Small Business Series 4: Nanette Lepore, and the Textile & Apparel Industries

 In 1960, 95% of clothing sold in the United States was made in the United States

Today, that figure is 2%. 

No, that was not a typo.  TWO per cent.

The Textile and apparel industries in America have been decimated by outsourcing and the consumer’s embrace of cheaply made, mass-produced clothing imported from abroad. Between 1994 and 2005, the United States lost more than 900,000 textile and apparel jobs to overseas operations. 

And yet, there are still 846 fashion companies headquartered in New York City, most in a small area of Manhattan known as ‘The Garment District,” (or the " Fashion Center "),  bordered, roughly,  by 5^th and 9^th Avenues to the east and west, and 40th and 34^th streets to the north and south.   They employ 24,000 people in all steps of the apparel industry: designers, pattern makers, cutters, sewers, accessory manufacturers, fabric importers, dyers, synthetic fiber fabricators, weavers, spinners, marketing specialists, wholesalers, and retailers.  Though only a tiny fraction of the number of jobs that have been lost,  (2.6%), they forge ahead in spite of devastating competition from industrializing nations such as Honduras, Pakistan, and China, where textile wages are less than the U.S. equivalent of $250/month.  And in spite of this competition, there are still more apparel workers in NYC than in the other big three fashion capitals (London, Paris, and Milan) combined. New York City has been and remains, the Fashion Capital of the World.

While interested in the industry in a general way for some time, I became even more ‘drawn in’ on my first visit to  Nanette Lepore,  a NY clothing designer headquartered on the 17^th floor of 225 W. 35^th Street, in the heart of the Garment District.  Joining up with college students from three different schools like a pilgrimage, we were escorted to the proper room by none other than Nanette’s husband, who joined us in the elevator.  As we exited, we were greeted by Erica, a Lepore marketing professional who had arranged to take us on a tour of this proudly American business.  I should point out that this was not a tour of the 'retail face' of the designer, or of her shops in Soho, Los Angeles, Chicago, Bal Harbour (FL), or Boston.  This was the nitty-gritty, daily-decision-making, cutting-and-stitching hands-on nerve center of a fashion operation.

 Nanette Lepore is a crusader in the effort to save the American textile and apparel industries.  She is an underwriting sponsor of the television series “Project Runway,” and is a driving force behind the “Save the Garment District” campaign, which came into existence when zoning changes in New York City threatened to favor trendy, national, upscale restaurant chains over gritty industrial looms, garment racks, and dying vats. If anyone has prevented that “2%” figure from shrinking even further, it is Nanette.

 We were lead through the non-glamorous work stations of pattern makers and sewers, and finally made it to the showroom floor where, in April 2012, samples of the Fall 2012 were being displayed. 

Yes, we took pictures, but we promised not to release them to commercial websites.  



And so, I was excited to receive an email from Nanette Lepore last week, recommending the DGExpo (“Designer’s Guide Expo,”) a trade show and series of workshops designed to help small design businesses connect with providers who gladly work in "small lots,”  i.e., textile and apparel industry businesses that are happy to work with a small producer requiring 500 or 1,000 garments, rather than the tens of thousands demanded by Target or Walmart or even Macy’s. 

 (Side note: large Department stores like Macy’s are the death knell for small, upstart designers: their packaging, delivery, and tagging requirements – as thick as a phone book – permit ‘penalties’ against small producers, called ‘chargebacks,’ which can bankrupt a small upstart.)

So down to NYC we went.

All sorts of fabric and accessory companies filled the expo floor. From leather to fur to wood to silk to batik to hemp to metal, they shared one thing in common: they were small businesses, eager to work with small and new designers, to create cost-effective, unique, quality, American-made clothing.

I admit to falling in love with several of these companies.

Buttonology , located at 264 West 40^th Street, was delightful.  I was first attracted to their selection of beautiful wooden buttons, but, upon moving some samples, found some fun, whimsical rainbow-colored buttons that would be perfect on summer beach house ware.  

 Their minimum order?  A dozen.  Yes, that’s right – small quantities for small producers.  Founded 7 years ago by two partners, Buttonology has made a niche for themselves in providing a broad and unique array of non-mass-produced buttons and accessories.  It was fun just pawing through their samples.  

Across from Buttonology was a company I visited several times:    Hemp Traders, who had come all the way from 335 E. Albertoni Street in Carson, California.  Twenty years old next year, Hemp Traders is the largest supplier of the Hemp products in the world. 

Small business?  Absolutely.  Hemp Traders fights a daily battle with the purposely and genuinely ignorant about the nature of Hemp fiber.  

Hemp is simply an incredible plant product. Among the characteristics of hemp fiber are its superior strength and durability, and its stunning resistance to rot, attributes that made hemp integral to the shipping industry. Hemp fiber allows for environmentally friendly bleaching without the use of chlorine. It is 100% biodegradable. 

I had an image of Hemp as scratchy and sort of like burlap.  What I found were samples of hemp and hemp-cotton blends that were as soft as baby blankets.  No wonder George Washington grew and promoted hemp.  Too bad our current politicians have banned the production of industrial hemp from our shores….all hemp must now be imported, raising prices to American consumers and producers who would gladly use this fiber. Another example of small business strangled by bureauocracy . . .

The minimum order size for struggling new designers?

None.  Zero. Zilch. Nada.  

 No, really.

This is a company that wants to help the small producer, the new designer, the boutique artisan  - and they back it up with a quality product at a price that makes sense.  I fell in love with these guys.

In all, I got to visit with 65 companies: small companies, struggling and striving to remain afloat in a country that complains about poor job prospects, but then buys clothes from a sweatshop half a world away that poisons the water and abuses their labor.

I admit it: I love the Garment District. And I'm not alone:

Consider the following blog article, which appeared originally as "New York’s Fashion Industry Reveals a New Truth About Economic Clusters,"by Elizabeth Currid-Halkett and Sarah Williams, posted in the Harvard Business Review Blog on February 10, 2014. Minor editorial notes have been added by this blogger to clarify certain points above.

The week before Fashion Week in New York is perhaps the busiest in the city’s apparel industry. Frantic designers rush around looking for gold buttons with blue inlay, for seamstresses to make pleats and for patternmakers with spare fabric.  They make modifications to dresses in real time under enormous deadline pressures.

Yet when eyes eventually fall on the runways, they witness virtually glitch-less shows and talk-of-the-town creativity.  How does New York’s fashion industry continually pull off Fashion Week year after year?

The answer lies in a complex economic system whose informal origins date to the mid-19th century and whose central idea rests on geographical proximity. We’re talking about the Garment District, eight blocks in Manhattan where designers, wholesalers, manufacturers, fabric sellers, button makers, and seamstresses all work.

The idea that highly specialized concentrations of an industry like the Garment District offer significant economic advantages is hardly revolutionary. The automobile, steel, mining and textile industries similarly occupied proximate physical space, sharing resources, labor and information to their great economic benefit. As the great economist Alfred Marshall observed in 1890, industries that clustered together generated economic growth by virtue of something “in the air.”

Exactly what is “in the air” in places like the Garment District? For a long time, discussions on the benefits of economic clusters, or "business clusters," or agglomeration economies as urban planners call them, have been mainly theoretical or qualitative. Interviews, case studies and ethnographies tell us proximity matters to certain industries. Think Silicon Valley, Wall Street or Hollywood. Therefore, so the argument goes, cities ought to push policies that encourage the growth of spatially concentrated economic activity. But why — and how – these clusters work has remained a mystery.

To find out answers to these questions, we tracked 77 fashion designers working in the Garment District and the larger New York region over two weeks in July 2011 [Ed Note: generally considered to be 34th Street to 40th street, between 7th and 9th Avenues] Using their cellphone data and a social-media tool we tracked their geographical movements and documented exactly where they went and when, compiling a real-time, minute-by-minute, day-by-day, snapshot of what they did. The designers voluntarily let us in on their activities  – picking up a fabric, meeting with a manufacturer, grabbing a cup of coffee — by “checking-in” to Foursquare, a social media application that allows users to identify precisely where they are and what they are doing. To gauge the economic importance of the Garment District to the broader region, we studied the work lives of designers with offices in the district and those with addresses in New Jersey and the other boroughs. A majority of our sample worked outside the Garment District  [Ed Note: a particularly important factor to consider when looking at the many trips these individuals made *to* the Garment District in this two week period.]


It turned out that the benefits of the district’s agglomeration economies were not confined to eight blocks in Manhattan, but spread evenly across the region. Having an office in the Garment District was not as important as the existence of the area itself.  Seventy-seven percent of all trips the designers made were to the Garment District, and 80% of the businesses they visited were located there. Not only that, regardless of where the designers’ offices were located, they all similarly interacted with manufacturers, wholesalers and suppliers, spending almost the same amount of time with them.  The difference between Garment District-based designers and outsiders was a mere 10 minutes.

But what the designers actually did from 10 am to 6 pm (the hours most kept) revealed no set patterns. When we studied the timing of their trips to manufacturers, wholesalers or suppliers, we found no meaningful pattern, regardless of the size of the firm.  Every day was a new day.

Herein may lie the magic – what Marshall said was “in the air”– of economic clusters and their importance to cities. All designers need the same basic materials and labor to make a dress. But how they individually pursue and use those resources — and how they respond to the changing demands of realizing their conceptions — is a key component of their creative process. The Garment District’s agglomeration economies foster the freedom necessary for creativity to thrive, which is part and parcel of how great dresses are made in the first place. What we think is raw creativity – the electric energy of Marc Jacobs and Anna Sui or the exciting parties reported in the media – is quite a practical matter.

The great urbanist Jane Jacobs once remarked that “diversity is natural to big cities.”  Her point was that the intermingling of different firms and industries that work together to produce things and ideas is a central feature of an urban economy and accounts for its ongoing vibrancy.  And our study shows that this sharing is much wider geographically than previously thought.

Creativity and its economic impact – whether producing a wrap dress or a semiconductor – is rarely an act of genius in isolation. It instead is the interworkings and interventions of a highly efficient and effective cluster of firms and those who work for them.

This phenomenon unfolds in particular places, and those special places must be preserved if we want to keep our cities bright and our industries innovative. Let that be a lesson as we watch the runways and the flashing lights.

To see the actual travel routes and stops, watch the video at the end of the article at this link:

NYC Garment Center Business Cluster








 [This is the Fourth in a series on Small Business in America]
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Small Business Series 3: Arcadia and Squeaky Wheel

 In the first two installments of this series, we concentrated on the contributions and quality of small, local entrepreneurs.  One of the themes that continues to emerge is the concern that so many of these small enterprises have for their customers, workers, and communities.  And in that vein, two of the most socially responsible, forward-thinking companies that come to mind are Arcadia and Squeaky Wheel Media....

It was the first Monday of the month, a night when Arcadia regularly sponsors fundraising events for local charities.  This night, their sales and the raffles they sold were helping to support    Trinity Place Shelter, an organization dedicated to helping homeless LGBTQ youth transition from life in a shelter to life as an independent adult.    So, off we went to find this store located at 249 West 23^rd Street, just off of 7^th Avenue, in the Chelsea neighborhood of New York City.  

“Find” was the operative word.  Retail space in New York City is expensive, and small businesses need to find ways to make maximum use of small rental spaces to survive.  We walked past it, even though we were actively looking for it.   

What a shame for all those other New Yorkers or passers-by who might miss Arcadia in their hurry:  this shop is an absolute gem. 

Upon entering, our eyes were treated to an incredible array of gifts, candles, glassware, books, wind chimes, jewelry, and an assortment of gifts that were clearly unique, hand-made, and truly ‘niche’ goods.   It only took me minutes to learn the name of Jay Gurewitsch (store owner and driving force) and his partner Ian Edwards (sustainability & communications specialist at the register).  And what impressed me more than the quality products they supplied, was the philosophy,  caring, and the passion that went into selecting those products. 

The vision for Arcadia grew out of Jay’s experiences in retail environments; “simple is beautiful” was his response to the complicated, difficult, hectic lives many New Yorkers lived.  As a child raised in a modern Orthodox Jewish family in Brooklyn,  Jay (pictured below) was raised with a deep appreciation of and respect for religion, spirituality, and strongly held personal beliefs. An enormous love of learning and reading colors his approach: he has an in-depth story about every product he carries. He revels in seeking out knowledge of other cultures, religions, and communities, and the broad range of products at Arcadia is a reflection of that search. 

 

He writes on his website:

“My father’s factory, Star Candle, is a union shop where employees from more than 20 different countries ...work together, frequently generation after generation. It is an American anachronism that is still going strong; where blue collar workers make a decent wage, have health insurance, union membership, a good working environment and produce a reasonably priced product … Watching my father working with his employees, customers and suppliers also taught me some of the most important lessons of my business career; that while the highest ethical conduct may not always pay off financially, it always pays off in far more important ways.”

Like physical manifestations of his father’s employees, the products featured at Arcadia encompass a broad and eclectic cultural stew.  Arcadia focuses as much as possible on fairly traded products made throughout the world, so that their customers’ interest in supporting indigenous populations and their cultures can be achieved. 

What is fascinating about Arcadia is how they reject the standard 'norms:'  they reject mass-produced, standardized corporate products,  but they also reject the jingoist notion that all products must be “American-made” to be worthwhile.  Rather, Arcadia has found a way to work fairly and honestly with small producers in America and around the globe, without regard for political borders. 

 Before leaving that night, we went home with a copper, iron, and wooden bell produced by a couple named Abdul and Fatima, who are members of an artisan cooperative in northwestern India for $24.95, a price we found entirely reasonable, even on our restricted budget.

From recycling packaging to using wind-generated electricity, Arcadia has a vision for a better society – a vision that is embodied in every aspect of their operation.  

This is the kind of business that America, and Americans, need to support.

Arcadia’s emphasis on social responsibility reminded me of another small company I had visited in New York City back in April.   

Update:  In January 2014, Jay announced that the Arcadia storefront would be closing in March 2014.  Some context is important here:  As we all know, 2007 saw the beginning of the deepest recession the US has had since the Great Depression.  Disposable income, production of goods and services, and gross sales – especially in small businesses – all fell.  At the same time, under NYC Mayor Michael Bloomberg (2001 – 2013), more than 40%  of Manhattan was rezoned.  During this time, rents on many small mom-and-pop business skyrocketed, with increases of $25,000 per month being common.  Many local restaurants, gift stores, pubs, and other businesses moved out, and were either replaced by national chain stores or saw their former locations demolished and replaced with towering glass-walled condominiums. Critical community services such as hospitals like St. Vincent’s and even gas stations literally disappeared from the landscape to make way for luxury building projects. This was particularly the case along the west side of Manhattan, in the West Village and  Chelsea neighborhoods, and, today, in the area formerly known as Hell’s Kitchen but now more antiseptically called “Hudson Yards.” I spoke with Jay about whether his decision to close was based on the national economic climate (“macroeconomic” issues) or the changes in the immediate neighborhood (“microeconomic factors.”)  Here is his reply:

“The main factors in closing are both micro and macro in nature.

Chelsea is a VERY different neighborhood than it was 13 years ago.  [It used to be] much more of a neighborhood, far more gay, younger, more focused on design, community, and things that were off the beaten path. That faded over the years, and was declared officially dead by 2007, killed off by the twin axes of the recession and the changing demographics of the neighborhood. The young gays moved on, and were replaced by richer straight folks from the midwest who have no ties to anything in NYC and are just in Chelsea as a way station to somewhere else.

Fair trade was always an excellent way for us to differentiate ourselves from competition and kept us alive longer than we would have if we were just another gift store. It also made us more profit than similar products might have from China because I could charge a premium for them.

My clientele shifted, the economics shifted, and I did not shift fast enough with the times. I should, in retrospect, have moved the store in 2008, or never opened 8th Avenue in the first place - but everything is always 20/20 in hindsight and no one had any way to know how bad and how long it would be bad for. 

We had our best year in many in 2013, but it simply was not enough, and certainly I was not having any fun anymore - I haven’t enjoyed it in many years. I’ve been in survival mode for 6 years now, and I have had enough.

As for the future – it’s still fairly amorphous

The website has certain areas that produce steady income from customers all over the US (and even abroad) that is almost entirely disconnected from store sales - these are people who find us online, not through the brick and mortar - and in many cases have never been to the store. Without the fixed overhead of a brick and mortar, it’s quite a nice little income source even now - and if I am not busy running a store I can spend time marketing it properly and grow the web business quite quickly I think. Add into that what I hope will be a successful men's jewelry line I am designing, and the website has a rather successful future, selling things that are exclusively available on Arcadianyc.com and nowhere else on earth, online or off. THAT is the future of online. Hypersegmentation."

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 Squeaky Wheel Media

 

With a dozen college business students in tow, I arrived at the door of  Squeaky Wheel Media, an independently-owned media and marketing agency located at 640 West 28^th Street (between 11^th Avenue and the West Side Highway), also in Manhattan’s Chelsea neighborhood.  

I had arranged this visit knowing little about the agency, except that it came highly recommended: Advertising Age, a time-honored journal of the marketing industry, awarded Squeaky their award for “Best Agency Culture” in their 2010 Small Agency Awards.  And one step out of the elevator in their retro-fitted industrial loft space, and it was easy to see why.

Co-Founder/President Anthony Del Monte has assembled a team of 20 individuals who represent as many nationalities and cultures as 20 people physically can.  Within minutes, one member of his staff was brainstorming a marketing approach with the students, while Anthony took my partner and I aside to brainstorm his latest innovation.  A cockatiel named Cuca flew around the loft, circling the Volkswagen beetle that sits in the middle of the floor.  Before we knew it, piles of pizza for the students arrived.  Our 30 minute visit turned into a 90 minute crash course in successful marketing and building a productive, positive business culture.

Their client base includes the Jackie Robinson Foundation; Lexus; the New York Live Arts; and one of their proudest, the “I Had Cancer” campaign.

 For Mailet Lopez, Squeaky co-founder, this had a personal element; she was diagnosed with stage 2B breast cancer in March 2008, and has been cancer-free since treatment. After her battle and openly talking to others about her experience she decided to give back to the community. “Cancer was not going to start taking control of my life,”she says. 

 In developing   www.ihadcancer.com , Squeaky created a place where people can share their stories, insights and experiences to inspire others to keep up the fight.  A few months after our visit, Squeaky won the Internet’s "Webby Award” for this socially responsible campaign.

We left excited, energized, and overflowing with ideas and concepts.  It was a genuine joy to see that a New York City business, in the throes of a deadline-driven, frenetic, and sometimes cut throat market, can also be successful while being caring, fun, supportive, socially responsible, and diverse. (And it doesn’t hurt their staff consists of top-notch, high-quality professionals.)

That was my one visit to Squeaky, and it was in April 2012. 

This summer, I happened to be walking along Hudson River park, when a Squeaky employee, Luis, came jogging by.

He recognized my partner and me, and stopped in his tracks.  

Because that’s what Squeaky employees do.

In today’s world, there are no borders.  The small shop on Main Street may ship products to South Africa, while importing raw materials from Turkey.  There is nothing intrinsically wrong with crossing borders, with ‘going global,’ or with expanding markets.

Rather, the problems occur when human concerns take a back seat to stockholder profits; when image is more important than substance; when producers feel they can throw low-quality goods and services at consumers who have no other choices.

Small businesses – like Arcadia, Squeaky Wheel, and others in this series – are the antidote to poor quality, poor working conditions, a languishing economy, and low consumer satisfaction.  And that is why we will continue to push the idea of patronizing local, small businesses and refusing to be held hostages by massive “corporate sameness.”

[This is the third in a series of posts on Small Business in America]

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Small Business Series 2: The Blue Rock and Sun's Tea Shop

Having just moved to Shelburne Falls, Massachusetts, my partner and I decided to head “into town” one night (town population: 2,058), where we stumbled upon a small restaurant/bar called the  The Blue Rock Restaurant  at 10 Bridge Street.  The front door, packaged between two other storefronts, lead us downstairs to a cozy, ‘familiar feeling’ place that was crowded with locals (and by crowded, I mean that  30 people had us weaving and bobbing to move from place to place). We sat at the two miraculously open bar stools, and were immediately engaged in conversation by bartender Jeff Grader.  

 

What followed put the “six-degrees-of-separation” concept to shame.  It’s more like two degrees. Maybe fewer.

 

We ordered our pints of Lefty’s Ale, which the Blue Rock keeps on tap, right in front of the beautiful blue glass rock provided by a local glassblower whose shop is a stone’s throw away from the restaurant.  Lefty (as I wrote in an earlier post) is a former student of mine who has started his own brewing company, and now is one of the fastest-growing and most popular craft brewers in western Massachusetts.  It turns out that our bartender, Jeff, also runs his own graphic design business ("Warped Whimsy"), and had just completed designing Lefty’s labels for his newest variety, “Golden Ale.”  We launched into conversation about Lefty and local businesses, about the local artists’ work on the walls, about the local jazz musicians that play there weekly.

Within a few minutes, we met Chris, the owner, and a waitress named Holly, who, it turns out, lives across the street from us. 

It was our first time there.  It felt like we had been ‘regulars’ for years.  The conversation ran all over the board, and other patrons joined in as the most incredible aromas wafted from the kitchen and absolutely artistic meal presentations were delivered to customers.  It was clear this was no corporate chain, no standardized, bulk-ordered, bland & canned restaurant-supply-house food.  

  These were gourmet creations using local ingredients and personalized recipes.  And everyone there, from the owner to the workers to the diners to those of us at the bar, knew they were at a special and unique place:  a local restaurant drawing on local resources and serving local customers with local flavor.  

We stayed longer than we should have, but that’s because we entered into a conversation with Holly about her difficulty finding quality bulk herbs.  Since Danny and I were headed to New York City two days later, we offered to look for a supplier.  Holly created a list for us, and we said our good-nights.

A few day later, we found ourselves hunting herbs in New York. 

To be sure, bulk spices and herbs are available in many places, and many large companies package aging spices of various quality, in bulk, for mass distribution.  We wanted something better…and we headed into Chinatown.

Poking our heads in and out of stores on the side streets, we found Sun’s Organic Tea Shop at 79 Bayard Street, between Mott and Mulberry Street.  

Sun’s is not a chain, not an outlet, and not a tourist trap owned by some absentee investor. From the moment we stepped inside this tiny store packed with jars of herbs and teas and spices, we knew we were in a one-woman specialty shop. In fact, Sun told us that she hadn’t had a vacation in years, simply because of her devotion to her store and her customers.

The walls were lined with glass jars, each with hand-written labels and prices.  We presented our list and wondered how many she could provide us with: hibiscus, milk thistle seeds, thistle leaves, lemon verbena, lemon balm.  As we rattled off each name, she pointed here and there, cheerfully telling us that yes, of course she had all of these herbs, and we began our bulk purchases.  Sun handled measuring out the herbs by the ounce and sealing them in air-tight bags, as she trusted us pulling and replacing the jars from all over her shelves. She told us about each herb as she measured, offering special instructions for the proper use of each, and we felt like we were at a house party rather than in a store.  She threw in small samples of some herbs we hadn’t ordered for free, and talleyed up the bill on a hand-held calculator.

We thoroughly enjoyed our shopping excursion, and left just as some regular customers came in pick up some specialized teas.  A few days later, we were delivering out treasure to the Blue Rock.

As different as they are – the restaurant in rural western Massachusetts, and the urban shop in the frenetic streets of New York’s Chinatown – the Blue Rock and Sun’s share something in common:  small, locally-owned and operated businesses, providing quality products and superior customer service.

Yes, these places still exist…and they will exist as long as we take the time and effort to patronize them, rather than taking the easy way out of grabbing shoddy goods at ‘convenient’ one-stop-shopping complexes, at discount prices. If  9% unemployment and 25% underemployment and a generation of outsourcing have show us anything, it is that we can not keep running to the cheapest providers of standardized goods for our consumer needs…it is time to demand healthy local economies, quality goods, and customer ‘service’ that doesn't come in the form of a scripted call center message and pressing phone buttons for twenty minutes.

Rather, good neighbors - with their lives and hearts invested in good businesses, who participate in and contribute to their communities – these must be the economic future of our society.

[This is the second in a series of posts on Small Business in America] 

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Small Business Series 1: Lefty's Brewing Company

Anheuser-Busch, once an iconic American company producing and shipping its signature Budweiser brand globally, has been a wholly-owned subsidiary of Belgian-Brazilian brewing conglomerate InBev since 2008.   Earlier that year, InBev had announced that the purchase of Anheuser-Busch would not result in any U.S. brewery closures.  Within months of completing the acquisition, InBev went on a cost-cutting spree, laying off  1,400 American employees and 415 contractors, ending company contributions to employee pension plans and retiree life insurance and reducing  employee tuition reimbursement. Sales of Budweiser have dropped 30% in this time; nonetheless, someone is drinking the swill:  one barrel of Budweiser is sold every other second in the United States, every hour, every day, all year.  InBev may be firing and bleeding American workers, but Americans seem to be happy going on their merry way patronizing the company.

Why?  To spend a few cents less on substandard, mass-produced crap that lines the pockets of capital-gains-chasers while placing honest workers on an increasingly steep treadmill?

Each year I take a dozen or so college students from western Massachusetts to New York City to expose them to the wider business world and future possibilities.  Less than half a dozen years ago, one of those students, Bill “Lefty” Goldfarb, asked if we could visit the Brooklyn Brewery. One visit, a little capital planning, and a few years later, Bill is now the founder,  owner, brewmaster, and chief-cook-and-bottle washer for  "Lefty's Brewing Company "   in Greenfield Massachusetts.   

 

With product in more than three dozen bars, restaurants, and retail locations, “Lefty” is positioned to become the largest craft brewer in western Massachusetts.

Lefty washes his own bottles.  Fills and caps his own bottles.  Designed his own walk-in refrigerator and filling system.  Delivers his own products.  Grinds his own barley in a flour grinder rigged up to a motor that he designed himself.  He and his girlfriend Melissa put in 60 - 80 hours a week each.

He teams up with local restaurants for food-beer taste pairings and charity events.  He attends and sponsors Town events. He gives back to the community by volunteering as a workshop speaker at local student entrepreneurship conferences, and by speaking with entrepreneurs-in-training in classrooms.

Lefty is the American Dream, realized at a time when Americans are being thrust into an economic nightmare.

 And he brews some damned good product: Irish Stout, Coffee Porter, India Pale Ale, Scotch Ale, Maple Ale, Golden Ale – a dozen brews in all (including special limited editions).  He and Melissa have just expanded to the point where he has hired another full-time employee.

Lefty also recently contracted with a local graphic designer, Jeff Grader, to redesign some of his labels.  Jeff, another small business owner ("Warped Whimsy"), is also a bartender at a local restaurant/bar, The Blue Rock,  located about three blocks from my house.  We met Jeff and the staff of the Blue Rock as they were installing a new keg of Lefty’s . . . .and entered into a conversation that would eventually take us on a quest to a tiny business in Chinatown in New York City.

But that is all for the next installment.

My point in writing this post, and the series of posts that will follow?

To encourage you to start buying local.  Patronizing small businesses. Circulating your money locally instead of lining the pockets of Romneyesque “investors” who stash it away offshore. Building small American businesses again instead of outsourcing American work and investment to sweatshops and intimidated farm workers and tax havens around the globe.

Going to the local restaurant or pub?  Ask for local.  Ask for craft-brewed. See what REAL beer tastes like.  

I promise, you’ll never go back to Clydesdale piss.

[This is the first in a series of posts on Small Business in America] 

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Hockadoo! The Final Performance of "Memphis"

Sunday, August 3^rd, was the final performance of “Memphis – the Musical” at the Shubert Theater in New York.  The 2010 Tony-winner for “Best Musical” and “Best Score” (written by Bon Jovi’s David Bryan, who made an on-stage appearance after the final number), closed after 1,166 performances.

The show tells the love, life, and personal stories of a poor white DJ (Chad Kimball when it opened, and then  Adam Pascal) and  an aspiring black rock-and-roll singer (Montego Glover) during the 1950s in a racially-charged and highly segregated Memphis.   

I’ve seen many Broadway musicals, but never on closing night.  I had seen Memphis soon after its opening, and decided that I needed to see this again on closing night, so my boyfriend and I headed up to our balcony seats , 6 rows from the last.

I have never been to a show  as emotionally charged as this one. Within 10 minutes, we were completely drawn into the action, along with every other person in the sold-out theater.  And the tears began, and flowed through the entire first act.  I was a little better in the second act – I didn't tear up until the second or third song . . . 

The audience was, in a word, America. And the audience was  a participant in the show’s emotion, not a mere spectator.

Sitting next to my white boyfriend and me was an elderly black man.  An Asian woman with a black husband sat next to him.  A couple of young guys sat behind us, and a racially-mixed child sat just across the aisle, in front of the East Indian family. And that pattern replicated itself throughout the  1,521-seat theater. 

For many of us, Memphis strikes a very deep chord.  Each theme of  racism, hate, fear, forbidden love, poverty, distrust, hopes, dreams, and a sense of one’s  “home” is, of itself, enough to pull at the heartstrings.  Together, those themes weave an incredibly powerful and realistic view of humanity and a  society in wrenching transition.  I only later realized the incredible irony of those messages: at the very time we were watching the final performance, the community of Oak Creek, Wisconsin was trying to make sense of the hateful  slaughter of Sikhs by a white supremacist in their midst.

The final curtain call was an event in its own right, as former cast members and artistic directors joined the cast on the stage, and the audience refused to quiet down.

I am sorry that this show has ended.  It is a show every American needs to see.

I am grateful  I was there. The Finale is embedded below.

Hockadoo, indeed !

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