November 20, 2008 CONGRESSIONAL RECORD — SENATE S10725 

well. The number of new applications that 

are projected over the next several years is 

staggering. Technology will continue to get 

more complicated. And the demands of managing such a sizable organization will be rigorous. To keep pace will take bold new measures to improve efficiency and effectiveness 

of almost every aspect of PTO operations. 

That may entail cooperative efforts with 

other patent offices around the world to find 

ways to share search results. It may entail 

establishing a program of deferred examination to give applicants an opportunity to 

fully evaluate the need for patent protection 

before the office is called upon to conduct 

any examination. My point here is not to 

suggest specific initiatives. It is not my 

place to tell the PTO how it should operate. 

I only cite these as examples of the kinds of 

things the new leadership of the PTO will 

need to seek out if it is to avoid getting buried in the avalanche of new applications 

looming on the horizon. 

I know the PTO has engaged in a vigorous 

effort to hire and train new examiners. I 

have been privileged to speak at a graduation ceremony for an impressive class of new 

examiners from the PTO’s new patent academy. But that’s only half of the equation. It 

serves no real purpose to hire new examiners 

if an equal number of examiners—especially 

experienced examiners—resign. The PTO will 

need to go back to basics and creatively 

apply a new version of the Three R’s we all 

learned as kids. The rule for how to treat examiners couldn’t be simpler: Respect, Reward, and Retain. In this regard, it may be 

time for the PTO to develop new standards of 

examiner performance that mirror the standards of attorney performance used by law 

firms and corporate law departments. Just 

as attorney performance is not measured by 

billable hours alone, examiner performance 

measured principally by the number of disposals may not be the best approach. Counting disposals may be a raw indicator of performance but does not recognize the judgment, thoroughness, and legal skills provided by first-rate examiners and expected 

by the public. 

Other patent offices around the world are 

involved not only in giving birth to patents 

but in assessing questions of validity raised 

over the life of a patent. That may explain 

why examiners in many countries are treated differently than U.S. examiners. It is not 

that U.S. examiners are less competent or 

any less dedicated. Far from it. But if the 

primary role of an examiner is limited to ex 

parte matters that end on the day the patent 

issues, there will understandably be a different interest on the part of the public in 

what examiners do and who they are than if 

they played an essential role in the determination of validity challenges throughout 

the life of the patent. One way U.S. examiners would have a greater opportunity to be 

recognized in much the same way as their 

counterparts in other countries is if the new 

leadership at the PTO decides to energize the 

current reexamination system to make it 

the attractive alternative to litigation it 

was originally intended to be. This would require a much expanded corps of experienced 

reexamination examiners and the implementation of streamlined procedures to accelerate the processing of all reexamination applications. 

While it is evident that the PTO will face 

unprecedented challenges in the years ahead, 

the leaders and examiners I know are capable, dedicated, and clearly up to the task. I 

have every confidence that the PTO will 

meet the challenges ahead and will continue 

to be a model for the rest of the world. 

Many have said that this is the golden age 

of intellectual property. In the years to 

come, we can expect to see significant advances in energy technology, green technology, nanotechnology, and a host of other 

things. The need for effective protection for 

the discoveries of tomorrow’s scientists, engineers, and researchers will be greater than 

ever before. And the changing legal landscape and the pace of technological progress 

will present us all with new and difficult 

challenges. The challenges ahead are many, 

but we are all fortunate to have the chance 

to enjoy the opportunities and to confront 

the challenges the golden age of IP offers to 

each of us. 

I have enjoyed being with you and thank 

you for your attention. 

f 

VERMONT’S 12TH ANNUAL WOMEN’S ECONOMIC OPPORTUNITY 

CONFERENCE 

Mr. LEAHY. Mr. President, today I 

would like to share with my friends in 

the Senate a great story of personal 

triumph and success as told by 

Vermont Supreme Court Associate Justice Marilyn Skoglund, the keynote 

speaker for Vermont’s 12th Annual 

Women’s Economic Opportunity Conference. 

Marilyn forged her own remarkable 

path to success. She received her bachelor’s degree in fine arts from Southern 

Illinois University, and after moving to 

Vermont, passed the bar exam on her 

first try all while raising her 7-year-old 

daughter. Marilyn continued to rise 

through the ranks of the Vermont Office of the Attorney General where she 

served as both chief of the civil law division and chief of the public protection division before her appointment in 

1994 to the district court, and subsequently the Vermont Supreme Court in 

1997. In addition to her accomplishments, Marcelle and I admired 

Marilyn’s candidness as she walked us 

through her journey. She offered more 

than 300 Vermont women a very honest 

and inspirational perspective on the realities of balancing both a career and a 

family. 

Marcelle and I have hosted the 

Vermont Women’s Economic Opportunity Conference for 12 years, and we 

look forward to attending each year because we consider it one of the most 

important events in which we take 

part. Though our economy may be facing difficult challenges, this year’s 

conference, and Marilyn’s story, 

showed that adversity can be overcome 

and met with great success—especially 

by motivated and talented women of 

all ages. 

Vermont’s economic future depends 

on the countless talented women who 

drive it. According to the Vermont 

Center for Women’s Business Studies, 

women-owned firms generate an impressive $1.5 billion annually and currently employ more than 35,000 

Vermonters. In 2006, approximately 39 

percent of all Vermont businesses were 

owned, or partially owned, by women. 

Even though the number of Vermont 

women-owned businesses is on the rise, 

we must continue working to encourage greater growth. 

Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that Justice Skoglund’s speech, 

written for Vermont’s 12th annual 

Women’s Economic Opportunity Conference, detailing her journey to success, be printed in the RECORD. 

There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in the 

RECORD, as follows: 

SENATOR LEAHY’S 12TH WOMEN’S ECONOMIC

OPPORTUNITY CONFERENCE

I begin with a disclaimer. In Senator Leahy’s letter, asking me to be the keynote 

speaker, he wrote as follows: ‘‘We invite you 

to share your compelling personal experiences of how you molded your successful career path to the Vermont Supreme Court, all 

the while raising two daughters as a single 

mother.’’ 

I was of course so excited to learn that 

Senator Leahy knew my name. And, that he 

thought I had done a good job of balancing a 

career and a family. But, after skipping 

around the kitchen a bit, I settled down. 

Sen. Leahy did not really know what those 

compelling personal experiences were. Perhaps he was lured into inviting me because a 

staff member had heard rumors that my 

‘‘successful career path’’ was pretty funny. 

Someday I will be old enough to know better 

than to discuss my past in public just because I was so flattered someone of Sen. Leahy’s stature asked, but, here I am. Ready to 

reveal. I accept Sen. Leahy’s invitation to 

share my compelling, maybe, but more accurately, my ridiculous, oddball, clueless, experiences of how I managed to crawl my way 

into the best job on the planet, all the while 

dragging two innocent, courageous daughters along in my wake. The journey through 

the thicket of experiences was not always 

pleasant, and mistakes were made. Truth is; 

I may have nothing to offer to this audience. 

This is an economic conference. I am not an 

economist. I am not a psychologist. So, if 

you all just want to go get coffee and skip 

the gory details, I will understand. 

To begin, how does one grade ‘‘success’’ in 

balancing work and family? I am a justice on 

the Vermont Supreme Court. I have a good 

reputation as a jurist. I was a very good lawyer. I have no arrest record. So far so good. 

I raised one daughter, let’s call her Martha, 

who is an ObGyn doctor delivering babies in 

New Hampshire. She seems very content and 

satisfied with her life. She just got married 

to a wonderful man on August 30th. Most important indicia of success: She loves me. I 

raised another daughter; I will call her Ruby, 

who is working on a Ph.D. in clinical psychology. She is currently very annoyed at 

how hard life is, but feels good about her 

work. She loves me. This sounds great! By 

the way, I have changed their names to protect their privacy. They each bear their father’s last names, as do I, so hopefully, I 

have shielded them from any further embarrassment from their mother, at least for 

today. 

Because, while they may be well adjusted 

women, the truth is, they adjusted to what 

their mother put them through. And, if ‘‘successfully balancing’’ includes a solid marriage, I am not your girl. Two creative, interesting, unique men, neither ever bored 

me. I love them to this day, I danced with 

each at Martha’s wedding, but it did not 

work out. 

In addition to my inadequacies standing up 

here before you, I would also point out that 

everyone in this audience is clearly way 

ahead of where I was when I wandered into 

adulthood. Obviously, you are all women 

with a high degree of confidence in yourselves and your ideas, ambitions, and goals. 

You are at an economic conference, for heaven’s sake. You have given some thought to 

your life. At the beginning of my meandering 


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S10726 CONGRESSIONAL RECORD — SENATE November 20, 2008 

road to the Supreme Court, I had little concept of who I was and had not considered who 

I wanted to be. 

To begin, my parents were the Swedish 

equivalent of Ozzie and Harriet. I was raised 

in a nice middle class home in a nice midwestern suburb. There literally was a white 

picket fence around the yard. And, a little 

dog. My mother wore a dress every day of her 

life, so she did her house work looking like 

Donna Reed. By the time I came along, my 

father was working in a steel plant and Mom 

had stopped being a hair dresser to raise two 

kids. There were no drugs in my school. My 

father’s biggest complaint about me was 

that my bangs were too long. It was an idyllic childhood. Just like on T.V. So I assumed 

everyone pretty much lived like I did. Father 

made enough so I could go to college. Back 

in those olden days, in-state tuition at SIU 

was $97 a semester. And, I had part time jobs 

to help pay my expenses. After four years, I 

got married, continued going to school and 

working part time, because it was cheap and 

it was fun. Finally, after seven years in college, I decided to graduate, mainly because I 

was pregnant and did not know how long it 

would be until I could get back to going to 

classes. That should give you some idea of 

how totally clueless I was about the changes 

a child brings to a life. 

The baby was great, but then things quickly stopped being cheap and fun. There is 

something about the arrival of a child, and 

one parent not working, that causes money 

problems. My husband was working, but not 

getting paid much. I was not working (day 

care didn’t exist in southern Illinois). And, 

there came a time when I had to apply for 

food stamps. Three months of food stamps. 

We were two middle class kids and we 

thought this was shameful, so of course, we 

never told our folks and we couldn’t ask 

them for money for the same reason. But, of 

course, we weren’t middle class kids anymore—we were young parents with very little money, renting a grimy little house with 

giant slugs in the basement. 

I’ll cut this gruesome chapter short. In 1973 

we moved to Vermont, my husband got laid 

off and then, after eleven years of marriage, 

he left. The reasons are not important. By 

now my daughter was in first grade. and I 

was working a part-time job for very little 

money. Those seven years in college? I 

walked out with a degree in fine arts—sculpture. See, I didn’t go to college with an actual career in mind. I expected to become my 

mom, making lunches, and ironing in my 

pearls. My father always said, if a woman 

has to work outside the home, it should be in 

one of the helping professions: teaching or 

nursing. Things were not working out. What 

would Donna Reed do? I pondered. 

I decided to be a lawyer. Now, I do admit 

to having a selective memory about some 

things. I do not remember my first husband 

asking me to marry him and I have no recollection of why I thought I could become a 

lawyer. Law school wasn’t an option—there 

was no money for tuition and besides, I had 

to work. 

I got a job working as a paralegal, law 

clerk at the attorney general’s office and 

participating in that marvelous Vermont 

jewel, the four year reading clerkship. This 

path to the bar required me to apprentice 

myself for four years to a lawyer, and if I 

passed the bar exam, I was a real lawyer. I 

began work in the AG’s office at a salary of 

$7,000 a year, which quickly went up to 

$12,000. Here’s an interesting fact: I had to 

borrow a dress for the job interview at the 

attorney general’s office. Now, at the time I 

knew I didn’t have any money, but I never 

thought I was poor. I was doing all right. 

But if you ask my daughter, Martha, you’d 

get a different picture. While I was working 

all day every day in Montpelier, she was 

walking half a mile home from the school 

bus stop to the adorable tiny three-room, uninsulated cottage in the country with the 

only source of heat being a wood burning furnace in the cellar. Walking home to a cold, 

empty house. But, the good news was that I 

rented this cottage from Walter Smith. I am 

pleased to have this opportunity to pay tribute to my very own personal version of welfare: Walter Smith. Walter was a beloved 

dairy farmer in Plainfield, about 68 years old 

when I met him, who was my landlord for 

eleven years and my friend for twenty. He 

died several years back. I loved him. 

So, at the age of eight, Martha was expected to stoke the furnace when she got 

home. Sometimes, Walter would come over 

to help her. But most times he could not. 

And, you know, I did not agonize over this. 

Donna Reed and June Cleaver would be horrified, but I had to work. It was that simple. 

Walter, who by then had become my surrogate father, had the hired hands bring over 

truck loads of free split wood—an early 

version of ‘‘fuel assistance.’’ I could dip raw 

milk from the bulk tank for free. My very 

own WIC program. He’d give me meat when 

he butchered a cow whose milking days were 

over. Very, very chewy, but free. Free eggs if 

I fought the hens for them, and maple syrup. 

He would give me bushels of tomatoes and I 

would put them up and give him half. If my 

cupboard was really bare, Martha and I could 

always wander over to the farm house where 

Walter had cases and cases of chicken noodle 

soup, which he ate every day with mayonnaise sandwiches. He was my food shelf. 

Once, when Martha was about ten, I sent her 

to school with a coconut and a hammer for 

snack as I hadn’t had time to grocery shop. 

Walter had given me the coconut as a joke, 

asking me what kind of turkey I thought had 

laid the brown hairy thing? The teacher sent 

a note home thanking me for providing an 

interesting project for the class. I thought 

that was nice. 

See, I was not poor. I had Walter. And, 

there was a certain satisfaction about supporting myself and my child. 

But, I was also in love. Madly and passionately in love with the law. The law is amazing. It is the infrastructure of society. Sensible, mostly. Logical, usually. Enduring. It 

adapts to changing mores and technologies, 

but only slightly faster than the movement 

of the earth’s tectonic plates. How did the 

founding father’s accept the constitution to 

deal with the development of cyber-space 

and artificial insemination? Heavy stuff. I 

love it. I had decided to go into law thinking 

I liked writing, words, and arguing. I hadn’t 

expected to discover that it felt like ginger 

ale poured over my brain. This is how I can 

describe the joy, excitement, and the thrill 

of learning and understanding the basis of 

the rules that manage our civilized life. 

If you have a passion, if you find your passion, you are a very lucky person. And, I had 

found my passion while Martha was stoking 

the furnace. 

But, here is an amazing fact: children have 

their own memories, and their own perceptions about life. When she was in high 

school, unbeknownst to me, Martha applied 

for a Horatio Alger Scholarship, given to 

kids who have endured hardship and managed to be successful students in spite of it. 

And, she got one. When she told me about 

this wonderful thing, I was so proud and delighted. Eventually it dawned on me to ask 

in perfect ignorance: ‘‘What was your hardship?’’ 

‘‘You,’’ she answered. She had written 

about those days when she came home to an 

empty cold house and had to face the cellar 

and the furnace alone and cold. I have never 

read her winning essay. I am not that strong. 

So, eventually, I connected again with an 

interesting, creative, blah, blah, blah man 

and Ruby came along. At this time I am a 

lawyer in the civil law division of the AG office. Yes, I had passed the bar. Ruby started 

day care at six months of age. And, having 

found what I was supposed to be doing with 

my life, I wanted to keep working. Oh the 

guilt. Her father was on the road most of the 

time, and 21⁄2 years after Ruby was born, that 

road did not pass by our house any more. 

One day, the call came from the day care 

that Ruby was sick and I needed to pick her 

up. Naturally, I was scheduled to prosecute a 

physician before the Board of Medical Practice that day. I had prepared the case for 

months. Witnesses had answered subpoenas 

to appear. No other attorney in the office 

knew the case. What I knew was that just 

outside the hearing room in the Secretary of 

State’s office was a couch. So, I went and got 

Ruby, swung by the house for a blanket and 

pillow and a juice box, and put her to bed in 

the hall of the Secretary of State’s office. 

I know that bundling up a sick little girl in 

a hallway will not win me any parenting 

awards. But, helpful, understanding people 

working at the office kept an eye on Ruby 

while she slept. Ruby, too, adjusted to me. 

But, being a mom with a profession that 

really requires adherence to a schedule also 

had benefits. My first oral argument before 

the Vermont Supreme Court was scheduled. I 

was a nervous wreck. ‘‘Got to get plenty of 

sleep the night before so I’m sharp.’’ 

Instead Martha got the flu and we spent 

most of the night with me holding her hair 

while she drove the porcelain bus. As soon as 

Walter was done milking, I trundled Martha 

over to his house, told him I would be back 

in two hours, and went to Montpelier to the 

hearing. Being worried about Martha put the 

argument into a manageable perspective—I 

just did the job then ran home to be a mom. 

Eventually, after 17 years at the Attorney 

General’s office, I applied to be a trial judge. 

I made it past the Judicial Nominating board 

and my name was sent to Governor Dean for 

consideration. Then, I got worried. Martha 

was 21 by then, but Ruby was only 8 and I 

knew I’d be away from home for long hours 

every day. I was scared so I withdrew my 

name from consideration. When I told my 

daughters what I had done, the outcry was 

loud. Ruby was really insulted and said she’d 

be fine. Martha said she would help out. 

They convinced me it could work. I called 

back the Governor’s office and said I had 

changed my mind. When I had my interview 

with the Governor, I explained how my concerns for my children had caused me to 

chicken out. He understood and appointed 

me as a judge. 

And, it was hard. On me, and on Ruby. I 

got home late and left early. I was at least 

an hour away if she got sick or hurt. There 

was one year when I was family court judge 

in Washington county—where we live. Ruby 

was in sixth grade when a big eighth grade 

boy approached and asked, ‘‘Is your mom a 

judge?’’ 

She admitted I was. 

‘‘She sent me to juvenile hall,’’ he said. 

‘‘I’m sorry,’’ said little Ruby nervously. 

‘‘Oh, that’s all right, I screwed up.’’ He reassured her. ‘‘She’s the one with black nail 

polish, right?’’ 

Finding herself in the familiar territory of 

mortification by her mother’s behavior, 

Ruby admitted, ‘‘Yeah, that’s her.’’ 

I used to wear something odd on juvenile 

day to relax the kids, and this boy noticed. 

Of course Ruby was pretty much always embarrassed by me. Now I am on the Supreme 

Court, but what did Ruby say when she heard 

about the appointment at the age of twelve? 

‘‘Oh no, now you’ll be home all the time!’’ 

What did I learn that I can offer to you? I 

tried to think of an inspirational saying or 


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November 20, 2008 CONGRESSIONAL RECORD — SENATE S10727 

two, but could not. I do get a lot of catalogs. 

One particularly annoying one is chock full 

of heart warming sayings like, ‘‘Life isn’t 

about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s 

about learning to dance in the rain.’’ Oh 

please. Storms are scary, rain is cold and 

wet, and one can get muddy. Let’s get real. 

Life is hard, get over it. 

Number 1: Take help that is offered. Would 

I have survived without Walter Smith’s care 

and kindness? I do not know. And I am glad 

I did not have to find out. 

Number 2: If you do not have a snack, send 

a coconut. In other words, be flexible. When 

it came time to study for the bar examination, I was on my own. I made little 3x5 filing cards on all the subjects and set them 

around the house so that whatever I was 

doing, I could incorporate a little study. 

Some areas of law are governed by certain 

factors that you just have to remember. Over 

the kitchen sink I placed the filing card that 

listed the elements of a secured transaction. 

Next to the toilet I posted the card that laid 

out the parts of a bulk sale. I read them over 

and over and over. And, poor Martha endured 

one pizza after another because I did not 

cook much while I studied. 

Number 3: Pity parties are a waste of time, 

and a breeding ground for excuses. In other 

words, if your circumstances are not the 

most conducive to success, try anyway. 

Would I have liked to go to law school? Of 

course. Could I? No. So what! Here’s my favorite true example of making due with what 

you have available. I watch the Canadian television coverage of the summer Olympic 

games because it is so much better than that 

of the U.S. coverage. They celebrate individual athletes’ ‘‘personal bests’’ rather than 

the medal counts. And, they covered really 

weird events that I had never heard of, like 

dory racing. I thought it was very cool. They 

did a background piece on Jerad Connaghten, 

an athlete training for the 200 meters in 

track and field. He was from somewhere in 

Canada that had no running track. So he and 

his coach improvised. To train for strength 

they did sand starts taking off in deep sand 

on the sea shore. They set up their own practice course. At the end of a dirt road was a 

little cottage and that cottage marked 200 

meters. The little mulberry tree was 50 meters out and the larger mulberry tree was the 

150 meters mark. Competing against the 

world’s best, Jerad made it through the preliminary heats to the finals of the 200 meter 

event. I was so impressed. Work with what 

you’ve got. Excuses weigh you down. 

Number 4: Do not insult your children by 

thinking life is too hard for them. In other 

words, children are resilient. What might appear to have been my heartless expectation 

of little Martha’s abilities to care for herself 

at a very young age may have been influenced by my maternal grandmother, Olga. 

All four of my grandparents were born in 

Sweden. Olga was the daughter of a farm 

family the Dahlbergs—with too many children to feed. First the Dahlbergs sent their 

oldest daughter Margaret over to live with 

relatives in Chicago, the Larsons. Margaret 

died within months of her arrival of diphtheria. Then the Dahlbergs put there next 

daughter, my grandma Olga, on the boat all 

alone at the age of 12 and sent her to live 

with the Dahlbergs. Throughout my life, 

whenever I thought life was too hard and I 

was scared, I thought of my grandma traveling alone across the ocean to the family 

where her older sister had died. How did she 

do that? What were her nightmares? My 

grandmother was sweet, and kind, and patient, and loving. Her early years did no apparent damage. I know I could have done 

better by Martha. I wish I could have done 

better by Martha. I did the best I could and 

that is my only consolation. 

Number 5: Play dough is far more important than doing the dishes. Get your priorities straight. I was blessed with a job I 

loved, and then had the added joy of coming 

home, forgetting about the law, and playing 

with my daughters. Next confession: My 

housekeeping would not win any awards either. Sometimes the food in the refrigerator 

grew little sweaters. What housecleaning I 

did happened when the children were in bed. 

And, they had clean clothes and decent food 

and, most importantly, they knew their 

mom loved playing with them. Legos, play 

dough, Barbies, puzzles. Whatever activity 

that allowed the analytical part of my mind 

to go into sleep cycle was welcomed by me. 

So, don’t get so busy making a living that 

you forget to make colorful messes and 

memories. 

Number 6: Never, ever coast. After a few 

years at the Attorney General’s office, the 

AG asked me to become chief of the civil division. I was one of two women in the division and all the men had more years of experience than I as lawyers. Here’s a John 

Wayne quote: ‘‘Courage is being scared to 

death but saddling up anyway.’’ Well, I moseyed on into the AG’s office and said, ‘‘Yes, 

I would be pleased to be chief of the division. 

But, I would like a bigger badge.’’ 

To maintain respect and to get the members of the division to be their best, I had to 

set an example. I worked as hard or harder 

than anyone else. I gave them no reason to 

complain about the AG’s choice. So if you’re 

running your own business or supervising 

employees, it is more important to the bottom line the quality of work to set a positive 

example than to offer token prizes to the employee of the month who actually manages 

to get to work on time five days in a row. I 

expected the attorneys to be terrific and so 

they were. 

To conclude, what do I know? My children 

have forgiven me for most of my blunders, 

they are fiercely independent, and can think 

on their own. I’m proud of my work and even 

more proud of my daughters. And, I am 

grateful for the chances I have been given 

and the courage to take them. My main message to you is: Work hard. Then work harder. 

And then, work harder still. 

But, I will leave you with another of those 

pithy homey sayings from the annoying 

catalog, and one that makes no sense to me 

at all. 

‘‘May the light always find you on a dreary 

day. When you need to be home may you find 

a way. May you always have courage to take 

a chance and never find frogs in your underpants.’’ 

f 

ENTREPRENEURIAL 

ACHIEVEMENTS OF HARDWICK, VT 

Mr. LEAHY. Mr. President, I rise 

today to highlight an emerging rural 

economic model that some say serves 

as the perfect example of how rural 

America can survive and thrive in today’s global markets. 

My good friend Marian Burros recently wrote an article in the New 

York Times highlighting the sustainable agricultural economy of Hardwick, VT, and Hardwick’s surrounding 

communities. These Northeast Kingdom communities have begun attracting the attention of local, regional and 

national media after the area began attracting some unique characters with 

great ideas. From a community-owned 

restaurant to renowned cheese makers, 

Hardwick and its surrounding towns 

are at the center of an experiment in 

social agricultural entrepreneurship. 

I ask unanuimous consent that the 

text of Marian Burros October 8, 2008, 

New York Times article entitled ‘‘Uniting Around Food to Save an Ailing 

Town’’ be printed in the RECORD to 

allow my colleagues an opportunity to 

hear about the future of Vermont. 

There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in the 

RECORD, as follows: 

UNITING AROUND FOOD TO SAVE AN AILING

TOWN

HARDWICK, VT—This town’s granite companies shut down years ago and even the rowdy 

bars and porno theater that once inspired 

the nickname ‘‘Little Chicago’’ have gone. 

Facing a Main Street dotted with vacant 

stores, residents of this hardscrabble community of 3,000 are reaching into its past to 

secure its future, betting on farming to 

make Hardwick the town that was saved by 

food. 

With the fervor of Internet pioneers, young 

artisans and agricultural entrepreneurs are 

expanding aggressively, reaching out to investors and working together to create a collective strength never before seen in this 

seedbed of Yankee individualism. 

Rob Lewis, the town manager, said these 

enterprises have added 75 to 100 jobs to the 

area in the past few years. 

Rian Fried, an owner of Clean Yield Asset 

Management in nearby Greensboro, which 

has invested with local agricultural entrepreneurs, said he’s never seen such cooperative effort. 

‘‘Across the country a lot of people are 

doing it individually but it’s rare when you 

see the kind of collective they are pursuing,’’ 

said Mr. Fried, whose firm considers social 

and environmental issues when investing. 

‘‘The bottom line is they are providing jobs 

and making it possible for others to have 

their own business.’’ 

In January, Andrew Meyer’s company, 

Vermont Soy, was selling tofu from locally 

grown beans to five customers; today he has 

350. Jasper Hill Farm has built a $3.2-million 

aging cave to finish not only its own cheeses 

but also those from other cheesemakers. 

Pete Johnson, owner of Pete’s Greens, is 

working with 30 local farmers to market 

their goods in an evolving community supported agriculture program. 

‘‘We have something unique here: a strong 

sense of community, connections to the 

working landscape and a great work ethic,’’ 

said Mr. Meyer, who was instrumental in 

moving many of these efforts forward. 

He helped start the Center for an Agricultural Economy, a nonprofit operation that is 

planning an industrial park for agricultural 

businesses. 

Next year the Vermont Food Venture Center, where producers can rent kitchen space 

and get business advice for adding value to 

raw ingredients, is moving to Hardwick from 

Fairfax, 40 miles west, because, Mr. Meyer 

said, ‘‘it sees the benefit of being part of the 

healthy food system.’’ He expects it to assist 

15 to 20 entrepreneurs next year. 

‘‘All of us have realized that by working 

together we will be more successful as businesses,’’ said Tom Stearns, owner of High 

Mowing Organic Seeds. ‘‘At the same time 

we will advance our mission to help rebuild 

the food system, conserve farmland and 

make it economically viable to farm in a 

sustainable way.’’ 

Cooperation takes many forms. Vermont 

Soy stores and cleans its beans at High Mowing, which also lends tractors to High Fields, 

a local compositing company. Byproducts of 

High Mowing’s operation—pumpkins and 

squash that have been smashed to extract 

seeds—are now being purchased by Pete’s 


jbell on PROD1PC69 with SENATE