Johnson, Vermont

(WHERE?)

My most favoritest thing is when we travel and stumble on something especially unique….. and I get to share it with all of you. My only trepidation in these moments is that I do not fully convey the uniqueness of my discovery to all of you, and you end up scratching your collective heads in wonderment saying to yourselves, “So….what’s so special here Mr. Traveling Troubadour?”

Please read on and hopefully I am not deficient in my aspirations of said conveying!

First, the obligatory Back Story!

I took a brief trip last week up to Manchester-by-the-Sea to visit with my son Donny and his family. A nice, direct flight from Houston dropped me at Boston’s Logan Airport a little over three hours later. A short taxi ride brought me to Donny’s office in downtown Boston where we met. I hitched a ride to MBTS with him on his ride home.

            We spent a few days there until Wednesday when we gathered the ‘Exited from School for Thanksgiving’ kids and drove three hours north to their ski-house in Vermont for the remainder of the Holiday.

            Vermont is one of those places that revels in its own identity and guards said personality with the fervor of an Olympic Skier trying to eke out another 100^th of a second in order to win. Skiing in Vermont borders on a religion and while the neighboring New England states all have excellent ski areas, you have to admit that when someone mentions Vermont, the first thing that comes to mind is skiing, or maybe Maple Syrup if your thoughts travel there at Breakfast Time!

            Skiing is what brought Donny and Hilary to Vermont in the first place and to the ‘once-was-so-but-now-not-so’ sleepy little village of Stowe in particular. Donny worked at the Ski Area while Hilary was employed by the von Trapp family. Yes…. that von Trapp family…. The one with the world-renowned Lodge where the Sound of Music is the benchmark by which all other movies are judged and judging by the decades of throngs of admirers of that movie, their take on that is not that far off!

            The secret to understanding Vermont is to get away from the Resorts and their masses. Now to be fair, if you are going there to ski, then being slope-side is the epitome of convenience ….. you are smack-dab in the middle of all of the action, and it can get crazy! But if you want to experience Vermont then you need to snake your way around the back roads and chance upon little hamlets and towns, of which, thankfully, there is a plethora of.

            The folks in Vermont may be a tad laid back, but they are not fools….. they do realize that there are those who travel to their state for this back-country charm and experience. That’s why you won’t find any billboards in the state and why some towns even limit the kind of signage allowed. (Think wooden, carved and painted, signage being preferred) There is absolutely nothing garish about this State and that’s the way they want it.

            It was on one of these sojourns into the wilds that we came upon the little town of Johnson. Johnson started back in the mid-1700’s as a town decreed by Royal Charter by King George III. Along came the Revolution, Mr. William Samuel Johnson attended all, and was particularly effective in, all of the Constitutional Conventions, and all four Founding Congress’s. He was particularly sympathetic to some issues having to do with Vermont, so when it was all said and done, they named a town after him! So ever since 1785, this hamlet has been known as Johnson.

            ‘So Donny, that’s it? All of this hoopla for a little town in Vermont?’

            No! No! It’s what’s in Johnson that is so special! And this one is coming up on almost 200 years old….. same business, same location, and in reality, the same family at the beginning and now! Started in 1816 and officially founded in 1842, Johnson Woolen Mills is the pride and joy of its namesake town and with excellent reason.

            You don’t get to hang around that long unless you are good. One turn around the Sales Floor located just below the loft where all of the sewing machines and patterns are used, will convince you that these are goods that can be the benchmark for everyone else’s products. I always thought that Pendleton was the standard by which all of the others was measured, and it is good stuff, but….. check out the label…. Hmmm, where is this made? Oh, I see…. Vietnam. Ok, that in itself does not mean that it is inferior to anyone else’s product, it’s just that it means that it’s not made here, in our very own USA. To be fair, Pendleton’s blankets are still domestically made, but practically everything else is imported.

            Now, by contrast and comparison, Johnson Woolen Mills products are all made right there in Vermont using domestic wool and if you go upstairs on a weekday, you will find good ol’ Aunt Mabel sitting behind her sewing machine assembling what are considered the “Best Woolen Trousers in the World.” The remainder of the employees are busy creating the rest of Johnson Woolen Mill’s assemblage of apparel.

            When we arrived in the store that morning, we were enthusiastically greeted by Alexalee who was behind the counter. The kids scattered, each in search of the treasures that would soon be theirs. I did a brief circuit of the store, looked at what was offered, saw that each item had a label stitched onto it proudly proclaiming its Vermont pedigree and assemblage. Now I’m all in! Scurrying back to the front of the store, I confronted Alexalee.

                        “Are all of these items made here in Vermont?”

                                    “Yup.”

                        “Do you have a factory somewhere?”

                                    “Yup.”

                        “Where is it located?”

                                    “Upstairs.”

                        “Up there”? (an incredulous me pointing to the ceiling.)

                        “All this stuff” ???!!!

                                    “Yup.”

            It was then that Alexalee’s smile broadened even more than when she first greeted us. She could tell that she had one hooked, and giving me just enough line to further our conversation, she proceeded to reel me in with each of her following sketches and descriptions of the way it is, and more importantly, the way it was. I learned how many of her past relatives worked at the Mill and how important this enterprise is for the town, not just for employment, but for the collective self-esteem that is quite evident.

            I asked a little more about the History and Alexalee toured me around the store and explained the historic photos that adorned the walls. She then handed me a several-pages long copy of the local Historical Society’s missive on the Mill. Flipping through it I realized that this was exactly what I needed! Asking if there were copies of it available, Alexalee announced, “Sure! We have a copier!” And just like that I had my very own definitive work on the History of Johnson Woolen Mills.

            I had been searching for something to write a Post about, as I was Traveling, but writing about “I went to Vermont, and it was snowing”  was obviously not good enough. I am hoping 😊 that this short tale fills the bill and is interesting enough!

            I guess what really hit me was that this is a family-owned-and-operated business. For those of you that have known me since the Chatterbox days you know how important family run businesses are to me and I am envious (in a good way!) and in total admiration of any that have endured longer than we did…. and this one is coming up on 200 years, which places it as one of the oldest companies in the country that are still operating as it was founded, and by essentially the same organization.

            I will not go through the entire progression and iterations of Johnson Woolen Mills, but I want you to remember just one name for now… Simeon Lyman. In 1816 Mr. Lyman was granted (sold?) the rights to construct a mill on this site. And so it began as there were quite a lot of sheep in Vermont back then that were just begging to be shorn and turned into sturdy, quality made, warm clothing!

            Probably the best way to describe the lineage of the Johnson Woolen Mill is to compare it to another, totally unrelated, type of entity….. the cool ‘50s type singing group that is still touring, maybe like the Duprees or maybe the Ames Brothers. Now we all know that the original members of those groups are not singing today. What has evolved over the years is that over time, one of the members dropped out and was replaced by oh, say the nephew of another member. This goes on until the next older member passes, and his place is taken by another “new” person. As you can see, this morphing of these members, and the progression that entails, keeps the group as authentic as they can be because there is always a connection that can be traced back through the lineage to the origin of the group. It’s kind of the same with the Johnson Woolen Mill…. as the business moved along, sons and other relatives took the places of their forebears, (one lasted 118 years!) formed new partnerships which brought new blood to the enterprise and so on, until we come to today. The present co-owners and co-operators of the Mill are the Richards family and Erin Desautels.

            When you peruse the aisles of the sales floor and stop to examine, and actually feel, the items for sale there, you can appreciate both the quality of the fabric and the sturdiness of the ‘construction’ of these items. That’s what you get when you purchase an item made by a person who’s livelihood and reputation depends on how much skill and care they weave into the item that is on the table directly in front of them.

Thankfully, (for all of you that cannot zoom up to Johnson, Vermont) they have a very modern on-line presence at johnsonwoolenmills.com, a treat that I am quite sure that the originators never even dreamt of!

Now remember when I asked you not to forget the name of the guy way back in the day, from 1816, Simeon Lyman?  Well, Mr. Lyman is the Great-great-great-great grandfather of none other than Erin Desautels, one of the present owners.

                        In my mind, it just doesn’t get any better than that!