An American original has lost its footing

Fred Bayles
850 words
10 February 1998
USA Today
FINAL
04A
English
© 1998 USA Today.  Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning.   All Rights Reserved. 

WILTON, Maine -- For four decades, Laurence Wilbur epitomized the old-fashioned American craft work that
goes into each pair of Bass Weejun shoes.

With his Down East twang and long snowy beard, Wilbur, 73, traveled the world to show how the legendary
thick-leather "penny loafers" are cobbled together with 40 tight hand stitches in five minutes.

"This is how Bass Weejuns are handcrafted in America," he'd say proudly at fashion shows and trade
missions from Paris to Hong Kong.

Americans have long seen the shoe as a national symbol of preppie haute couture.

"Everyone remembers their first pair of Weejuns," says Faye Landes, a Solomon Brothers shoe industry
analyst. "It's an American icon."

But now, the Weejun is going the way of other American originals. By summer, the 60-year-old classic will
be made solely in Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic.

G.H. Bass & Co. succumbed to decades of competition from low-wage, offshore factories and announced
last month that it will phase out its Wilton operations this spring. About 350 workers in this town of 3,900 will
lose jobs that have been in their families for generations.

Plant shutdowns are not new here. In three decades, Maine lost 100,000 shoe and textile jobs. In 1980 there
were 30,000 shoe manufacturing jobs. Now there are 4,000.

But the shutdown of Bass' Wilton shoe factory, one of the first to open and the last to close, marks the end of
an era.

George Henry Bass began peddling boots to lumberjacks in 1876. He built a three-story red brick factory on
Wilson Stream, one of many water-powered industries that dotted the state's river valleys.

Bass shoes became associated with American durability and quality. Charles Lindbergh wore them when he
flew across the Atlantic; Admiral Richard Byrd made his quest for the South Pole in Bass shoes.

Then, in 1936, Bass introduced a moccasin-style loafer named the Weejun after footwear made by
Norwegian Laplanders. The loafer's comfort and casual elegance made it an enduring success.

Generations of teen-agers debated the relative "coolness" of placing a penny in the distinctive opening
across the top of the shoe. Its unique "cup," a leather hollow, cradles the wearer's heel for comfort.

The first Weejuns sold for $8; today, 14 different styles range in price from $85 to $100. A 2.1-square-foot
piece of leather makes a pair of Size 8 women's Weejuns.

Wilbur joined Bass in 1953 after nearby Wilton Woolen Co. closed. But Bass thrived, largely on the sale of
Weejuns.

Wilbur was one of several hundred hand sewers who spent two years developing the skill and strength to
craft the shoe. Even today, machines are used only to cut leather and do some initial stitching. Human
beings do the rest.

Whole families, including Wilbur's wife and daughters, worked for Bass. The company picnic was the town's
or social event; the Bass family an integral part of the community.

"George Bass, the grandson, would walk through the factory each day in his shirt sleeves, talking to
everyone," says Ruth Adamo, Wilton's town historian.

But in 1978, the Bass family sold to Chesebrough-Pond, which sold to Phillips-Van Heusen Corp. in 1987.
The town's insular world was invaded by the unpleasantries of macroeconomics.

Weejun sales rose and fell on the vagaries of fashion. The sneaker boom slowed the Weejun's growth and
offshore plants brought stiff price competition. Bass moved some production to the Caribbean, but held on
here.

"The company felt the same way the people in Maine did -- that the Weejun was a symbol of American
quality," says Mary Lou Burde, a director at Standard & Poor's Corporate Ratings group. "If there was any
factory that needed to stay open for that cache, it was Bass. But they also needed to stay efficient."

The realities of international trade are lost on Patricia Snell, who wonders how she'll make her mortgage
payments. "All the good jobs are gone. There's nothing left," she says.

The plant's closing will ripple through Wilton's economy. Bass' property taxes account for 7.5%, or $225,000,
of the town's $3 million budget.

But others remain hopeful. High-tech and telemarketing jobs moved into other towns hit by plant closings,
paying comparable wages.

"We're a hardy lot up here," Wilton Selectman Norman Spencer says. "We'll survive."

So will Wilbur, who just returned from a Miami trade show to announce he is retiring. Still, after 45 years of
handcrafting Bass shoes, Wilbur regrets the passing of an era.

"Most people who have a craft like this take a lot of pride in their work. I hate to see that disappear." 

THE NATION; The company that makes Bass Weejuns will close down its last U.S. plant in Maine, marking
the end of an era