This is the number one question we get asked. "What made you get into brooms?" or my favorite..."Do you really think you can make a living making brooms?" We get asked in different ways, but we know what they are thinking. Broom making is a weird way to make a living. Why would anybody in his right mind want to peddle the lowly broom? Let me explain...
Back in the early 80's, I walked the docks in Seattle and got a job on a fishing vessel named F/V Yardarm Knot. I was told to work for this crusty old fellow named Chuck, and do everything he says. Chuck liked the nightlife, and I was instructed to wake him up every morning at 7 a.m. with a hot cup of coffee and a lit cigarette. Rough around the edges, yes, but once on deck, Chuck was an amazing seaman. I did everything from securing drums of fuel, hoisting cargo, to shinnying over the rail in a bosun's chair to re-paint the name on the side of the rusty old ship. Chuck barked the orders, and I did the work. Chuck knew everything about ropework, and taught me a lot of knots - many of which I have now forgotten. And Chuck taught me how to splice lines, and weave little bracelets to impress the girls. And he always inspected my work to make sure it was up to snuff, and would kick up a fuss if I screwed up. Chuck is gone now, but I will never forget how he taught me to work with my hands, or the way he could yell and scream orders with a hot cigarette in his mouth. RIP, my friend.
Sarah and I got married in the early 90's, and moved into this old farmhouse we were fixing up. A nice young lady about our age stopped by to meet us, and welcome us to the neighborhood. She had gone to folk school to become a broom maker, and gave us one of her beautiful creations as a housewarming gift. It was a lovely bell-shaped kitchen broom with natural hemp twine and a woven top. We were amazed by the graceful form of the broom, and how expertly crafted it was. Our new friend went on to make and sell her brooms for quite a while, but eventually moved on to bigger and better things. But her broom remained in our household for many years, and was always one of our prize possessions.
We started a gardening business after that, and learned the importance of design, and the way elements in our living space contribute to our well being. We loved gardening, but it is demanding in many ways. Customers don't always know what they want, so there can be a lot of confusion. When we retired from gardening after 25 years, I vowed to make a tangeable product that people could see with their own eyes before buying. They can buy it if they like it, or just look.
It was Sarah's idea... "Maybe you should try making brooms?" Sort of a question. Maybe a suggestion. Our old handmade broom had been mistreated over the years, and was on its last leg -- so I took it apart and looked inside. Tight wraps and knots secured the broomcorn to the handle, and everything sort of progressing upward into a beautiful weave. I knew that stuff. Everything Chuck taught me was in there.
I began to fantasize about me being a broom man. I started buying worn out brooms of different types at antique stores, just so I could take them apart and make notes. Then I started making tools and rough-hewn machines to initiate my shoe-string enterprise. I worked a lot of nights learning to make brooms by hand, and to build up some inventory to sell at farmer's markets and craft shows.
Today, I am a Real Broommaker, and Sarah carefully details all of my work and does the shipping. We haven't stopped learning since the day she got the big idea, and it has been so rewarding to have our functional works of art in so many households around the country. We're still giddy over brooms, and always look for ways to make them better.
And all that is "what made us get into brooms." -Kevin