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Posted December 16, 2015

 

During the Southern Textile Association’s 2003 Annual Meeting in Savannah, Ga., then-STA President Larry Oates of Carolon Co. and STA Secretary/Treasurer Lillian Link asked if I would join them for dinner with Aaron Feuerstein, the humble but by then larger-than-life Malden Mills’ owner, and his wife Louise. I was honored and delighted to do so.

The lessons of Aaron Feuerstein

Aaron Feuerstein speaks during STA's 2003 Annual Meeting in Savannah.

Photo courtesy Southern Textile News

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Less than 24 hours earlier, due to flight delays, the Feuersteins had arrived in the Georgia port city late the night before his early-morning presentation and, to make matters worse, their luggage had been lost. After checking into the hotel at midnight, they wore the same clothes to the business session the next morning. And for more than a half hour, Feuerstein didn’t complain but spoke eloquently and freely to the association – though, he admitted, the timing wasn’t perfect, since his company was in bankruptcy protection.

But Aaron Feuerstein is one to live up to his obligations.

 

What had put him in the spotlight eight years earlier was an obligation he felt for his employees. On Dec. 11, 1995, a fire destroyed the company’s operations, affecting the jobs and livelihoods of 1,700 citizens of this small town. But Feuerstein announced he would rebuild the plant and continue to pay the idle employees – rather than keep the $300 million in insurance money and run – and he did so in full for the next three months as the plant was rebuilt. That benevolence landed him in the spotlight. He was featured on 60 Minutes in 2002 in a segment called, “The Mench of Malden Mills,” in Reader’s Digest and in many other media outlets. And he was mentioned in President Clinton’s 1996 State of the Union address.

 

So I was saddened to learn late last week that Malden Mills’ successor organization, Polartec, LLC, announced it would close the plant and move operations to Hudson, N.H., and Cleveland, Tenn. The company, which produces Polartec® fabric for the military and high-end outdoor apparel brands, cited increased market pressure and vast amounts of unused space in the facility Feuerstein had rebuilt. The mill now employs up to 300 full-time and seasonal employees.

 

Feuerstein – who turned 90 Friday, which, incidentally, was the 20th anniversary of the fire – called the action “disgrace.”

 

“All those jobs are lost, after we dedicated ourselves to keeping them,” Feuerstein, who is no longer involved in the business, told The Boston Globe. “We considered our workers stakeholders, a part of the factory. They consider workers just a pair of hands. You can get a pair of hands in many places.”

 

Now, I’m not one to question any company’s decisions – every firm has tough ones to make – but I’m not against publically shaking my head sometimes at various actions, particularly when they defy the wishes of one of our industry’s many “good guys.” And you can put Feuerstein at the top of that category. He spent a lifetime trying to keep the third-generation, family-owned business running and employing as many local residents as possible. And Malden Mills, as most U.S. textile companies, had a number of difficulties staying afloat during the industry’s tumultuous downturn.

 

During that STA meeting in 2003, Feuerstein explained the reasoning behind the care he had for his employees – and why manufacturing jobs are important.

 

"When the average worker has a production job, he can hold his head high," he said. "He has a job that is not below the poverty line. He's getting paid well. He has benefits. He can take care of his family. He can send his children to school. And he is somebody. But when you take that production job away, what job is he going to have? Making beds in this hotel? Or sweeping the floors in this hotel? He'll be paid a minimum wage, which is still a lot higher than any place else in the world, but that minimum wage is below the poverty level. And he'll feel like a nobody.”

At dinner, I was struck by Feuerstein’s brilliance, his memory and most of all his humility. He opined on economic matters as well as cultural and world issues. He philosophized about the compassion and goodness of mankind. He even quoted poetry. And he talked about the fire and the pedestal on which he insisted he hardly deserved to be put as a result of his altruism.

 

In less than two hours, I knew this: His media-made “superhero” status was overshadowed by his herculean heart.

 

And I know this now: Economic forces are often bigger than acts of generosity in the world of business – but we should all try our best to live up to our obligations, even if the deck is stacked against you. 

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