We learned that in England, a sweater is called a jumper. And that in Japan, customers are crazy for embroidery – over 60% of the polo shirts we send out have a gymnast, dolphin, flag or other insignia on the chest.

But what happened in Germany tops everything. It had to do with our unequivocal guarantee – Guaranteed. Period.® – which is the very foundation of the way we do business.

You see, our founder Gary Comer didn’t believe in fine print. He believed in doing business in a fair and open-handed way, and doing whatever it took to provide 100% satisfaction. Like offering a guarantee with absolutely no limits.

So naturally, when we mailed out our first catalogs in Germany, they contained our Guaranteed. Period promise of satisfaction, inviting our new German customers to return anything at any time, for any reason, if they were not completely satisfied with what they’d ordered from us.

Well, much to our surprise, the bratwurst hit the fan. A group of 1600 German merchants called The Association Against Unfair Competition sued Lands’ End, claiming that our unconditional guarantee violating a German law that banned retailers from offering gifts to lure customers.

It wasn’t just neighborhood merchants fuming and sputtering. “There are a lot of huge companies who are hiding behind this association,” said Frank Kriegl, at the time our marketing director in Germany.

Lands’ End refused to back down. In fact, we launched an advertising campaign to win supporters to our just cause. Ganz Deutschland ist eine Servicewueste? asked one ad. Is all of Germany a service wasteland?
Alas, the merchant association won their suit when the German Supreme Court ruled that our promise was indeed a violation of German law. But still, we wouldn’t back down.

Phil Young, our European managing director, stressed that the ban would not affect how we treated our German customers. “This antiquated law will no longer allow us to communicate our guarantee to our German custom-ers,” said Phil, “but regardless of this, every single product we sell in Germany will be backed by our guarantee.”

We began running cheeky ads elsewhere in Europe, with headlines like:
“Introducing a guarantee so good the Germans banned it.” In Germany, we just blacked out the “guarantee” part of our ads, stirring up even more interest in the whole brouhaha. And in 1999, we launched the German version of our web site, which couldn’t mention the guarantee, but linked to a separate site that did. German customers began rallying to our cause.

The Association Against Unfair Competition was clearly on the wrong side of the fight, especially as the age of internet shopping picked up steam. Eventually, Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder’s government revoked the antiquated 1932 law prohibiting discounts, rebates and lifetime guarantees.

Just like that, the great Guaranteed. Period. controversy in Germany was kaput. We began telling our complete and unexpurgated Lands’ End story again. And our business has been growing in Deutschland ever since.

The customer is always right, as Gary Comer might say.

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“I’d like you to think about a little place out back where we could all work out,” said our founder Gary Comer one day to Milt Martinson, the Green Bay architect who had designed most of the Lands’ End office buildings in Dodgeville.

Well, things had a way of sprouting up like corn at Lands’ End back in those days, and a couple years later – February 24, 1989 to be exact – we all found ourselves standing around an Olympic-sized swimming pool, celebrating the dedication of the brand new Lands’ End Activity Center.

It had turned out to be more than a “little place out back.”  A whopping 80,000 square feet, the new center had a gym, 1/8th  mile indoor track, racquetball courts and a plethora of exercise equipment in addition to the
75-meter pool.

“I’ve been to every major corporate health facility in the country, and this is the best of them all,” commented Ray Squires of the Mayo Clinic, on a visit to the new Lands’ End center the week before it opened.

But as we stood around the pool that day, most of us were feeling more impressed with the size of Gary Comer’s heart than we were with the size of the Activity Center. The founder of Lands’ End cared about his employees – we’d always known that from the time he spent with all of us – but this new facility was further evidence.

The usual speeches were given, all of them heartfelt, some of them more interesting than others. Most touching was one from Sam Fink, a legendary advertising art director who had known Gary for over thirty years.

“Gary is a dreamer,” said Sam. “He dreamt and he dreamt, and this is what he dreamt.” Sam spread his arms wide, seemingly to encompass the whole activity center.

Gary had asked Sam if there was anything he could do to decorate the new center, Sam being an artist of no small repute. Sam answered, “What you oughta’ do is honor all the people who work for you, because I know you love them.” Gary told Sam he could do anything he wanted, to accomplish that.

So when all the speechifying was over, Gary cut the ribbon for the new Activity Center, and a banner fell away to reveal Sam’s handiwork. There were 1,400 names hand-lettered by Sam on the pool wall tiles – the names of every permanent full-time and part-time employee at Lands’ End at that time, along with this inscription:

These are the names of the people whose daily work and good spirit at Lands’ End have made this building possible. It is dedicated to them and their continued good health.

“Years from now, you can come with your kids and your grandkids, show them your name, and tell them you were a part of all this,” said Gary.

What we remember most from the dedication ceremony was what happened after Gary cut the ribbon. A couple boisterous (and brave) employees tossed him into the new pool, necktie and all.

Gary flipped onto his back, swam gracefully halfway down the lane, then turned over and finished out the length freestyle. Not Mark Spitz, but not bad. He emerged in soaking Oxford and khakis, to wild applause. Walked along the end of the pool, shaking a few hands, then jumped up on the diving board, did a graceful swan dive, and swam another length!

We’ve all swam our share of laps since then, and sweated buckets on the stair-climbers and treadmills and weight machines. Some of our kids have learned how to swim in that pool, and started a lifelong love of exercise. A few past Presidents of the company have even joined in the fiercely-contested noontime basketball games, throwing up their share of wild treys.

Just as Gary intended, we’ve had a ton of fun in the Activity Center – now appropriately called the Comer Center. And every time we go there, we can still see him paddling in the pool, his knit tie floating on top of the water, a happy grin on his face.

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Calling 1996! Check out that cell phone.

It wasn’t the kind of sleek, stylish briefcase the big money boys carried. It didn’t convey wealth, status or an Ivy League pedigree. If Gordon Gekko had seen you carrying it, he would have snorted in disdain.

No, the Original Attaché was always more about Main Street than Wall Street. It was the bag of choice for teachers, lawyers, contractors, architects – anyone who valued function more than fashion.

It was rough and rugged looking, in 18 oz. Square Rigger cotton canvas – the same stuff old-time sailors hassled from the yardarms around Cape Horn. Incredibly durable, yet pliant enough to stretch for that one extra book, brief or folder you always seemed to need.

We introduced it in 1977, along with an overnighter called the Packet and a suit bag called the Captain’s Wardrobe – the first non-sailing bags we’d ever offered. People weren’t used to the idea of a soft-sided briefcase, but for $18.95, many of them decided to give it a try.

And, quickly got “attache-d” to it. Maybe for the homespun look, maybe for the ingenious features, which included a clip for your keys. But also because it was different. You couldn’t take it on a train or a plane without somebody asking, “Where’d you get it?”

In the disco 80’s, it was a welcome symbol of good sense.

Our customers did more than carry our attaché – they wrote to tell us why they liked it, and how it helped them in their work.

“My attaché is roomy enough to hold all the large volumes I use in my work, and the compartments hold my gadgets out in the field,” said Dr. Robert Bianchi, curator at the Brooklyn Museum.

 

“My attaché has been with me to the Far East five times, around the world once, Europe twice, Mexico once, and logged more domestic miles than I’d care to count,” reported Blair Kennedy from Pennsylvania.

 

And from Connecticut, French teacher Patricia Perry: “Le sac est superbe!”

 

Our attaché even had its admirers in political circles. In 1990, Nebraska Governor Kay Orr told us that she and her staff all carried our attaché: “We just couldn’t find a more roomy, professional or durable bag on the market.”

 

Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee wrote in 1996 that it was “the most efficient briefcase in the world, which I carry literally everywhere I go.”

Over the years, we sold over a million Original Attachés. How many of them are still on the job? We’re guessing most. The suckers just don’t seem to wear out.

Are you still carrying your Original Attaché? If so, let us know. Maybe if we hear from enough Original fans, we’ll show your letters to the decision makers here at Lands’ End, and ask them why a product this good ever went away.

It sure was an original.
 
 

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An average office desk is 28 inches tall. Not very imposing, but try doing a standing jump and landing on top of one with both feet.

On second thought, don’t. You may break your neck, or at least a shin.

Jack Sidebotham could do it though. That’s how he celebrated his birthday, every year at Lands’ End. And the first birthday he celebrated at Lands’ End was his 66th one. Can you say spry? We were all astonished. He giggled at our astonishment.

The annual desk jump gives you an idea of what a youthful spirit Jack had. But our first clue was his doodling.

It was all so unexpected. Jack had come to Lands’ End after a legendary career in advertising, as an art director and creative director at Young & Rubicam, McCaffrey & McCall and other notable agencies. He was tall, charming, a classy dresser. (Although he rarely wore socks.) Seemed to us like the quintessential sophisticated New Yorker, especially in the company of his lovely auburn-haired wife Bernadette.

We remember sitting next to him at his first big meeting – one of those slightly pompous affairs, with the top brass of Lands’ End sitting like the Supreme Court in front of us all – when we noticed that Jack was doodling. We leaned over for a closer look, then cut loose with an uncontrollable guffaw. He was drawing the top brass as crawling babies in diapers! Our current president was sitting up with a puzzled expression, asking, “Goo?” For that day on, we took great comfort in knowing that while Jack took his work seriously, he realized that life is just a bowl of cherries. You couldn’t have a grumpy day when he was around.

Later, we learned that along with his work in advertising, he had also been a main cartoonist and creative force behind “Schoolhouse Rock,” which gave him rock star status among the twenty-something age group of his co-workers.

Soon the Lands’ End catalogs became livelier and more amusing than ever before,  thanks to Jack’s contributions, cartooning and otherwise. He came up with unexpected cover ideas. He inspired his art department to their best work ever. He even created the first-ever comic strip in a catalog. Chronicling the whimsical adventures of his grandkids Tim and Kate.  It was a golden era that our customers loved, and we’ll always treasure.

Once, over a particularly convivial lunch, Jack made a bold statement: “Anyone can learn how to draw cartoons!”

We begged to differ, offering a pathetic stick man drawn on our napkin as proof. But Jack said he had written a book once that would have us all cartooning in no time. Then the conversation turned to other subjects – baseball, wine, our waitress, the barmaid, etc.

We forgot about the cartooning book till the other day when, missing Jack, we looked for it on Amazon. Voila, there it was – “The Art of Cartooning”, a Grum-bacher art library book.

You may have the knack, you may not. But it’ll help keep you young at heart. And it’s a lot less dangerous than the standing desk jump.

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If you’re like most people, the American Midwest is not the first place that pops to mind when you think of sailing. But from the skyscraper canyons of Chicago to the rolling farmland of Wisconsin, hundreds of fanatical heartland sailors as well as those from around the United States and overseas anxiously await the Chicago to Mackinac race on Lake Michigan, held every year in July.

Known as the “Mac”, the 333-mile race from Chicago to Mackinac Island is the world’s longest freshwater race on the planet’s third largest fresh water lake. It’s always been near and dear to our hearts at Lands’ End, since we got our start as a sailing hardware business in Chicago in 1963, and have sailed the Mac ourselves many times. (Admittedly, often as “rail meat,” a crew member who sits on the rail most of the race, using his or her weight to help keep the boat flat or induce heel in light air.)

“Sailing in Lake Michigan is not like sailing in a mill pond,” says Randy Adolphs, a long-time sailing buddy of our company founder Gary Comer. Randy has sailed the Mac four times, and has two transatlantic crossings under his belt as well as sails across the Red Sea, the Mediterranean and a run from the Galapagos to Easter Island. He knows first hand the punches that Lake Michigan can throw. “It’s very comparable to ocean racing,” he says. “I remember one year Ted Turner entered in a boat called American Eagle. It blew 40 to 50 miles per hour. Needless to say, Ted was impressed.”

No kidding. That was back in 1970, and it was one of the most treacherous Macs since the first race in 1898. The 13-foot seas battered the 167 boats and crippled 88 of them—broken masts, wrecked gear, ripped sails, injuries and fatigue took their toll on the most famous race in the middle of America.

In the Hard Blow of 1937, only eight yachts out of 42 made it to the finish at the Round Island Lighthouse off Mackinac Island. Of course, Mother Nature can throw curve balls in the other direction, as well. Last year was one of the most lethargic Mac races on record, with so little wind that “half the fleet didn’t arrive by the Tuesday afternoon awards ceremony,” says Rick Lillie, chairman of the Mackinac committee and a member of the Chicago Yacht Club since 1989. In case you were wondering, the current uncorrected course record—before handicapping for vessel size—is held by Roy Disney (Walt’s brother) aboard Pyewacket. His time? 23 hours, 30 minutes and 24 seconds.

“The longer the race the shorter the boat becomes,” says Lillie, “and many are happy to get off of it.”

Fortunately for Mac sailors there is the Pink Pony bar located within convenient stumbing distance of the wharf. “Sailing is a sport that involves a fair amount of bragging and storytelling,” says Lillie, “and during the first beer the waves on the voyage were two feet. By the fifth or sixth beer, they become eight feet.”

What happens if sailors arrive in the wee hours of the morning and the Pink Pony is shuttered up? Lillie says most sailors are prepared for such a dreadful emergency: “On board we carry a short supply of what we refer to as an ‘arrival beverage,’ which is usually Mount Gay Rum.”

Of course, he adds, “we keep it under lock and key.”

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Lucky for us, we were riding the “preppy wave” too. Lisa Birnbaum’s tongue-in-cheek classic “The Preppy Handbook” had come out in 1980, celebrating chinos, Oxfords and such – exactly the kind of clothing we offered.

But therein lay a problem: everybody started offering chinos and Oxfords. We were in grave danger of getting lost in the shuffle. So Gary Comer (thinking like the former ad agency copywriter that he was) had an idea…

An ad campaign unlike anything any catalog company had ever done. It would be an ad campaign whose main objective was not to solicit catalog requests – the way other catalog companies measured the success of their ads – but to tell a gripping story of Land’s End quality.

Gary called on two buddies from his Young and Rubicam days, art director Sam Fink and writer Karl Vollmer. The original odd couple.

Sam was a passionate workaholic, an eternal optimist, a man who could barely get one idea down on paper before a dozen more burst into his head. He would vociferously advocate for his ideas, occasionally with a wagging finger under your nose. He paced around our offices like a caged tiger.

Karl moved in a slow shuffle, with a bemused smile on his face. He could dash off a brilliant ad or even a short story in an afternoon, allowing time for a leisurely dinner or better, a visit to a gambling establishment. His acerbic sense of humor kept us in stitches, but at times clashed with Sam’s sunnier disposition.

Yet they were a dream team, when it came to the work. They created a campaign that was right up Gary’s alley – treating each Lands’ End product as a hero, stressing how much effort we put into our products, how we made them genuinely better than our competitors. Before either of them put pencil to paper, they subjected each particular Lands’ End merchant to an affable but rigorous “interrogation,” ferreting out unsung details of the products, like the split back yoke of an Oxford shirt or the deeper-than-ordinary pockets on a pair of flannel trousers, talking about those details in a way that reflected an unusual dedication to quality.

Even in the 1980’s, these magazine ads had an old-fashioned, even fuddy duddy look. No photos, just simple illustrations done by Chicago artist Mark McMahon. And copy, lots of it. “Who’s gonna read all this?” groused one skeptical member of the management team. But the ads stood apart, and got noticed.

Karl’s headlines were irresistible:

Why this New York ad man leaves his $300 attache case in the closet and carries our $39.50 Square Rigger.

Why this New York ad man leaves

After a slight detour to the University of Chicago, it’s here: the near-perfect Lands’ End Rugby Shirt.

The near-perfect Lands’ End Rugby

Quality in the apparel business, we learned early in our life, is an ephemeral thing.

Quality in the apparel business

With those messages and Sam’s simple visuals, the ads had an honest, forthright feel that made a powerful impression on readers, created what we might now call “a buzz,” and began to build a nationwide reputation for Lands’ End. It was a reputation we reinforced with every order we shipped out of Dodgeville.

In recent years, our Lands’ End advertising has become more colorful and contemporary. But we hope the message of quality is still as powerful as ever. We think about Sam and Karl, every time we dream up a new ad.

The post “Who’s Gonna Read All This?” The Original Lands’ End Ad Campaign appeared first on The Lands' End Blog.

The sternest test for our home products didn’t come from our customers. That happened in 2004, when we attempted to set a record for the World’s Largest Pillow Fight. If you’ve watched your kids go at it, you know what we mean.

Now, rounding up nearly 3,000 people to pummel each other with pillows on a Wednesday afternoon is a fairly tall order. Especially in Dodgeville, WI, population 4220.

So when we announced that our Dodgeville headquarters would be the site of an attempted pillow fight to benefit the Association of Hole in the Wall Camps, we crossed our collective fingers.

Fight day was Wednesday, September 29^th, an unseasonably balmy day. Literally not one single cloud could be seen. Just miles of clear-blue skies and sparkling sunshine, with temps in the low 70s.

Shortly before 2 PM, the pillow pugilists started trickling in. It looked like some of us had skipped training camp altogether – or had hit the cheese curds a little too hard – but we had no room to be picky. A Rochester, NY group was claiming to hold the official record with 2,004 participants.

The two main entryways to our giant “ring” were lined with dozens of four-foot-tall boxes overflowing with brand new Lands’ End pillows.

Every pillow fighter got one pillow, still carefully wrapped in its protective plastic case, and these simple instructions: have fun and keep the pillow intact. Because when we were finished, the pillows would be shipped to the Hole in the Wall Association to distribute to its network of camps for children with life-threatening diseases.

By 2:30 PM, the crowds had swelled. Hundreds of Lands’ End employees and retirees mingled with school kids and teachers and folks from town who’d snuck out of work early.

“The man, the myth, the legend. Get to know Bob.“

Some of the more dedicated practiced their pillow-fighting techniques, mostly on friends who happened to be looking the other way.

A DJ blasted dance tunes and threw prizes to keep spirits high. A conga line of football players from a nearby high school snaked their way through the crowd. When you’re that age, it’s hard to stand still.

From our vantage point, even a casual head count was nearly impossible. But to the naked eye, it appeared as though we might be short of our goal.

Then just minutes before the scheduled start time, a caravan of yellow school buses pulled up. Hooray! A neighboring town’s school had dismissed their kids early to join the fun.

It was go time. At 2:45 PM in a grassy bowl in Dodgeville, WI, a total of 2776 people walloped each other silly with pillows for ninety seconds.

Everyone survived. Sixty-seven pillows, however, did not.

Still, some 2500 pillows and pillowcases embroidered with “Sweet Dreams from Lands’ End” went to the Hole in the Wall Camps. The rest were donated to kids’ camps right here in Wisconsin.

It’s heady stuff, setting a world’s record. But you know how these things go.

On November 14, 2008, some 3706 combatants in Minehead, Somerset, England smashed the world’s record, and many pillows as well.

It makes us sneeze, just thinking about it.

The post Almost the World’s Largest Pillow Fight appeared first on The Lands' End Blog.

On a recent visit, we witnessed the miracle first-hand, standing outside a small yurt in the Inner Mongolian grasslands. A herdsman named Ma Xi begins quickly, expertly clipping a goat’s coarser guard hairs. Then, with a rake-like instrument tipped with crochet hooks, he combs the goat’s coat. Soft underhair comes out easily, building up quickly on the long tines. The goat seems to enjoy it.

Combing takes about 20 minutes, after which Ma Xi slowly works the blanket of fleece off the tines and stacks it atop a dozen similar bundles. After the combing is done, these will be baled and trucked to the factory. But to us, this is always the most thrilling part of the process. Maybe because, coming from Dodgeville, we like goats?

Cashmere can come from many places – Turkey, Pakistan, New Zealand, even that organic farm down the road from you – but Mongolian “white cashmere” is considered the finest in the world.

Why is this true? Top-quality cashmere fibers are long, strong and fine. Kashmir goats raised elsewhere are often shorn rather than combed, which results in shorter fibers. Also, warmer climates discourage fleece growth. The cold, windy climate of Mongolia is perfect for producing the longest, loftiest fleece found anywhere.

Once at the factory, the goat fleece is cleaned, dyed, dried, mixed for color consistency and spun into yarn.

Special machinery has been installed for Lands’ End to double the single-ply yarn, since all Lands’ End cashmere is made from the heavier two-ply. This added heft is obvious when we handle several of the finished sweaters. Lands’ End sweaters are also more tightly knit than many on the market, which adds to their weight, softness and durability.

Look at a typical cashmere sweater purchased elsewhere and you’ll notice that it “shows through” under light, while our heftier sweater is opaque and blocks light. More important, it just feels nicer.

You may be the cynical type, and say, “It’s just a sweater…” But to us, as many years as we’ve been in the apparel business, it still feels like a miracle. What else can you say about remarkable goats that live in the harshest climate, yet grow the softest fleece? Or dedicated herdsmen who stay on guard through the longest, coldest nights to ward off the fox and the mountain
eagle?

Maybe most important of all, what other experience in the world of clothing can thrill like your first touch of cashmere?

So experience the miracle, Lands’ End style, and think of the unsung goats who brought it to you.

The post Once A Year, In The Springtime, There’s A Miracle In Mongolia. appeared first on The Lands' End Blog.

Anyone leafing through early Lands’ End apparel catalogs might be struck by a couple things:

The overly generous use of exclamation points. (New Surfsider Rugbys!  The beefiest Oiled Wool Sweater we’ve ever sold!) And the wholesome, next-door-neighborly look of the men, women and kids modeling our clothes.

They sure didn’t look like professional models.

Bernie Roer did his photo shoots on a shoestring back then, as the original Lands’ End creative director. Initially when most of the clothing was hard-core sailing stuff, the modus operandi was pretty simple: grab a few Lands’ End employees and sailing buddies, hop on a boat at Belmont Harbor, and head out into Lake Michigan. Bernie and founder Gary Comer took turns with the camera. A good time was had by all.

But in the late 1970’s, it got a little more complicated. It wasn’t just foul weather gear and sailing sweaters anymore. Lands’ End now carried Oxford shirts, khaki pants, rugbys and other casual clothing, in a multitude of colors, for both men and women. The stuff had to fit right and look good.

Bernie hired Dick Boyer, a Chicago photographer he knew. He was good, and affordable. He also had a place down in Naples, Florida – a perfect locale to shoot breezy Lands’ End clothing.

But what to do about models? Bernie didn’t have the budget to hire the kind of pros used by other catalog companies. So he and Dick scouted up a cast of friends, acquaintances and lucky finds.

There was Greg the tennis pro and his wife Nancy. The leggy Bonnie, who inspired mash notes from customers. Tall blonde Karen and red-haired Sandy, always an engaging couple. And hey – was that Bernie himself, with the Captain’s Wardrobe slung over his shoulder?

Sure, maybe the photos were a little on the posed side. But the people looked happy, confident, relaxed. They had an unmistakable spirit that our customers responded to. And in most of the photos, they proudly displayed “Bernie’s thumb.”

One or both hands in the pockets of their shorts or pants, but with one thumb out, at Bernie’s insistence. We asked Bernie about it.

“I liked it because it was a strong, positive visual,” he said, “and distinctive.

I remember my Dad putting his hand in his pocket that way, when I was a kid.”

When it came time to shoot winter gear, Bernie and his small crew headed out to Jackson Hole or Taos, where they’d put an ad in the paper calling on the locals to come on out to the Holiday Inn or Travelodge, Saturday morning from 9 to noon, and try out for the Lands’ End photo shoot. All the clothing was driven out West by a willing employee in a burgundy Chevy van bought used from the Duofold turtleneck sales rep.

“Some of the people we’d seen the night before in the bar didn’t look quite as good in the morning,” says Bernie. “Could have been the lighting, could have been the cocktails.”

But when it came time to shoot pictures, the winter people looked just as fresh and spirited as the summer ones. They had a natural style that set Lands’ End apart. And even in a parka, they’d keep one thumb out.

Bernie made many contributions to Lands’ End. But we don’t think any of them was as important as the casual, comfortable feel he captured at those photo shoots, which were really what Lands’ End was, is and always will be all about. We use professional models nowadays (we’ve got the invoices to prove it!) but hopefully the same spirit still comes shining through.

You just won’t see any thumbs sticking out.

The post Casting Call appeared first on The Lands' End Blog.

It had been a banner year, heading into the busy Thanksgiving weekend. Sweaters, turtlenecks and Oxford shirts had been flying out of our warehouse, and we had high hopes for the holidays, having just mailed out a 124-page catalog filled with the usual clothing and soft luggage plus gifts ranging from nautical jigsaw puzzles to a classic 1947 Chris Craft Runabout.

Then Mother Nature intervened, with a loud WHUMP!

Two feet of snow whipped by 40-knot winds turned into four and five-foot drifts. The back roads around Dodgeville quickly became impassable and even driving on Highway 18/151 was dicey, although there were plenty of fools willing to test their luck. Of the 300 people scheduled to work the phones and the warehouse, only 80 could make it in.

We put a message on our 800 line, letting our customers know what was happening, and asking for their patience as they tried to place their holiday orders with Lands’ End.

Teri Odgers had just started working on the phones at Lands’ End. She remembers:

“I had gone to a hockey game in Madison on Friday night, and it just cut loose. Coming home, we only made it as far as Verona. Then it took us 4 hours to get back to Dodgeville the next morning. Lands’ End was all over the radio, asking for help. I packed a bag and caught a ride into work with the mailman. People were sleeping on the floors, eating Pizza Hut and sandwiches Gary had sent in. I worked late into the night. 4-wheel drives were shuttling people back and forth to their homes and hotels. What made it fun was the way everybody worked together, and how nice our customers were – they’d heard about the blizzard, and asked how we were doing.”

“There were plenty of people who slept overnight in the building,” remembers Lisa Hanson. “They couldn’t make it home so they would sleep for a while, then go back on the phones and takes more orders. At one point Lands’ End called a snow day and asked people to stay home unless they worked in the call center.”

Coffee fueled people through one shift after another, as the wind howled like a banshee outside, and the drifts piled higher and higher. Our tired people on the phones sometimes lost their train of thought, or even began to doze with someone on the line, but a neighbor would give them a poke, and customers were good-natured about it.

Karen James remembers Lands’ End president Gary Comer walking around, patting people on the back, bringing them coffee and sandwiches and snacks, doing whatever he could do to keep spirits up.

“He had one pant leg tucked into his boot, and the other one over his boot,” remembers Karen. “It was rather adorable.”

Some of the call center people worked for 16 hours, then came back for more the next day.

“We felt like we were all in it together,” says Terri. “It was important for the company to come through for the customers.”

Finally after a few days of almost complete chaos, the winds died down, the snow stopping falling, and the roads began to clear. Many of our hard-working people shuffled home bleary-eyed for very long winter naps.

In the meantime, the rest of us got caught up on our orders, and the holiday season began looking merry after all. But we kept one eye on the weather-man for the rest of the winter, and a blanket in our desk drawer, just in case history repeated itself, as it’s wont to do in Wisconsin.

It sure was a hell of a blow.

The post The Big Snowstorm of 1985 appeared first on The Lands' End Blog.