcia estimated the going rate during the late 1960s would have been approximately $200 to letter an entire van. 

During the 1970s, motorized mold injected three-dimensional plastic advertising displays became popular for consumer goods ranging from lightbulbs to televisions. Norm Dell received many of these automated promotional displays for his appliance and television repair business. As the displays became broken or obsolete, Lysle salvaged the small electric motors and used them for his mechanized pictures, accompanied with music, at church and community concerts starring his “Machias Music Makers.”

In addition to teaching her the finer technical aspects of lettering, Lysle provided Marcia with constructive criticism and endless encouragement, boosting her confidence in her own art. As a “diploma” of their mentorship as well as an incentive for her to open her own sign shop while she lived in Delevan, Lysle painted her a sign advertising “Marcia’s Signs” around 1980. He had a “monumental influence” on her life and the successful sign business she developed.

Following Lysle’s mentorship with Marcia, he began to work with Leesa Hansen of Franklinville when she appeared at his paint shop during the early summer of 1977. She ended up apprenticing with him two or three days per week for several years during summer recesses while in college. In accordance with his own custom, Lysle instructed Leesa never to sign her work, because sign painting was not fine art. Lysle didn’t even consider himself an artist. For him to acknowledge the distinction between fine art and utilitarian sign painting speaks to the knowledge he must have gained from his correspondence courses. 

Leesa remembers Lysle being right-handed and executing pin striping completely freehand without using any tape. He would coat his bushes with Crisco to prevent them from drying out. Because the color red faded quickly outdoors, Lysle would add black to red One Shot to create a more weather resistant maroon color. Maroon was his favorite color for outdoor signs, due to its durability and visibility. He was partial to Kemp brand Permagild Gold Enamel and stored his custom-mixed paint colors in baby food jars. The sharp edges of his airbrushed letter shadows were created by holding up cardboard as masking, resulting in a very crisp delineation.

During the early 1990s, Lysle gifted one of his palettes to Leesa. As a nod to his frugality, he constructed it from a crate and tuna fish cans. Since the One Shot lettering enamel was too thick to use straight from the can, he thinned it and mixed the required colors in tuna fish cans. He then paletted it out on the flat part of the crate before brushing his letters. Once the color hardened in the tuna can, he could easily mix and thin another color for his next job on top of the hardened paint without contamination from the previous color. This process was repeated until the crate became the multicolored abstract sculpture of cascading paint seen today. 

Both Marcia and Leesa fondly remembered Lysle’s humility, frugality and quiet, unassuming demeanor as well as his use of big bold letters to fill his signs, leaving very little empty space. They also recalled his very strong moral convictions of not smoking, drinking alcohol or gambling. As such, he would not paint any signs promoting beer, wine, cocktails, taverns or bars. 

Over time, Lysle’s paint shop expanded to accommodate the various additions to his business. The north painting bay for trucks and automobiles, the central woodworking shop, the south automobile garage and behind the painting bay for trucks, a cluttered paint shop with expansive windows on the north and east walls. This work space, which he referred to late in life as his “meditation room,” was littered with brushes, paints, tuna can palettes and other art supplies. For images other than letters, he needed pictures to copy and had stacks of clippings from magazines of images ranging from ice cream cones to elephants as reference material.

Entering the Myers Paint Shop was an olfactory overload. Intoxicating scents of oil-based paint, thinner, lacquer, varnish, sawdust and, in the winter, smoke from the wood stove wafting through the air resulted in visitors departing the shop a bit more euphoric than when they arrived. The dirt floor in the vehicle painting bay quickly absorbed the spilled paint and thinner and the walls were covered in a rainbow of color from test samples and black overspray from the airbrushed shadows. 

The adjacent woodworking shop was an array of small motors, engines, scroll saws and other construction materials, all coated with sawdust. The life-sized tool chest contained all the implements necessary to create sumac wood-turned vases, bowls and mechanical pictures such as a setting sun to which the Machias Music Makers would perform the hymn “Beyond the Sunset.” The prop was a large painting of mountains and pine trees (reminiscent of the Rocky Mountains and Sitka spruce) white puffy clouds and a multi colored, blue, orange, red and yellow sky. The painting was pierced with a round hole, behind which an orange disc, simulating the sun, rose and set behind the opening in the painting. 

Although his finished products were meticulous, Lysle was very sloppy. Aided by his round brass-rimmed spectacles, he most frequently painted wearing a baseball cap, a long-sleeved, buttoned and pointed collared white or tan shirt and suspenders holding up his baggy khaki or gray pants. His clothes were spattered in a kaleidoscope of paint colors, reminiscent of a Jackson Pollock painting.

Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, Lysle pursued his musical passion by leading the “Machias Music Makers,” comprised of friends and neighbors, including his wife Velma, who played on the xylophone. An accomplished, self-taught virtuoso, Lyle became musically inspired as a young child by listening to his father play the harmonica. He later mastered a variety of wind, string and keyboard instruments by playing by ear and a “heap of improvising.” He jokingly told a newspaper reporter he took up the accordion after he lost his teeth and could no longer blow the cornet!

The Machias Music Makers were a fixture every Sunday at the Machias First Christian Church, where Lysle served as organist for 20 years beginning in the early 1960s. They also entertained other churches, local civic organizations, historical societies, granges and the Cattaraugus County Nursing Home and Infirmary (currently The Pines). “Practice” was religiously held at 6:30 p.m. every Thursday night at the First Christian Church during the summer, or in Lysle and Velma’s music room during the winter, to avoid heating up the church for a one-hour rehearsal. 

Ever the pragmatist, Lysle ordered two custom-made caskets for he and his wife from a cabinetmaker friend in Sardinia and by October 1984, Lysle had lettered them with: “At Rest, the Eternal Rest” and varnished them with a glossy sheen. Although Lysle’s casket remained vacant for another decade, his wife, Velma, passed away on December 19, 1984. Lysle hoped he and Velma could simply be buried in the backyard flower garden of their beloved home, however, local health regulations scuttled his plan. 

As the infirmities of old age took their toll and Lysle’s once nimble hands became shaky and gnarled with arthritis, his skillful lettering was reduced to colorful greeting cards for friends, which were composed on card stock with colored chalk, pastels, pencils and markers. He also recognized that the proliferation of computerized vinyl letters were making hand-painted signs and vehicle lettering cost prohibitive and obsolete.

On August 1, 1994, Lysle passed away at the Cattaraugus County Nursing Home and Infirmary in Machias, where decades before he and his Machias Music Makers had frequently entertained the residents. His remains were interred along with Velma’s and several generations of his maternal forbearers in the Maple Grove Cemetery in Machias. As his hand-lettered casket read, he was finally “At Rest.”

Sixty-seven years before Lysle’s death, W.B. Hunter, President of the Detroit School of Lettering, closed his January 5, 1927 commencement letter to Lysle with the following aspiration:

“I hope that you will conduct yourself in such an exemplary straight-forward and upright manner, as to raise the standard of the lettering fraternity to the highest notch - the place it deserves and should always occupy.”

As anyone who knew Lysle can attest, he fulfilled Hunter’s lofty commission, mastered his craft and set the bar high for future generations of sign makers.

For three-quarters of the 20th century, Lysle toiled at his trade and created a social, economic, cultural and religious visual record of the community in his own distinctive style of sign painting. His life seamlessly blended his musical passion and his highly skilled talent for lettering into his own unique art form.