Any who have read Linda Ellis’ inspiring poem The Dash understand that the neither the beginning or the end is the story. Rather, it’s what lies in the middle—the dash—that truly tells the tale. So it is with this week’s Inspiration.
To appreciate that point, I am going to begin this week’s story at its end:
In late 1995, a fire destroyed the Malden Mills textile mill in Massachusetts. Rather than moving the operation to another state, the owner decided to rebuild. However, saddled with $140 million in debt, much of it tied to the rebuild, the company hired a new president in 2004 as part of the Chapter 11 reorganization. That wasn’t wasn’t enough. In 2007, Malden Mills made its 3rd trip to bankruptcy court, this time emerging as a company named for its flagship brand, “Polartec.” It remains in Massachusetts, but now employs around 1,000 people worldwide, versus the 3,000 who once worked at the New England mill prior to the fire.
That’s the end of the story and, if that was all you knew, then you might think the “story” to be one of corporate mismanagement or incompetency. One in which, if “do overs” were allowed, in hindsight management would certainly have done things differently. But, the end is not the story. So, judge for yourself as to the post fire actions action taken by management once you know the whole tale:
“Happy birthday, Aaron!” The chorus of voices had taken Aaron Feuerstein by surprise as he strolled into Boston’s Café Budapest. His craggy face broke into a smile as friends came up to slap him on the back, acknowledging his years and achievements. At 70, after a lifetime of work, the tall, trim Feuerstein had built one of the most profitable textile businesses in the industry.
“I didn’t want a big party,” he protested to the gathering. “People will think it’s a retirement!”
“You’re not capable of retiring!” someone shouted.
Some 25 miles north, in Lawrence, Massachusetts, a strong wind howled down the alleyways that divided the century-old, red brick factories that comprised Feuerstein’s Malden Mills. Inside, over four hundred employees has just started the evening shift. It was Monday, December 11, 1995.
Suddenly around 8:00 p.m. a huge fire exploded in one of the buildings. Soon the flames spread to a second factory building, then it invaded the five-story main mill.
The telephone was ringing when Feuerstein and his wife Louise arrived home at 10:45 p.m. “There’s a fire at the mill!” blurted a breathless mill executive.
Feuerstein went numb. “I’m on my way.”
A short time later he arrived. Flames and smoke filled the dark sky. Feuerstein found the area where his senior management team where gathered and his first question was “Is anyone injured?”
“We have twenty-six reported casualties. The most severely injured have already been airlifted out. There are no reported deaths at this time.”
“My God!” were the only words Feuerstein could offer in response to what he had seen and heard.
Via the teachings of his Orthodox Judaism, Feuerstein knew adversity is always a test. His father had quoted a favorite aphorism to him many times as a child: “In a place where there is no man, do everything in your power to be a man.”
Much was at stake now. Malden Mills provided jobs for more than 3,000 people. The idea of closing the business was unthinkable to Feuerstein but he had no readily available answer as to how he could save it.
At her home in Lowell, Massachusetts, Bessie Arsenault was watching the TV coverage of the fire when her phone rang.
“I’ve just come from the mill,” said her younger brother Michael Goujon. The fire’s out of control. Our jobs are gone.”
As she listened, Bessie stared at the TV. All nine of her brothers and sisters had worked at the mill at some time. She and Michael were still there. Bessie, a mother of three, had planned to stay there until her retirement. Now she interrupted her brother and, gathering all her courage, confidence, and conviction, firmly said, “Aaron’s not going to be beaten by a fire. Somehow he’ll find a way for us all to go on.”
Aaron Feuerstein’s reputation for stubborn resistance was a family trait. His grandfather, a Hungarian immigrant, founded Malden Mills in 1906. His son, Aaron’s father, Samuel, took over after the grandfather died. He instilled in his children the lessons of the Biblical prophets. “A good name,” he told his young son Aaron, “is the greatest treasure a man can acquire.”
As a young man, Aaron studied philosophy and English literature in college. When he took over the mill, he continued to study the Torah and classical English poetry. “Business alone doesn’t enrich a person,” he told friends.
Like his father and grandfather, Aaron often bucked the industry trends. In the 1950s most Northeast mills moved south, drawn by lower taxes and cheaper labor. When the mayor of one North Carolina city offered to build him a plant and provide tax amnesty, Feuerstein declined. “The best profit in the long run,” he said, “comes from using the best labor to make the best fabric. We have that where we are.” Feuerstein did move the mill to nearby Lawrence, expanding into a wide variety of fabrics, including the immensely successful Polartec fleece. He took immense pride in his workers and the quality fabric they produced. “You’re the best in the industry,” he told his employees as he walked the production line.
On the Tuesday morning following the fire, Feuerstein walked the smoldering ruins. Gas fires still flared in the rubble. Wrecked machinery and girders were encrusted with ice. But of the mill’s nine buildings, six had survived, along with the mill’s five-story office building. “It’s a miracle!” Feuerstein exclaimed, his eyes brightening.
More than 1,000 workers were gathered in the office building as Feuerstein entered. A hush fell over those assembled. “When all the textile mills in Lawrence ran out to get cheaper labor down south, we stuck,” Aaron told them, his voice crackling through the room. “We’re going to stay—and rebuild.”
The room erupted in applause. Feuerstein’s adrenalin surged. He’d made a promise, and now, by golly, he was committed to delivering on that promise. A saying of the Jewish sages came to his mind: “Your friend’s property should be as precious to you as your own.”
“We may get our jobs back somewhere down the line,” Bessie Arsenault’s brother Michael told her glumly, “but rebuilding is going to take years.”
“It can’t,” Bessie replied, “If we’re down even three months, we’ll lose a good share of our customer base. Aaron knows that. Don’t you worry, he’ll want everything back up and running at top speed.”
She reminded her brother of a production changeover that occurred two years before. Gigantic machines had to be dismantled and moved. Most workers thought the job would take months. “You remember how it went,” she said. “Boom! Boom! Boom! It was done in four weeks.”
“How long do you think before we’re back on the job?” Michael asked.
Bessie didn’t hesitate with her response. “Four weeks.”
That afternoon Feuerstein met with fifteen of his top key managers. He pointed to the damaged Polartec plant. “That’s where we start to rebuild. I want it up and running in a week.” The mill’s chief engineers was astonished. “The earliest would be four weeks and that’s near impossible.” Feuerstein looked him in the eyes and answered him calmly but firmly. “You’re the best engineer in the world. You’ll figure it out.” He then turned to the other managers. “How fast can we get new machinery? I want our workers back on the job.”
“We’ll airfreight the machinery in,” one responded. “it’ll be expensive, but a damned-sight less costly than not giving our customers what they need.” Nodding, Feuerstein added as the meeting was breaking up, “Remember everyone, we’re playing to a higher judge. Don’t tell me the job we have to do can’t be done. Find a way!”
Wages for hourly workers were due in the next two days. “Pay everyone in full! Feuerstein instructed. “And on time.” Word went out to stunned workers. On Wednesday morning, mill clerks handed each employee a payroll envelope that included a $275 Christmas bonus and a note from Aaron which said: “Do not despair. God will bless each of you.”
On Thursday, day three, there was a jammed meeting with the worried employees. “I’ll get right to the announcement,” Feuerstein said, gazing around at each of his workers. “For the next 30 days—it might be longer—all employees will be paid full salaries.” A cheer erupted. Feuerstein held up his hand for quiet. “The most important thing Malden Mills can do for our workers is to get you back to work,” he continued. “By January 2nd, we will restart operations.”
Now there was pandemonium. Men pumped their fists into the air. Women burst into tears. “When you work for Aaron,” a man shouted, “you’resomebody!
Business madness? Many thought so. But in an interview with CBS News/60 Minutes, Feuerstein disagreed: “I think it was a wise business decision, but that isn’t why I did it. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”
Seven days after the fire, on December 18th, the first machine started up in the Polartec building. Four days later, part of the production line began running. After leaving the plant that morning, Feuerstein accompanied by his industrial relations manager, Al Kraunelis, drove around Lawrence on what had become an annual Christmas event. For hours, they visited charity after charity throughout the city. At each stop Feuerstein would present a check. In total, he handed out $80,000.
On Tuesday, January 2, 1996, just 22 days after the fire, Bessie Arsenault, her brother Michael and 300 others reported for work. It was an unusual recall inasmuch as management summoned back first the most experienced and versatile employees, regardless of their old job classification or seniority. This went against the mill’s union contract, but the president of the local union waived the rules, saying–“We got to work together on this.”
To prove to customers that Malden Mills was making a fast comeback, Feuerstein flew to a trade show in Nevada. There, via satellite hookup, attendees could see the Polartec production lines humming. Malden Mills could fill 80 percent of its orders, Feuerstein told his customers. “My workers have accomplished a miracle.”
The next morning back at the mill, Bessie Arsenault was on the job, watching another crew come back to work. It’s like family members coming together again, she marveled.
Owners, management, and workers had been strengthened, not beaten down by the events of the past few weeks. Aaron Feuerstein had met adversity with backbone, loyalty and integrity. He did it for himself, Bessie Arsenault thought proudly, but also for us.
Despite the ultimate “end of this story” being the eventual bankruptcy of Malden Mills and removal of Aaron Feuerstein from the leadership position of the company founded by his family three generations ago, this “story” has been incorporated by a number of collages into their business school curriculum. It is a perfect case study of achievement of ethical excellence in operating a business wherein the mutual atmosphere of all who comprise it are dedicated as much to each other as they are to profit and income.
There is no limit to the potential of brethren working together in complete brotherhood and selflessness toward spiritual goals. The power of God working through such channels will bring unimaginable blessings to all concerned. – Joseph B. Wirthlin
Have an AWE-full Weekend!
William J. “Bill” Bacqué