Broughton Quarterly - Fall 2008 - (Page 32) nce upon a time, the land mass known as Patagonia existed only in an unknown corner of the world, where blue icebergs commingled with penguins in the raging seas and massive glaciers scraped the rugged skin off towering mountains. Then, as the globe grew smaller thanks to airplanes (and later, the Internet), the natural beauty of land came to be appreciated near and far. These days, however, as the Earth warms, the region is at the melting forefront of climate change. Patagonia, as we know it, is in grave danger. But there’s hope for the Patagonias of the world, and the most promising seedling for positive change comes via a California clothing and outdoor-gear company whose name is eponymous with that remote land. The Ventura-based Patagonia, Inc. is the progressive and environmentally minded, highly successful product of four decades of triumphs and tribulations endured by the company’s founder: a climber, surfer, and adventurer for the ages named Yvon Chouinard. The Patagonia headQuarters near the Ventura River just off of Highway 101 feels more like a highly functioning hippie commune than a $230-million-a-year international business hub. On any given weekday, the parking lot is engulfed with barbecue smoke, while people chat at picnic tables, children frolic on a playground, and workers return from lunchtime jogs. The signs on the buildings announce everything from a retail store and daycare center to surfboard shapers and environmental activists. Inside the main office, a shaggy-haired dude known as Chipper Bro is routing phone calls from Tokyo and Paris while the cafeteria is abuzz with smells of organic food and talk of the previous weekend’s outdoor excursions. Inside the lunchroom recently was the man who built this place, Yvon Chouinard. He is short and stout, in a solidly built, muscular way, a trait that carries to his handshake, which was like grabbing a warm slab of tough steak. Chouinard clutched a small glass of iced tea and seemed slightly bummed that he had to cut short his conversation with coworkers to talk with a journalist about his life’s work, much of which is encapsulated in his book,“Let My People Go Surfing: The Education of a Reluctant Businessman,” a 32 broughton Quarterly FALL 2008 O 15-year project aimed at giving entrepreneurs young and old a viable option to the multinational corporate schemes usually presented in business schools. Once seated upstairs in his office, Chouinard, whose weathered face was framed by wisps of hair that matched his gray plaid shirt, offered that this Patagonia world around him is still “an experiment,” one that he doesn’t yet want to brag about because he’s still not sure if it will achieve the lofty goal of being a business that’s both financially viable and environmentally sound. With a youthful glimmer in his eyes and an amiable air about him, Chouinard explained: “Every doomsday book says that if “There are very few businesses I respect, so we kinda do our own thing,” Chouinard said. “We broke a lot of the rules. That’s one reason it took so long to write the book, because … I wanted to make sure that what I’m saying in the book has been proven to really work.” So how did the wayfaring, authority-despising son of a hardscrabble French Canadian laborer become the model for a new sort of business, one that balances quantifiable success with qualified responsibility? Chouinard’s story begins in Lisbon, Maine, where he was born and attended French-speaking Catholic schools until age seven. In 1946, his family moved to Burbank, California, where he was made fun of in school for having a girl’s name. No good at school or organized sports, Chouinard looked to the outdoors for acceptance, and helped found the Southern California Falconry Club with some “fellow misfits.” One of their activities was to rappel down cliff faces to find the falcons they would train. One day, while rappelling off of Stony Point in the San Fernando Valley, they noticed someone coming up the cliff face. Intrigued, Chouinard and his buddies were soon traveling from Yosemite to the Tetons climbing cliff face after cliff face. Chouinard taught himself blacksmithing in order to make the tools for his climbing passion. He specialized first in pitons, the spikes climbers use to attach themselves to rock walls; then he also began making clips called carabiners. Following high school graduation, Chouinard, an avid surfer, traveled the West Coast chasing waves. After sessions he would sit on the beach and hammer out some metal work, selling his products to friends as a means of support. His designs became popular in the small but exponentially expanding climbing community. In 1965, Chouinard moved to Ventura to be closer to the surf, set up shop in a slaughterhouse, and kept making equipment as the demand exploded. In the early 1970s, Chouinard also began producing climbing-related clothing, such as heavy-duty rugby shirts and doubleseated corduroy shorts. Not wanting to undermine the gear company with a clothing we just did this and that, we’d straighten things out [the environmental problems of the world]. That’s what we’re trying to implement [at Patagonia]. You can do it as an individual but it doesn’t have much effect. But we have over 1,000 employees worldwide, and if we all work collectively, we might have an effect.” The desired effect is, in short, a better world, one in which businesspeople care for their employees, protect the environment, and still reap a healthy though managed level of profits. To do this, Chouinard is advocating a paradigm shift away from traditional American capitalism, toward a more sustainable model. Not surprisingly, it’s a stance he’s taken mostly alone.
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