LOCALadk Magazine

LOCALadk 16 a hardware store. "I don't want to sell paint or Tupperware or little red wagons; I'm a lumber guy." He doesn't like the word "custom," because it puts people off—at least people who are on a budget. But the company is known for its special work that goes far beyond the standard 2x4. ere's a look that, for example, comes from milling clear British Columbia cedar: textured, not smoothly planed, but still clean and bright. Contractors know there is also a cost savings when every board is perfect, meaning there won't be any waste. With its reputation for quality, Haselton sells its product from Glens Falls to the Canadian border. As he's discussing—with obvious relish—the different characteristics of wood, a mill worker brings him a tongue-and- groove sample for his approval. Armed with a straight edge, Haselton spends considerable time turning the sample over and over, trying to find a flaw. ere isn't one. "is business is all about the staff and all about the people," he reflected. "None of this would happen without them. We want to make people happy and deliver the product on time; we don't want our customers to struggle." Before there was Haselton Lumber, there were Haselton's. Among the first settlers of Wilmington, they populated the West Branch of the AuSable River, and a small community with its own school and post office flourished between Wilmington and Black Brook. Sawmills then were a crucial part of any community, and in 1901 Dan Haselton opened his sawmill to the public, with a 10-horsepower Westinghouse steam engine providing the power along with a horse on a treadmill and waterpower from the river itself. e mill burned twice in its first 20 years, and when state inspectors warned that due to an excess of boiler pressure, the next disaster could be worse, Willard Haselton—Dan's first cousin and Sam's grandfather—pulled the engine from a Fordson tractor in 1928, and switched from steam power to gasoline. Even during the Depression, Dan and Willard continued to grow the company, adding a planer in 1933, which smoothed the surface of rough-cut lumber. By World War II, the mill was adding tracts of forestland and practicing what conservationists today would recognize as sustainable forestry, managing the land with the help of the state conservation department and harvesting an annual amount equal to the forest's growth. When Charles graduated from college and joined Haselton Lumber in 1952, representing the family's third generation, the company purchased 1,034 acres from J. J. Rogers Paper Company, which by then was entering the twilight of a storied existence. According to a Haselton history, "Wise forest management was planned, and supplemental timber was purchased from private woodlot owners in the area. e company was booming, with a variety of wood products, wood paneling, and hardwood flooring. New to the business was a new homes development department, a specialty of Charles. e sawmill was producing six-million board feet of lumber per year." By the seventies, Haselton had stopped milling lumber because it was cheaper to buy the finished product for resale. But companies that last as long as Haselton has always seem to wind up returning to their roots, and so did Haselton, as under Sam it has cultivated a market for high-quality milled and decorative wood, using a machine known as a moulder. "Obviously, everyone is selling a 2x4," Haselton said, "but my father told me, 'Always sell the best—you'll have enough problems with that.'" Today, Haselton's lumber is known as 'J Grade': good enough to be sold in the demanding Japanese market. Haselton also made the decision to stay small and specialized. It goes aer niches rather than volume. When the national Moore's chain went out of business in Saranac Lake, he considered the possibility. But buying trucks was cheaper than buying a series of far-flung stores, and as he considers what Haselton has become in terms of reputation and its tightly knit group of 17 employees, he knows it was the right choice. "I'm pretty proud of the place. I've had fun with it." Sam Haselton arrives in his office every morning at 5 and doesn't entirely trust those who don't. It's the people who show up to work early who make the decisions, and they're the ones you want to be talking to, he said. From his office he can see both the lumberyard and a large foyer that would put many museums to shame. Many hand-milling tools hang from the walls, including a plane with a U-shaped blade used to make gutters out of wood in the days before aluminum. ere is also the old Haselton stand-up desk, where heaven knows how many calculations for orders were worked out. Hanging from the employee side is an Early American water fountain—a dipper that employees would plunge into a bucket of water when thirsty. Included in these antiquities is a collection of timepieces, from pocket watches to wall clocks with unspeakably interesting back stories. ey do, however, serve as a reminder that time marches on, and as Haselton approaches retirement age, he's considering what comes next. Sam Haselton said he's seen statistics indicating that 24 years is the average lifespan of a successful small business. Only 13 percent are handed down to the third generation, and only 3 percent make it beyond that. In the 1980s, Haselton became part of that distinct minority, when Sam and his sister Pam joined the company and took over the reins in 1999, when Charles retired. ere is no fih generation. "My 94-year-old father is always reminding me that I should have had a son." Haselton said he'll find leaders among his staff who have the same love of wood and interest in the business and its history to carry on. "I'm hoping some of the employees rise to the occasion. I'd like to find a way of paying it forward and handing it over to them." He's pretty sure retirement would suit him. "I'd like to be able to pick an hour and just read a book for 60 minutes without any interruptions." He wants to build an Adirondack guideboat. He keeps a 38-foot Ericson sailboat ("my sanctuary") in Willsboro, and would like to sail around the world. He and his wife are negotiating that one. As for the lumberyard, he knows there are no guarantees; the hands on those clocks keep turning. But he does have hopes. "It's something I think about. In 50 years, maybe nobody knows Haselton was even here. But if they do know, I hope they have the same good thoughts about Haselton Lumber that they do today."

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