The national economy is bleeding jobs, and major corporations are lining up for bailout money, but a number of small, independent businesses with long histories in Madison are doing surprisingly well.
Some of these businesses thrive because they help the public save money. When times are tough, people are more likely to take their old shoes to the cobbler for replacement heels instead of buying new ones. They opt for a less expensive refrigerator when the old one conks out.
Others provide goods or services that serve a niche market, like a century-old business that customizes uniforms for police and fire departments. Or they offer unusual convenience, quality and customer service-like a neighborhood grocery store or a busy one-bay auto repair shop.
Still others cater to people's sense of tradition or environmental conscience, which makes them reluctant to send a broken toaster or shabby sofa to the landfill.
But all are hangin' in there, against the odds, surviving and even thriving.
Time is on his side
When you step into Kappel's Clock Shop, an orchestra of timepieces greets you. Dozens of grandfather clocks play a slow bass line. Small mantel clocks chirp away at higher registers. And the midsized clocks riff on the notes in between.
Every few minutes, at least one the clocks bursts into song to mark the hours. Sometimes it's a traditional Westminster chime. But it might be a snatch of Mozart or "Someday My Prince Will Come."
"I work on all kinds of clocks, as long as they're not electric," says Karl Kappel, who has been buying, selling and fixing clocks at this location for 39 years. It's a craft that is hundreds of years old, but these days, fewer and fewer people know how to do it.
"It used to be that every jewelry shop had someone who fixed clocks. These days, there just aren't that many of us. But there will always be clock shops. Clocks are a big part of the antique market."
Clocks are often treasured family heirlooms, even if they are not especially valuable. "If it was a cheap clock to start with, I tell people it's probably not worth what it will cost to repair. But a lot of times they want it fixed anyway."
Kappel, 64, started collecting clocks when he was 15 and taught himself the trade. He doesn't know how many clocks he has, but his favorite is 11½ feet tall with a hand-carved walnut case. It was built in 1787 and once graced a hotel lobby in Minneapolis. The oldest clock he's repaired was made in Germany in 1710 and has been in the same family since it was new.
Besides clocks, Kappel likes old cars and owns two restored 1931 Model A Fords and a 1925 Model T. On fine days, one of them will be parked in front of his shop.
Kappel's Clock Shop
2250 Sherman Ave., 608-244-6165
Saving soles
"I think of this as a recycling business," Sally Kopecky says, as she surveys her tiny repair shop packed with shoes needing new heels, luggage with lost wheels and purses with broken zippers.
Kopecky, 60, started this Monroe Street business on a shoestring in 1980 and has watched it grow steadily. In the current economic downturn, she's busier than ever.
"People are being a lot more careful with their money now, but I also think that people are more conscious about the environment and don't want to just throw something away if it can be repaired."
If people paid a lot of money for quality shoes, the purse has some sentimental value or the boots are really comfortable, they will want to make those things last longer, she adds.
Thirty years ago, Kopecky was a nurse and single mother who had grown tired of working night and weekend shifts. She began thinking about other careers and saw a newspaper ad for a cobbler's apprentice. After three years of training and another two years working at Cecil's, she decided it was time to open her own shop. The equipment and tools in her workroom were secondhand when she bought them; she still uses them.
When she opened, Kopecky was one of 13 cobblers in Madison. Today, she says, there are just five.
"There used to be schools for shoemakers, but today they have all closed. The only way to learn is to work with another shoemaker." For the cobblers who remain, she says, there will always be plenty of work.
As she says this, a man from Portage stops in to pick up two pairs of shoes he'd left with her the last time he was in Madison. His explanation: "There are no shoe repair shops in Portage."
Monroe Street Shoe Repair
2612 Monroe St., 608-238-3171
Keeping them in stitches
The Schenk Huegel Company has done business in the same location since 1898, when Winnebago Street was an unpaved route for farmers coming into Madison by horse and wagon to sell their crops and pick up supplies.
"Fred Schenk owned a tavern on that road where the farmers would stop for a little refreshment on the way to town and then again on the way back home," says owner Wayne Johnson. "One day, he said to his friend, Arthur Huegel, that the lot next to the tavern would be a good place for a general store." The two formed a partnership, with Schenk putting up the capital and Huegel running the store.
The tavern is long gone, but the Schenk Huegel Company survives-and thrives-in a building that doesn't look much different than it did 111 years ago.
It remained a general store - selling groceries, clothing, yard goods, tools, household stuff and a bit of everything else - until the mid-1900s. Slowly a new business plan evolved after the company sold some uniforms - baker's whites - to the Gardner Bakery in 1960. Today, it's all about uniforms, a niche market catering to police, firefighters and EMTs from the Milwaukee suburbs to Viroqua and from Marquette County to the Illinois state line.
With six employees, some with the company for as long as 30 years, Schenk Huegel customizes basic uniform pieces-adding departmental patches and trouser stripes, swapping out pocket flaps and epaulettes, and making alterations. The company also sells accessories - holsters, batons and handcuffs. Just don't expect they'll sell those things to you for your Halloween costume.
"We have a store rule that we will not sell soft body armor, batons or handcuffs to anyone who isn't a sworn officer," Johnson says.
Clearly proud of the company's long history, Johnson, 64, has no interest in updating his bricks and mortar. But with the help of his daughter, Laura Rucks, he is expanding the business' website and hopes to open an online store later this year.
According to co-owner Bill Weber, a good piece of furniture should last at least a hundred years, but the fabric is only good for about 20. Weber says fine furniture is worth saving and calls reupholstering a "sustainable alternative for redecorating your home."
Percy's Service Station (3600 Monroe St., 608-231-3304) on Monroe Street, owned by Jerry Nechkash, specializes in fixing Volkswagens. He doesn't advertise and doesn't have a website, but the tiny parking lot is always packed with VWs waiting their turn in the single bay. Nechkash and his son Pat often work 12- to 14-hour days, but don't seem to mind the long hours. Nechkash enjoys talking about his 1930s-vintage gingerbread house-style building, built as a gas station.
"We have loyal customers," Nechkash says. "At least 75% of our business comes by word of mouth. People come back because we are honest, and the prices are reasonable."
