You can see what hard work does. You can see it at the corner of Fillmore and Fougeron. The triple odes to entrepreneurship stand just north of Martin Luther King Park. Prosperity is not plentiful in these parts. But it is possible.

One man. One dream. Three storefronts. Lee Smith’s mini-empire stands as proof of one man’s strength and vision. Yes he can.

Forty-five years ago last month, Lee Smith—then driving a truck—decided he did not want to work for somebody else. He rented a storefront for 50 bucks a month on Fillmore and opened Lee’s Barbecue.

“I was going to sell hot dogs,” Smith told me on a recent afternoon. “But hot dogs sold for only 15 cents. A rib sandwich, you could get 90 cents for.”

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Video: The Esmonde Files -- Lee Smith's mini-empire

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Splitting 18-hour days between a hot grill and on the open road, he staked a claim on the future. In two years, he saved enough to buy the building and quit the truck. Then he bought the building next door, re-dubbing the old 1261 Club as (what else?) Lee’s Lounge. He expanded across the street in the 1980s, with Lee’s Car Wash. A mini-empire of commerce. (See Lee’s Empire at video. buffalonews.com).

“A lot of people back then said I’d never make it,” he said. “Most of those people are not in business anymore.”

Hard work often ages a man. Smith somehow sidestepped Father Time. At 77, mid-sized and trim, he barely looks a day over 60. He walks slowly and seems locked in a perpetual state of relaxation. A gold tooth inlay is the only sign of ostentation.

He is a small businessman who made it big. But he never had it easy. He still spends most weekdays at the bar and the barbecue. He has created work for more than 1,000 people. The volume is due partly to his longevity, partly to a tough-love turnover.

“One woman I fired, I ran into her years later,” he said. “She said she was running an agency. She told me, ‘You did me a big favor. After you fired me, I was never late for work again.’ ”

It’s easy to grasp the elements of his success. Whether you are a multinational corporation or a street-corner capitalist, the same rules apply: Expand. Diversify. Invest.

When the building next door to the barbecue opened up, Smith saw the potential synergy.

“When people drink,” he noted, “they want something to eat.”

The phone behind the bar at Lee’s Lounge is a direct line to Lee’s Barbecue. A customer places an order, and a steaming pile of ribs soon appears. He never gets off the bar stool. And Lee’s cash register stays full.

When the car repair place across the street went dark, the light went on for Smith. He bought the building and opened a hand car wash. The investment was a union of altruism and self-interest. Bethlehem Steel was about to close.

“I can’t see people who need [work] and not try to help out,” he told me. “Plus, I knew if I hired them at the car wash, they’d spend some of that money [at his bar and barbecue].”

Most of what was there when he came is gone. Smith is not going.

“I figure I’ll work until I’m 99,” he told me. “Then I’ll retire.”

The attitude built a mini-empire.

desmonde@buffnews.comnull