Lyle Estill doesn't fashion himself as some kind of sustainability guru. He just knows what's working in his adopted home of Pittsboro, North Carolina.
The Ontario-raised industrialist and author of Small Possible, Life in a Local Economy, has developed a devout following across North America that began with a grass-roots movement in a North Carolina county toward creating an economically sustainable and holistically thriving community.
Estill, who bills himself as the 'VP of Stuff for Piedmont Biofuels,' wrote a folksy, and inspirational book, published last year, that takes readers down the dirt roads and small towns of rural Chatham County and introduces readers to a cast of colourful and entrepreneurially-minded people infused with a can-do spirit and a social conscience.
What's really piqued people's interest in the book is the concept of 'Hometown Security.' The concept being brought into reality is that communities can feed, fuel, power, self-finance and sustain themselves outside of big banks, big governments and big corporations.
Last fall's U.S. stock market crash, the plunge in the world economy and a wave of food scares has more people questioning the reliability and motives of multi-national companies and lenders.
In Estill's world, thriving communities have a strong arts and culture scene, dozens of small businesses meeting each other's needs and even a local currency to buy services. Chatham County is not yet nirvana, but it's a work in progress.
The book has enjoyed a good bounce since it hit the bookstore shelves in 2008, months before all the calamity occurred.
It received another popularity surge after his idea of a local currency, the Plenty, was accepted by a local bank in Pittsboro. It made international headlines and attracted attention from CNN, Fox, and news crews from Russia and Poland.
Though his publishers, New Society of British Columbia (printers of his first book Biodiesel Power) would not release numbers on copies sold, Estill estimates it's in the “tens of thousands.”
It keeps him on the road at least once a week, making appearances to overflowing crowds at libraries, independent book stores, arts centres and cafes across North America. He's twice spoken to farmers in Fairview, Alberta.
Surprisingly, the book is well-received in big cities from readers interested in 100-mile diets, community gardening and trading within their neighbourhood. “It's amazing how people will form self-reliant communities wherever they are,” said Estill. “It's not just limited to small towns.”
Raised in southwestern Ontario, Estill was a global-trotting salesman for the family's Guelph-based IT business. Expansion took him to North Carolina. He settled, not in within go-go action of the state's Research Triangle Park of Durham-Raleigh-Chapel Hill, but in the sleepy little town of Pittsboro.
The book chronicles his personal evolution into a studio artist and sculptor, and music festival organizer, with business ventures in Internet and data management systems, commercial biodiesel and a local agricultural co-op.
Small is Possible is a “warts-and-all” telling of his successes and failings in trying to create an arts cluster in Moncure, N.C. and his dabblings as a subdivision developer in establishing an experimental co-op.
“There's been some bruises, missteps and some bad ideas along the way,” admits an unrepentant Estill.
His company, Piedmont Biofuels, still considered a start-up after five years, is not yet profitable. But he takes solace in CNN founder Ted Turner's recollections of his early struggles in starting a 24-hour-a-day news channel.
“Piedmont Biofuels is very much like that. We've got our fingers in a lot of pies and we're breaking new ground. Biodiesel is a brutal business to be in right now.”
Since the economic meltdown, Estill said it's harder than ever for average Americans to borrow from banks. Most of the financing for his multiple business ventures have come from family, friends, customers and suppliers.
To get a local co-op grocery going, to promote locally and naturally-grown food, he helped raise a half-million dollars by canvassing people to invest $10,000 over three years and began selling memberships for $150 apiece. Then he marched off to the National Co-op Bank in Washington, D.C. and secured a matching half-million dollar loan.
“That was from just calling people up during the dinner hour and I'm guessing that's going to work everywhere, even Sudbury. Anywhere that people want choices in food.”
Estill said part of the book's inspiration came years before during an expedition up the Amazon River. He came across a family of Cabloco farmers using a single machete clearing bush to raise cattle. Back then, it was chic for environmentalists to blame the Brazilians for destroying the Rain Forest.
“Here's three generations of them, they're sharing one machete and they're burning the Rain Forest to raise a cow,” said Estill. “These guys had a lower ecological footprint than I do in one month of driving and flying around.”
The book was also intended as a stick-prodding “shot across the bow” of the local economic development establishment. He was frustrated that the powers-that-be were out smokestack chasing, instead of assisting and connecting small businesses.
“Their value is in their Rolodex,” said Estill. “Their role is as a clearing house of information.”
Infrastructure development must go beyond sewer and water lines to creating more bandwidth and wireless networks, he said. “Think about things that the creative class need in order to get their ideas launched.”
Estill refutes the notion that he is promotes himself on speaking tours as some kind of sustainability evangelist with all the answers.
“The questions coming at me are always, What can we do? I'm telling stories about what we've done and if they inspire you that's great but I'm not exactly a guru on this. I'm a storyteller.”
No doubt Estill said, the culture of Chatham County can be exported elsewhere.
If anything, the book has caused an inward migration of kindred spirits to Pittsboro. “Weirdos” for live music, organic food and renewable fuel are flocking to the area.
“We've had people move to town from Florida because it's the only place they can get biodiesel without having to make it themselves.”
And in the process, it's made him a cult hero even if he finds the attention a bit off-putting.
“I have a hard time eating lunch without being interrupted and signing another copy for someone.”
http://lyleestill.com/blog
www.biofuels.coop
www.plenty.org
