Family-owned businesses have formed the backbone of the outdoor industry. Over the past week, that realization has been brought home by the loss of two patriarchs, JB Hodgdon and Frank Brownell.
While neither were directly involved in day-to-day work, both were instrumental in building their companies to the point there was a significant family business to be continued. JB was one of the founders of his business; Frank learned it from his father, then passed the torch on to son, Pete.
Having had the opportunity to know these men, ask them questions about everything from how they arrived at prices to how they recognized good hires, I quickly realized there were life lessons in there for me as well. When I first met them, the dozen services we now distribute every week were only figments of my imagination. Neither man claimed to understand exactly how I hoped to accomplish what I described, but both encouraged me to keep going.
When JB passed last week, I sent a short note to Joel Hodgdon, the next generation of Hodgdon. His response reminded me that it’s relationships and connections that keep our industry going at times. “JB has passed into the realm of legend now….the first thing JB and Bob had me do as I was learning about the industry as a teenager was to subscribe to your newsletter and read it daily.”
His closing sentence reminded me that what all of us do matters: “I still do.”
Word of Frank Brownell’s death hit me far harder than I’d anticipated. I knew he was fading, but knowing about something is different from finding out it has come to pass.
Frank and Pete Brownell have become more than industry contacts. They’re trusted friends. The kind of friends who quietly step up to help when you hit a rough time more in your business or personal life. The kind you don’t have to call, the kind that just show up.
Since then, I’ve often taken advantage of having a pair of good men more than willing to be everything from sounding boards to drinking buddies. Whether we were sampling bourbon flights or talking about hard personnel decisions, their advice and counsel have been both valued and on-target. I didn’t always like what they told me, but Like my long conversations with Joel Hodgdon, they were honest, non-judgemental and on-point.
Writing this, I’m sitting in the Denver airport, headed home from a visit with another family company, Buck Knives. What I’d planned to write, a piece about the difference between spending decades watching skilled craftsmen making precision items versus being handed a bag of parts and being told “put this together” -was another of what I call those “light and shopper” stories, the kind that are designed to put a smile on your face at the recounting of just how hard simple-seeming things really are.
During my visit, I’d talked with several of the senior members of the Buck team. And I’d been impressed at their commitment to carrying on the tradition of quality and craftsmanship begun by an apprentice blacksmith named Buck more than 100 years ago.
Instead of the light piece, I find myself reflecting on the fact that we are seeing some of the long burning lights of our industry flickering and going out. The thing I realize most is that the work they’ve poured themselves into continues, principally because they’ve built their businesses on trust, dependability, and accountability. But they also recognized the importance of pouring those character traits into their successors.
Today, I’m headed home after another of those successful and enjoyable work weeks. But I’m also realizing that those of us still here and working need to be mindful of the culture we’re building, the messages we’re sending, and, most importantly, the great people who have helped us get where we are.
As always, we’ll keep you posted.
— Jim Shepherd
