The Winding Road
The Converging Paths of the Coffee World
by Lisa Hoashi

For most of us, if we were to actually list on our resumes each and every job we have ever had, our potential employers would doubtlessly wonder who exactly we were-the array of jobs creating such a confusing jumble of characteristics, skills and experiences. But in many ways, that's what our current economy requires of us, to be adaptable, savvy and innovative, if not a little schizophrenic. It's not uncommon to find yourself sitting around a dinner table with friends or family listening to a story about a wild job someone once had. The coffee world isn't any different. At the next coffee convention you attend, you'll probably find yourself entertained by yet another story of someone's former life, especially if you sit next to one of the people in this article. Here are the stories of coffeehouse owners from around North America, chronicling how they got into the business and the winding road that brought them there.

All Roads Lead to Coffee
Literally speaking, the longest journey among these coffeehouse owners is that of Elly Gilmore, who owns The Bean on 41 with her husband Bob Gilmore, in Punta Gorda, Fla. Her story began in Scotland where she grew up-where "Nescafé ruled" she says-and continued on in the Middle East and throughout various parts of the United States, before finally ending in Florida. Despite so many relocations, Elly sums up her coffee story with her usual wry wit, describing it as "dramatically and boringly simple."
   Gilmore's first career-in nursing-took her to Saudi Arabia, where she lived and worked for nearly 12 years. Elly also met her husband there, a kindred spirit she married after just four months. Afterward the couple spent several years in Washington State, where coffee was plentiful. "I like to say I educated him about coffee," Elly says with a laugh. "I said you can't drink that, you've got to drink this!"
   However, it wasn't until they lived briefly in Bob Gilmore's native Wyoming that the idea of owning a coffeehouse began to take form. "It was 35 below," Elly says of that winter, "and then the wind would blow."
   She describes how they "ventured into town one day, onto the main street, and we passed a store and I screamed because it said 'Espresso' in the window." Espresso, she was quickly learning, was somewhat uncommon in this part of Wyoming. The couple jumped out of the car and slid across the snowy, icy street toward the coffeehouse. "I need an Americano!" Elly remembers shouting as she burst through the door.
   The couple that owned the coffeehouse had just opened the business, and they and the Gilmores ended up becoming good friends. Later, Elly would help out at the establishment, getting hands-on experience. The introduction to coffee often happens this way. It starts as just lending a hand at a friend's café, and then, if the spark takes, it leads to the desire to open one's own. In the Gilmores' case, once they knew they wanted to open a coffeehouse, the only thing that needed adjusting was the climate.
   After so many years of the dry, sunny weather of Saudi Arabia, the Gilmores decided that when they permanently relocated to the U.S. they needed to live somewhere warm, at least warmer than Wyoming. This led them to Florida. However, because they were still occasionally working in the Middle East, they had to do their research in short stints, making Florida sound a little like their courtship, another whirlwind affair. After several trips to Florida, they decided on the Punta Gorda area, managing to buy a car, a stove and a house within three weeks-closing on the house within 36 hours of having to go back to Saudi Arabia. The fast-paced schedule coupled with life-altering decisions practically makes the Gilmores perfect for the coffee industry.
   Now the Gilmores have been in Florida for nine years, the owners of a coffeehouse that gets busier each year. The business suits them well, Elly says, particularly because the two of them are so social, and now their work can also be their social life. "We didn't know a living soul when we got here," she declares, "and this feels like my hometown now." Returning to her sharp wit, Elly says that her customers often return for the social aspect of her business. "There's no finer verbal abuse in Southwest Florida," she jokes.
   Some coffeehouse owners have only just arrived at the end of the winding road that led to coffee.
   Leanne and Don Green of Fallbrook, Calif., near San Diego, opened their coffeehouse in March. The husband and wife partnership envision Farmhouse Coffee Company as a way of working together. Currently, Leanne is a freelance writer and marketer, while Don is a firefighter with the City of San Diego, a career he intends to keep even with the coffeehouse being open. His schedule leaves him with long periods of time off that he can use toward the business.
   When Leanne was freelancing, she was having a hard time leaving her work at the office, particularly since her office was in her home. With the coffeehouse, Don says, "We thought it would be a venture we could do together. It would be a way of getting my wife out of working 24 hours at a time, and still give us a fun place to be."
   For the couple, getting the business from the brainstorming stage to reality has seemed like a journey in itself. Though they've always enjoyed coffee and coffeehouse culture, they were still unprepared for how much they had to learn about the industry. They traveled to Seattle, to research coffee roasters and cafés, wanting to bring some of the Northwest flavor down to Southern California. They took the extra steps, Leanne adds, "determined to offer the highest quality coffee we can."
   It took the couple nearly a year to locate the right space for the coffeehouse. But eventually they found a 1930s farmhouse on one of the busiest corners in town. They see their café as a community gathering space-a safe place for kids to hang out, a place for people to relax outdoors and hear music, or church groups to meet, all while drinking a great cup of coffee. It is the reinvention of coffeehouse style from places like Seattle, in farmhouse settings that keeps the specialty coffee industry alive and diverse.
   In Vancouver, B.C., Canada, Amy York just opened the Prado Café. An ambitious 23-year-old, York has not only arrived at coffee at a young age, but clearly sees herself as part of coffee's next generation.
   York's introduction to coffee began when she first started playing sets in a local coffeehouse when she was in high school, then a 16-year-old singer/songwriter. She liked the atmosphere. She worked awhile for Starbucks, as a barista and then as an assistant manager. "When I was at Starbucks," she recalls, "it was still just a day job." It wasn't until she was offered the job at local coffee roaster JJ Bean that she developed a real enthusiasm for coffee, and could see herself pursuing it as a career.
   After four years at JJ Bean, York was inspired to open her own coffeehouse in a former Greek restaurant in a 100-year-old building on Vancouver's Commercial Avenue, a funky neighborhood with a hopping nightlife and a young scene. York's history with the specialty coffee industry put her a step above most folks interested in opening a coffeehouse. Her time at a roasting plant taught her about quality beans, what they should look like and how to prepare them with care. Her time at Starbucks taught her about layout and design. So when York went about designing her coffeehouse, she had a few ideas to work with. The space was redesigned and decorated in just a couple of months, thanks to York's young, creative staff and friends. The difference in Prado's look, she says, is partially affected by age. "Whoever else is opening a café, or designing one," she says, "is in their 30s or 40s." And the fresh design-with exposed brick and beams, as well as reused construction materials-draws a young clientele, too.
   Despite her age, York is not afraid of taking charge. But she also feels close to her staff, and makes a point of keeping the venture collaborative. "It feels like we're doing it all together," she remarks. "We all make the decisions together." Someday, York says, when all her debts are paid off, she'd like to give the business back to the employees and turn it into a co-op. Less company hierarchy is one of the things she sees taking hold in coffee businesses. And if more people who are enthusiasts at York's age get involved in the coffee industry, that may just happen. The continuation of fair-trade and organic coffees, as well as sustainable design and business practices are trends that she sees becoming the status quo in coffee. "We're trying to be socially responsible," she says of her generation. "I think we'll change the industry, as more and more of us get a chance to be players in it."

Creative Intuition
Like York, Jim Roberts of Jim & Patty's Coffeehouse in Portland, Ore., found coffee early in life. Jim Roberts has had the rare pleasure of witnessing his small business amplify into a publicly listed company on NASDAQ. Roberts and his wife, Patty, started selling cups of coffee and baklava at Eugene, Ore.'s Saturday Market in the 1970s, a weekend enterprise that eventually became Coffee People.
   Roberts has always had a love of coffee, ever since his parents first allowed him to try it as a youth. "I just remember this delicious, warm feeling I had after I drank it," he recalls. "I thought it was a great thing." In the mid-70s, as a poetry student at the University of Oregon's Creative Writing Program, Roberts was still looking for a great cup of coffee in Eugene. And it wasn't until Jeff Ferguson opened the Coffee Bean Coffee Co. that he got it-as well as his first job in coffee.
   It was from Ferguson that Roberts would later purchase his first store, in northwest Portland. The shop ended up with the name Coffee Man, because the sign read "Coffee Bean" when they moved in, and changing the "b-e" in the sign was the most economical option they had. When Coffee Man opened in 1975, it was one of only about three wholesale coffee bean sellers in Portland. People drove from all over the city to buy coffee, which Roberts bought from Starbucks; Coffee Man was Starbucks' first wholesale account outside of Seattle. The sophistication of the specialty coffee consumer in Portland, even in the mid-70s, fueled Coffee Man. The volume of business they were doing in the early days, Roberts realizes now, was incredible. When Coffee Man moved to a nearby location and also began serving brewed coffee, the business was selling as much as 900 pounds of coffee a week.
   Reflecting on his transition from academia to coffee, Roberts says, "I went into the coffee business in the first place because I didn't get a job teaching poetry in college. I guess I did think it would be a temporary thing. And so far, as I haven't gotten a job teaching poetry in college, I'm still at it," he quips. Life as a poetry teacher looked good to Roberts at the time, reading poetry with students and being part of the beatnik scene that so appealed to him. The lifestyle he was drawn to was very different from the one that he would have if he had followed his father's footsteps. "My dad was a logger," Roberts shares, "and I had worked as a logger. I wasn't cut out to be a logger," he admits. "I like to talk, and talking wasn't a real big deal in logging. It was too noisy to talk." Sitting around the campfire and drinking coffee was one part of the job that suited Roberts, though. The social side of coffee continues to suit him at Jim & Patty's Coffeehouse, where Roberts keeps up an endless repartee with his morning crowd.

For the Love of Coffee
Monica Helgeson, owner of Mona Lisa's Espresso Bar, a drive-through in Nashville, Tenn., has been in the coffee business for two years now, but she's currently working in her previous profession as a registered nurse. The street that runs past Mona Lisa's is undergoing municipal improvements, forcing Helgeson to close temporarily. "I can't wait to get back to coffee," she says. She's been getting e-mails from her customers exclaiming, "We want coffee!"
   The coffee business is Helgeson's third career. Before she became a nurse, she worked for 15 years in advertising and marketing, selling ads for television, radio and print. Despite those years of experience, however, joining the coffee industry has still been eye opening. "I'm so impressed by the kind of people that are in this business," she says. Even though she has worked in healthcare, Helgeson says, "You'd think that there are a lot of caring and helpful people there, [but] I've been overwhelmed by the compassion and caring of some of the people I've met in the coffee industry." At coffee conventions, she says, "I've met so many people from different walks of life, and from all over the world, and they all seem to have the intention of honesty and honor and caring about coffee growers and where we get our beans."
   In her own business, Helgeson has also found ways to make a difference. As an employer, she says, "I've had the opportunity to meet lots of young women who maybe would not have the opportunity to work in a place where someone will teach them about the industry. It's great to be able to offer that opportunity." Someday, Helgeson hopes to get nonprofit status and use the business to mentor women and empower individuals to realize their own capabilities.
   She's excited to open more shops throughout Nashville, but is quick to emphasize that she's fallen in love with the work, not with the money. "If I was money motivated," she points out, "I would have stayed in advertising. I like money and need it and want it, but it's not my number-one motivating factor. I really believe that we're all here to use our gifts, to make a difference, whether it be a scientist finding a cure for a disease or sending someone off with a smile on their face and a cup of coffee."
   When customers say her coffee tastes good, Helgeson assures them that "It's because we put a little love in ours." Being a nurse, Helgeson says, suited her well because it was service-oriented and caring-and it prepared her well for the coffee business.

Night Owl
The road that led Tori Lungren to coffee was traveled primarily at night. Currently the owner of the Fireside Coffee Lodge in Portland, a 24-hour, seven-days-a-week coffeehouse, Lungren's story and the story of her coffeehouse is, in some ways, a direct result of her former job experience.
   She was a Multnomah County police officer working nights. When she had children, Lungren began working part-time for a local bank-balancing the books through the night. "I've always been a coffee drinker," she says, "but coffee became a focal point to me only about two years before I left the bank."
   Working late nights at the bank, Lungren had noticed there was no place to get a cup of coffee, other than a 24-hour Starbucks in Beaverton, a Portland suburb-and it was always packed. "I knew there wasn't a 24-hour place in Portland," she recalls, "and I didn't want to be a Starbucks, but I wanted a little piece of that."
   When Lungren learned that her bank was going to eventually merge with Washington Mutual, and that she would have to find other work along with about 500 other employees, she had an idea of what she would do next.
   Lungren started researching the coffee business, taking a barista course and talking to shop owners in Portland and Seattle. When it came to finding a space, Lungren stayed true to form and did her research at night. "I would get off work at night and I would drive around and look at spaces for lease," she says. It was important to see what the buildings, and the neighborhoods around them, were like at night.
   A landlord eventually heard about Lungren's idea for a 24-hour coffeehouse decorated like a lodge-a late-night yet warm and inviting environment-and contacted her about a space he owned in southeast Portland, where the Fireside still resides. Being open all the time still has its appeal. "It amazes me to this day," Lungren says, "that there are not more 24-hour shops in this town." The Fireside is never empty, serving the late-night clientele Lungren expected: the cab drivers, the medical and emergency professionals, police officers, night-shift workers and students. "The ones that surprise me," she says with a laugh, "are the insomniacs, the ones who have been to bed, and can't sleep and come in and read a book." But whatever the reason for being there, Lungren's customers keep finding their way in from the night. If one walks into Fireside Coffee Lodge at three a.m., it will be stuffed with customers, giving Portland the reputation of a night owl town.
   When she started the Fireside, Lungren "had never pulled a shot in her life," as she puts it, but she had other valuable professional skills to apply to her new career. "The banking, of course, brought the financial part to the business," she says. "I had a good, solid head on my shoulders when it came to business and money." Customer service was another area where Lungren had expertise, learned both in banking and as a police officer. "I love people," she says, "and I think businesses can be more successful if they have a working owner or manager." Believing this, she makes an effort to be a presence in the coffeehouse and get to know her customers. "If I can sit down and have a cup of coffee with one of my customers, then they are a repeat customer," she remarks. "They will be a customer forever." Of course, her customers know when and where to find her: behind the counter, after dark.
   Perhaps it's not such a surprise that so many different types of jobs lie in the pasts of coffeehouse owners, or that the coffee industry has the tone that it has today, having been created by individuals who bring to the business the passion, caring, ingenuity and perspective that they found along all of life's winding roads.